PYRAMID OF AHK-TON

EGYPT – 1943

Urania Blackwell stood on the sand dune, raising her hand to shield her eyes from the radiating sun that burned at her skin. Her luxuriously long blonde hair was free flowing, a simple breeze caused it to flow like an almost leonine mane. Across Europe, a war raged, and she couldn’t in good conscience had sat at home and played dutiful wife and mother. Even if she’d been afforded those gifts. As a spy for the Company, Urania’s life was eventful, even if she wasn’t sure she found it fulfilling. There were dreams she had been forced to shelve in favour of accepting her role. The American strained her eyes, the orange suit of her target was almost camouflaged by the blistering sands but she could pinpoint him as he forged his way towards a picturesque pyramid.

In another time, in another world, Urania would have had the opportunity to stand and observe the majesty of the scene before her. This was not that time. The spy withdrew her pistol from the chestnut coloured holster on her jeans and rushed forward in pursuit. The sand dune was less stable than she’d imagined and, without a firm footing, Urania tumbled to the bottom. Her shoulder cracked as she landed. Grimacing, and remembering her training, she snapped it back into place. Agent Orange was a major threat to the war effort and the American couldn’t allow him to escape. He’d come to Africa for something but she couldn’t be sure what. Intel was hard to get amid a war, particularly when the Company operated outside of the government.

Without further hesitation, Urania continued her chase. She was further behind than she would have liked as she watched Agent Orange, his costume garish, disappeared into the shadowy entrance of the pyramid. As she ran, the claustrophobic spy tried to calm her fears. She prayed he was just through the door, laying in wait, and if needs be, Urania was prepared to shoot him on sight to get out of there quickly. Her superiors be damned. Information was one thing, a priority to her employers, but she was mentally unprepared for what she was about to face. Still, as she reached the door, Agent Orange was nowhere to be seen and, with a deep breath, Urania entered the pyramid of Ahk-Ton.

“Come out,” she called into the shadows. “Hands where I can see them.”

There was no reply and so, as she had to, Urania descended into the cold darkness of the pyramid. She shuffled quickly in her back, withdrawing a torch that she held in her left hand so that her gun was still aimed and ready to fire. The walls seemed to be closing in around her and she was afraid but as she looked ahead at the nothingness, Urania resolved to be stronger than her fears. It would cost her more than just her job if she ran away and allowed the organisation known as Cyclops to gain control of whatever artefact was housed within the pyramid. No, she wouldn’t spend the rest of her life rotting behind bars. She was too full of life to allow that.

She spoke again. “I’m not kidding, buddy. I will drop you on sight if you don’t come out now.”

Still no reply.

Suddenly, as she turned a corner, Urania found herself in a room. It was the heart of the pyramid. Agent Orange was mesmerised before his, his eyes resting on a peculiar golden object with a circular symbol atop a base. Urania had never been interested in Egyptology. Yet, even she stood in awe of the vision before her. With a shake of her head, she broke the lure of the object and focused her eyes on Agent Orange. He was smaller than he had seemed when she’d faced him in the markets of Kuwait. Could she even be sure this was the same one? Perhaps Agent Orange wasn’t a person but a role, a rank, within Cyclops. She would find her answers soon enough. She just had to get him back to America for interrogation.

“Don’t move a step,” she growled. “I will shoot you where you stand, so help me god.”

Agent Orange cared little for her threats. He reached out his gloved hand, intending to grasp the artefact, but Urania was quicker than he could have anticipated. He was thrown from reach as the spy, attempting to regain her footing, spun and slipped. She collapsed backwards, the exposed skin of her elbow colliding with the artefact. At first there was nothing but a warmth rising inside of her, as if she was enduring the most tender of embraces. Urania inexplicably felt safe, comforted and loved in quantities she had never known before. It was almost as if her life was perfect and she had been moulded into nothing more than an observer of tragedies that couldn’t quite touch her.

The warmth faded as the pain began. The trinket released a blast of explosive energy and, had it not been for the protective suit he wore, Agent Orange would have found himself incinerated under the raw force of the blast. Urania was struck directly and it felt as if her body was tearing apart. She screamed, not girlish and restrained, but bloodcurdling. Her golden hair was alight as she clawed at it, fragments of her boiling skin seemed to form a glue between her hair and her fingers. The woman, exquisite as she had been, crumbled to nothing more than blood, bone and bubbling skin before his very eyes.

