Unlike the boy-king Tut’s burial mask, this one is made mostly of precious malachite, giving his face the green hue it’s known for. HisAtefcrown is also much more complex: gold, blue lapis, quartz, and hints of pink feldspar make up his pointed hat, the snake in the center shaped with shards of black obsidian. Elbows bent, his fists nearly touch each other across his chest. His green hands grasp the crook and flail for which he’s also known, the two never crossing.
Someone took great care crafting this.
If I wasn’t in such a hurry, I’d attempt to sketch him for later analysis. But I’d rather find a way out of this place and come back, than stay trapped inside with him here for much longer.If there even is another way out.
I touch his face. “Never have I been so happy to see you, you beautiful green god.”
I crouch down to get a better look at the sarcophagus, wincing from the sting of my injured knee. The line along the top of the coffin has been filled in with dust and sand. Which means I might not need the crowbar—that I don’t have—to pop the top off.Small miracles.Procuring my father’s switchblade, I press the release and scrape the tip of the blade along the seam, loosening the packed dirt all the way around it.
Slipping my fingers inside, they find purchase underneath the edge. I lift it—but the top budges a mere half an inch. I huff, squaring my shoulders. My only solace is I wouldn’t have been able to move it at all if it were made of solid gold. I’m surprised they spared some expense when it came to what I wager to be a purely symbolic burial for Osiris.
I’m not complaining, though.
Bending my good knee for leverage, I manage to slide my fingers and half my palms inside this time, pushing up. A gap opens at the seam and the earthy aroma of wood bursts out. With one last surge of strength, I slip my hands fully in-between and shove it backward, grunting. The top slides off and crashes to the ground on the other side. Thankfully, I don’t hear the sound of stone cracking. I hope to God it remains intact.
Forgive me, Osiris.
Peering inside, I don’t find a decomposed corpse. Instead, a human-sized skeleton lies there, shaped from the wood I smelled when it first opened. Wood was a rare commodity in ancient Egypt, so I suppose it makes sense Osiris’s celestial bones would be hand-hewn from it.
However, the wooden bones are nothing compared to what he grasps in his hands: an ornate blue vase, exactly like the one Claude described.
“Now, we’re talking.”
I reach inside the vase blindly, praying I’m not met with a rat or some poisonous insect. Instead, my fingers brush something that feels like the small links of a chain.
Grasping it gently, I pull the Amulet of Amun from its vessel.
The vase crumbles instantly, as if it were only held together by the amulet’s presence.Strange… I’m too relieved to finally have the relic in my possession to pay it much mind, though. I prop myself up on the coffin with my elbows before I can collapse in relief. All my suffering wasn’t for nothing.
I place the pendant gently onto my palm, the weight of it solid in my grasp, as if it’s a perfectly skippable river rock. The Amulet of Amun is one of the most beautiful artifacts I’ve ever seen, much less held: the thin golden wings of the scarab are nearly translucent, and the dark green, red-splattered bloodstone at its center glimmers in the firelight. In fact, I could swear the red inside the stone undulates beneath the surface, like beads of oil on water. But when I blink, it’s gone.A trick of the light.
The sight of it steals the breath from my chest.
“Yes!” I yell into the quiet room. I did it; I actually found the Amulet of Amun. I wish Nonna was here to share in my victory.
Thenunwishingit as the entire room begins to tremble around me.An earthquake? What are the odds?
I whip around to find the dead Egyptian priests crashing to the ground, revealing large spigots hidden in the walls. They burst forth, filling the room with water at an alarming rate. My eyes widen.Not an earthquake then.
Panic tightens my throat and I scramble away, my lower back hitting the edge of the tomb. The sound of the water rushing in crashes against my ears—I can barely hear myself think. It swiftly surges past my booted calves, soaking my pant legs and showing no signs of stopping. If I don’t come up with a way out of here quick, I’m going to drown, my corpse trapped down here for all eternity.
The high ground couldn’t hurt.
I climb up into the sarcophagus, kicking Osiris’ makeshift bones aside. A pit forms in my stomach from desecrating the god’s proverbial resting place, but I also want to live.
“Sorry, pal.”
Standing helpless inside the sarcophagus of the Egyptian god of the dead, sheer panic threatens to overtake my every thought.Now’s not the time to lose focus.I clench my fists to draw blood with my nails to sharpen my focus.
Remembering to breathe, I glance around desperately for something—anything—that can help me.
My gaze catches on a shadow slithering beneath the surface of the water. Heart sliding up my throat at whatever creature might inhabit these ancient waters, I watch it carefully. Is it from the aquifer Claude mentioned?
Then I remember reading one of the myths about this place: a catfish swallowed the phallus of Osiris after he was cut into pieces by Seth, and this cenotaph is its final resting place. The catfish, not the phallus, although that would be a sight to behold.
Just a stupid catfishthen. Doesn’t make it any less unnerving. God knows what else is floating in there, and I’d rather not wait around to find out.
Shifting my focus, I glance at the three walls around me; unfortunately, nothing there screams push-here-for-the-exit. Instead, I turn to analyze the fourth wall behind the martyred sarcophagus. I stand a little more than an arm’s length away, easily recognizing another life-sized Osiris carved ornately into the wall. It’s nearly identical to the one which so graciously landed me here. Seeing him in this place… ithasto mean something.
