America

4,543 years since initial death
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Running.

Sprinting.

Through the halls of the museum, Mark hastily made his way through each exhibit. There were so many people around him. At times, he bumped into several of them. But he continued to run and attract attention to himself.

"Sir, no running!" One man called out to him as Mark ran past him.

As he ran, Mark turned his head around to glare at him. He aggressively flashed his middle finger before turning back to focus on his task. He was so close.

Turning the corner, he made it. There was a group of people surrounding one particular display. A tour guide stood by, noticing Mark run forward before coming to a stop.

"Ah, you must be excited to be here." The guide let out a friendly smile. But Mark wasn't in the mood to smile back. Despite being on the verge of breaking down, he tried his best to remain calm and act casual.

"Anyways, on to our newest addition. What you see before you are the remains of a 4,500 year old mummy." The worker proudly showed the mummy laid on display in the center of the exhibit. It was in terrible condition, the bones were completely rotten and entirely visible through the torn linen cloth around the body.

Getting as close as he possibly could, Mark stared closely at every little detail of the mummy. He didn't say a word, instead he listened as his guide continued to speak.

"Interesting fact about this mummy, it is a female first of all. But the exciting part is that she is believed to be one of the first female warriors of her time." The worker then pointed at the objects that lay beside her. "We had initially discovered her buried beneath a grave site approximately three to four miles south of the pyramids. It was a private tomb since she was the only one there alongside a bow and two other little artifacts."

Mark interrupted the guide. "Markswoman. She has a bow, does that make her a warrior? Probably not, so get it right. Call her a markswoman."

The bow confirmed everything. He recognized it clearly as he was the one that had originally crafted it. It still looked fancy despite its rusty appearance, even after all these years.

"Markswoman; right." The worker hesitated awkwardly. In fact, everyone had looked at Mark. To save the presentation, the guide began to speak again. "It's a good thing you mentioned the bow, because we have to take a moment to appreciate its design."

Pointing to the bow, the guide continued. "It's a beautifully made bow, presumably crafted by one of the finest bowyers of her time. Some would even go as far to say it's an elegant bow fit for a queen." He was certainly right, in fact that was why the bow was created. The father was the one who crafted it for his daughter, not a bowyer. In his eyes, she was a queen.

Beside the remains and artifacts was a second stand displaying a single deformed skull inside a glass cube. The guide stood next to it, happily beginning a new segment of his speech.

"Now, there is one other detail to note and that's regarding this skull here. It was discovered to be buried atop the mummy, meaning this skull belongs to someone that this warr- I mean, markswoman was closely related to. It does belong to a male, and a few historians have made the assumption that this skull was once her father's. However, that theory was quickly disregarded when the skull's age was determined."

"How old is the skull?" Mark didn't hesitate to make his question known. He's been confused about this skull for ages.

The guide pointed back at him. "That's just what I was getting to. So for the time being, we have an estimated guess that this skull is actually thousands of years older than the mummy. It could even be older, as further tests are required. We can only speculate how and why the markswoman was buried with it."

Taking a few steps back towards the main display, the guide stood proudly, watching the audience's reaction to the information. It appeared that everyone was awestruck; all but one particular man.

"Does the mummy have a name?" Mark asked. He still tried his best not to break down, but it was getting hard.

The worker shook his head in response. "Unfortunately no one could find anything that mentioned a name. No markings, no hieroglyphs around the area. It's as if whoever buried her there never wanted her to be found. Nobody knows much about her apart from the fact she was a warrior, sorry; markswoman, due to her being buried with such a unique bow."

"What about the pyramid?" Mark pointed at the miniature pyramid that sat besides the mummy and the bow.

"Ah, that is a gift. It was created by delicately smoothing out aged sandstone. One fascinating feature shows the edges of the pyramid being deliberately soft and well rounded, rather than sharp. It shows that it was clearly given to the girl during her childhood, so she doesn't accidentally harm herself while holding it. Because of that fact alone, we can assume it was given to her by her family or a close friend." Mark was impressed. They had gotten their information correct, straight down to the pyramid's soft edges.

