Nomen

You came to the museum with a university group, half-listening to the tour guide. You've always been drawn to Ancient Egypt—the air there seemed heavier, as if the walls were holding their breath.

And you saw the statue.

Dark stone, worn by centuries, a stern, majestic form. Her eyes seemed too deep to be carved. For a moment, the light shifted… and the statue looked straight at you. A faint glimmer flickered in her eyes—you almost convinced yourself it was your imagination.

Touching the exhibits was forbidden. You knew that.

But something pulled me closer. My fingers touched cold stone.

The world plunged into darkness.

The fall was endless, silent. My breath vanished, and with my first breath, a searing warmth flared in my chest.

You opened your eyes.

The sun was blinding. You lay on rough stones amidst the sand—this wasn't a museum. Rising, you saw old Egyptian buildings, narrow market streets, awnings, and jars. People froze.

Their eyes widened in horror. They stared at your clothes. Whispers swept through the crowd. Someone screamed. A woman pulled a child away. Someone muttered about a demon that fell from the sun.

Guards! - came the cry.

You stand, your heart pounding. Somewhere, iron clangs. Heavy footsteps approach.

The guards are coming.