The Jeep glides along the dusty desert road, its engine purring with a steady determination. Cleo and Steven share an air of anticipation, their hearts brimming with a mix of excitement and curiosity. The dig site, a haven of buried remnants from the past, holds the promise of unveiling the secrets they both yearn to discover.

The sun begins to die down, and with it comes the glowing moon. It cascades down onto the Jeep as Cleo's eyes continually flicker to the rearview mirror.

As they draw closer to their destination, a palpable sense of energy fills the air, blending with the desert winds that carry the whispers of forgotten civilizations. The barren landscape gradually transforms into an expanse of sand-covered ruins, where glimpses of an ancient civilization emerge from beneath the earth's embrace, as if beckoning Cleo and Steven to delve deeper into history's enigmatic embrace.

The sight of fellow archaeologists huddled around a massive excavation pit brings a wave of relief to Cleo and Steven. They have been eagerly awaiting this moment, the place where their shattered identities can find solace and understanding—a sanctuary amidst the chaos that has plagued them.

Cleo firmly applies the brakes, and the Jeep comes to a halt, leaving behind a billowing cloud of dust in its wake. In perfect synchrony, Cleo and Steven exchange a glance, their eyes reflecting a shared determination as they step out of the vehicle. The other archaeologists, engrossed in their tasks, momentarily acknowledge their arrival before immersing themselves once more in the excavation. The atmosphere buzzes with scholarly curiosity and restrained excitement as if the air itself holds the weight of long-forgotten tales.

Approaching them with a warm smile, Dr. Ramirez, the lead archaeologist, exudes a genuine enthusiasm that shines in her eyes. She extends her hand in a welcoming gesture, her curiosity piqued by the presence of Cleo and Steven.

"Dr. Hassan, I'm thrilled to see you, " Dr. Ramirez says, her voice brimming with genuine excitement, "It's truly a pleasure to meet you."

Accepting the handshake with gratitude, Cleo feels a surge of appreciation wash over her. The presence of fellow archaeologists offers a lifeline—a chance to ground themselves amidst the ever-present turmoil that plagues their existence. It's been so long since Cleo has been referred to by her official title, and it brings great warmth to her heart.

"Thank you for the invitation," Cleo replies, then turns the attention to Steven, " Dr. Ramirez, this is Steven Grant. Egyptologist."

Dr. Ramirez nods appreciatively, her gaze flitting between Cleo and Steven with an undeniable curiosity.

"Ah, an Egyptologist," Dr. Ramirez says, her eyes lighting up, "We can certainly benefit from your expertise, Steven."

Steven offers a polite smile and nods.

"It's an honor to be here, Dr. Ramirez. I-I've heard great things about your work," He utters.

With a humble gesture, Dr. Ramirez introduces Cleo and Steven to the rest of the archaeologists working at the site. Each introduction brings forth a new face and a new specialty—a mosaic expert, a pottery specialist, and even a linguist well-versed in deciphering ancient texts.

As the introductions wind down, Dr. Ramirez turns her attention back to Cleo and Steven.

"Let me show you to your tent so you can rest for the night. We'll start digging in the morning."

Cleo and Steven follow Dr. Ramirez through the sprawling camp, passing rows of tents and makeshift workstations. The atmosphere hums with the energy of discovery, conversations filled with passionate discussions about archaeological finds and theories. Finally, they arrive at a spacious tent nestled under the protective shade of a desert tree. Dr. Ramirez opens the tent flap, revealing a comfortable interior complete with two single beds, a small desk with a lamp, and shelves lined with books and artifacts. It feels like a home away from home.

"Here you are," Dr. Ramirez says, gesturing inside, "Make yourselves comfortable. Tomorrow, we'll dive headfirst into our excavation efforts."

Cleo and Steven express their gratitude, settling into their temporary abode. Cleo finds herself drawn to the desk, her fingers tracing the spines of the books that line the shelves. She notices a notebook left behind by a previous occupant, filled with sketches and notes about the artifacts found at the site. Intrigued, she flips through the pages, her eyes widening with fascination.

Outside, the camp settles into a peaceful rhythm as the sun bids its farewell. The desert night sky, adorned with a tapestry of stars, stretches above like a vast, twinkling canvas. Cleo steps out of the tent and opts to take a seat in the sand.

