December 1st, 1895 — Valley of Kings, Egypt

The pair had arrived in Egypt the day before, setting up camp with their aforementioned precautions. They descended at dusk the second day, when the Valley of Kings was largely empty, as if the place they were going wasn't empty enough already. The entrance to the tomb had been forgotten to muggle history and largely wizarding history as well, yet few could remember it. Though it was known in some circles none had ever successfully navigated its secrets. Dust clung to William's boots as his feet moved through centuries worth of sand at his ankles. His eyes reflected the torchlight of the guide like a cat's. They were sharp, reverent and unafraid. The magic here was too old to fear or even properly comprehend.

Every footfall felt as though it was disturbing echos that had outlived empires. When they finally arrived, he traced the worn hieroglyphs carved deep into the the border of the opening, his fingers hovering just shy of contact.

The passage opened where the cliff face should have been solid, there was no actual doorway, no carved lintel, only a faint seam in the stone that looked like a poorly healed scar. When William brushed sand from it, the line darkened, as though moisture had risen from within the rock itself. He waited for Miriam to approach the seam, and murmur a syllable that to him seemed to have no language attached to it. The stone sighed and opened, not swinging or sliding but almost dissolving itself, stone withdrew from stone until it because a small pile of grains at their feet. A narrow throat of a passage opened up before them.

Inside, the air was old and stifled. The loose cloud that formed from the stone had the taste of chalk or at times something akin to bitter almonds. The air itself was strangely damp and lay against the skin like cool silk. William lifted his wand up and cast lumos to light their way forward. The light from his wand struck walls the color of bone and at times shades of honey as the stone was very pale. He thought it strange that so far there had been no statues or paintings along the path, but only veins of minerals that glittered faintly, and had the stone not been so opaque, would have reminded him of stars. The corridor sloped downward at a careful angle, and had clearly been engineered for procession. Every footstep cause a small echo that ran ahead of them and did not entirely return.

The walls still bore no royal displays, no triumphal scenes. Instead the room that opened up before them was filled with diagrams, circles within squares, boats sailing across the ceiling, and ladders that climbed into the sun. The pigments had not faded so much as withdrawn, like all the colors were only memories of themselves. William stepped closer to one of the walls and held his wand out against the darkness. The colors on the wall stirred like fish roused in a deep pool. Gold leaf appeared in the armors of strange creatures he'd never seen. They dulled again, almost immediately, when the light moved on.

“None of this makes any sense to me, none of it feels as if it belongs here. What do you make of it?” William said, and he hadn't said a great deal since the kiss.

They moved on after or if she replied, and eventually the room narrowed into another corridor that went on seemingly forever before it opened into a chamber with proportions that felt entirely wrong as well, as if it had been measured with a different geometry altogether though it was somehow still correct. Four monolithic pillars supported nothing visible, rising into shadow that seemed too high for the hill that contained it. The pillars themselves were carved not with gods but with plants. Papyrus and lotus twined with vines unknown to any botany he had ever seen. Leaves serrated like saws, blossoms shaped like bells that looked as though they would chime out if he were to flick them.

At the center lay a shallow pool, perfectly circular, its water still as glass. No inlet, no outlet. The surface reflected the ceiling, yet the ceiling showed no opening, as its reflection did. William leaned over the water, his own image lagged behind his movement for a heartbeat, then another, as if the water was consulting a different version of himself before agreeing to the present one. Around the pool's rim ran a band of hieroglyphs that he hoped Miriam could understand. Through they were interspersed with symbols neither Egyptian nor European in origin. Curves and hooks tugged at the eye that beheld them, but for some reason could not be bound to his memory. The wizard sketched them quickly and found when he looked down, the pencil had drawn only straight lines.

“I have never been in a place quite like this, and I feel as if we are only at the beginning.” He remarked and stepped closer to Miriam, his eyes scanning the room for any sign of a clue that could point them in another direction.

