Chapter 1: Story of the Past

A long time ago, in the golden land of Egypt, there ruled a pharaoh named Neferkare. Unlike other rulers, he was kind and wise, believing that true strength came not from control, but from trust. He gave his people more freedom—farmers could choose their own ways to grow crops, traders could set their own prices, and local leaders could govern their own lands.

At first, the people rejoiced. The markets flourished, villages thrived, and new ideas spread across the land like the life-giving waters of the Nile. But inside the grand palace, his advisors did not share the same joy.

The Grand Vizier, who had long controlled the kingdom's affairs, feared he was losing his influence

The High Priest, who led the temples, worried that people would turn away from the gods and the General, who commanded the army, believed that too much freedom would make the people weak.

They whispered among themselves, their fear turning into anger.

"The pharaoh is too soft," the Vizier muttered. "The people will forget who rules them."

"The gods will turn their backs on us," the High Priest warned.

"If he does not control them, they will grow bold," the General added. "What if they refuse to fight when war comes?"

And so, in the shadows of the great temple halls, the advisors hatched a plan. They would not overthrow Neferkare by force—no, that would turn the people against them. Instead, they would let his rule collapse under its own weight.

The Vizier delayed grain shipments, causing hunger in the villages. The High Priest spread rumors that the gods were displeased with the pharaoh and the General weakened the border patrols, allowing raiders to attack.

The people, once joyful, began to whisper in doubt.

The people, once joyful, began to whisper in doubt

Chapter 2: A King's Betrayal

Then came the moment the advisors had been waiting for.

Word spread that, invaders had crossed the Nile, burning villages in their wake. The people cried out for protection. The advisors, pretending to be loyal, urged Neferkare to lead the army himself—knowing full well that it was a trap.

Despite the whispers of doubt around him, Neferkare was a true king. He refused to let his people suffer. He donned his golden war crown, took up his spear, and rode out at the head of his army, determined to defend Egypt.

The battle was fierce and brutal. Neferkare fought bravely, but his forces were outnumbered. His generals—bribed by the treacherous General Khepri—refused to send reinforcements.

At last, Neferkare fell, his body pierced by enemy blades.

As the desert sands drank his royal blood, the heavens darkened, and the Nile ran slower, as if mourning its king.

The advisors returned to the capital with their version of the truth.

They told the people that Neferkare had been weak and foolish, that his kindness had brought Egypt to ruin. They claimed the gods had abandoned him, punishing him for giving too much power to the common people.

With no one left to defend his name, they erased all records of his rule. His name was struck from temple walls, his history rewritten. His tomb was built far from the grand pyramids, left unnamed and unmarked—so that future generations would forget him forever.

His tomb was built far from the grand pyramids, left unnamed and unmarked—so that future generations would forget him forever

Chapter 3: Present day

Seti and Nefriti woke to a bright, bustling morning in their village. Today was an exciting day—the marketplace awaited! The golden sun reflected off the Nile as boats arrived, carrying traders with goods stacked high in woven baskets. The scent of fresh bread, sweet figs, and spices filled the air.

As they weaved through the busy market, merchants called out, displaying shimmering jewelry, colorful fabrics, and clay jars of fragrant perfumes.

Nefriti's eyes sparkled as she spotted a scarab amulet. She tugged Seti toward a jewelry stall, eager to claim her prize. "How much for the scarab?" she asked.

The vendor rubbed his chin. "Do you have something to trade, little one?"

Seti offered a small loaf of bread, while Nefriti unwrapped a handful of dried dates. The vendor reached for his scale, weighing their offerings against the amulet. "Not quite enough," he said with a smile.

Seti frowned, then dug into his satchel, pulling out a tiny copper fish hook. "What about this?"

The vendor examined it, nodding in approval. "A fine addition. The deal is made!"

Nefriti beamed, clutching the scarab tightly. "Thank you!"

As they moved past stalls selling cinnamon and woven mats, they noticed a crowd gathered around an old storyteller. He sat on a wooden stool, his weathered staff resting across his lap. A group of children sat cross-legged before him, eyes wide with anticipation. Even some merchants had paused their work to listen.