Only a husk remained. It was almost ornamental, quaint for the setting. The last moments of horror were still etched on her tragic face. Agent Orange wasn’t sentimental and it was one less American target for him to worry about. She should have been more careful. Tapping at the flames that burned his suit, Agent Orange stood and moved behind her to retrieve the Orb of Ra. No human had touched it and survived, or so they said, and Cyclops would soon turn the ancient weapon into a modern one to assist Axis in their victory against the Western World. He didn’t give Urania a final look as he disappeared once more into the darkness.

Cracking sounded first, echoing in the chamber of Ahk-Ton, but it was swiftly followed by the bloodcurdling scream that had been silenced minutes before. As Urania opened her eyes she felt alive yet different. The chill of the pyramid no longer bothered her. It was almost though she felt no sensation at all. Stepping forward was difficult, she found her limbs were awkward and heavy. It was then that she noticed she wasn’t breathing. She didn’t feel the need to. Perhaps she had died and this was heaven? She felt she would be relieved to find it was hell too, anything that offered her an answer to the questions that muddled in her head. She brushed her hand through her locks of . . . green hair?

Quickly Urania drew the hair through her fingertips to note the colour but her fingertips raised even more concerns. Panicked, she examined them. Her right hand, extending up to the shoulder and that side of her body, was a gritty orange substance. It most certainly wasn’t flesh. Her left side was a languid fuchsia colour. Immediately she moved towards the only reflective surface in the room. Standing before her wasn’t Urania Blackwell, although the creature bore the familiarity of her face, but a monster of fabled proportions. She yelped, unable to fully scream as she looked at herself, turning and weaving to gain a full observation.

What had happened to her? Was it the artefact? She turned cautiously to look back at it. It dawned on her then. It was missing. Agent Orange had successfully retrieved it. Without a second thought, and desperate to focus on anything other than the predicament she was now in, Urania sprinted through the darkness. Her claustrophobia was no more, she had bigger fish to fry. As she stepped out, exposed, into the blistering heat of the desert, Urania felt no different. Temperature no longer affected her.

Still, Agent Orange was in sight. Almost instinctively, as if guided by the sun’s rays, Urania’s mind was filled with the concept of free floating oxygen and, as if by some form of magic, her body dispersed into the air. She was carried quickly on the slight breeze until she had passed him. Allowing the idea of oxygen to fade from her mind, Urania’s body – or the body that carried her consciousness – reformed before the shocked and startled agent. Yet, bewilderment soon gave way to curiosity as he watched her.

“You’re not going anywhere,” she attempted to be commanding despite the emotions that now threatened to rattle her calm composure. “I want the thing.”

“You don’t even know what this is,” he laughed. “And I didn’t know quite what it could do. However, it seems to have some curious gifts. Gifts that could be more useful to me than I’m sure I could even imagine.”

Even in her fractured mind, Urania wanted to roll her eyes but found she was unable to. He was a pantomime villain, moustache twirling and cackling, or at least that was how she found herself imagining him. One thing was for certain, he wasn’t taking the artefact. She stepped forward and was surprising to see he was attempting to remove his glove. The lunatic was preparing to press his skin upon the orb. Before he could remove his glove, Urania’s composition returned to free floating oxygen as she shot forward with force and knocked him to the ground. He dropped the orb.

She recomposed and paced towards him. Her eyes watching him writhe. He reached for his gun and fired a shot. The bullet deflected off her. Urania was no longer flesh and bone, she wasn’t sure what she was but she knew she wasn’t human, and his human weaponry had no affect on her. The breeze blowing in her green hair, the sun above her as if it were her guide and offering a connection she was unsure of, Urania outstretched her arms and allowed them to melt away. Acid poured over the screaming and writhing body of Agent Orange until nothing more than an endlessly traumatised shell of a man lay before her.

In silence, Urania fell to her knees. Slowly she opened her eyes and allowed herself to absorb the reality of her transformation. It had served to save her life and defeat a dangerous criminal but now, under the fading light of the sun, Urania had only one thought rushing through her mind, interrupted only by her sobbing. She wanted to die.

