“It’s definitely manmade,” Eden said, her gaze tracing the unusual striations in the rock. “Look at the way the limestonehas been worked. Those aren’t natural fractures. Those edges are deliberate.”
They climbed the slope together, the sand slipping beneath their feet until they reached the base of the massive, rounded boulder that looked as if it had been spat out by the cliff above. It sat wedged into a natural cleft, choked by centuries of wind-blown grit and smaller debris.
“This is our door,” Eden breathed, pressing her palm against the sun-warmed stone.
Max knelt at the base, digging into the sand with a small trowel. “It’s a five-ton problem, Eden. Maybe six. If we pull this out the wrong way, we bring the whole shelf down on our heads.”
“But can it be done?”
Max looked up at her, flashing a grin that made her knees go weak. “I can move the world if you give me a long enough lever. But for this, we’ll start with the jacks.”
For the next three hours, under Max’s direction, the crew cleared the choke point around the boulder.
Max worked like a man possessed, his hands covered in red dust and grease. He positioned two massive screw-jacks beneath the boulder’s leading edge. “Slowly!” he roared to the men at the cranks. “A quarter-turn at a time!”
The air grew thick with the smell of hot metal and the groaning of ancient stone. Eden stood back, her notebook open, recording every inch of progress. Each time the jacks turned, the boulder moved just a fraction.
“Stop!” Max signaled. He wiped sweat from his eyes and looked at Eden, his gaze intense. “There’s a void behind it. I can feel the pressure changing.”
Eden moved to the gap—a sliver of darkness no wider than a hand’s breadth that had appeared at the top of the rock. She leaned in, ignoring the danger of the precariously balanced stone.
A draft hit her face. It wasn’t the searing heat of the Sahara; it was a breath of air that felt like cold silk, smelling of dry dust and a sharpness she couldn’t name. This place hadn’t breathed in millennia.
“Max,” she whispered, her voice trembling with triumph. “The air... It’s moving. It’s not just a cave. It’s a corridor.”
Max stood, his hand resting on the lever of the jack. He looked at the tiny sliver of darkness, then back at her, the rugged planes of his face softening for just a second. “Well, Eden,” he said, his voice low and gravelly. “It looks like you were right.”
She sank to the ground, tears of joy stinging her eyes, burying her face against her dusty knees as she was overcome with emotion. All the years of planning, all the times she’d been mocked and told she didn’t know what she was talking about, the physical hardship of the journey itself had all come down to this moment.
I was right.
Amir barked a command in Arabic, and the four men threw their weight onto the levers again. They worked for another grueling hour, the sun climbing high in the sky, though the tent blocked the worst of it.
At last, with a final, desperate roar from Max and a coordinated shout from the crew, the boulder rolled clear of the threshold. It didn’t crash but settled with a heavythudten feet down the slope.
The opening it revealed was underwhelming—a small passageway, barely wide enough for a human.
Eden was the first to approach. She knelt, brushing away the loose sand with trembling fingers. Symbols—carved, not painted—lined the threshold, worn nearly smooth by time. But she knew their shape: old Egyptian, with a strange, twisting overlay of Coptic influence.
Max immediately crouched beside her, his breath coming in ragged gasps from the exertion. He placed a steadying hand on her back, his eyes peering into the absolute darkness.
“I’ll go first,” he stated, his voice low and firm. “We don’t know what’s inside. It could be unstable.”
She shook her head, turning to face him, her eyes alight with fierce determination. “No. I deciphered the riddle, Max. I found the lock. I want to be the one to turn the key.”
He didn’t argue. Instead, he pulled her closer for a hard, quick kiss, his lips tasting of sweat and grit. “All right. But take a lamp and my knife. I’ll be right behind you.” He ran back to their supplies, then came back with the brass lantern. He checked the wick, lit it, and pressed the heavy handle into her hand.
