Imhotep

— Five Days Later —

The dim light of the storage room flickered, casting long shadows on the clay jars stacked against the walls. A heavy silence blanketed the space, broken only by the faint sound of the desert wind scraping against the door.

Lucius sat cross-legged on the worn mat, his hand resting on the hole in his chest that had stubbornly refused to heal. Memories of that night's battle were fresh in his mind as if it were yesterday.

"Are you sure about this?" Lucius asked, his voice low and tinged with skepticism.

"He's here." Lyxor nodded, his bandaged hand pointing to the door.

The door creaked open without a knock, and a figure stepped into the room. The man moved with the confidence of someone who knew power intimately.