Astra's POV:
As I stepped off the plane in Cairo, the blistering Egyptian sun hit me like a slap in the face. I squinted, shielding my eyes with my hand. Finally, we were here. Marcus Ryan, my colleague and friend, stood beside me, his eyes scanning the crowded airport.
"Ready to get this over with?" I asked, shouldering my backpack.
Marcus nodded. "Let's get the taxi."
We hailed a cab and handed the driver the map with the temple's location. Gahena, the ancient temple, was our destination. The ride was bumpy, and the driver's English was limited, but we managed to communicate.
As we arrived at the temple, I felt a thrill of excitement. The entrance was adorned with intricate symbols, a mix of hieroglyphics and ancient languages.
"Look at this," Marcus said, tracing the symbols with his finger. "This is pretty ancient, Astra. At least 2,000 years old."
I nodded, my eyes fixed on the temple's façade. "Well, let's get this over with."
We ventured inside, our footsteps echoing off the stone walls. The air was thick with dust and the scent of aged incense. At the center of the temple, a pedestal held the Sword of Azaddon, its blade glinting in the dim light.
"Here it is," I breathed, my heart racing. "The reason we're here."
Marcus's expression turned serious. "Do you think we're doing the right thing, Astra? As a demonologist, you know the power this thing holds."
I feigned nonchalance, shrugging. "Listen, Marcus, I see nothing wrong with putting this in a museum. It might not even be as powerful as they say."
Marcus's eyes narrowed. "I can't believe you'd say that."
I waved my hand dismissively. "Believe it, Marcus. Now come and confirm its authenticity."
Marcus hesitated before examining the sword. After a few minutes, he nodded. "It's genuine."
As I reached for the sword, my hand slipped, and the blade sliced through my left palm. I winced, quickly bandaging the cut.
"Careful," Marcus warned, his brow furrowed.
I smiled wryly. "Just a scratch."
We carefully transported the sword to the airport and boarded a flight back to Britain. Throughout the journey, Marcus seemed uneasy, but I ignored his concerns. The £3 million payment was all that mattered.
In Britain, we met with Mr. Castor at the British Museum. He confirmed the sword's authenticity and transferred the payment into my account. I stifled a grin as I saw the alert on my phone.
Marcus and I celebrated with a drink at a nearby pub. He asked, "Now that you're £3 million rich, what's next?"
I shrugged. "Take a vacation, I guess. Enjoy myself."
Marcus's expression turned serious. "You'll take a vacation knowing the fate of mankind is hanging in the balance?"
I rolled my eyes. "Oh, not this again. Relax, nothing's going to happen. The sword is safe in the Museum."
I reassured myself as much as Marcus, pushing aside the nagging doubt.
After the drink, I retired to my hotel room, unable to sleep. My mind reeled with thoughts of my newfound wealth and the debts I could finally pay off. My father's passing had left me with a substantial burden.
As I drifted off, a strange, unsettling energy lingered in the back of my mind. It wasn't until later that I realized the sword, now ignited at the museum, had activated, and the gateway to hell in Gahena had opened, ever so slightly. Demons slipped into the human world, unseen and unnoticed.
But I slept, oblivious to the horror that was unfolding.
The Next day I packed up my stuffs and went straight to the airport got on a flight to Los Angeles.
I stepped off the plane in Los Angeles, feeling a sense of relief wash over me. The £3 million conversion to dollars had been seamless, and now I could finally settle my father's debt.
I dialed Mr. Rogers' number, my heart racing with anticipation. "I have your money," I said, trying to sound confident.
The pause on the other end was brief. "Good. Bring it over."
I arrived at Mr. Rogers' location, handed him the $5,000, and waited. He nodded, made a call, and soon, my junior brother James emerged from the shadows.
I hadn't seen James in years, not since our father's passing. The debt had torn us apart, with Mr. Rogers taking James as collateral. I rushed to James, embracing him tightly.
"Hey, sis," he said, his voice laced with indifference.
I pushed aside the sting, attributing it to the years apart. We spent the day at the beach, trying to reconnect. James seemed distant, but I understood. He'd grown accustomed to my absence.
As I fetched drinks from a nearby vendor, the news caught my attention. Riots and violence engulfed Egypt, with reports of lockdowns and chaos. I shuddered, grateful Marcus and I had left before the unrest.
Returning to James, I found him flirting with two girls. I smiled, observing from afar. "He's grown a lot since we last saw each other, but he's still my junior bro."
James disappeared into a room with the girls, and I thought, "Looks like things are heating up. Can he handle them both?"
My mind wandered to my own dry spell. "I really need to get laid. It's been years." Marcus' face flashed in my mind. "Nah, he had his chance."
I dialed Marcus' number, but he didn't answer. A second call went unanswered, leaving me wondering.
James emerged with the girls, all smiles. "Looks like you've made some friends," I said, raising an eyebrow.
James chuckled. "What can I say? I do what a man must."
"You seriously need to get laid," he added, eyeing me.
I laughed. "I know, right? But I haven't got time."
James grinned. "Well, looks like you do now."
A passing stranger caught my eye, and James teased, "Oh, looks like you've found someone already."
I rolled my eyes. "Oh, please stop."
As we left the beach, news headlines flickered on screens around us: "Egypt's Borders Closed Amid Ongoing Crisis."
Unbeknownst to me, a demon-possessed body had landed at Britain's airport, carrying an unseen threat.
The announcement echoed through the airport's speakers: "Due to the ongoing crisis, all flights to and from Egypt have been suspended until further notice."
But I was distracted, lost in my own thoughts, oblivious to the darkness spreadin
g across the globe.