𝐞𝐥𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐧
𝐫𝐢𝐨 𝐝𝐞 𝐣𝐚𝐧𝐞𝐢𝐫𝐨
𝐦𝐚𝐲 𝟐𝟎𝟐𝟔

from the eyes of
— 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐏𝐎𝐋𝐀𝐑𝐈𝐒 𝐉𝐀𝐃𝐄 —

The Doctor and River Song were leading the way, River holding up a scanner as she walked. It continuously beeped, almost ominously.

Then again, anything is bound to feel ominous when you're wandering through dark tomb caverns that haven't been walked for over a thousand years.

The Doctor was dragging me right behind him, not daring to release my hand. It was as though he was scared that I would run off. Surprisingly, he didn't usually hold my hand. Only Amy's, but this felt both far more protective and more intimate than the way he held Amy's hand.

At least, his grasp was gentle—his fingers interlaced with mine. Nevertheless, his face was hard, filled with a thousand questions and theories every time he looked at me.

It was apparent that it was clicking for him, I could tell—see it in his eyes. He was stuck on his belief that I was not human (which was correct). And now he is theorizing everything that I could be.

Even with as smart as the TimeLord is, I highly doubted that he was going to get it correct. It would take him a lot longer before he figured out that I was a half-breed, let alone, an impossible half-breed. A cross between two species where it technically should be impossible to procreate.

The catacomb walls were leaky—mud making it up. The only source of light came from the flickering flashlights that we all held in our grasp. Leandro and Thiago adorned additional head flashlights.

Amy was trotting right next to me, standing as close to the Doctor as she could—her eyes wide as she looked around.

She looked like she needed her hand held way more than me at the moment.

The air was thick with moisture and anticipation, every step squishing slightly as we moved deeper into the tomb. My boots slid over mud-streaked stone, and the flickering flashlight in my hand cast twitching shadows across the rough-hewn walls. It smelled of age, of something buried and breathing beneath centuries.

The Doctor held onto my hand like a lifeline, fingers threaded tight with mine.

He was silent as we walked, his jaw tight, and his brows furrowed in that way he did when his mind was playing mental chess like four dimensions deep. The suspicion was radiating off him in waves. It was impressive, really, how well he could suspect the absolute hell out of someone while still making it look like gentle concern.

I waited a beat before I leaned into him.

My lips brushed just beside his ear as I whispered, soft as I could:

"You know... Amy looks like she could use the hand-holding way more than I do right now." I breathed, pecking the shell of his ear in a light kiss.

Nevertheless, the Doctor's head ticked, and his skin rose with goosebumps at the feeling, his ear angling toward me instinctively. His eyes flicked to Amy—who was, in fact, hugging her flashlight tightly—and after a moment of debate, he sighed, lifted his other arm, and gently looped it around Amy's. She breathed in relief at the feeling, clutching his arm close.

"It's alright, Pond," he murmured quietly, and her shoulders lost just a bit of tension as she nodded—not wanting to admit her nervousness.

Probably amplified with the loss of Rory, but she wouldn't know that.

Nevertheless, the Doctor still didn't let me go.

"Happy now?" He whispered to me under his breath.

I blinked in mock innocence. "Thrilled."

But he still didn't let go of my hand.

In fact, he squeezed it. It almost felt smug. I squeezed it back, and he ran his fingers over my knuckles. It caused me to release a breath I didn't even realize I was holding

"Sorry, Pond," the Doctor then said louder with a grin that was just a little too happy, "can't offer the usual full treatment right now. Already under contract with our local hurricane woman."

His words were playful—a metaphor. It was an obvious one, though, he meant that he was too busy keeping an eye on me to murmur comforting ASMR reassurances to Amy as he usually does.

Well, those might not be his exact words, but still!

Amy blinked at him, then looked between us with a sigh, "Great," she muttered, her grip tightening around his arm.

I let a few seconds pass—just long enough to make it seem like my mind was elsewhere—before I leaned just a little closer toward him and tilted my head up.

"Can I have a kiss?" I randomly whispered, feather-soft.

The words were airy and playful, yes, but also just the tiniest bit pleading. Like I'd been wandering for days absolutely starved of his affection.

(Which was a complete lie, considering I had very nearly stolen his breath from his lungs every time we kissed, which was proving to be decently often. Especially for someone like the Doctor.)

Still—he paused. Then, smoothly, without missing a beat or altering his pace, the Doctor leaned down and angled his head, brushing his lips against mine in an easy, casual kiss that made my heart stutter despite how quick it was.

There was a deliberate flick of his tongue, a slow lick across my bottom lip mid-kiss, far too smug for how brief the kiss was.

He didn't even let go of Amy's arm. Or my hand.

The bastard.

"How's that, dearest?" He murmured against my skin, his lips brushing mine as we walked. "Satisfied? Feel my adoration enough yet?"

I tilted my head with a smile, tossing him a shrug that was half innocence, half "try harder." My eyes screamed that I wanted more.

His eyes glinted. Challenge accepted.

Then, low and private and rich with innuendo, he leaned in again, his breath warm against the shell of my ear:

"Later, I plan on ravishing every square inch of your body until you're soaked in my adoration. Maybe I'll even loosen you up enough to get the truth out of you..."

My grin spread too fast to stop, cheeks flushing as I quickly looked away, biting my bottom lip excitedly.

Which, of course, made him perk up like a smug little alien puppy.

Thankfully, his words had been quiet enough that Amy—still tucked in at his side—didn't catch the detail.

But judging by her nose scrunching and the dramatic exhale she made, she'd heard enough.

That was precisely when River's voice cut in. The Doctor gave me one last gleaming smile—the undertone of curiosity still present before he turned away.

Ahead of us, River snorted without turning. "If you two are done flirting like hormonal students, you might want to be aware the scanner's picking up a corridor split."

Leandro glanced around nervously. "Is that... bad?"

"No, no," the Doctor replied cheerily, his tone flipping into that bubbly excitement he used when trying to distract people from how worried he actually was. "Very good in fact! Means this tomb's a bit bigger than expected. Excellent. More to explore, more to document, more chances to be crushed by ancient architecture."

Thiago made a face. "That was a joke, right?"

"...Mostly."

