The skies darkened in the land of Egypt, and the worries grew in people's minds.
The old, feeble king and the young Egyptian prince were sitting alone in a room in the palace, throne next to chair.
"My king, we do not have much time until evil rises." The young prince sighed. " Ra may not be right this time."
"The king of the gods is always right." Snapped the king, "We wait. As the prophecy has said, Mangoru will bring us our saviors."
"Father, I don't understand. Mangoru is dead. How can he bring us our saviors?"
"Everything happens for a reason. Patience, my child, the answer you are seeking will come soon." The old king gripped his staff tightly and closed his eyes. He breathed in deeply. "Yes. Our saviors will come soon."
"Very well."
Suddenly, the big wooden door burst open and a servant wearing white robes rushed in, panting. "My king!" He exclaimed.
"How dare you burst in like this? " the king started.
"Sorry," the servant bowed, "I have very important news to report!"
"What is it?"
"There are four teenagers, two boys and two girls, lying at the base of the pyramid of Mangoru!" He gasped for air, "What should we do to them?"
"Relax, they probably fainted from the heat." Said the Prince.
"No, my prince , they do not look Egyptian. They may be from another country, different from our world!"
The king's eyes lit up and he couldn't help smiling. "They're here. Ra was correct."
"Father, I believe in the god of the gods, but I don't think--"
"What does Horus say, son?"
The young prince brought out a silver charm, as big as a coin, shaped like an eye. The eye of Horus. He brought the coin to his ear and closed his eyes as he concentrated. He could hear a faint, distant voice.
"The saviors are here" the voice repeated again and again.
The prince knew when he was defeated. "I will listen to Horus. But I still have my doubts. How can a dead pharaoh bring our saviors?"
"We'll just have to see." The old king stood up and headed for the door. The prince reluctantly followed.
*******
"Oh god." Tristan was the first to wake up. He massaged his temples and rubbed his eyes. "I feel terrible."
He waited till his eyes focused and stared at his surroundings. He was lying on a huge carpet with hieroglyph patterns on it. Conner was snoring beside him, and Brook and Celia were at the far end of the room, still sleeping soundly. He figured they were in a room, one with golden pillars and statues everywhere. There was a golden desk and four glasses of murky brown liquid were in them. He decides he wouldn't drink it.
"Am I dreaming?" He asked himself. He pinched himself on the arm and yelped. "Ouch!"
"Wha-?" Celia and the others were beginning to wake up too. "Where are we?" She asked.
"Apparently, not back at the museum." Conner replied, still lying on the carpet.
"Okay. This is not good. Get up everyone, we gotta get away." Brook said.
"This isn't prison, is it?" Conner asked, "cause this is one heck of a prison."
"Shut up and get up."
The golden double doors opened and in marched an old man in white and golden robes, carrying a long staff. His hair was all white, and he had a beard. There was another boy behind him, but he was much younger. Brook guessed he was sixteen or seventeen. And my, he was quite good looking. He had tanned skin and his dark hair was shortish, with floppy bangs. He was wearing a white and gold linen shirt and loose matching trousers.
The old man was the first to speak. "I see you have waken up."
"Who are you and where are we?" Celia didn't hesitate to ask.
"We do not have much time for explanations so do please listen to me first." His voice was deep. "Listen to a story I am about to tell, and if you still have questions, you can ask."
"Let us out!" Said Brook.
"Why don't we hear what he has to say?" Tristan nudged Brook. "What do we have to lose?"
"Thank you." The old man said.
