The dune was tall and abrupt, so it took the entire group a fair time to scale it. Davyn was among the first to reach the top, and he spent the time waiting for the other, brushing the sand off what was obviously a hard surface.

Phillip was among the first to join him, and the two of them managed to clear a portion of stone slabs filled with inscriptions.

"Can you read any of it?" Phillip muttered.

Davyn turned his head sideways. "Not really. Let's just wait for Walt."

They didn't have to wait long. A few minutes there, everyone was there, clearing the surface for Walt.

"Aren't we on the roof?" Harrison asked, pushing sand over the edge of the building. "Because if we are, there will be no door here."

"Unfortunately, clearing the entire building in search for a door would take time we don't have," Edwards said. "We'll have to make do."

"Don't we have the resources to do this fast?" Alan asked. "I mean, I'm sure the Agency can very easily find the manpower to dig out this baby."

The moment the words were out, they all fell silent, Alan included. The answer was so obvious. The Counters didn't want to dig out the temple. If they did, it was free game, and anyone could come and look inside.

"So I'm thinking what we find in there won't belong to a museum," Rachel mumbled.

Simon put his hand on her shoulder and squeezed, warning her not to take this any further. Davyn agreed. Now was not the time to get into discussions about politics.

"We're only here for the jewel," Edwards said. "Once we secure it, the archeologists can have their site."

That sounded somewhat encouraging, so they all turned their attention to Walt, who stood in what appeared to be the middle of the roof, staring at the writing.

"Surprisingly enough, there might be a door up here," he said. He took a few steps forward and knelt, running his fingers on a stretch of hieroglyphics. "Davyn, join me."

He did, brushing his hands on his pants. The symbols didn't really seem to make sense, but they did point to the existence of a door.

"Press the sun?" he asked.

"That's what I got out of it, too." Walt stood, and shielded his eyes before glancing upwards at the sun. "But how do you press that?"

"Maybe it casts a shadow or something?" Though as Davyn glanced over his shoulder, he computed the stupidity of his affirmation. The sun didn't have a shadow. It only cast their shadows on the surface, and the shadows would continue moving as the sun followed its trail west.

"Maybe we need an instrument, like in Raiders of the Lost Arch," Rachel suggested.

It didn't sound half as crazy as it should have in normal circumstances.

"If we do, it's too late for that," Edwards said. "We're here, and we have to get inside."

"Then maybe this way?" Alan stood at the edge of the roof, looking down. But it wasn't at the sand below, but rather at the corner of the building.

The rest of the group joined him as he croched and took out a chisel, and began digging it between slabs. One of them was slightly chipped, and Alan was using his instruments to enlarge the gap. Harrison, Omar, and Phillip reached down to help him, and in ten minutes, they managed to dislodge the slab and make enough room for a person to crawl through.

"I wouldn't try removing more. The roof might cave in," Alan said, pocketing his tools.

"No, this is fine. It's not too obvious." Edwards took out a flashlight and pointed it in the void below. The beam barely revealed anything, so it became obvious that the inside was cavernous. "Now, who wants to go in first?"

Silence stretched between them. Davyn's stomach tied into a knot, and it took him a few seconds to realize that the anxiety came from him wanting to go in, not stay out. The entire experience was surreal, but in the best way. This was it. What he was made for. So the words flowed easily.

"I'll go."

♣️

Golden tendrils framed Millie's face as she stared into the mirror. She wasn't sure if she was imagining it, but there seemed to be red rims around her eyes. Even if she had been crying a lot lately, they couldn't leave a permanent mark. She hadn't cried in hours.

"You look beautiful, cherie."

Sophie's words had the knot in her throat growing. Despite their fight, her mother had come over to help her get ready. She'd tightened the corset on her wedding gown, done her hair, and helped her secure her veil. Millie had done the makeup herself, looking to hide the dark rings under her eyes and the flakiness of her skin.

Her hands trembled. This couldn't be happening. She didn't want it to happen. For the longest time, she was convinced it was nothing but a scenario playing inside her head. Stressful but not real. Maybe it could still stay nothing but a possibility. When she swallowed, her throat clogged.

"Millie?"

"I'm fine." Her voice didn't sound fine. She cleared her throat and returned to surveying her face.

She could still end this. Walk out that door and never look back. But the weight in her belly didn't let her. This was the best thing she could do for her child. Offer them a stable, happy home. After all, she and Freider got along. He took care of her. They could be happy.

Sophie sighed, but didn't push. She'd been like that ever since arriving. Silent and helpful. Millie could see the disappointment behind her façade.

"You don't have to pretend to like it," she said between her teeth.

"I'm not pretending. I meant it. You really look beautiful. I just wish..."

"Say it. That I wasn't such a disappointment."

"You're not a disappointment. I just wish you would have waited longer. I married your father at twenty-three and had you and Max a year later. I still felt like a child."