A breath in and a breath out.

For once the air enters her lungs quite easily and without much effort. In the desert, it's as though she's free. For now, she can forget about the threats and terrors that loom about and just be free.

In the distance, Cleo can hear the faint sound of a one-sided argument, followed by heavy footsteps exiting the tent.

" Hey, Marc," She sighs as she feels a presence approaching.

" How'd you know it was me?" The American asks.

" I just do," Cleo replies as he takes a seat next to her, " Another lecture?"

" Nah... you wouldn't listen anyway," Marc sighs as he tilts his head up to gaze at the stars.

" I know you think this is a bad idea," She affirms, " But I need my life back. I need something normal."

" I get it," He nods curtly, " Just didn't think normal would bring us back here."

The Star of David necklace almost burns a hole into Marc's skin. It reminds him that the sand beneath his feet is not his friend and never has been. It reminds him that the land he walks on is treacherous, and one he thought he'd managed to escape.

" I'm sorry," Cleo whispers as she takes a deep breath, " I know it's difficult."

" I can't shake this feeling," Marc utters as his shoulders grow tense, " It feels like he's still here, and it makes me feel cr--"

He stops himself before the word is fully able to leave his mouth, and both of their heads turn so their eyes are able to meet.

" You're not."

Eventually, Marc heads back into the tent, leaving behind the night sky for the cotton interior, whilst Cleo decides to stay out underneath the stars for just a while longer. It brings her peace to be in the silence of night, and she feels able to finally close her eyes and enjoy it... until the sound of meows fill her ears.

Her eyes open in search of the source, only to find a cat sulking around one of the tents. The cat's fur is black as night, with eyes yellow and filled with secrets. The cat continues meowing as its tail flickers and its paws make prints in the sand. Once it has her attention, the cat then turns and walks away, continuing to meow as if attempting to guide her to safety, but by the time Cleo stands up to see where the cat will go, it's already gone and nowhere to be found. Her eyes then slowly turn to the ground, where the paw prints are all but gone, as if they were never there in the first place.

She takes a deep breath as her eyes blink a few times, hoping it's just a mirage or a figment of her imagination as she then heads back into the tent to join Marc.

They each lay on their respective cots, facing each other and separated by only a few feet, barely able to see each other with all the lights turned off.

" Goodnight, Marc."

" Night, baby."

As sleep gradually wraps its gentle embrace around them, their dreams unfold like a movie with fragments of memories and aspirations. Visions of ancient ruins merge with flashes of modern life, blurring the boundaries of time and space. They find solace in the realm of dreams, where the burdens of their existence momentarily fade away, replaced by the shimmering possibilities that lie ahead.

The arrival of morning paints the desert sky with hues of gold and pink, signaling the dawning of a new day. Cleo stirs first, her eyes fluttering open to the delicate light filtering through the fabric of the tent. She stretches her limbs, feeling a renewed sense of purpose coursing through her veins. Today marks the beginning of their excavation, the first step on the path that will unravel the mysteries concealed beneath the sands.

Cleo sits up, her gaze falling upon Steven, still lost in the embrace of sleep. A tender smile plays upon her lips as she reaches out and gently nudges his shoulder, coaxing him from his slumber. Marc blinks, momentarily disoriented before reality settles back into place.

"Time to wake up, Steven," Cleo whispers.

Steven rubs his eyes, a yawn escaping his lips, as he gradually becomes aware of his surroundings. He gets up from his bed, then steps over to gently kiss Cleo's forehead, before he turns to change his clothes.

Together, they gather their belongings and step out of the tent, greeted by the desert's warm embrace. The camp buzzes with activity, as archaeologists move purposefully from one workstation to another, setting up their tools and equipment for the day's excavation. The air is alive with a sense of purpose, the shared excitement of unearthing the secrets that have beckoned them to this remote location.

Dr. Ramirez, the experienced archaeologist leading the expedition, approaches them, a cup of steaming coffee in hand. Her face beams with enthusiasm as she greets them.

"Good morning, you two!" Dr. Ramirez exclaims, her voice infused with energy, "Ready to embark on this exciting journey of discovery?"

Cleo and Steven exchange a glance, their eyes reflecting a silent twinge of suspicion.

