The oppressive desert air shimmered with heat, the sand beneath James and his companions shifting like restless waves. They stood at the precipice of the cursed Pharaoh's tomb, a foreboding ziggurat that jutted from the sands like a dark, broken fang. The sky above swirled with a tempest of unnatural clouds, black and gold lightning crackling ominously as if heralding the final confrontation.
Inside the ziggurat, the air was thick with the stench of decay and centuries-old dust. Faint whispers seemed to echo through the darkened halls, chilling the air despite the blazing heat outside. The walls were adorned with hieroglyphs depicting the rise and fall of the Pharaoh, with scenes of conquest, betrayal, and eventual death etched into the stone. But there was more, depictions of strange, monstrous figures hinted at the cursed beings now rising under his command.