The group murmured in uneasy unison.

I cast the Doctor a sideways glance. The weight of his silence was still there, bubbling under the surface. His words were casual, but I could feel the mental storm behind his smile. He hadn't said anything more about his theories, but I could see it in the way he looked at me—like he was counting all the things I'd said, all the things I hadn't.

And yet, his hand didn't leave mine.

If anything, his grip was tighter now.

Because he didn't know what I was.

Because he couldn't figure out why I was able to do what I did. How I was able to spout theories just as fast, if not faster than him.

And when the Doctor couldn't understand something, he obsessed to it.

Without much thought, I began to swing our joined hands back and forth. Like we were on a playful stroll through the park and not deep in a tomb.

The Doctor cast me a bemused look, a twinkle in his eye as he joined in my swinging, matching my rhythm.

I wanted to tell him: Please don't be mad.

Everything in me urged me to grab his ridiculous face, stare into those stupidly observant eyes, and say: I love you. Even if I'm not what I seem, even if I've lied, I swear I love you.

But I didn't.

Instead, I continued to swing his hand like we were six years old.

We did not get much further before Rive Song halted.

Vanessa nearly barreled into her, skidding to a stop as she glanced around River's shoulder.

"What is it?" Vanessa breathed, already raising her flashlight.

The beams spilled forward—and God Damn.

This room was something else.

The chamber ahead was a cathedral of symmetrical chaos—rows of stone tiles laid out in a shifting grid across the floor. Some tiles glowed faintly, others were raised at sharp angles, and several rotated slowly like gears. The walls were lined with inset carvings, each one different: a hawk, a sun, a pair of interlocked serpents, a bleeding tree.

Above us, the ceiling ticked with an audible mechanism. Something old. Ancient clockwork, still alive.

It was a puzzle. A trap.

And it was breathtaking.

The Doctor let go of my hand and Amy's, stepping forward with his usual manic enthusiasm. He jogged up to River and smoothly inserted himself between her and Vanessa.

River didn't flinch. If anything, she leaned slightly into him, casual and unconscious. The way I often found myself doing with him—or her. That quiet little tick of connection.

I watched from a few steps behind as the pair of them surveyed the room like it was a chessboard come to life.

"The wall carvings match the tiles," River noted, voice low and focused.

"But the rotation patterns are irregular," The Doctor said, already pulling out his sonic. "Something's driving it. A mechanical algorithm, maybe? But organic... guided by symbols?"

"Maybe a logic grid. Or a sequence puzzle," Vanessa offered, hovering beside them. "Something to test cognition?"

"It's more than just a riddle," River said, tapping her scanner. "There's a power source reacting to movement. I think it adapts based on presence."

Amy trotted up beside them. "Like a game?"

River's eyes glinted. "Exactly like a game."

A game...

Leandro and Thiago joined, quietly murmuring their agreement. Their flashlights passed over the floor again—and I spotted it.

A single tile. Carved with a hawk's talon, jagged and sharp, and ever so slightly raised.

Found you.

I hummed under my breath, practically dancing toward it.

"PJ?" Amy asked, noticing me stepping forward. "What are you—"

Too late. I stomped.

My boot hit the talon-tile dead center and the walls groaned instantly.

Ancient stone gears shifted behind the mural panels. The ceiling began to creak inward. A high, ominous ticking sound echoed through the room like a countdown.

Perfect.

I grinned and dropped into a crouch, eyes blazing. "Game on, bitch."

"What—no, no, no!" The Doctor yelped, reaching for me.

Since the Silurian incident (which was admittedly not that long ago), the Doctor had been extra careful with me. Which was understandable considering I had gone more than a bit mad. However, it was beginning to get annoying.

Before, it felt more equal—like we were partners, but now—while it was apparent we were still partners, it felt more similar to how he treats his other companions. The breakable and innocent ones.

I was not that—I would never be that. I could handle myself, and the Doctor knew that.

But, I suppose I understand his viewpoint. Until I am up front and honest with him about everything, this protective behavior is probably only going to get worse.

That brings another question, though: What would he do if he knew? He might treat me even worse in terms of his protectiveness. But it wouldn't be because he was scared of me getting hurt or going too far; it would be because he was scared of what I could do... or how far I would go.

River grabbed his coat before he could take off.

"River!" He snapped. "Let me go!"

"Stop being a protective old man!" She snapped right back. "Let your woman—"

"Let me COOK!" I hollered, already moving across the tiles with lightning speed.

I knew this game. Not intellectually, but instinctively. This was more than a puzzle—it was a test. It was a game. The carvings weren't just for symbolism—they were rules.

The hawk is the first. Speed and strike. The sun follows. Power and light. The tree bleeds to nourish the land. The serpents cross only when unobserved.

It clicked in my mind like lightning in a dry forest.

Each tile needed to be hit in a specific order, under a specific condition.

The hawk — step on the talon tile fast, no hesitation.

The sun — step only when the rotating light crest is beneath your feet.

The tree — crouch and touch the floor when stepping, give something: a breath.

The serpents — cross only with murky intentions. Easy, my intentions are always unclear.

And the final tile, bitch where are you? I saw it, far at the end of the grid. A raised platform shaped like an open hand, waiting.

The gateway.

I darted, ducked, spun. My brain was on fire.

The Doctor was shouting something in the background, but River was still holding him back.

"Stop it, Doctor! She doesn't need your help! She's doing it right!" River called. "Every move matches the pattern. I don't even know how she knows it—but she knows it!"

The Doctor gritted his teeth, calming but internally still fighting the urge to storm in.

If anything, at least I'm giving main character energy. Though everyone is always the main character of their own life—of their personal story.

This was simply the story of the unloved little girl: THE POLARIS JADE.

I rolled, stomped, sliced my palm on a sharp edge, and pressed it into the tree carving—the tile glowed red. A pulse shot through the room.

Tick. Tick. Tick.

The serpents came next. Their tiles flickered.

I closed my eyes. Blocked everyone out.

Moved. One. Two. Step.

Let me see ya', one-two-step... everybody one-two-step! Wait, no, wrong thing, that's Ciara and Missy Elliot.

Okay. Hold breath. Twist.

But also—one, two, STEP!