  

Given the sensitive nature of her and William's excursion into the Valley of Kings, the Egyptian government and historical authorities had granted the magical pair of researchers after-hours access to the historic site. Miriam, always aiming to be respectful of local customs, had adorned a loose, black headscarf around her hair, only leaving a few stubborn strands visible around her cheeks. Contrary to what any culture found appropriate for women, though, Miriam was wearing olive-brown pants and boots. It was important to her to feel comfortable and able to flee should something go amiss. She felt more exposed, though, without a gown over her legs. Plus, the previous night had left her feeling emotionally vulnerable as well. Her typically-frequent outbursts of knowledge had been at an all-time minimum since they woke up. Knowing William, he had noticed -- she hoped he didn't feel dejected or ignored. She simply wasn't sure how to feel about their kiss now that she was sober. Regret, however, was not a feeling that was in the cards.

The inside of the chamber provided Miriam with familiar comfort, though. She had been here a time or two to this specific site, but every time felt brand new. It was something she adored about her work -- there was always some detail from the past that was waiting to be uncovered again after thousands of years. Even smaller discoveries like combs or jewelry had their own stories to tell. Here, however, some very significant stories had been uncovered. It was evident by the inscriptions along the wall and around various statues that had been placed within the walls of the space many many generations ago. Her hand delicately brushed over the face of an ancient pharaoh, the name 'Hatshepsut' written vertically beneath her breast in the style of a cartouche. Miriam briefly wondered if she had an Egyptian ancestor and that their minuscule amount of blood in her veins was what was to blame for her passionate love affair with ancient Egypt.

"Hatshepsut," Miriam said simply, the light from her own wand illuminating both the cartouche and her own face. She turned to William, "She was a pharaoh during the 18th dynasty. A personal favorite, I might add."

She offered a smile that felt more genuine than anything she had expressed all day -- Miriam was at-home now. No matter how confusing her emotions were regarding William and everything to come, she could always count on archeology to ground her. William turned to go into a narrow corridor, so Miriam dutifully followed. It wasn't wise to split up inside these walls -- it was easy to get lost. As enamored with it as she was, Miriam knew enough about Egyptian magic and ritual to understand that ancient spells very well could still be active and working. Even muggles had reported seeing 'strange phenomenon' when visiting tombs in the area. The pair turned and entered a room Miriam had never seen before, and that felt vastly different than the previous one. She was taken aback in awe by the architecture, the plant life, and lively details that made the space feel as if it was living and breathing right along with her.

"Omorfos," Miriam said breathlessly, reverting to her mother tongue for a moment.

She ventured over to the pool that lie in the center of the room, perplexed by the mix-matched languages that seemed to appear around the water. It was Enochian. It wasn't a true language, really, but more of a code invented by a pair of Muggle occultists in the 1500s. "This is something called Enochian. It's modern compared to the room we are in now. It is a part of a Medieval magical language system from the Muggle world. They have their own ways of accessing magic, believe it or not," Miriam explained. "I've a bit of a cheat sheet here in my journal," she paused and murmured the ever-useful 'accio' spell that brought a small, leather book from her satchel. The yellowed pages automatically turned to the section she required, so she spent a few minutes looking at the Enochian symbols around the pool and back at her notes -- she'd repeat this motion a handful of times before nodding.

"Whoever set this spell was smart," Miriam said after a few minutes of silence. "Not even many Muggles know Enochian. I certainly don't have it committed to memory. I only read about it ages ago and was keen enough to write it down," she paused, having forgotten to share the important details: what the coding actually said. "Oh, yes...it says 'enter through the northern door. Wizard beware, nothing is as it seems.'"

Miriam glanced to the north side of the room and only then noticed the shape of a door being drawn onto the stone in a glowing green color. Her gaze returned to William, eyes curious but apprehensive, before she drew her wand and ventures toward the glowing door a few strides ahead of her. It wasn't fear in her veins, but the magic surrounding the door felt extremely heavy -- as if gravity had increased ever so slightly the closer she came. The adventurer in her, however, couldn't wait to see what was on the other side.

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thank you, Kelly!