Seti and Nefriti edged closer as the storyteller's voice carried through the air.

"Long ago," the storyteller began, "there was a Pharaoh whose heart was as hard as stone

"Long ago," the storyteller began, "there was a Pharaoh whose heart was as hard as stone. He ruled with an iron fist, demanding endless tributes from his people—gold, grain, even their own children. But no offering was ever enough."

Gasps rippled through the crowd.

"The gods grew angry," he continued, lowering his voice. "The river shrank, the crops withered, and darkness fell upon the land. But still, the Pharaoh did not change."

The storyteller leaned forward, his voice now barely a whisper. "So the gods punished him. They erased his name from history. His tomb remains unnamed and unmarked—right here, in our own town. Forgotten, cursed, and abandoned."

A hush fell over the listeners.

Seti and Nefriti shuddered. A nameless Pharaoh? A forgotten tomb?

"But some say," the storyteller added, his dark eyes locking onto theirs, "on quiet nights, the wind still carries his whispers... begging to be remembered."

At that moment, a cool breeze swept through the market, stirring the fabric of the stalls.

Seti swallowed hard. "Let's go," he whispered.

Without another word, they turned and hurried home.

Without another word, they turned and hurried home

That night, sleep did not come easily. The storyteller's words echoed in Nefriti's mind.

By morning, her curiosity had won. "We have to find it," she whispered to Seti. "The tomb."

Seti groaned. "This is a bad idea."

The ruins loomed before them, half-buried in the golden sand. Faded hieroglyphs covered the entrance, but the place felt... wrong. As if the very air trembled with sorrow.

Then, they heard it.

"Why?"

A whisper, drifting through the chamber beyond.

"Why did they betray me?"

Seti stiffened. "We should leave."

But Nefriti had already stepped forward.

Inside, the air was thick and heavy. The walls were lined with ancient carvings, but many had been scratched away, as if someone had tried to erase the Pharaoh from existence.

At the center of the chamber stood an ornate sarcophagus, its lid slightly ajar. The whispers swirled around them, growing into a voice.

"They turned against me. My own people. My most trusted advisors. They left me with nothing but my sorrow."

A shadow rose from the sarcophagus, swirling like ink in water.

A Pharaoh without a name.

His form was blurred, flickering between past and present. His golden robes were tattered, his crown askew. But what stood out most were his eyes—hollow, filled with endless grief.

"I gave them everything," he wept. "And they cast me aside."

Nefriti's heart ached at the sorrow in his voice

Nefriti's heart ached at the sorrow in his voice. She had read about vengeful spirits, but this was different.

This was a man who could not let go.

Seti, however, took a step back. "He's stuck in the past, Nefriti. Nothing we say will change that."

The Pharaoh's shadow loomed over them. "Would you forget those who wronged you?"

Nefriti swallowed. "No. But..." She hesitated, then took a deep breath. "Would you let it define you forever?"

The spirit froze.

Seti crossed his arms. "Look, you've been trapped here for centuries, crying about what's already done. The past can't be changed."

Nefriti nodded. "But you still have now."

The Pharaoh trembled. "I have... nothing."

"No," Nefriti said gently. "You have a choice. You can stay here, lost in your sorrow... or you can move on."

The room seemed to shift. The heavy air lightened, and for the first time, the Pharaoh was silent.

Then, slowly, his form began to fade.

"Perhaps... you are right."

The sorrow in his voice softened. His hollow eyes met theirs one last time before his body dissolved into the wind.

The torches lining the walls flickered—then dimmed.

The whispers stopped.

For the first time in centuries... the tomb was quiet.

As they stepped outside, the desert wind began to bury the entrance once more.

Seti exhaled. "That was too close."

Nefriti, still shaken, turned back one last time. The Pharaoh was gone. His sorrow had faded, carried away by the wind.

"Do you think he's at peace now?" she asked softly.

Seti shrugged. "I think... he finally stopped looking at the past."

Nefriti glanced at her scarab amulet, then nodded.

Without another word, they turned away, leaving the tomb behind.

Some things were meant to be remembered.

But others... were meant to be let go.