METAMORPHOSIS

By

Paige McMahon

PYRAMID OF AHK-TON

EGYPT – 1968

They ran across the sands of the expansive desert, guns firing and sand dispersing through the air. Rex Mason lived for the thrill. He’d filled many roles in his life: adventurer, soldier, and now a mercenary. Although he preferred the term ‘gun for hire’. It had made him a pretty penny during his life but, as with all vices, greed was a dangerous trait. Now, the roguish brown-haired adventurer found himself running from the men of his former employer, Simon Stagg, with his co-conspirator Earl J. Dukeston. Both had signed on to search for mystical artefacts for Stagg, both had betrayed him when they realised the worth of their bounty. Foolhardy and gluttonous, both men dreamed to make a name for themselves.

Rex and Earl swerved around the corner of the pyramid, guns held high. In the chase, Earl had been shot. It seemed largely superficial, nothing a medic couldn’t fix, but they found themselves incredibly far from any medics. The nearest hospital was over forty miles away. The chance of survival seemed bleak but there was something about those odds that caused Rex to bristle with excitement. He emptied his cylinder and repacked it, ready for a gunfight as Earl applied pressure to his leg. He remained upright against the wall, a southern gentleman and something of a cowboy, Earl was unwilling to show weakness.

He grabbed Rex and pulled him close. “Head in there, boy,” his southern drawl was thick, almost as if were exaggerated. “Find us something take back with us. I’ll hold them off.”

“I think this might take two of us,” replied Rex brashly, forcibly removing the man’s hands from his shirt. “You’re in no fit state to be watching anyone’s back.”

“You find something in there that makes this worthwhile and we’ll be heading back to the States laughing. Stagg won’t be able to touch us,” continued Earl, older and wiser. Perhaps he was simply more pragmatic. “I can keep them shooting and, when we have enough, we can make a run for it.”

“With the gold weighing us down?”

Earl shrugged. “Men have faced worse than this and come away with a smile on their face, boy. Now do as your told and be quick about it. We can’t hold them off forever.” He aimed his gun and fired around the corner. “The very least, we might be able to buy them off with some of the bounty.”

Rex couldn’t argue with the logic. “I’ll be quick, old-timer. Just don’t go letting them shoot me down.”

Leaving Earl, Rex marched into the darkness. His gun was aimed indiscriminately. The stale smell told him that nothing had walked the halls in a while but a soldier-of-fortune had a habit of being suspicious. His footsteps echoed as he moved forward. It was colder in the pyramid and it felt as if time had stopped. Entering a circular room, the bounty was more than he could have ever imagined. Feverishly, Rex reached out and let the gold run through his fingers. He was a man possessed as he began to empty the contents of the tomb into his rucksack.

Moments passed before he noticed the prize at the centre of the room. An orb of gold. It was much too big for his rucksack and would be cumbersome to carry during gunfire but the allure to take it was overwhelming. The broad-shouldered mercenary found himself dropping the rucksack and moving towards it. He wasted no time in reaching out for it, his eyes examining it before he’d even touched the ornate patterns, but his touch was followed with a searing heat. Rex found himself crippled over as a whisper formed in his mind. He screamed but no sound came his throat. Thief, it whispered repeatedly. Flashes formed in his mind, not a great man as he’d presumed to reside in the tomb, but of a fiery and wrathful god.

His body began to explode and reform. It happened several times before he was thrown into a nearby wall. Mindlessly, the beast that had replaced Rex Mason stood and the greed and desire for infamy had passed. His movements were childish and Rex realised that he was transformed but also that he was trapped within the mind of a creature he couldn’t comprehend. With agency beyond his control, the golem moved from the central room towards the entrance and towards Earl. He fought for control but found he was a backseat driver.

Earl was shooting at an oncoming Stagg employee as the golem moved into the open. He almost didn’t notice the colourful Frankenstein until he was bathed in its shadow. With a strike of its arm, Earl was thrown into the sand several feet away. Rex yelped but wasn’t heard. The creature was in complete control. It turned the corner amid gunfire, each bullet ricocheting as if it had struck a wall, and outstretched its arms. As the golem faced the oncoming foes, a complex sequence appeared in its mind. C₆₇₆₀H₁₀₄₄₇N₁₇₄₃O₂₀₁₀S₃₂. He didn’t recognise or understand it but it didn’t mean anything good. The golem exploded outwards as a gas, stretching across the winds and enveloping all of Stagg’s remaining men. Violently, each fell and spasmed as Rex fought for control.