He took one more look at everything in front of him. It was clear exactly who the mummy was, and he wanted to say it. The only issue would be explaining how he knows about her, as he's not an archeologist or a scientist. He was just a history professor, but even that wasn't enough to possibly explain how he would know such information.

Finally, he decided to wing it. "Her name is Life."

The worker looked confused. "Life isn't exactly an Egyptian name. Their names never even contained the letter 'L' in them. Besides, what makes you determine that?"

"Don't you lecture me about names, I think I know about my own damn culture and history." Mark was losing it. "4,500 years ago, were you there? I don't think so. So here's what I suggest you to do. Shut up and let the professional educate you."

That caused the entire room to become silent as some people looked at him in fear and nervousness. Even the tour guide who was annoyed by his interruptions froze in place and didn't mutter a word in response. They could only listen as Mark began his speech.

"Now onto the girl's name, there's one thing you need to know. She's important to her family, as you can tell by the pyramid. It's a gift obviously given to her, probably by her father. It's also a way her parents could show appreciation, to show how much they care and love for one another, even if it means building them a pyramid by hand; no matter its size. The bow looks handmade, not by a professional craftsman or bowyer, but rather by a close figure at the time who only wanted to impress her."

By now, a few more people had gathered and listened to him speak as he pointed at everything in display and explained it all.

"A bow of this kind wasn't made for combat, instead it's a symbol of elegance, hence its description. A bow fit for a queen, because she was loved and cared for by her family. They saw her as a queen, and they made sure she was buried with everything to prove how important she was to them. However there are clear markings to show that at the end of the day, this bow has seen its fair share of combat. Whether her father almost killed her out of blind anger, or some other traumatic event occured; she was forced down a life of violence. And I'm sure that if she were to see me now, or at least her own father; she'd know that no matter what she did, she is forgiven. Because she was his life. The life I could not live without. It's why I named her Aisha, translating to 'she lives'. "

The exhibit was in full silence after his short speech. A tear finally shed from his eye and gently slid down his cheek. He meant every word he said.

While he's had countless of lovers in his life, some children and a current wife, Valerie; Ada and Aisha will always be the two most important people of his entire life. Even to this day, their voices and faces remain as clear as the day he lost them. He will continue to remember them, no matter how long he may live for.

"You've single handedly ruined my presentation, one that I spent all week memorizing!" The worker spoke nervously, still processing his words. "Does anyone know this guy? Sir, I don't know if you know this but alcohol is not permitted in here. Are you drunk? I mean, you named her? Like you're her father? Can we get security?"

"Oh don't you fucking dare! This is all on you to begin with. Some things don't belong in a museum, yet you tore her out of her grave and put her on display for the whole world to see! You shameless bastard! You're holding someone's daughter hostage! I will sue this fine establishment for personal theft, and I will see you in court. In the meantime, you burn in hell!"

Just as Mark started walking away, he turned his head back towards the crowd and tour guide. "And just for the record, here's how I know about her-"

Finally, he screamed.

"I'm a historian!"

With those words spoken, he fled the scene before security could drag him out. He speed-walked towards the bathroom, hiding in one stall to catch his breath and wait out his notoriety. After nearly fifteen minutes, he casually walked out and left the exhibit of ancient Egypt. There was nothing else for him to look at. He lived through all of it, from the very beginning and until the end.

As he walked throughout the museum, most of the things he found were nothing but mere memories. From the earliest relics of ancient Egypt to the most recent aspects of technology and culture from the early twentieth century. It just felt odd to walk down each exhibit, reminding him of his past.

He eventually found Valerie in the South American exhibit, staring at a small, ancient Olmec head. It was from the preclassic Mayans, almost five thousand years old. She was studying it as well as she could. It reminded her of home, although all she remembers from it were the horrors that ensued. While Mark wished he could return to his time back in Egypt, Valerie just wanted to forget about her past.

Time has been nothing but cruel, as they both experienced terrible moments they just want to forget. Looking at the ancient relics before them, they could remember the pain they felt throughout the worst times.