I proceeded to all but crip walk as the final platform slid into place with a thunderous click. The gears stopped. The ceiling halted. And the door at the end of the room opened.

I stood at the center of the room, breathing hard, smiling like a feral animal. Everything in me wanted to fucking boogie and jam out, groove into the next room to music that only I could hear. To be honest, I would definitely be doing that if I weren't with six other people.

I would dance through the air on my fucking rocket boots throughout the whole tomb, and then I would rip the Eye of Enid out of the mummy's fucking hands.

Behind me, I heard Amy exhale, amazed—impressed. She then let out a scoff of excitement.

"...She's insane," She muttered. "Insanely good! PJ, that was awesome!" She cheered.

"Completely," The Doctor tutted, equal parts admiration and suspicion. "Completely insane!"

I turned around and spread my arms wide.

"See?" I called. "Told you. Also, Doctor, fuck you—you're utterly mad yourself!"

"Not like you." He clicked, rubbing his prominent jaw with narrowed eyes, his stance radiating thought.

Nevertheless, a few moments later, he trotted forward, motioning for the others to follow. "Come along then, all!"

I whirled around, eagerly going into the next room. River Song was quick to fall in step beside me, leaning in so her full lips were just next to my ear.

"Darling..." She hummed, almost song-like with her voice. "You're going to give the old man a heart attack, ease up on him," She muttered playfully.

I looked back through narrowed eyes. "And why should I do that?" I hummed back. "He has two hearts, after all, surely he can handle a little heart attack..." I smirked.

River nodded, biting her lower lip—eyes suddenly faraway. "Two hearts, indeed," She said with a click. "But don't we all?" She reached out, interlocking my arm with hers as we strolled.

It was familiar because it was often the way we had walked together for the month that we traveled.

"I don't remember having two hearts," I deadpanned before looking at her curiously. "Do you? Are you also a TimeLord?" It was said more as a joke because it was a known fact that the Doctor was the last of his species.

She made a shushing motion, her lips pulling up in the corners. "Spoilers, sweetheart..."

My eyes nearly fell out of my head. "Wait—what? What the fuck, River? You're a—!" She proceeded to slap a hand over my loud mouth, eyes fiery, full of challenge.

It caused shivers to race down my spine.

"I said spoilers, sweetheart..." She hissed sternly, her body coming close to mine. "Quiet now..."

We are about the same height, similar builds. Well, I am more muscular, and River Song is more curvaceous. God—her hips were like a Goddess. Nevertheless, even with the fire in her eyes, she wasn't that threatening.

She was kind of just hot.

"Shouldn't you tell the Doctor?" I muttered through her hand. "Considering he walks around sulking about being alone and the last of his kind every day?"

Alright, sulking was like the understatement of the year. The Doctor was torn apart by the fact that he was the only TimeLord left. And his heartbreak was more than valid—his race did kinda die off in an exceptionally traumatizing event.

River Song arched a sharp brow. "It's not that simple—I'm not..." She huffed before shaking her head. "I can't explain now, it'll risk messing with the timelines too much. Besides, are you entirely human, my love? Have you told the Doctor everything?"

My love? I decided not to dwell on it. I did; however, dwell on the fact that River was all but saying she knew.

"If he is as smart as he says, then he really should have figured it out by now..." I shrugged, my voice quiet, not daring to get into it too much. I then changed the subject quickly. "And since when do you care about messing with the timelines? I thought changing things up made life spicier?"

The Doctor was walking many feet behind us, speaking with the others. Though his gaze certainly found River Song and me almost every few seconds—I was counting the moment it would take him until he finally could not resist his own urge to insert himself between us.

River Song could not stop herself from huffing an amused bark of laughter at my words.

"Ahaha, true!" She shook her head before quieting herself, noticing the way the Doctor's eyes lingered on us longer now. Full of curiosity. "But no—not this time around..." She briefly looked at Amy before her eyes snapped to me. "There are too many people whom I care far too much about that are immensely involved to risk such a thing as unraveling and breaking apart timelines."

I guess I could understand that. The way her hand moved down, brushing my hip, and the deep look she was giving me made me curious. I vaguely wondered if her lips tasted like the strawberry chapstick she was wearing. I leaned in slightly, lips going nearer to her own as I opened my mouth to speak softly to her.

However, of course, we were interrupted by the loving Doctor of Time Travel. I jumped in surprise as his hands suddenly came, squeezing my hips tightly, and he leaned his head into the crook of my neck from behind. He had managed to scramble up to us quickly.

His movement of affection slowed our walking down, turning it into a shuffle. Especially because River was still linked to my arm.

"How did you do that? You figured out the puzzle entirely too quickly." He murmured in my ear, voice quiet, but loud enough for River to hear. "And what're you two talking about over here?"

"Nosy much?" I scoffed, pushing him away, causing him to pout but release me and fall into step on River's other side. "And girly things, Doctor... none of your business type of things..."

River was sandwiched between us, looking back and forth from our faces in amusement.

"Everything is my business," The Doctor immediately quipped back. "I'm the Doctor..."

"...More like a loser," I muttered quietly, but the Doctor caught it.

"What was that, dearest?"

"Nothing!" I smiled in a fake way, and he smiled fake right back—eyes twinkling.

Ah—love and passion. Adoration and affection. More often full of fire and intensity than water and calmness. For us, at least.

Amy and Vanessa appeared at that moment, all beaming energy and curious grins.

"Okay, okay," Amy said, practically skipping over. "How the hell did you do that back there?"

"Seriously," Vanessa added. "You stepped on a tile and suddenly you were playing the whole room like it was a game of Hopscotch!"

I shrugged, trying to downplay the firestorm still simmering beneath my skin. "Guess I'm just that good."

They chuckled, and Amy gave me a playful elbow to the ribs.

But the Doctor had stopped.

His body had stilled as it always did when something shifted in the air, like he could hear something the rest of us hadn't registered yet.

He slowly lifted a hand, motioning for quiet.

We all obeyed instinctively.

Silence fell heavy over us.

His gaze had locked onto something just beyond the corridor—a space carved not by erosion or decay, but deliberate reverence.

Golden dust floated gently in the air ahead, catching the light from our lights.