As if released, the golem formed and Rex found himself in the front seat. He was the driver. Men died all around him by his hand, a consequence of his greed, and with little thought of anyone or anything else beyond his regret, grief and horror. Rex Mason, or what was left of him, disappeared into the sand dunes. He left the chaos behind and he left the frail figure of Earl J. Dukeston boiling in the sun.

Rex was no longer a man and, much like a monster, he desired to wallow in his despair alone.

PYRAMID OF AHK-TON

EGYPT – 2018

“Guys,” she muttered, timid and afraid, as the drew closer to the towering pyramid. “I really don’t think this is a good idea.” It was nothing unfamiliar to the ears of her cohorts, she wasn’t even sure if they considered her a friend or simply deadweight within the group. Emily Sung had a knack for being a killjoy. If she could have majored in it, it would have made her decision to progress as a medical student null and void.

Despite her pretty façade and boisterous friends, each of whom seemed content to break the desert calm with cheering and hooting, Emily was cautious and demure. She knew she possessed many qualities, both good and bad, but her mother had always taught her that modesty was the greatest quality any young woman could have. The Chinese-American moved uneasily behind them, determined not to fall behind but equally as afraid to get to close. The pyramid struck her as oddly foreboding. It was off the beaten track, a chance encounter with a local had given Brian the idea. If Emily had finally made peace with the idea she’d been convinced to travel to Egypt, this fresh concept rested uneasily on her shoulders.

“Come on, slow poke.”

Brian, she thought. Was she foolish enough to travel half way around the world for a boy who didn’t return her feelings? As the sand slipped over the rims of her converse, Emily’s question was answered. Without allowing her mind to process the action, the student rushed forward to fall in line with her friends. Brian Mancini was the rowdiest of the bunch. He’d majored in urban planning because his father owned a conglomerate in Metropolis. He was a frat boy; he knew how to flirt and drink but he was the opposite of academic. His girlfriend, Kelsey Daggett, was nearby. She wasn’t unattractive but there was a hawkish quality to her face and her temperament. The group was rounded out by the lovable goofball, Sunil Singh, rotund of body and never without some self-deprecating remark.

She looked at them now, under the warm, golden sun, and she didn’t think much of them as individuals. It was easy to find fault in them all, but against her better judgement, she cared for them. It wasn’t love, except for Brian, not even fraternal, but it was endearment. Kelsey, brash as she was and hyper-competitive, stormed forward when it appeared Sunil had reached the entrance before her. Recklessly, she knocked him from her path and stood in front of the door. Her dark sunglasses shielding her never-ending glare. She hesitated, unwilling to press the panel before them. It didn’t seem to match the rest of the pyramid, it was a similar material but it appeared to have been recently added. It made her weary and, calculating as she was, Kelsey turned towards Sunil.

“Give it a push, Sunny.”

He mumbled. “What? So, I can get dissolved by some weird salt bomb?” His accusations caused her to force a shocked expression. “I’ve seen the Mummy, Kelsey. You wanna go in. Press it yourself.”

It was odd to watch him stand up to her. He was normally a puppet on a string for the Gothamite, just as they all were. It appeared the risk to his life had finally allowed Sunil to grow a much-needed backbone. Emily hugged herself several steps behind all of them as Brian rushed forward, all brawn and machismo. He was alluring. He was an idiot. If he’d been a worker bee, Kelsey would have ranked as his queen. Without speaking, but not ignoring a chance to wink at his girlfriend, Brian pushed the panel and the three of them scurried to the side of the pyramid. Emily, believing herself to be at a great enough distance, remained and with a cocked head, she became to the first to see behind the panel.

“It’s dark.”

Kelsey scowled. “Of course, it’s dark, you idiot. It’s a pyramid. No-one’s probably been in there for hundreds of years. We’re gonna be the first. We might even find something worth keeping. We could be rich after this.”

“Some of us are already rich,” bragged the frat boy.

Emily played the voice of reason. “I still don’t think we should go in there. Just because the door wasn’t trapped doesn’t mean that the rest of the pyramid isn’t.” She sighed. “Besides, it’s a sepulchre. A place for the dead to rest in peace. I’m sure whoever’s in there doesn’t want some collegiate kids rampaging through their grave.”

“Whoever’s in there has been dead for so long that they won’t even be in there anymore,” groaned Kelsey.

“C’mon Em,” encouraged Sunil. “Don’t be such a wet-wipe all of your life. Live a little.”

