Theodosia

c h a p t e r t w o

Theodosia knew she was only a wax figure and that she had never seen Sparta – which she loved so dearly – or Greece at all. She had always been envious of the Spartan's they were modelled after, but now that Theodosia had the chance to run around the museum uninterrupted, she realized she lived among a myriad of different cultures and places. She was given the ability to travel the ancient, something she would have never done if she was born instead of sculpted.

Once Cecil told her to be an optimist after she had cursed them for locking her up again. He said she could be dead, like the rest of her people. A distant memory. But, instead she's alive (for the most part) and well. His "pep talk" was a poorly disguised attempt at getting her to shut up and accept defeat, but now she had begun to realize that in some ways, that old man was right.

They got Sparta, but she got the world. And from what she had seen, the world was amazing. Egypt was another facet of this new world.

Once she got to the plaque in front of the sarcophagus, she bent down, pushing away the long golden hair that fell in her way, and started reading. At the top, in capital letters, it said "Pharaoh Ahkmenrah", and that was where Theodosia's eyes got caught – she had no idea how to pronounce his name.

She knew the word Pharaoh, and Egypt, but a vague knowledge of a place she'd never been didn't take her very far. Out of all the people who visited her exhibit, no one talked about a Pharaoh Ahkmenrah, and they were how she got most of her information.

"Hm...Ah-k-men-ra?" she sounded out. No, that's not it, she thought, wrinkling her nose at the pronunciation. "No, that doesn't sound right. A-k-men-ra? A-k-men-rah?"

No, those didn't sound right either.

Theodosia straightened up and glance down at the sarcophagus which she realized was now still. Before Theodosia started speaking, the Pharaoh was wailing inside the coffin, but now he was as silent as a mouse. Theodosia couldn't help but wonder if it was her confused voice and poor pronunciations that silenced him. If she were him, she would have screamed louder.

"You're lonely," she wondered aloud. "That's it, isn't it? How long has it been since you've seen outside of your coffin?"

No sound came from inside the sarcophagus, but the Pharaoh wasn't screaming from within anymore either. Hesitantly, Theodosia moved towards the head of the glass casing where the eyes of the painted Pharaoh bored into hers.

"I don't really know how to say your name," she said, leaning her arms against the glass. "No one really talks about you when they come to my exhibit, so I've never heard anyone say it before. I know about the Pharaoh Tutankhamen, which in hindsight seems odd because he doesn't appear to be an exhibit here. My name is Theodosia, it's also a little hard to say. Well, not as hard to say, I suppose."

The sarcophagus stayed still. Theodosia wasn't sure her senseless rambling was helping at all, for all she knew he was not a kind Pharaoh, but then, why was he being so silent? A tyrant would demand to be released, until he was released. Ahkmenrah was completely silent, as though if he made a noise, he would miss whatever she said next. Even though she was unsure, she kept talking, just in case.

"It's too bad, if you were allowed out you could tell me. The old nightguards are gone, the ones who always locked us away. They locked me away too, but I wasn't alone. I'm not the only wax figure in my exhibit. It's tragic that you're here all alone," she sighed. "It isn't fair. The new nightguard seems like an idiot. He has a list they gave him, a list of everything they did before the sunset when they were here. And he's following it, like a fool. So, I ran away, once he was distracted."

Once again, she was only encouraged by silence. Theodosia didn't know what else to say. She didn't want to make him feel worse, but her only experiences range from being locked in a barren exhibit, and tonight, when she explored the museum – something he was unable to do. It would be like rubbing salt into the wound.

Her eyes wandered towards the giant slab of rock on top of the case. The casing split at the rock, which sat on top, not fastened like the glass. "I'm sorry for being so suddenly silent, but I had an idea."

Although Theodosia was courageous (or so she liked to think), she was made of wax, which was not a very strong substance. In place of muscles and tendons, she was made of something that melted if it got to close to a candle.

"Hold on," she said, hesitantly, "I'm going to try and get you out."

She leaned her sword against the wall and moved towards the slab, gripping the cool rock and pushing with all her might. It moved barely a centimetre before Theodosia's bare feet lost their traction on the floor. She groaned, dropping her hands. It was, as she suspected, too heavy for her to move alone.

She glanced at her sword. What if she used it to help lift the rock? She moved to grab it, but before she could, two voices floated around the corner. One she recognized immediately as Larry Daley's.

"Oh no," she muttered, the Pharaoh momentarily forgotten.

She abandoned her sword absentmindedly and ducked behind one of the giant pillars, holding her breath. Of course Larry Daley would find her in this exhibit, right when she was (maybe) about to free another one of his prisoners.

He couldn't have found her when she being verbally insulted by those snotty women from China? She might not have minded it then.

Annoyed, Theodosia let her head fall back against the pillar and waited silently for Larry and his companion to leave the Pharaoh's tomb.