⋆˖⁺‧₊☽◯☾₊‧⁺˖⋆

𝕎𝕀ℕ𝔻 howled through the ruptured fuselage, a deafening roar that drowned out every frantic breath, every shouted command. The aircraft twisted violently, tossing its passengers like ragdolls against metal walls and ceiling.

"Parachutes!" Nick's voice barely cut through the chaos as he clung desperately to Jenny, shielding her from the brutal forces slamming them around.

Everlyn gritted her teeth, arms wrapped around her head as she was hurled across the cabin. Her body crashed into a crate, pain flaring through her ribs, but she couldn't stop. Through the chaos, she clawed at the overhead compartments, fingers searching desperately for a parachute. The plane lurched again, sending her sprawling across the floor.

Nick fought against the violent downward pull, his grip tightening around Jenny as he secured her harness. Sweat slicked his brow, but his voice was steady. "Jenny, look at me!" He forced their eyes to meet, anchoring her to the moment. "You can do this."

The aircraft groaned, a tortured scream of metal breaking apart.

With a sickening crack, a massive section of the plane's side ripped away.

The sudden decompression hit like a bomb, air pressure yanking seats, supplies, and debris into the howling void. The force threatened to tear them out into the abyss, dragging at their limbs with invisible hands. Jenny screamed as she lost her footing, her body lurching toward open sky.

Nick lunged, wrapping his arms around her as they tumbled toward the edge.

Everlyn's fingers finally closed around a parachute just as she slammed into another crate, white-hot pain flashing across her ribs. Gasping, she forced herself up, strapping the harness on even as the plane shuddered violently beneath her.

Nick barely managed to pull Jenny toward the opening. "Go, go!" He yanked the ripcord, and the parachute deployed, yanking her out into the storm.

Everlyn struggled against the wind as she grabbed another parachute, her heart hammering against her ribs.

Nick turned, eyes wild. "Everlyn, come on!"

She didn't hesitate. She shoved the parachute into his arms and strapped it onto him before he could protest.

"Wait—no!" Nick's hands went to unbuckle it, realization dawning in his horrified eyes. "Everlyn, don't—"

She yanked the cord.

The force ripped him away from the wreckage. His panicked shout was swallowed by the wind as he was flung into the storm, his parachute billowing open just in time.

And then, she was alone.

The plane tilted into a full nosedive.

Wind and metal screamed in unison as Everlyn clawed for the last parachute, her fingers slipping against the straps. The aircraft spun wildly, gravity twisting, making her weightless for half a second before slamming her back down.

She barely managed to grab onto the wall straps, her fingers locking around them in a death grip as the howling wind tore through the broken fuselage. The world outside was a blur of spinning sky and rapidly approaching earth, the sheer force of gravity pressing down on her chest like an unrelenting weight. The deafening roar of failing engines mixed with the shriek of twisted metal, creating a chaotic symphony of destruction.

Her breath came in ragged gasps, panic clawing at her throat as the ground surged closer—too fast, too soon.

She squeezed her eyes shut, her heart hammering against her ribs, bracing for the inevitable.

Then—a deafening crash.

A violent jolt.

And darkness swallowed her whole.

"My desert flower, it is not your time. I won't let the darkness steal you away from me." His voice was a soft plea, laced with desperation and unwavering devotion. Fingers brushed gently against her cheek, warm and steady, anchoring her to the world she was slipping from. "Wake up," he whispered, his breath a promise, a lifeline pulling her back from the abyss.

𓋹𓂀

Everlyn gasped awake, her lungs burning as if she had been drowning in darkness. A sharp, panicked inhale filled her chest, but the air was stale, confined. The suffocating pressure around her sent a bolt of terror through her veins. She wasn't in a bed. She wasn't in the sky. She was trapped. Her hands shot out, trembling as they clawed at the slick fabric surrounding her. A body bag. Her breath came in frantic, ragged gulps as her fingers tore at the zipper, yanking it open with desperate urgency. The bag ripped apart as she lurched upright, the cool air hitting her damp skin like ice. Her pulse thundered in her ears as she took in her surroundings—harsh fluorescent lights, steel trays, lifeless silence. The scent of antiseptic clung to the air.