It was a wide, open crypt. The final chamber.

The walls were inlaid with stories—murals etched into polished obsidian, depicting war and worship, the rise of a chieftain who once ruled by divine power. We followed the Doctor slowly, allowing him to take lead, but my mind was racing.

"Wow..." Amy hummed in amazement, her flashlight flickering as she took in the walls.

"Wow, indeed," I clicked right back, eyebrows furrowing as I looked at the depictions.

Because even as the others marveled, I could feel it. A hum beneath the surface of the tomb. A ripple in the air like the low growl of something asleep but dreaming.

The crypt stretched wide, like the gods themselves had hollowed out a mountain. The ceiling arched high above, coffered with worn carvings inlaid with flakes of bronze and lapis. Murals covered the walls—etched in obsidian so dark it drank in the light, glowing only where gold leaf had been pressed into the ancient cuts. The imagery was brutal and awe-inspiring.

War. Triumph. Worship.

Arcêane, crowned in flame and shadow, conquering tribes, building monuments. At the center of it all was his emblem: a sun with a bleeding eye at its core.

The mummified body lay high on a carved stone slab, almost like a throne. Wrapped in deep layers of linen and heavy furred cloak—the pelt of some massive beast whose species probably didn't even exist anymore. The cloak was stitched with symbols, stiff with time and reverence.

His head was tilted slightly to the side, face nearly gone, little skin clinging to bone. But there was something powerful even in stillness.

Beside him, recessed into the stone floor, was an open chamber—an entire second room, aglow with the shimmer of untold treasures. Gold. Gilded weapons. Crates filled with scrolls and preserved objects. Trinkets and offerings from generations of followers long since dust.

It sparkled in the dim light like starlight caught in a tomb.

"Don't touch anything," the Doctor said, voice tight and commanding. He stepped forward, releasing me, his eyes sharp. "Follow me. We'll investigate the treasure room first. I want to make sure there aren't any booby traps rigged to punish sticky fingers."

Vanessa practically vibrated beside him. "It's—this is incredible. This could rewrite history books. It will."

Leandro and Thiago followed close behind, both giddy and reverent. Thiago's camera clicked softly every few seconds as he captured every inch of what he could. He had been filming and documenting since the first glyph on the outer wall.

None of them questioned the Doctor's lead. They followed him toward the glittering chamber.

Except me. I stayed behind.

A few slow steps—silent as a shadow. I didn't need to move far. I lingered just inside the threshold of the main crypt, feet still rooted where they had stopped.

They didn't notice. Too caught up in history, in treasure, in theories. Too dazzled. But they'd notice my missing presence soon enough, I have to be quick.

I breathed out slowly. The second their backs were turned, I turned to the mummy.

The slab loomed before me, towering and sacred.

And I felt it—the Aureum.

It was coiling in the air, not from within me, but around me. Stirring like mist around the edges of the slab. Whispering. Radiating.

I knew, with a cold certainty deep in my bones: it was coming from the Eye.

Still active. Still working. Still trying to bring him back.

I stepped forward, carefully placing my hands on the edge of the stone. I felt heat radiating from the chest beneath the wrappings. A subtle warmth. Not alive. But... not dead, either.

My eyes scanned the wrapped figure, fingers moving quickly and carefully, peeling back just enough of the cloak and old fabric. Ugh, gross—it's all ashy and dusty. Still better than if it were wet and moist, I guess, but still... nasty.

A gleam caught my eye, and I stopped pulling.

Nestled in the hollow of his chest. Hanging from a thick cord of twisted, ancient leather.

A golden and red twinkling object, completely untouched by time's hands, appears new, as though it were constructed yesterday. Circular. Centered with a blood-red core and veins of pulsating gold.

The Eye of Enid. Artifact Number Eight.

It really was here! I had found it!

My heart leapt to my throat. Tears nearly pricked at the corner of my eyes. Because this meant there was only one more. One fucking more.

I had been right. Of course, I had. Arcêane never would have let it go. Even in death, he had clung to it. His most prized possession. His power source.

His resurrection key. But no longer.

The Eye pulsed—once.

I grit my teeth.

At least I wasn't too late.

If I could get it off him, if I could separate it from his corpse before the final signal reached his broken soul—I would stop him from rising. His soul would find eternal rest officially, no longer kept in a horrible state of the in-between by the Arbiter.

I could keep the others from finding out. He wouldn't rise from the dead at all and I'd have my second to last Arbiter—no harm, no foul.

I eyed the Eye of Enid consideringly. Arbiters reacted differently upon being touched. Some had burned me when I first touched them, others released loud wailing noises.

Arbitier seven, the scepter that I got from Pollux, had been by far the most docile of them all. Doing nothing upon being touched. I still eyed it suspiciously, wondering if its reaction would come late and randomly.

However, I had no clue if this one would be the same. If it'd be docile or violent upon touch. But I did not have time to test it or to consider it; I had to just go for it.

The worst it would do is burn me a bit or scream for a moment, at least, that is what the worst had been for the previous seven I had acquired over the years. I was used to it, I could handle it.

I prayed if it was to do anything, it burned me rather than screamed. The Doctor, Amy, and River were less inclined to notice a burn rather than an inanimate object fucking screaming. A burn would be easier to lie about than why a golden necklace that I was robbing off a mummy was screaming.

Holding my breath, I stopped thinking and went for it. My hand shot forward, wrapping around the eye.

. . . Nothing happened. Thank fuck.

I pulled, and the leather easily ripped at the back, coming free. The gold was smooth—glimmering, and I could feel the power thrumming through it.

The Eye of Enid wasn't humming or singing or burning—it was purring. Quiet, steady.

The surface was so smooth, almost impossibly so. There was no dust, decay, or tarnish, as if it had been placed in the tomb yesterday and not over a thousand years ago.

It was about the size of my palm, heavier than it looked, and even in the low light of the crypt, the artifact shimmered with an inner glow. The blood-red core seemed to pulse with a rhythm just slightly out of sync with my heartbeat, while the golden veins spiraled outward like the arms of some solar deity.

Multiversal artifact number eight. The Eye of Enid.

The moment it touched my skin, I felt it.

Aureum.