Twenty-three. That was five years from then. An eternity. Just one more year of freedom felt like an escape. But it was her own fault it had come to this. She'd been irresponsible and let Davyn get her pregnant when she knew how dangerous he was, that she should never return to him.

She hadn't listened to the voice of reason, and now it was time to leave her childhood behind.

"I want to do this. We're not the same."

Sophie stayed silent for a few moments. "I can accept that. I just hope you can as well."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"That you can fool yourself, but you can't fool your mother."

Millie whipped around, fists clenched. "You have no idea what you're talking about! I love Freider and we're going to be very happy together."

Sophie opened her eyes, but closed it, clenching her jaw tightly. And in that moment, Millie realized her mother was closing up. It was shocking that it had never happened before. The smile she gave her was sweet, but fake.

"Alright then. Let's go out there and get you married to the man you love. After all, you waited until you turned eighteen. You're the only one who can stop this."

The words felt like a punch in the gut. "Why would you even say that?"

Sophie didn't answer, looking past her and into the mirror to arrange her bun. "Are you sure you don't want me or Max to walk you down the aisle?"

No. It should have been her father's job, but since he wasn't there, she was doing this alone. Tears filled her eyes as she pictured how different everything would have been if she hadn't lost her father. But there was no point to linger on that now. That future was gone, just like the one in which she would be much older, not pregnant, and marrying someone she truly loved.

No, you can love Freider. It's going to be fine.

"No, that's okay."

Sophie didn't argue. "Then let's get this over with."

Millie stood, too aware of how tight the dress was over her midsection, even if she'd chosen a flowing model. Sophie was right. She should just get it over with.

♣️

The darkness reeked of death.

Davyn felt it clinging to his skin as he descended inside the temple. The light from the flashlights above barely broke the nothingness around him. He wished he could turn on his own flashlight, but he needed both hands on the rope. Sooner than he thought, his feet brushed the ground.

He halted, putting weight gingerly on the hard surface under him. Nothing happened, so he let go of the rope and finally pulled out his own source of light. The very air seemed to be made of darkness and the beam of light got lost among dust and cobwebs.

"Are you dead down there?" Edwards called.

Davyn didn't answer right away. He took a few steps back, careful not to stir anything. When nothing happened, he could finally breathe again.

"Yeah, I'm alright. Seems safe."

He could hear the shuffling from above as he studied his surroundings. He was in a corridor of some sort, the walls to his left and right around seven feet apart, maybe a little more. There was complete darkness in front. Behind him, there was another wall, but it was obvious the way led around the corner as the corridor continued.

Phillip landed next to him like a cat, his steps barely making any sound.

"It's stuffy in here," he commented, brushing his pants.

"Yeah..." Davyn continued shining the light around.

Under the cobwebs, there seemed to be drawings, most likely hieroglyphics. He moved closer to the wall, mindful of his steps. Yes, there was indeed writing on the walls, but it was obstructed by the cobwebs. He resched out his hand but faltered. He didn't really dare touch anything.

In the meantime, the rest of the crew dropped in, the thuds of their boots echoing in the empty space. A lot less careful than Phillip. It made Davyn grit his teeth.

His heart hammered against his ribs, and it was a strange feeling. A part of him was terrified of that ancient place they'd invaded. The other part, which appeared to be much stronger, only felt exhilaration, as if history molded into him, making him stronger.

"Wow, this place is... something," Rachel whispered, joining him and Phillip.

"That's one way to put it." Phillip was as curt as ever, but he didn't seem as unbreakable as before.

"We should be careful," Simon said. "This doesn't feel right."

"Alright," Edwards said, "now that we're in, we have work to do." He pointed the flashlight further down the corridor. "And there's no time like the present. Let's head out."

Davyn moved away from the wall and glanced forward. Omar took the lead and took two steps in front of the rest of the group before a spear darted out from the wall and skewered his throat.

♣️

The church was small, and there were very few people in it. Millie couldn't even see them as she clenched her bouquet desperately. Every step seemed to chip away at her heart, at her resolve to do this.

Time. There should be more time.

There was no more time. She'd delayed this as much as possible, but asking for more would be the end or her plan.

Her mother's words seemed to have poisoned her. She was only eighteen. She shouldn't be doing this now. She should have years to enjoy her youth, build a career and a life.

All of that ruined. By her lack of reason and responsibility. Yes, she blamed Davyn, but she had to blame herself as well. It took two to ruin a relationship.

No. This is the start of something new.

That was why she was doing it. To build a new life. A family. One untouched by evil and darkness, filled with light, care, and support. Freider's smile proved that, the way he looked at her as she walked towards him in her wedding dress.

He truly loved her and would look after her. They would raise the baby together, and she would learn to be a good partner to him, a dedicated mother. It wasn't the life she'd envisioned, but it was a life. A good life.