A mortuary.

Everlyn barely had time to process before movement flickered behind her. She turned sharply—only to be met with a familiar face.

Vail.

She stumbled back, knocking over a tray of surgical tools, the clatter echoing through the sterile room. Metal gleamed as instruments scattered across the floor, but her focus remained on him. He stood there, unchanged yet completely wrong. His skin was pale, his eyes hollow yet eerily knowing. He wasn't alive—at least, not in the way he should be.

"Vail?" Her voice was barely more than a breath, laced with disbelief.

Vail's lips curled into a small, easy smile. "Hey, buddy."

Her heart pounded against her ribs. He was standing right in front of her, yet there was something... off. The warmth was gone. He wasn't supposed to be here.

"You scared the shit out of me," she exhaled, trying to steady herself.

His smile faltered. "We need to talk, Everlyn."

She swallowed hard, her gaze darting around the room, searching for some kind of explanation. Her breath quickened, a growing panic creeping into her bones. "What's... what's happening?"

"You know what's happening." His voice was calm, but the weight of his words made her chest tighten.

Everlyn stared at him, her mind reeling, her voice barely above a whisper. "Am I dead?"

Vail's expression softened, a knowing glint in his dull eyes. "Dead? No. The prince won't let you be taken from him again." Her brows furrowed as confusion hit her like a wave. "A prince? Again?" The words tasted foreign, yet familiar. They pulled at something deep within her, something buried beneath layers of forgotten memories.

Before she could say more, the sound of a door creaking open sent her heart leaping to her throat.

"Right this way, please," a voice announced, casual and unknowing of the impossible scene before them. Everlyn whipped around, her breath catching as a man in a suit entered, followed closely by a woman in a lab coat. And behind them—Jenny and Nick. Jenny's eyes widened as she came to a dead stop. "Oh, my God! Everlyn!"

Nick stood frozen, his mouth slightly open, stunned silence replacing his usual wit. The man in the suit immediately turned away, muttering something under his breath, while the woman in the lab coat stiffened, caught between shock and professionalism. Everlyn's stomach dropped as realization hit her like a freight train—she was bare. A deep blush rushed to her face as she scrambled to cover herself, backing up behind a metal tray, where a lifeless body lay sealed in a bag. Her heart pounded in mortification. "What's happening? Where am I?" Her voice rose with urgency, her arms wrapped around herself in a futile attempt at modesty. "Who's in charge here?"

The man in the suit slowly lifted his hand, and just like that, the room seemed to still.

𓋹𓂀

The night stretched wide, an endless void draped in its cool embrace, with only the rhythmic crash of distant waves and the whisper of the wind disturbing the eerie stillness. Two men, their boots crunching over damp wreckage, trudged toward the crash site, their flashlights casting pale, wavering beams over the scattered debris. The air carried the tang of salt and smoke, mingling with the sharp metallic scent of twisted metal and scorched earth.

"Pier's a wreck," one of the men murmured into his radio, his voice low and wary. He swept his light across the waterlogged remains of the aircraft—jagged hunks of the fuselage jutting from the waves like skeletal remains, a turbine half-submerged miles away from the main wreckage. "Looks like part of the wing... a turbine. Miles from the primary crash site. Over."

A woman's voice crackled in response through his earpiece. "Copy, Search Team One. Message received."

With silent acknowledgment, the two continued forward, stepping into the water, their boots sinking into the silty ground. The beam of one flashlight flickered over something half-buried in the murk—a motionless body.

"One body found," the man announced, his tone grim. He crouched, the rippling water lapping at the corpse's sleeve. He pressed two fingers to the exposed neck, feeling nothing but the chill of death. "No obvious signs of life. Stand by."