My own Aureum flared in response, not aggressively, but in something like recognition. The Arbiter and I... we matched. Just as all the others had matched my energy, the energy of either Aureum or Tenebris.

For a second—just a second—I forgot where I was.

A laugh bubbled in my throat, and I didn't stop it. It echoed off the stone walls, bright and wild and mine.

"I found you," I whispered, voice trembling with something deeper than joy. "After everything. I found you."

Eighty years.

Eight decades of death-defying missions and burning cities and quiet breakdowns. Running. Losing. Fighting. Surviving.

And now I stood here, clutching number eight in my hand.

One more to go.

Just one.

And then maybe I could rest.

But the joy cracked, just a little, as I thought of him. The Doctor. The man with the old eyes and chaotic grace who made my heart race and my stomach flip.

Why did I have to meet him now? Now that I was almost done?

Why couldn't I have found him sooner?

Why couldn't I have let myself have time?

I shook the thought away. I couldn't afford that kind of sadness. Not now. Not when I should be celebrating.

Focus.

I crouched down, shrugging the backpack from my shoulders and swinging it to the ground in front of me.

The zipper made a cheerful little sound as I tugged it open. I reached inside—and kept reaching.

My arm, holding the Eye of Enid, slid down past rolled-up jackets, survival rations, several dozen improvised explosives, a packet of strawberry gum, and eventually into the endless void that made up the real interior. My pack. Bigger on the inside. Enchanted, tech-enhanced, spatially folded—chaos engine compatible.

Like the TARDIS.

Except more punk rock and less space-ship. More homemade—a pocket dimension I crafted myself.

I reached until my shoulder disappeared into the void, fingers brushing against cool marble shelving. The Eye of Enid pulsed once in my palm.

There we go.

I gently nestled it beside the other seven Arbiters—each of them sealed in their own personal containment. Number eight sat perfectly between Seven's scepter and Six's vial of starlight, casting a gentle glow across the others.

My breath caught as I looked past them to the wall at the far end.

THE POLARIS JADE.

My soul. My other half. Trapped.

That force of me that had been torn out and sealed away. It shimmered in the shape of a doorway—alive, sentient, waiting.

I didn't dare touch it. I didn't even breathe too close. She might manage to grab onto me if I got too close.

Carefully, I withdrew my arm, zipping the bag shut in a single motion, and slung it back over my shoulders.

I exhaled. A smile stretched across my face. Broad. Wild. Almost unhinged.

This was huge.

I turned toward the corridor, ready to sprint back to the others, maybe even tackle the Doctor in a hug and pretend it wasn't because I was ecstatic.

"PJ!"

His voice rang out—slightly panicked, loud, echoing through the tomb like thunder.

My heart skipped. That tone—he just realized I was missing from their little group. I was surprised it took him this long, but he had probably been sidetracked by countless other things in there.

I cupped a hand around my mouth. "I'm fine, Doctor! Just got distracted by some ancient chicken scratch writing! Be there in a sec!"

I took a step forward, but there was a sudden weight—a snap against my wrist.

What the hell?

I furrowed my brows and spun. A hand. Dusty. Bony. Fucking desiccated. It wrapped around my wrist with inhuman strength, the grip like steel beneath dried flesh. And it was moving.

The mummy, the leader who was once known as Arcêane—he was sitting up. Eyes sunken, his sockets empty, mouth twisted in a snarl of eternal fury.

My stomach dropped through the floor. Blood roared in my ears. I stared at him, wide-eyed, terrified, and utterly frozen. My breath caught in my throat as ice clawed up my veins.

I was too late. The fucking resurrection had already begun. It must've finished just as I had grabbed the Eye of Enid from the body. My excitement and happiness fizzled away like a popped balloon. Because God-fucking-damn-it. Of course, this would happen!

"Uhm..." I called out as calmly as I could, voice loud but not a full scream—just loud enough for the Doctor, River Song, Amy, and the others to hear me. "Hey, guys..."

"Yes, sweetheart!" River Song immediately yelled back. "Did you find something interesting out there?" She asked.

"More interesting than all this?" I heard Amy say in disbelief, along with the sound of what I swear was her trying to cram loose gold into her pockets.

They were pilfering the place, taking as much as they could. Reasonably so, the tomb wouldn't remain open after this. It was now or never.

Still—the Doctor didn't strike me as a thief. Well, no, that's a lie; he definitely does strike me as a thief. Just not like a violent thief.

"Kind of..." I cheered, even as the mummy started groaning lowly, deep and ancient. It was still holding my wrist tightly in its cold and dead grasp. "Are you guys almost finished in there?"

I was asking because like... we need to run and burn this entire place down on our way out. Re-kill this mummy. Blow it all to hell. Like we did with the big mining drill earlier, we're on a roll today.

There was some rustling, a bit of muttered bickering, and then River's voice again. "We've grabbed most of what we can carry—"

"—But there's so much more to examine!" The Doctor cried, sounding downright giddy. "Come now, dearest, you've got to see this! The craftsmanship! The things in here! It's Christmas! We'll look at whatever you've found on our way out!" The Doctor cried out happily, and I swear I heard Vanessa ask him something quietly right afterward.

I pursed my lips and clicked my tongue. "Yeah..." I trailed off, nodding my head slowly. "That might be a problem..." My voice echoed through to the next cavern uneasily.

"Why?" The Doctor immediately asked, and I swear I could practically see that cute and confused look he got when faced with something perplexing.

"Funny story—do you remember the guy whose tomb this is? The mummified one?" I asked.

I vaguely heard River say something to the Doctor, "Why is she asking about Arcêane?" She asked and I practically heard him wave her off.

"Obviously!" The Doctor scoffed in response to my question. "What was the purpose of that question? Where are you going with this?"

How do I break the news of a mummy coming back to life calmly?

"He's awake..." I answered simply, might as well be blunt about it.

"What?"

"I said, he's awake—" My simple answer was cut off by the mummy letting out the most horrifying and loud scream ever that I had ever heard.

Ah, so this is why the artifact didn't react, let alone scream. This is its reaction—waking up Arcêane from the dead and letting him do the screaming. Well played, Artifact eight, well played.

Of course, to make it even, not because I was scared at all, totally not that—I screamed back equally as loud. Although my scream was much more high-pitched and horrified rather than monstrous and echoey.

