The sun hung low over the jagged hills of Upper Egypt, casting long shadows across the dusty plains. The river Nile shimmered in the distance, but its beauty could not mask the growing sense of dread that had descended upon the land. The plague had spread faster than the Pharaoh's soldiers could contain it, turning vibrant villages into silent tombs. This was not a disease of nature, whispered the healers with hushed voices. It was a curse-one of dark magic.
Ziya al-Fayoum stood at the edge of the village, her black robes blending with the night. The air reeked of decay and sickness. She could hear the distant cries of the afflicted, their bodies twisted and broken by the mysterious illness. It was the third village she had seen fall within a week. The Pharaoh's squad was not far behind, and they were sure to blame the magic she had once wielded.
Dark magic, they had called it.
But Ziya knew better. She was not here to curse but to find a cure. She had to, for the truth she kept was far darker than any spell.
Beneath her feet, the earth rumbled faintly, a ripple of power not of her doing. She knew someone else was out there. Someone else who practiced this dark magic. Someone dangerous.
Ziya pulled her hood lower, further into the shadows. She was part of the Pharaoh's squad now-or rather, she had become one to remain undetected. Her true identity was a secret she could never reveal. Not yet.
She could feel the by-now-familiar sight of the gathering of the Pharaoh's squad as she approached the crumbling entrance of the village. The tall form of Khalid, their commanding leader, stood at the head, even in dim light, with his body tightly knitted, scanning over the horizon as if seeing through the dark.
Ziya took a deep breath and approached, careful not to catch the wind with her cloak. She had to make her presence known without drawing too much attention to herself. Not just for her own safety, but also because that would be what success needed for the mission. The curse had to end, but not through the forceful means of the Pharaoh's men.
Ziya." Khalid's voice cut through the still air, keen and clear. He didn't turn, but he knew she was there.
"Sir," she said, coming forward. The rest of the squad stopped and swiveled their eyes to her. None knew her real name, but they knew her as the healer-the one who could read the path of the disease.
"We've tracked the source," Khalid said, his voice low but filled with authority. "The curse originates from the ancient ruins north of here. That's where we'll make our stand."
Ziya nodded, her eyes flicking to the rest of the squad. Tarek, the youngest of them, was already holding his sword high, his face contorting with a mix of terror and excitement. Amun merely stood in silence, almost forgotten in the rear as her eyes darkened, a grim line setting on her lips. Nefri muttered in a low incantation, as if asking gods for protection.
Then there was Bashir-sturdy, reliable, his gaze forever searching for any sign of threat. He hadn't eyed her as yet, but she knew he would. He never missed the opportunity.
"Sure of it, Ziya?" The deep rumble of Khalid's voice pulled her back to reality.
She looked up, meeting his gaze. "Yes. I've seen the pattern. It's spreading faster than we can contain it. If we don't stop the source, it will reach Thebes. Perhaps even beyond."
Khalid's brow furrowed. "And you're certain the source is tied to magic?
Ziya hesitated, knowing she had to be careful with her words. "Yes, the signs are unmistakable. But this is not the work of the gods or demons. This is the work of a magician. Someone powerful."
"Someone like you?" Bashir's voice was sharp, accusing.
The air thickened with tension. Ziya knew that the suspicion would always follow her. It was only a matter of time before they realized who—and what—she really was.
"I'm not the one behind this," Ziya said quietly, her voice steady. "But I know how to stop it."
Khalid didn't look entirely convinced, but he nodded. "Then we move out at dawn. Prepare yourselves."
Ziya turned, her thoughts racing. The ruins were not far away, but the dark hid a multitude of other dangers-machinations that she could not guess at. She had to be wary, not of the enemies they would confront but of the secrets which may come to light.
As the squad had separated to catch some rest for the night, Ziya kept to the outskirts, watching the moon rise high over the village. She could feel it in the air-magic, dark and ancient, dangerous. But there was something else out there too. A presence, cold and insidious, as if someone-or something-were watching her.
Her fingers closed around the ancient amulet hidden beneath her robe. It was a gift from a long-forgotten teacher, a reminder of her past, and it was the only thing that could protect her from the very magic that threatened to destroy her.
If the Pharaoh's squad found out who she truly was, it would all be over.
As the night deepened, Ziya finally found a quiet corner by the river's edge, away from prying eyes. She closed her eyes, focusing on the flow of magic around her, trying to locate the source of the curse. But the darkness seemed to grow thicker, more oppressive, pulling at her thoughts.
Suddenly, a voice pierced through the silence.
"You feel it too, don't you?
Ziya spun, startled. Standing in front of her was Hassan, the spy and informant of the squad. His dark eyes glittered in the moonlight, and there was something almost predatory in his gaze.
"I didn't think you noticed me," Ziya said, keeping her voice even.
"I always notice," Hassan replied, his lips curling into a smile. "But that's not why I'm here."
He stepped closer, his voice dropping. "You're hiding something. I can feel it. And you know more about this curse than you're letting on."
Ziya's heart skipped a beat. Hassan was dangerous, clever, and far too perceptive for her liking. If he knew even a fraction of the truth.
"I don't know what you're talking about," she said, forcing herself to sound dismissive.
Hassan's smile faded, replaced by a more calculating expression. "Don't lie to me, Ziya. You're not the only one who has dealt with magic like this."
Ziya froze, her pulse quickening. Was it possible he knew? Had he somehow discovered the dark magic she had once been part of?
Hassan's eyes flickered towards the distant ruins. "You are not the only one seeking answers, but the question is. do you want to find them, or hide from the truth?"
Ziya swallowed hard, a bit too close to the truth.
The air was filled with tension. Ziya needed to act quick-never to let Hassan spill out what he knew. She did not have all the time in the world.
Before she could answer him, a shout came from the camp.
"Ready yourselves! We move at first light!"
Ziya's heart pounding in her chest, she whirled toward the voice, but not before the dangerous glance of Hassan-the last one-reached her eyes.
"Remember what I said," he called softly, his voice now laced with a shade of something darker. "The truth always comes to light. eventually."
Ziya's stomach twisted. It had already begun.