Reem reels against the wall, hands touching hieroglyphs that seem to flare to light, but only to her vision. The story is spelled out across the wall in glowing signals. The rise of the necromancer pharaoh, who perverted the rituals of resurrection, of nature itself, hollowing himself out to make room for eldritch beings from long before humanity’s rise.
The spells of resurrection wind through the entire structure, speaking of blasphemy, of wholesale death in service of raising the power of one man, one new god, to rule over all the Nile lands and the middle-earth sea beyond. As she recovers herself she realizes that she can see perfectly in the darkness of this ancient place.
She can also feel her own heart beat like a drum in her ears. Blood flows through her body like a torrent. But now…now it’s not HER blood any more. She’s just hosting it.
She looks at the others and something else watches through her eyes. Perhaps they glint with an unnatural green light in the torchlight. Perhaps the others notice, perhaps they do not.
She rights herself, tidies her adventuring clothes and stares down the hallway. "I think I know the way to come. Come." she prepares to go deeper.