The tomb shook.

I heard the Doctor yell for me somewhere through the screaming.

Dust rained from the ceiling. The carved obsidian walls groaned. Somewhere in the other cavern, something massive slammed to the floor—metal crashing on stone. The vibrations bounced up through the soles of my boots and into my spine.

Seconds later, the entire group appeared.

"WHAT IS THAT?!" Amy's voice cut through the air, entirely terrified.

The Doctor burst into view with his sonic lit. Amy was right behind him, along with River, who already had a blaster raised and at the ready.

"What in the name of the Shadow Proclamation—" The Doctor skidded to a halt, eyes wide as he took in the scene.

Because here I am, standing frozen. Gaping as I was face-to-face with a dude that had been dead for a millennium. Arcêane.

The Doctor's mouth opened in astonishment, "Oh... Oh, wow, that... that is not good."

"No shit, Space Lord!" I cried back.

The mummy had risen fully upright now, standing at nearly seven feet tall. A looming figure swaddled in thick, ancient wrappings of ceremonial cloth, hardened and darkened with age. The fabric was unlike Egyptian linen—it was heavier, almost bark-like, decorated with dyed glyphs and intricate threading that shimmered faintly under our lights. Sigils of status and power, stitched for a chieftain.

Its limbs were intact—too intact. Too long. Too poised. His hands were like gnarled tree limbs, one of which still clutched my wrist.

Its mouth stretched open further with a sickening crack, exposing blackened teeth and an empty throat. No tongue. No eyes. Just hollow.

It smelled like ash, salt, and something burned beyond bone.

Everyone was frozen, gaping in horror and shock at the sight.

Amy let out a breath. "That's... this isn't..." She struggled. "How is this possible? He's dead!"

"Right," The Doctor muttered, blinking fast. "Sometimes the dead don't always stay dead... even though they really should..."

Then the mummy jerked. Hard.

I gasped, thrown forward a half-step as the grip on my wrist yanked. I twisted, tried to pull away, but it was like being clutched by a vice made of vengeance and dried sinew. I prepared to pull back harder.

"PJ!" The Doctor shouted, flying into action.

He reached me quickly, but I'd already dug in my heels, planting my foot, twisting with everything I had, and yanking back with a fierce snarl... SNAP.

I stumbled backward, now free. But upon looking down, I was met with a rather disturbing sight.

The mummy's hand was still holding my wrist. Just the hand. Wrist snapped clean off. A jagged bone sticking out like a cracked femur. I shivered.

"Oh my god—" I gagged. "OH MY GOD! Gross! EW—EW—EW—!"

I started flailing, trying to shake it off. Just as I jumped right, I was apprehended.

The Doctor caught my wrist. "Hold still—just—hold still! Let me help!"

"It's still moving!" I shrieked as the fingers flexed.

"It's like it's trying to crawl back to him!" Amy shouted in horror.

Vanessa marveled, but also somehow looked like she was about to throw up. "That's—it's independent?! What kind of biology is that?! Is it magic?"

"Girl! This is cursed as hell—this isn't any magic!" I yelled, jerking my arm as the Doctor and I both tried to pry it off.

The Doctor's face twisted with effort. "Oh, come on! Let go, you bloody stubborn zombie-hand! Go back to the rest of your body!" He was yelling at the wrist.

"IT HAS MY FAVORITE ARM!" I wailed angrily.

"Favorite arm? I quite like the other one..." The Doctor scoffed in bemusement but shook his head.

"And why the fuck would I care about your opinion, buddy?"

"Because I'm the Doctor!"

"Yeah, and I'm fucking Batman, fix this!"

"I'm sonicing it, stop moving, dearest, I am trying to sonic it!"

"SONIC HARDER!"

"YOU KNOW THAT IS NOT HOW THAT WORKS!"

Finally—finally—with a disgusting, wet crunch and a splintering pop, the fingers snapped open and flopped lifeless on the ground.

For one glorious second, everything was still.

Then the hand gave a twitch and began to crawl. As though following the Doctor's previous advice for it to go back to the rest of the body.

"Uhm!" Amy shouted, stumbling back. "Doctor—! What do we do!?"

"Is it sentient?!" Thiago choked.

"Probably!" I answered. "It's dead, so virtually anything is possible with it!"

River raised her blaster. "Then I will re-kill it!" She tried shooting at it, but it was a fast fucker that darted out of the way with every shot.

The Doctor yanked me fully into his chest, spinning us both around just as Arcêane let out another roar—low and guttural, building to a crescendo that shook the very air. He was fully off the slab now, limbs unfolding in a way that made my stomach twist.

His eye socket—just one, the other partially collapsed—locked onto me. His jaw unhinged further, revealing a mouth that had no business functioning. Fuck this...

The crypt dropped into silence, except for the rattling of loose stone and our own rapid breaths.

Vanessa and Thiago took slow steps back, faces pale with that dawning look of this-should-never-have-been-disturbed.

The Doctor kept his arms locked around me, his chin brushing my temple. His voice, when he spoke, was low.

"A plan. I need a plan, something other than screaming our heads off." He breathed. "Any suggestions—I am very open to it right about now! Hit me with some of that suspicious ingenuity you've had all day. Actually, scratch that, since I've met you, beautiful..." He kissed the side of my head with his last words, extreme nervousness in his tone as he tried to think.

I scowled. "It's not suspicious, motherfucker... why do you always read into things so deeply?"

He glowered. "Language! And, it is suspicious, deary, everything about you is..." The Doctor licked his lips, not allowing his gaze to move from the mummy for even a second. "Now give me something!"

I swallowed, every hair on my body standing up.

"Alright, but it's not that creative. It's kinda our go-to move at this point. Arson, motherfuckers! How does burning the place down sound?" I asked him. "With that guy inside...?"

The Doctor didn't even pause, eyes still stuck on the moving dead body.

"Most definitely." He shook his head. "Although I disapprove of your bad word usage. And we really need to stop committing arson... I can't believe that's our signature move, how shameful."

"Yeah, well, you can cry about it later, you space hippie!" I barked back.

"Oi," he clicked. "Actually, it's you who needs to stop committing arson—it's always your idea!"

