"Master"
That single word echoed through James' skull. What did it mean? He was nobody's master.
"You're back, finally!" The corpse exclaimed.
Frozen in shock, James realized that this speaking corpse thought he was its master. He took a step backwards, narrowly avoiding its hands reaching for him, then another one and another one, until his legs hit the golden throne behind him and he fell backward onto it.
The corpse, on the other hand, slowly climbed the stairs, stretching out its arms as if to pull James into a tight embrace, blocking any possible escape route.
"Stop!" James shouted in a last attempt to stop its rather unwanted advance.
It was in vain as the reanimated human approached and suddenly stopped, about a metre in front of him. The partially mummified corpse fell to its knees, and even though it looked unintentional, James still didn't dare to rush out of the encirclement.
Without lifting its head, he heard it speak again. "Master," it murmured, "you have been revived. It has worked."
James sat up straight on the throne as a strange but satisfying sensation swept through him. This being had just called him Master again, and by now he was sure it wasn't a mistake. It considered him it's master.
Well, he had a servant now. And one who knew more about this place than he did, that was for sure. The fact that it was a skeleton, partly wrapped in bandages, didn't bother him too much. He wasn't better off, in fact, his condition.
He looked down at the skeleton and tried to force a smile, which only resulted in his jaw cracking and opening slightly, and said in a voice that surprised even James with its roughness and commanding tone, "What are you talking about?"
Two empty eyes locked on James. "Master, don't you remember?" the skeleton asked, its mouth flapping open and shut almost comically.
"What should I remember? I don't even know how I got here." James almost said, narrowly keeping himself from revealing, that he wasn't who that something in front of him thought him to be. Instead, he raised his hand, propping up his chin with his fist, trying to look as thoughtful and majestic as possible in order to hide how nervous he was on the insisde. Better to say nothing than something wrong.
James locked his eyes on the mummy's skull, attempting to pierce it with his gaze and reveal what it expected him to say. After some time the bandages around the mummy's mouth parted once again.
However, instead of doubtful or angry words, it seemed as if it wasn't irritated by James's refusal to answer its question at all. Instead, it seemed to be happy.
"Of course," it exclaimed, " it must be because of the ritual, that you have lost all the memories. It was bound to happen, as your soul is yet to fully recover. Don't worry master, you are going to regain them with time."
After that it slammed its boney head onto the floor with such force, James could have sworn, that he heard the creaking of breaking bones.
"I am Neferamun, Serapisen of the Followers of Osirion." it declared to the ground.
"Ok, now I completely understand, what is going on." James ironically thought. smiling to himself, although this introduction made him even more confused.
"Let's approach this rationally.", he reminded himself, Neferamun was it's name, so it was am male, Serapisen was "its", or rather "his", title and "the followers of osirion" was some kind of cult or organisation.
Okay, with that cleared up, what did all of this mean? That James had no clue who this individual was! He had never heard of Neferamun or "the followers of Osirion". As far as he knew, Osirion was a temple and not something you could "follow". He also didn't know what a Serapisen was supposed to be. A priest? A monk? Something else entirely?
After ten seconds of awkward silence during which James seriously pondered the meaning of the words of the sceleton Infront of him Neferamun finally raised his head sensing that something was amiss.
"You really don't remember master." He said matter of factly. "Can you remember Hekanakht?" He asked, while pointing somewhere right of you.
James followed his outstretched arm with his eyes until they landed on the unmoving sceleton that had presented him with the scroll James still thighly held in his hand. But something was wrong.
He clearly remembered the sceleton holding the scroll in its outstretched hands, but now one of them was laying on top of the hilt of the sword sling around it's waist, while the other rested upon a shield Leander against his legs.
Letting his eyes wander upwards while searching for any other abnormalyities James was frightened once again. Two empty eyesockets where staring right at him.