"This Goddamn head ruined my life." Valerie said, still keeping eye contact with the large Mayan head that was displayed in front of her.

Mark just stood by her, observing the head with her.

"Moments before my very first death, the last thing I ever saw was this rock about to fall over me, but on a far larger scale." She continued, pointing at parts of the head. "There was an inscription on it, at the time I didn't know what it meant. But after I learned of my immortality, I was able to understand what the inscription meant. It was just one word."

She had mentioned this before, but never in full detail. Mark remembered the word she had told him. He whispered it to her. "Luxuria, lust in Latin."

"Ira." Valerie spoke, breaking the silence that followed. "That was your sin, right?"

Mark nodded. Ever since Valerie had mentioned her lust, they knew it was connected. During his fight with the bandits, he had felt nothing but pure rage. Throughout his years, he's mercilessly taken the lives of thousands, perhaps even millions. He had lost count, but he knew it was all brought on by his own wrath. Even when he finally finds time to calm down and act reasonable, there's no denying the times he would lose all self-control.

While Valerie never talked about her past in full detail, she had told him enough to get her point across. During her time, she was nothing but an assassin. One that seduced the powerful and the corrupt, closely approaching them without arousing suspicion. Before they even realized it, she had killed them.

Nothing was too uncomfortable for her, as long as it meant getting what she wanted. She became a Goddess in the eyes of her people, living as a symbol of justice and power. It was her lust at wanting to rise to the top that defined her. While pride had taken control of her several times, it was her lust for pleasure, satisfaction and power that overcame her thoughts.

He lowered his head, remembering certain parts of his life. There were so many moments when he met figures he had assumed were immortal like him. He always knew he wasn't destined to live alone with this curse, and a part of him wondered if the Oracle of Delphi had met another Immortal before him. He even remembered the time he once thought Joan of Arc was immortal. But there only ever was one time where his suspicions were true. With Valerie by his side, he was confident there were others.

"Have you ever returned to your origins?" She asked, looking back at him. "To where it all began for you."

Once more, he nodded. "You?"

She shook her head instead. "Never thought about going back. Only time I returned to the country was with the Spanish, and I still regret it to this day. I'm not the Ik' Kamsanel anymore." It was a title given to her by the people. Translating to the Moon Assassin. Her life of assassination and murder was over.

Silence ensued. Mark wanted to say something, but he bit his lower lip. He just wanted to return home and leave this place. Unfortunately, once he saw Valerie turn her head to face him, he knew she was going to speak.

"Unless we go together?"

Mark stared back, unsure of how to respond. He really didn't want to go. Despite being married to her, he had completely lost interest in anything she had to offer.

Valerie nudged his shoulder, giving him a warm smile. "Come on, what do you say? Me and you going back out there together. I remember a time when a man named Milton once promised me the world."

"Milton died." He mockingly tapped his own chest to make it seem like an arrow punctured him. Then he waved his hands and lightheartedly whispered a scream while pretending to fall backwards. "Ahhhh, splat. Yep, he's dead now."

She had now gotten annoyed, almost glaring back at him. Her arms were crossed. "Fine then, you don't want to go. We'll just stay here."

Mark realized his mistake, knowing that if he doesn't fix this; she's going to bother the hell out of him until the foreseeable future. "Hey, don't be like that. We can go, I was just joking around. Besides, I can't stay here any longer. Not after next week that is."

"What's happening next week?" She asked curiously, raising an eyebrow.

"Last day of school. I have one hell of a presentation for the kids, they won't want to miss it."

"What'd you have in mind then?"

He paused for a moment. He knew what she'd say if he told her the truth. "Let's just say I'll never be allowed within a mile of a school or university after I'm done."

Valerie immediately became concerned. Just as she was about to ask, Mark placed his hands over her shoulders and smiled. "Kidding, obviously."

She was skeptical, but she sighed instead. "Next week then?"

"I'll have the tickets ready on the last day of university."

Finally, she walked off, but not without giving him a quick kiss on the cheek.

Mark rubbed the side of his face as his smile faded away.

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