"Well, it pretty much always works!" I hollered.

"Guys!" Amy yelled along with River, both of them glaring at us hotly.

"Sorry—sorry!" The Doctor exclaimed, grip tightening around my waist.

I subconsciously leaned back further, digging myself into him. I reached down to where he was holding my waist, interlocking my hands with his.

It had been far more than a few hours since our minds had melded in the most intimate way possible, but I could still feel the very last remnants of the tether connecting us. A ghost of it—and the Doctor's psychic was exceptionally powerful.

I allowed my thoughts to scream, doing my best to propel them outward and hoping the Doctor would pick up on it.

It wasn't technically suspicious of me to be doing this because you don't always need to be psychic for others to hear your thoughts. In the Doctor's case, seeing as he is psychic, one just needs to understand how to keep their thoughts loud and he'll hear.

My thoughts in specific were quite simple—ɪ ʟᴏᴠᴇ ʏᴏᴜ.

Despite my crude words and snappy comments, and sarcastic lilt, I loved him more than I thought I could. More than I should.

The Doctor clearly heard, for he was pressing another series of affectionate kisses to my hairline, shoving his feelings back toward me tenfold. His own love—his own passions and devotion. His message was clear: he loved me too.

The moment the Doctor pressed that last soft kiss into my hairline, the one that said everything he couldn't voice aloud, I felt the tether between us burn a little warmer. A current that thrummed gently at the edges of my mind.

But Arcêane was still kicking.

His body shambled forward with impossible grace—seven feet of ancient muscle and bone wrapped in sun-bleached ceremonial cloth that flapped like it still remembered wind. Sacred glyphs danced in and out of firelight as he moved, the inscriptions writhing across his chest like warnings.

"Take cover!" The Doctor barked, yanking me back just as Arcêane screeched again.

We ducked behind a fallen slab of obsidian, crouched low. River and Amy dove behind a broken column across from us, while Vanessa, Leandro, and Thiago stumbled to the far corner, ducking behind a collapsed altar.

The Doctor pressed against the stone beside me, breath short, eyes sharp—those stormy, electric eyes scanning for answers in the chaos. His hair stuck up at the crown, messier than usual, his tweed jacket askew, bowtie crooked.

Still my favorite thing to look at in any universe.

"Alright," He muttered, almost to himself. "Talking might work. Talking usually works. Sometimes." He was nodding, almost hyping himself off.

What the fuck?

I stared at him, appalled. "No—what?! You're not serious. You cannot be serious, old man!"

The Doctor tittered, looking at me. "I do not want to go directly to blowing him up, PJ! Not without cause! Let's try to reason with him first! Why do you people always assume I want to blow things up?"

"What the fuck? Look at him! We have more than a valid cause—it's a fucking mummy trying to kill us and probably tip the world into monsterland once it's finished with us!" I laughed, almost hysterically and in disbelief at the fact that the Doctor was trying to find an excuse not to light it up. "It belongs to death already! We're just sending it back where it belongs!"

"Valid point." He answered plainly. "But we can still try!"

"Don't be absurd, Doctor. He's dead. Well... he's undead. But still! There's no reasoning with that!"

The Doctor didn't answer for he was already standing.

"Doctor, what the fuck! Stop it!" I hissed in panic, trying to grab him, but he had already raised both of his hands and stepped into view. His tone was calm, but commanding.

Oh my fucking god.

"Hello! Yes, sorry to disturb your millennia of beauty sleep, very rude of us, I know. But if we could just have a moment of your—"

Arcêane let out a low growl, his skull jerking toward the sound of the Doctor's voice.

Meanwhile, I crouched low and unclipped my bag, dragging it into my lap.

I was careful. Very careful.

My fingers slipped past the false bottom, pushing through the dimensional fold stitched into the fabric. It felt like reaching through static—a long drop and a tingle of displacement. The Polaris Jade glimmered faintly beneath layers of psychic shielding. I avoided her.

Instead, I grabbed a glass bottle—slender, half-filled with gasoline, a white cloth jutting from its neck.

I frowned as I pulled it out. "Why the hell do I have this just sitting right there?"

My mind reeled, memories unfurled of traveling with River Song a short while back. During that month that we had taken the TARDIS and traveled just us two.

"If this guy doesn't let me into this fucking club," I had said flatly, sloshing half whiskey and half gasoline into a bottle, "I'm lighting his car on fire."

River sighed. "Just slash his tires like a normal person, sweetheart."

Oh yeah. Right. That night. That had been fun.

I nodded to myself, pulled out a lighter next, and carefully re-zipped my pack, slinging it back onto my shoulders.

The Doctor was still trying. Speaking to it, British accent and all.

"We understand this is your resting place, and we very much apologize for the intrusion. I know how sacred relics can be, truly! We didn't mean to offend—"

Arcêane spoke, cutting the Doctor off. His voice crawled across the walls like rot.

"Thief..."

Everyone stilled.

"Destroy the thief," He rasped. "Return what is mine and I will consider sparing your pathetic lives."

The Doctor's brows furrowed. "Wait, wait, wait—nobody intended to steal anything, I swear. We were just curious, the artifacts we took can be placed back—"

"LIAR!" Arcêane roared, causing us all to flinch as it echoed through the caverns. "The talisman. I care about nothing else! Return the Eye. RETURN MY POWER!"

My lips pulled into a scowl. It was never his to begin with.

Amy blinked. "Did someone take a talisman from the treasure? Who has a talisman!"

"Foolish mortals," The dead guy snapped, speaking in riddles. "I said I care not for your baubles. Return the Eye, or die here. The woman of worlds carries it still."

The Doctor froze. His head turned slowly. Eyes narrowed on me. Unfortunately, Arcêane was not speaking in riddles too complicated for the ever intelligent Doctor.

"Did you take something off its body?" The Doctor hissed at me, almost furious.

I opened my mouth. Closed it. Awkward.

The Doctor stepped closer, more intense now. "Well? You were standing over him when we came out. Did you take something? Tell me the truth right now."

I blinked. Big. Blue. Innocent.

I then pouted, trying to appear blameless. "Of course not, my Space Lord."

The Doctor wasn't buying it. At all.