The radio crackled again. "Copy, Search Team One."

He exhaled, reaching for his radio once more. "Casualty confirmed deceased. Request attendance of ambulance personnel. Over."

"Copy, Search Team One. Ambulance personnel en route."

As his partner moved ahead, his flashlight swept across something strange—a large, open Egyptian coffin, its surface drenched in an unidentifiable liquid. He hesitated, taking a cautious step forward, his breath fogging in the cold air. The intricate carvings on the lid gleamed beneath his light. But before he could inspect it further, a harsh caw shattered the silence.

Ravens.

Dozens of them, perched along the wreckage, their beady black eyes fixed on him.

The man swallowed thickly, gripping his flashlight tighter. His beam landed on a strip of tattered cloth, yellowed with age, trailing across the damp ground like a breadcrumb trail leading deeper into the wreckage. A shiver ran down his spine.

Carefully, he followed the path, each step slow, deliberate. The cloth wound around twisted shards of metal, disappearing beneath a large slab of the broken coffin lid. He hesitated, dread curling in his gut, before kneeling down and shining his light underneath.

A hand.

Outstretched. Lifeless.

His pulse spiked as he swatted away a raven that dared to come too close. Gritting his teeth, he wedged his fingers beneath the heavy slab and heaved, the weight protesting before finally giving way. Beneath it lay a body—ancient, wrapped in brittle linen, mummified beyond recognition. But unlike the corpses they were used to finding, this one seemed... preserved. His skin, though sunken, was intact. Almost as if...

"What the hell?" he muttered, inching closer.

"Hey! You better come and look at—"

Pain.

Blinding, searing agony.

A sudden, sharp stab tore through his eye before he could finish his sentence, his scream splitting the air. His vision blurred, blood pooling down his cheek as he staggered backward, hands clawing at his face in horror.

"Allen?"

His partner's voice carried over the wreckage, concern laced in every syllable.

Allen's body collapsed into the wet ground, silent.

The second man rushed forward, heart pounding. "Allen! Talk to me, man!" He reached down, gripping his partner's shoulders, turning him over—only to be met with a grotesque, gaping mouth twisted into an inhuman hiss. Allen was no longer Allen.

His skin had withered, his eyes hollow and sunken, his veins darkened with something unnatural. The moment their gazes locked, he lunged.

"Jesus!" The man recoiled, his panic setting off a flurry of movement—the startled ravens took to the sky in a frenzy, their wings beating against the night. In his terror, he stumbled, his foot catching on debris, sending him crashing to the ground. His head struck something hard, and the world spun in a dizzying blur.

Groaning, he struggled to sit up, but before he could move, a skeletal hand gripped his face.

Terror clamped around his heart as the mummy—its eyes black pits of hunger—brought its withered lips to his own.

A sudden, unbearable force pulled at his very essence, his life force draining as if siphoned away. His body convulsed, his strength rapidly fading, his screams muffled beneath the creature's grasp.

Then, the thing that had once been dead shuddered, gasping, collapsing to the ground as if awakening from a slumber spanning centuries. Its bones cracked and shifted, sinew knitting together as ancient magic worked through its veins.

Ahmanis.

Slowly, he rose, flexing his fingers as the power coursed through him, his form no longer as decayed as before. He turned his gaze toward the two lifeless bodies sprawled before him and uttered a single word in ancient Egyptian—

"Awake."

Like puppets on strings, the corpses twitched, their limbs jerking as they began to stir. Their once lifeless eyes opened, hollow and empty, yet bound to him.

Ahmanis barely acknowledged them.

His gaze lifted beyond the wreckage, where the distant hum of a helicopter cut through the night. His lips curled into something between a smirk and a whisper of longing.

"My flower... I am coming."

⋆˖⁺‧₊☽◯☾₊‧⁺˖⋆

By: SilverMist707

I hope this is okay, I did struggle a little <3