“You were the one who said you wouldn’t push the door. The Mummy taught us all about the traps and–”

“The Mummy is a movie,” snapped Brian. “Fine. Stay out here, Emily, and we’ll see you on the other side.” His voice softened when he saw her disheartened expression. “We won’t be long, okay?”

Emily watched them as they peered carefully into the darkness. The sunlight didn’t extend more than two feet before it was a murky unknown. Brave and brash as the trio were, none felt confident with their actions. However, all three were also to self-important to embarrass themselves by backing out of their decision. She could allow them to enter and remain safely on the sand. However, she wasn’t going to do so. Emily may have looked at her friends with a semblance of disdain but, when she had needed them, each had shown their true colours. Dark traumas always beneath the brightest smiles and the worst attitudes. Her friends were no exception. Besides, with her to stop them, there was no saying what trouble they’d get into.

“I’m coming.”

Brian smiled broadly. “Thatta girl.”

“Whatever,” said Kelsey as she stormed into the darkness, followed by Sunil, then Brian and finally, trailing behind, Emily.

Sunil quickly moved to the fore, pulling a small torch from his pocket. He looked at the perplexed expressions of his friends. “My uncle’s a cop in Central City. He always said to be prepared.”

“You sound like an idiot boy scout,” replied Kelsey as the raven-haired woman clicked the torchlight feature on her phone. She smirked at Sunil.

He grumbled. “You use the word idiot so much I don’t even think you know what it means.”

“I should do,” she snarled as she paced forward. “I’m looking at one.” Her footsteps sounded by Kelsey was out of sight.

“C’mon,” coaxed Brian as he led Sunil and Emily after her. He remained cheerful and overzealous but even Brian’s smile couldn’t hide the hint of fear for what he’d led them into.

It wasn’t long before the quartet found themselves in a large, circular room. As expected, golden artefacts lined the walls in mounds. Kelsey must’ve been right. Despite the newer door, it didn’t look like anyone had been in the room for years. It would have been pillaged and dragged to a museum otherwise. Hieroglyphs lined the walls and soon, Brian and Emily had their phones out too. Emily focused on the inscriptions, tracing them with her fingertip, whilst Sunil and Brian took the opportunity to capture the moment in a series of selfies. Kelsey kneeled near Emily, a delicate bracelet was running through her fingers. Amid the chaos of activity, it was easy to lose reverence for the sight but a whisper seemed to call the Chinese-American as she looked across her should, a cascade of black hair falling from her shoulders.

Her eyes narrowed as she witnessed the magnificent orb at the centre of the room. It called to her, it graced her with its luminescence and majesty. She found herself lured towards it as it whispered ancient secrets into her ear but, despite her desire, Emily did not impulsively reach for it as it warned her that so many before her had. Names such as Urania, Rex, and Algon slipped through her mind as her hazel eyes noticed a single inscription that she could interpret. It was the sigil of Ra, the sun-god to the Egyptians. Suddenly, she felt cold. It was though they had barged into a sacred space. She wanted to tell the others that they should leave, she dreamed of calling out to them to run but the whispering became a scream. As if it were the only way to get him from her mind, her fingertips brushed the orb and knocked it from its perched.

However, as was the way of the curse, the warming sensation stretched from her fingers across her body before the orb had even rattled to the ground. It felt like a warm embrace at first. It was comforting and tranquil. It soon changed as she felt the roar of heat in the pit of her stomach. Emily screamed, unable to form the words before a blast of energy filled the room. Sunil was burned to a crisp, his cell phone exploding in his hand. Brian struck a wall as his bones and skin scattered into ash. A glint of golden caught her fiery gaze as Kelsey, amid running, was thrown into the darkness and out of view. All dead.

Emily was sure she would join them soon as the skin on her body began to melt into a liquid at her feet. She pulled at her hair, an anxiety attack forming in her chest, but the pain passed and she wasn’t dead. However, she was no longer Emily Sung. She quickly noted the orange and green discoloration of her arms. Waves of fuchsia crawled across her shoulder instead of ashen black and her legs were a strange shade of purple. She walked forward groggily as the sound of a storm seemed to rage outside. They were dead, there was nothing she could do, and she knew she had to escape.

She ran forward into the darkness, caring little for what she knocked from its perch on her way. Fuchsia hair trailed behind her and her panting became heavy. To her amazement, Emily noticed that her senses remained intact and that her breath had come to smell like chalk. The thought had barely entered her mind before it was followed by another: CaCO₃. As she reached the doorway and burst onto the sand, she reached for her head. It was a chemical compound. Her chemistry had always been mediocre at best but she knew, deep in her heart, that it was the chemical designation of chalk.