When she reached the front and Freider took her hand, the tension in her shoulders faded, and she could smile.

"You look nervous," he wishpered to her.

Of course she did. "It's not like I get married every day," she whispered back.

"Me neither. I hope this will be the first and last time."

She squeezed his hand. "I know it will be."

This earned her a squeeze back. She could do this. Play the part of the loving, dotting wife. Sophie was wrong. She was doing the right thing. And she could finally focus on Freider's comforting presence, on the warmth of his hand as he held hers, at how beautiful the flowers in her bouquet were.

The wedding ring felt nice on her finger. Her mouth didn't freeze when she opened it to say I do. She didn't feel like throwing up when Freider leaned down to kiss her and the minister pronounced them husband and wife.

She could do this. She could be Maxi Grant.

♣️

The blood on Davyn's face was warm and sticky.

Everyone had frozen, watching Omar's body suspended in the middle of the corridor, the wooden spear the only thing holding him up. Blood pulsated out of his severed artery, painting the walls crimson.

"Holly shit," Alan whispered.

Harrison leaned over and threw up on the spot, over Edwards' dusty boots. For the first time, he didn't seem to have a snippy remark for the situation.

Rachel pulled closer against Simon and Davyn, her eyes wide with fear.

Inside Davyn, everything pounded. His head, his heart, his stomach. Snakes seemed to slither underneath his skin as he took in the damage, calculated what it meant for the rest of the group. There was nausea, too, but it had nothing to do with the blood. Maybe the idea of death and the fact that he'd never actually seen anyone dying. Omar still looked better than his father had.

"This... This complicates things," Edwards finally said, his voice too loud for the temple.

"No shit!" Walt said. "We should get out while we still can."

"We can't get our!" Edwards snapped. "We have a job to do."

"A man just died!" Harrison said before leaning over for another round of vomit.

"And gave us valuable information," Edwards pointed out. "We weren't really expecting traps in here."

That was obvious. But what stood out to Davyn was that he had. Apparently both him and Phillip had.

"Walt," he said. "Can you read anything on the wall through the cobwebs?"

Walt jumped and turned to look at him. He'd been closer to Omar, so there was more blood on his face.

"I..."

Davyn stepped forward to the front of the line and indicated towards the walls. "Maybe there's something on here that could help."

"Yes, Davyn has a point," Edwards agreed.

Walt just stared for another few seconds before turning his attention to the wall. He pointed his flashlight and squinted. "No, I can't read anything."

Davyn had suspected that much but wanted to confirm before he risked losing a hand. With controlled moves, careful not to touch the wall, he brushed aside the first row of cobwebs. They were just as sticky as the blood.

"How about now?"

Walt moved closer, his eyes narrowed in concentration. "There seems to be a story here."

"Anything about traps?" Phillip asked.

"No, it's not about traps."

"Then we don't care," Edwards said. He turned to Omar, his face pale. "We should head in the other direction."

"What makes you think there aren't any traps in that direction?" Davyn asked.

"We know for certain that there are in this one and I'd rather not have anyone else dying."

"We should pull Omar out of there," Simon whispered.

No one complained, but no one moved either. Ahmed kept mumbling rapidly under his breath in his own language, probably praying, while the others seemed to be waiting for someone to take charge. Not even Edwards moved.

"Fine," Davyn mumbled. "Ahmed, help me out."

Even if he still prayed rapidly, the man moved and he and Davyn were able to pull him out of the spear and lay him down with his back against the wall. Even with all the blood, this was easy. His body was still warm and malleable. He wasn't a corpse yet. Not like Davyn's father had been.

He shut his eyes tightly, willing his body to relax. He could do it. What he couldn't do was figure out why this still felt easier than seeing his father in the morgue.

"We should go this way," he said.

"No fucking way," Edwards said. "We're going in the other direction."

Davyn disagreed, but didn't think now was the time to strip Edwards of his authority. It was hard to rein in his Snitch Gravel impulses at the moment and it was a bit shocking that they were still there. He'd thought he'd buried that part of his life behind. Apparently, Harkin's imaginary friend had joined him inside that tomb.

But now wasn't the time for a coup. Not yet. So, instead, he ripped the spear out of the wall.

"Fine, but let me go first."

No one argued with that. As he used the spear to check for triggers on the floor, his role on the team finally became crystal clear.

They needed a leader, and Edwards was definitely not their man.

♣️♣️♣️

A lot has happened in this chapter, didn't it? I enjoyed writing it from the two PoVs. I imagine that if this is ever made into a movie, the images would be switching a lot more often and point out how both Davyn and Millie (now Maxi) are facing a different sort of death.

Well, I hope you enjoyed and are looking forward to more! Thank you for your support and maybe leave me your comments and a vote.