He only continued to glare at me. "Cooper Starre. The truth. Now."

I smiled, holding up the bottle and clicking the lighter open. "Despite what many believe, and other boring moral codes... you can't steal from the dead, Doctor."

His eyes widened; it wasn't an outright confirmation, but it was as good as.

Flick.

The cloth ignited.

"PJ, wait—!"

Arcêane turned his skull toward me.

"THIEF—!"

I launched the bottle with a battle cry. Like a baseball pitcher... from hell—HA!

The glass shattered square against his chest and the sight it gave was amazing, everything was suddenly lit in bright light.

Whoomph.

Gasoline and whiskey kissed ancient cloth as flame devoured it.

Arcêane screamed—an unholy roar of fury and pain that shook the floor and ceiling alike.

The tomb proceeded to light up.

Fire licked across stone, leaping onto old banners and half-dry torches. Heat exploded outward in a wave.

The Doctor moved faster than I thought was capable, tackling me with a sharp grunt, dragging us both behind the nearest slab of black stone just as a burning shard flew past us. He cradled me tightly against his chest while I gripped him back in an equally as protective and tight embrace.

It cracked against the far wall in a burst of embers and ash. We both hit the ground hard, cushioned by each other. The Doctor immediately rolled us over, shielding me with the absurd protective instinct that made me love him and want to strangle him at the same time. Idiot.

"You threw a Molotov cocktail at a mummy!" He shouted over the roar of flame, right in my ear.

"Technically, it was homemade," I corrected with a huff, winded.

"Where did you even get it?!" He demanded.

"My ass..." I sarcastically drawled. "There's lots of space up there." I proceeded to wink. "You can even investigate it yourself later..."

The Doctor only scowled, leaning his head closer and staring into my eyes sternly. He ignored my dirty comment. "What. The. Hell. Did. You. Take?"

I licked my lips nervously. I'll think of an excuse later.

"Later!" I snapped, kicking out from beneath him and pointing as the room lit up in full infernal bloom. "Look!"

The entire crypt was catching fire.

The ancient banners. The embalming cloth. The centuries-old oils that had probably soaked into the floor. All of it. Hungry flames sprinted across the walls like demons loosed from hell, licking upward with glee. Smoke boiled into the vaulted ceiling, and the once-holy tomb was now an oven filled with screaming death.

The Doctor's eyes widened. "Oh hell."

"Oh hell, indeed. Unless we want to be flambéed and extremely dead—"

"Right!" Came River's voice as she burst upward, eyes immediately scanning the chaos. Amy, Vanessa, Thiago, and Leandro followed close behind, each one skidding to a stop. "Now, sweetheart, what the hell did you do?" River shouted at me, looking more impressed than angry.

"I improvised!" I called back. "With that gasoline-whiskey mixture we made!"

"Great, I love it!" She smiled before turning to the tweed-jacket man. "Doctor?" She asked, eyes sharp now. "What do we do?"

The Doctor didn't hesitate. He shot up to his feet, hauling me with him, voice booming.

"Isn't it obvious? RUN!" He scoffed.

"But—what about him?" Vanessa pointed to the ever-burning Arcêane with wide eyes.

His ancient form was engulfed, howling, flames wrapping around him like a burial shroud. He staggered forward, refusing to fall, face cracked and blackened and utterly wrong. The glyphs across his skin pulsed, trying to hold his form together, trying, and failing. He was turning to ash.

The Eye was gone. His anchor to life severed. It was time for him to go to the afterlife.

"Oh!" I yapped excitedly with a laugh. "No, guys! Because watch this!"

Without a word, and like it was some fucked up party-trick, I yanked my blaster from the holster on my thigh, leveled it, and fired.

Once. Twice. Three... and then many more perfect shots—straight to the chest.

The impact flung him back against his stone slab. Fire met energy discharge. Flesh met fate.

Arcêane let out one final, gurgling shriek as his body cracked, crumbled, and turned to ash, as though he'd been waiting for it. I swear he was looking me dead in the eyes as he died.

I didn't blink.

"He's not coming back this time," I said, holstering the weapon with a snap. "Cool, right?"

The Doctor stared at me, slack-jawed. "That is not cool!" He hissed, absolutely appalled. And yet, somehow he seemed the slightest bit turned on—even if he was trying to hide it. "We will talk about this later!"

Oh, I'm sure we will, Space Lord.

River blinked. Then smiled, wicked and approving. "Nice shot!"

Amy turned slowly, eyes huge. "You are seriously twisted..."

I grinned. "Thanks!"

The Doctor muttered something about me being an absolute psychopath as he shoved me forward with both hands.

"Oh no, don't encourage her!" He snapped. "Move!"

He grabbed Amy's hand and broke into a sprint, the rest of us right behind. River fired a few covering shots as we went, just in case Arcêane had one last dramatic comeback planned. He didn't.

But the problem was that now this whole place was on fire, and with the connection to Arcêane, the tomb was bound to be closing in the next few minutes. Permanently.

The dirt and place crumbling in on itself would stop the fire. But we had to make sure we were out of here before we ended up buried alive.

We sprinted. More than sprinted—we fucking booked it.

Through the winding corridors. Over cracked tile and scorched mosaics. Past the now-burning murals and toppling columns. Thankfully, there were no more riddles or puzzles to solve. Although I half expected to be chased by a giant rolling boulder.

Alas, this was not Indiana Jones.

The air was thick. Choking. Dust rained like ash as fire swallowed everything behind us.

We didn't look back.

I ran beside the Doctor, our fingers brushing. He was yelling at us to move faster, Amy was coughing from the smoke, Vanessa was still gaping, and River was laughing like it was the best damn day of her life.

And... I was smiling and laughing right alongside her. In that moment, the Doctor's lips twitched against his will, and even he could not contain his huge smile. Nobody other than three of us found any humor or happiness in this situation, unfortunately.

But I was smiling and laughing for more than just the thrill of it. Because we were alive. And Arcêane wasn't. But most of all, the Eye was mine now.

Only one more artifact to go...

With that, we were escaping the tomb by the skin of our necks, the giant entrance collapsing in a giant close behind us. We all paused, desperately breathing, catching our breaths and bending over while taking in what the fuck just happened.