"We're ready, Dr. Ramirez," Cleo replies.

Guided by Dr. Ramirez, they make their way to a designated area within the excavation site. The ground beneath their feet crackles with anticipation as if the ancient ruins themselves are eager to reveal their hidden tales. The landscape is adorned with remnants of a bygone era, where whispers of forgotten civilizations cling to the sand and dust.

As they arrive at the designated spot, the team of archaeologists springs into action. Armed with brushes, trowels, and delicate tools, they approach the earth with a reverence reserved for the secrets it guards. Cleo and Steven join in the effort, their hands moving with practiced grace, their fingers brushing away layers of sand and earth with a tenderness born of their shared passion. It's his first time at a dig site, and Steven couldn't be happier. He's giddy and unable to remove the smile from his face.

With each stroke of the brush, the desert's treasures emerge—a fragment of beautifully painted pottery, an intricately carved amulet, and fragments of tablets etched with enigmatic symbols. Each discovery holds the promise of unlocking the secrets they seek, casting a bridge between the ancient world and the present.

Hours pass like fleeting moments as Cleo and Steven lose themselves in the excavation. They move from one artifact to another, their expert eyes and intuitive hands working in unison. The desert sun beats down upon them, its warmth mingling with the sweat upon their brows, but they hardly notice, driven by a thirst for knowledge and a determination to reclaim their identities.

Dr. Ramirez is a steady presence throughout the day, her guidance and expertise shaping the trajectory of their efforts. She skillfully directs their attention to different areas of the excavation site, ensuring that Cleo and Steven's focus remains firmly on the relics that surround them. It becomes evident that Dr. Ramirez is not only a seasoned archaeologist but also a perceptive mentor, adept at redirecting their thoughts and skillfully avoiding any mention of the darkness that haunts their past.

Together, Cleo and Steven uncover fragments of history, piece by piece, brushing away the layers of time that have obscured the ancient narratives. The excavation site becomes a stage where their shared journey unfolds, where the boundaries of their identities merge and dissolve. In the delicate dance between the past and the present, they find solace and purpose, their hearts beating in harmony with the rhythm of the earth beneath their feet.

As the day wears on and the sun begins its descent, casting long shadows across the desert landscape, Cleo and Steven pause for a moment to catch their breath.

It is then that a cry of excitement breaks the stillness. One of the archaeologists, kneeling a few yards away, shouts, "I've found it! Come quick!"

In a flash, Steven's head tilts back, his eyes glazing over as someone else takes control of the body.

Cleo and Marc exchange a glance. With swift strides, they join the group, their hearts pounding in unison. They gather around a spot in the sand, where an ancient wooden door lies hidden, waiting to be unearthed. Together, they work with renewed vigor, brushing away the sand and carefully revealing the intricate carvings on the door. The wood, weathered and worn by time, seems to hold the weight of centuries, whispering tales of forgotten gods and lost civilizations.

As the door is finally exposed, Dr. Ramirez steps forward, her eyes gleaming with excitement.

"This is it," She says in a hushed voice, " We've found it."

" Found what?" Cleo asks.

Instead  of a response, Dr.Ramirez just smiles. Cleo's brows furrow in  concentration as she attempts to translate the carvings on the door, but  it's opened before any of it can register in her mind. Without hesitation, Cleo is the first to descend the stone steps, with Marc following  closely behind. As they descend into the abyss, a faint growl echoes  through the air, barely audible yet chilling to the bone. Cleo's heart  races, her senses heightened, as she steps onto solid ground.

The  underground cave is dark and dim, void of any light other than their two  torches. Their hearts continue to pound faster and deeper with each and  every step they take. The air is heavy with an ancient presence, and Cleo feels as if she is being watched, scrutinized by unseen eyes.

A  cold breeze sweeps through the chamber, carrying with it a haunting  howl that reverberates through the temple's vast corridors. The sound is  both ethereal and menacing, filling the air with an otherworldly energy  that sends a chill down Cleo's spine. Her fingers curl around the  cylindrical torch as specks of sand fall from her fingertips and paint  the black torch. Their feet crunch against the ancient sand as Cleo's  forearm aches in the exact spot where her tattoo lays. A voice in the  back of her head shouts, as if heading a warning, but it seems too far  away for Cleo to make heads or tails of it.

