They waited for the precise moment the shadow aligned with the specific, unmarked notch. When it did, a section of the wall to her right receded with a grinding sound, revealing a narrow passage.
“You’re brilliant,” Max murmured, his relief palpable as he checked the newly revealed passage for traps before usheringher through. They walked for quite some time before they reached another room.
The second chamber was immediately more treacherous. Its floor was a sprawling mosaic of interlocking stones, each one a different shape and color. The challenge was carved onto a massive stone door that was clearly too heavy to be moved by human hands.
“I am a child of both life and death. I hold the sun, but I love the dark. My path is forward, yet I am always a step behind. I roll a ball of my own creation,”Eden read slowly.
“A scarab,” Max said immediately, his eyes already on the floor. “The ancient beetle. Symbol of rebirth. That’s the answer.”
“Yes, but which one?” Eden studied the mosaic. Her eyes fell on a large, prominent scarab-shaped tile that was a slightly lighter color than the others. “I think it’s this one. It’s the brightest color, representing the sun it holds. It must be a pressure plate.”
Max stepped forward. “It needs to be pushed, then. It looks too heavy to be pulled. If the door moves inward, the plate must move inward first to trigger the counterweight. Let me.” He crouched, finding the heaviest point, and used the full force of his shoulders to shove the plate forward.
The tile didn’t budge. Instead, a loud hiss sounded from the ceiling, followed by a sickening grind. They both looked up. A section of the ceiling directly above the door was beginning to lower rapidly, revealing a curtain of rusty, wicked-looking spikes.
“Out! Get back!” Max roared, grabbing Eden’s arm and tackling her backward onto the floor outside the mosaic.
The spiked roof segment slammed down with a deafening crash, hitting the stone floor with enough force to send shards of rock bouncing around the chamber. Then it slowly lifted onceagain. They lay there, breathing hard, covered in dust, the smell of pulverized limestone stinging their nostrils.
Max was the first to move, pulling Eden against the wall and checking her quickly for injuries. “Are you all right? Are you hurt anywhere?”
“I’m fine,” she coughed, adrenaline making her heart hammer. “That was... too literal.”
“My mistake,” Max said, running a shaky hand through his hair. “I approached it like a simple mechanical lock. The pressure should have been the opposite. You’re the mythology expert, Eden. What did we miss?”
She looked back at the riddle, her mind racing past the pain in her ribs. “My path is forward, yet I am always a step behind. I roll a ball of my own creation.”
“The dung ball,” Max realized, his eyes widening. “A scarab rolls its treasurebackward. It doesn’t push forward.”
Eden picked carefully through the debris and found the original light-colored scarab tile. It was intact, but Max’s shove had shifted it slightly. This time, she didn’t use force. She placed her palm on the stone and pulled it backward, mirroring the movement of a real beetle rolling its ball.
A mechanism within the floor shifted with a low, deep thud, and the enormous stone door, which they had been convinced was the puzzle, swung inward on unseen hinges.
“We’re in,” Max breathed. He grabbed her hand. “Come on. Before that ceiling section decides to drop again.”
The third test was not a puzzle, but a terrifying test. They stood on a precipice overlooking a chasm that disappeared into a lightless void. The drop was breathtaking and absolute. A single, rickety rope bridge hung ominously, swaying slightly in the phantom draft. The riddle was inscribed directly over the yawning pit.
“I am a mirror that shows nothing living. I am a river that flows but does not wet. I am a land where only gods may dwell.”
Max looked dubiously at the impossible drop, checking the frayed ropes of the bridge. “We’re not crossing that. I don’t care what the riddle says. This looks like a fifty-foot fall onto broken rock.”
“You’re right to be suspicious of the bridge,” Eden said, her voice strained by the height. “It’s a decoy for the impatient. The riddle is referring to the Duat, the Egyptian underworld. A mirror that shows nothing living. A river of souls. The Duat is a spiritual barrier, not a physical one.”
She took a small clay tablet from her satchel and placed it carefully on a small, empty altar they hadn’t seen at first, a symbolic offering to the guardians of the underworld.
A moment of silence passed. Then, a hidden panel on the opposite wall slid open with a whisper of stone on stone, revealing a safe, solid path.
“The bridge is a test of conviction,” she told Max excitedly, relief flooding her. “The priests of Anubis had no interest in those who would simply leap blindly into the unknown. We’re doing it, Max! We are solving them.”
An intimidating stone statue of Anubis, the god of embalming and the dead, guarded the final challenge. The air felt colder here, weighted by centuries of power. His outstretched hand held a set of scales, one pan empty, the other holding a single, heavy stone.
“My body is a desert’s length, my head a king’s. I guard the place of quiet sleep. Though I have a human face, I am no man, and I ask questions but have no voice.”
“Anubis,” Max and Eden said in unison.
“The question is a test of our worth,” Eden explained, looking from the heavy stone to the empty pan. “The Book of the Deadsays the heart must be ‘lighter than a feather.’ To pass his judgment, we must offer our honesty.”
Max looked at her, his expression serious. “We came here to steal the scarab. Is that a heart lighter than a feather?”
