Location: The Hollow – Depth Unknown
Sarah stumbled through the narrow corridor, her flashlight long dead. Only the faint glow from the walls guided her—like veins of molten gold pulsing inside the stone.
Zaki padded beside her, quiet and tense, his ears twitching at every turn.
She didn't know how long they'd been walking.
Time was… breaking down.
The further she went, the more the air felt heavy with memory. Like she wasn't walking forward—but deeper into something alive.
Then—
She saw it.
A massive open chamber.
Circular. Smooth.
Lit from below by a light that wasn't light—a red-gold pulse that beat like a living thing.
And at its center…
The Scarab Engine.
It wasn't a machine. Not in any modern sense.
It was organic. Monumental. Otherworldly.
A circular platform the size of a stadium. Covered in spiraling patterns of bone, gold, and obsidian. At its heart, a giant scarab, made of overlapping metal plates, suspended mid-air by invisible forces.
It pulsed.
Like a heart.
Like it was dreaming.
Sarah stepped forward, whispering.
"This is it…"
Zaki growled low—not in fear, but warning.
Symbols lit up as she approached, responding to her presence.
Then, a projection formed in front of her—a holographic echo from ancient memory.
She watched in silence.
The Projection: A Long-Forgotten Past
Cities rose—not from bricks, but from sound.
People bowed before the Black Priests, giving blood to feed the Scarab Engine.
In return? Knowledge. Power. Immortality.
Every civilization—Sumer, Mohenjo-Daro, Thinis—flourished, then vanished.
Each time the Scarab was overfed… it burned the world clean.
Sarah watched the Pharaohs she studied—the ones that vanished without reason—kneel before a towering figure.
Not a god.
A judge.
Back to the present
A glyph lit up beside her. She reached out—fingers trembling—and touched it.
A voice filled the room.
Not thunderous.
Not divine.
Just… tired.
"We gave them everything.
But they always wanted more."
Another glyph blinked.
"The Scarab does not grant life.
It recycles it."
And then she understood.
The truth slammed into her like a storm.
This wasn't a power core.
It was a cosmic engine—designed to take memory, bloodline, and death… and feed it back into the cycle.
It didn't just store life.
It used it.
"Oh my God…"
She looked up.
"It's not just a weapon.
It's a resurrection machine."
And now, it was fully awake.
Cut to: Surface – Battle of Giza
The first wave of human fighters were falling. EMP bursts. Psychic backlash. The Immortal Priests moved like phantoms, untouchable.
But it wasn't about the weapons anymore.
It was about time.
How long before the Engine above opened the Gate completely?
How long before the next cycle of judgment?