Painful!
How painful!
The sound of rushing water and the whispers of forgotten voices echoed in Alex Reed's mind as he was thrust into a nightmare unlike any he had ever known. His head throbbed violently as if a heavy hammer were pounding away at his skull, each strike reverberating through his entire being. No, it was more like an icy dagger slowly twisting deep into his brain, each turn bringing fresh waves of agony.
What... what's happening?
In his semi-conscious state, Alex struggled to comprehend his surroundings. He tried to open his eyes, to move, to speak, but found himself completely paralyzed. It was as though his body no longer belonged to him, as though he were a mere spectator trapped in his own flesh.
Am I still dreaming? Alex thought, the pain making it difficult to form coherent thoughts. This... this can't be real...
He had experienced lucid dreams before—vivid, surreal moments where he was aware of dreaming but unable to wake up. But this was different. The pain was too real, too intense, to be a mere figment of his imagination.
Could it be... am I dying? The thought came unbidden, bringing with it a wave of cold terror. A brain hemorrhage? An aneurysm? Is this how it ends?
He fought against the darkness that sought to pull him under, desperately trying to regain control. But his efforts were in vain. His mind swirled with disjointed thoughts and memories—fragments of his life flashing before him, each one more blurred and distant than the last.
It's no use... I need to wake up! I have to wake up!
Suddenly, the pain began to subside, leaving behind a dull, persistent ache that felt like a knife slowly slicing through his mind. The agony was still there, but it was no longer all-consuming. It gave Alex just enough clarity to realize that something was horribly wrong.
Why does it feel like I'm being torn apart?
Gradually, he became aware of his surroundings—a dim light, the sound of rustling leaves, the scent of earth and incense. He forced his eyes open, blinking rapidly as his vision slowly came into focus. The world around him was bathed in a faint, otherworldly glow, the source of which seemed to come from an ancient, tattered book lying open on a desk before him.
His gaze drifted to the text on the yellowed pages—strange, archaic hieroglyphs that seemed to shift and pulse with life. He could barely comprehend what he was seeing, but deep within him, something stirred—an ancient knowledge, a forgotten memory.
This... this isn't my room...
With great effort, Alex lifted his head, taking in the room around him. It was not the familiar confines of his dorm room, but a place out of time—an ancient chamber filled with relics of a bygone era. The walls were lined with intricate carvings, hieroglyphs, and symbols of power. Strange artifacts and statues adorned every corner, each one exuding an aura of age and mystery.
His eyes fell upon a large, ornate mirror on the far wall, its surface reflecting a face that was not his own. The man staring back at him was regal, with dark skin and piercing eyes that held the weight of millennia. He was draped in fine linen, adorned with gold and jewels, and bore the unmistakable aura of a king.
Osiris... The name whispered through his mind like a forgotten dream. I... I'm Osiris?
The realization hit him like a thunderclap. He wasn't just dreaming—he had become someone else, someone ancient, someone powerful. His memories, his identity, were merging with those of the god-king, filling him with a sense of purpose and destiny.
But with those memories came a searing hatred—a deep, burning fury directed at a single figure: Set, the betrayer, the usurper who had stolen his throne, who had taken everything from him.
Set... The name dripped with venom as it echoed through his mind. He must pay... he must be destroyed...
Alex—or was it Osiris?—rose unsteadily to his feet, his legs trembling with the effort. The pain in his head pulsed in time with his heartbeat, but it was no longer a hindrance. It was a reminder of what had been taken from him, and what he needed to reclaim.
As he turned away from the mirror, a figure emerged from the shadows—a woman with dark, flowing hair and eyes as deep as the night. She was breathtakingly beautiful, but there was an intensity in her gaze that spoke of sorrow and determination.
Isis...
The name came to him instinctively, as if it had always been there, waiting to be spoken. She stepped closer, her presence filling the room with an aura of power and grace.
"My love," she whispered, her voice like a soothing balm against the pain in his mind. "You have returned to us. But there is no time to waste. Set has taken what is rightfully ours. We must act, and we must act swiftly."
Her words resonated deep within him, igniting a fire that had lain dormant for centuries. He knew what needed to be done. The memories of Osiris, his anger, his desire for vengeance—all of it surged through him like a tidal wave.
But as he looked into her eyes, he saw something else—something hidden, a secret that she kept even from him. It was a fleeting shadow, a whisper of doubt, but it was there, lurking beneath the surface.
"What... what do we do?" Alex asked, his voice a strange mix of his own and Osiris's.
Isis smiled, a hint of sadness in her expression. "We protect what remains," she said softly. "And together, we will reclaim what has been lost."
She reached out, taking his hand in hers, and in that moment, Alex felt the bond between them—the love, the grief, the shared history that spanned millennia. It was overwhelming, but it was also comforting. He wasn't alone in this strange, ancient world. He had Isis by his side, guiding him, protecting him.
But in the back of his mind, the question remained: What is she hiding?