The darkness envelops them, the shadows dancing and flickering on the walls, playing tricks on their minds. Cleo's breath catches in her throat, her every nerve on edge, as they venture deeper into the labyrinthine passages of the temple.

Suddenly, a flash of movement catches Cleo's eye. She freezes, her heart pounding in her chest, as a rat scurries across their path. The suddenness of the sight startles her, and she lets out a gasp, her hand instinctively clutching Marc's arm. The sound echoes through the chamber, bouncing off the ancient stone walls, amplifying the sense of foreboding that hangs in the air.

The flickering torchlight casts eerie shadows on the walls, distorting the shapes and forms that surround them. Cleo's mind plays tricks on her, conjuring images of lurking figures in the darkness, their eyes gleaming with a malevolent intent. Every creak of the ancient structure, every distant sound, sends a shiver down her spine, further heightening her sense of dread.

They continue their descent, the air growing colder and heavier with each step. The stone steps beneath their feet feel ancient and worn, as if they have borne the weight of countless souls traversing this path. Cleo's mind races with thoughts of what they may find at the end of this journey, the ancient deity that has haunted her every step, the mystery of her own existence.

And then, they reach it.

Before them loom the giant gates, adorned with intricate carvings of Anubis, the jackal-headed god of the afterlife. The statues guarding the gates, their eyes gleaming with an ethereal light, seem to come alive in the dim torchlight. A chill wind gusts through the chamber, carrying with it a voice—a voice that Cleo recognizes all too well.

Anubis.

In that moment, realization crashes over Cleo like a tidal wave. The pieces of the puzzle fall into place, and a wave of terror washes over her. The god that has taunted her, the source of her nightmares and doubts, stands before her in all his ancient glory. The weight of his presence fills the chamber, suffocating Cleo with a sense of impending doom.

Her breath comes in shallow gasps as she stares at the giant gates, the gateway to Anubis' domain. The air grows thick with an oppressive darkness, as if the very essence of the god himself permeates the space. Cleo's mind races, her thoughts consumed by the enormity of the revelation. How had she become entangled in the affairs of an ancient deity? What does Anubis want from her?

The growl of a dog echoes through the chamber, low and menacing, reverberating through Cleo's core. It intertwines with the stench of wet dog that lingers in the air, invading her senses with a repulsive force. It's a smell she has encountered before, a smell that now holds a deeper, more sinister meaning.

Cleo's legs threaten to give way beneath her as she stands before the gates of the Temple of Anubis. The weight of her own insignificance presses down upon her, filling her with a dread she has never experienced before. She feels like a mere mortal in the presence of an ancient god, insignificant and powerless. She's unable to get enough air into her lungs, as though it's being taken before she can breathe it. She descends into a swirling pit of madness as Marc continues to stay on alert for whatever threats loom about. He recognizes the temple they stand before, and curses under his breath.

It's all too familiar. This is how it all started for him... on a dig site inside the temple of an Ancient Egyptian God. His breath slightly trembles, though he refuses to give into his fear. He thinks he has no power, he believes himself to be powerful. He has no gun, nothing but a torch.

" Cleo," He utters as his head turns to his girl, " Cleo, baby, look at me."

" He's here," Cleo whispers, her voice cold like a winter storm.

Marc's heart skips a beat whilst Steven continues to frantically ramble in the back of his mind.

Anubis stands before Cleo, his towering presence casting an oppressive shadow over her. Her eyes are locked on him, unable to break free from his gaze. It feels as if his glowing eyes have ensnared her, penetrating deep into her very essence. In that moment, all her strength and resolve crumble, leaving her vulnerable and powerless. A sense of dread courses through Cleo's veins, her heart pounding in her chest like a frantic drumbeat. The weight of Anubis' presence presses upon her, instilling fear into every fiber of her being. She feels the pulsating energy of her powers glitch, as if they struggle to contain the immense power they possess. Sand seeps from her fingertips, betraying her inner turmoil.

Anubis' eyes seem to bore into her soul, their intensity stripping away any illusions of control or agency. Cleo's body trembles, her mind a whirlwind of fear and confusion as the God speaks directly to her.

" Finally."

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[ i feel like i made it pretty obvious which god it was gonna be 😭 what do y'all think is gonna happen next? ]