Strong winds drew her back to reality as she looked into the distance and couldn’t believe her eyes. Kelsey was at the centre of a dervish. Alive. Volatile. The medical student scurried forward, moving as quickly as her feet would allow her, and she found herself covering her eyes to protect them from the sand. Yet, when the sand struck her, she found the particles caused her no irritation. Her body carried sensation but the pain she expected seemed to have been burned out of her. Emily’s inquisitive mind calmed her fears for a moment but she knew that she had to help her friend.

“Kelsey!” she called into the open air. It seemed to fall on deaf ears as the spinning woman paid no attention. “Kelsey! It’s me, it’s Emily.” She remembered her metamorphosis. “I know I don’t look like me but it’s–” She trailed off as the figure turned to face her.

The winds died as Kelsey landed before her. Her clothes were singed and tattered, a mixture of fire and sand, but the golden bracelet she’d once held was the most striking addition to her wardrobe. It had somehow become stuck beneath the skin of her chest, almost like a snake tailing from her neck. Her eyes were cold and mischievous as she looked upon her friend. Emily’s features remained, distorted as they were, and Kelsey recognised her.

“I don’t know what happened in there?” she said, puzzled.

Emily nodded in agreement. “Me either but Brian and Sunil . . . They’re dead. I thought you were. I’m so glad you made it out.” Then her brow furrowed. “How did you survive when they didn’t?”

Her fingers traced the bracelet. “I guess you weren’t the only one stupid enough to touch a mystic trinket.”

“What do we do now? Who do you think we can go to so we can fix this?” questions just rattled off her tongue. “Someone is bound to be able to change us back–”

“Change us back?” Kelsey asked. Her lips tensed as her nostrils stretched. “Why would I want to do that? Daddy always said I was special. I guess even he didn’t realise how much. I’ve been chosen, chosen by ancient gods, and I’m gonna be the best damn vessel they’ve ever known.” Her smile became malicious. “Hell, I’m gonna be the only one.”

Kelsey’s hand shot towards her as a gust of air knocked Emily onto her ass. With a sway of her arms, the sand erupted around them. Frantically, Emily attempted to protect herself from the onslaught. As if guided, she thought of only a single word: tungsten. The weight of the desert crashed upon her, forcing her deeper into the earth, but she fought back. Punching upward, she managed to draw herself back into the shadow of the pyramids as Kelsey cocked her head. She stepped forward, shrugging at her former friend’s efforts to survive. It was almost admirable.

“I only wish I knew which god I was to thank,” she said. “Maybe I should’ve listened more in some of those classics seminars.” She shot forth a blast of air. “You are curious. How Brian and Sunil died so you could live I’ll never know. You were always weak, Emily. A poor, fragile, broken little thing. It was great to have you around.” She snarled. “I always knew I could never be the most pathetic person in the room.”

“This has changed you, Kelsey,” replied Emily as she dodged and weaved the oncoming blasts. “This isn’t you.”

Kelsey shrugged. “Yes it is. You were always just too naïve to notice. It’s almost like kicking a puppy when it’s already down.” She paused. “Also, less of the Kelsey. I’m thinking something more fitting from now on.” She fired a blast. “Zephyr?” She threw another. “No, I got it.” She slammed both her hands forward as a sand dune collapsed under power and rolled towards them. “Dust-Devil.”

Dust-Devil carried herself into the air on a current as Emily stumbled backwards. She wanted to outrun the deluge of sand but she knew that was impossible. Even if she could escape, Emily couldn’t allow Kelsey to disappear. She outstretched her hands and began to throw acid balls at her foe. It wasn’t until one struck the wind-manipulator on the leg that she was truly angry. Dust-Devil pulled the sandstorm along and Emily was buried beneath it.

It could have been hours or days before Emily managed to crawl her way from the sandy grave. Either way, Dust-Devil was gone to wreak havoc elsewhere and she was alone. Looking across her shoulder, she noted the sand wave had blocked off the entrance to the pyramid. If the names that she’d heard had been transformed as she had then she felt it was for the best that the orb remained buried. It was also her first clue towards finding a cure for her ailment. She had to find them and so, Emily began to walk.