It had only been two months since the Pharaoh's passing and Amon's heart still stung like the bite of a scorpion. The young boy grew quite close to her—being her personal slave for as long as he could remember—and he felt as if he had lost his mother more than he had lost his Queen. It was as if he was born to be her servant; it was all that he knew, or even wanted to know. Though he was nothing more than a lowly commoner, he had plans of staying with her forever, too. The sands of time are known to change plans on a whim, though, and now his Queen was gone.
Despite his feelings, it was not all dour. The funeral was a lavish affair; the Pharaoh was known for her extravagant ways, and no expense was spared in her honour. Amon—as well as the rest of the servants—were dressed in their finest silken robes, standing vigil until the very end, when the Queen was to be laid to rest. It was a time to celebrate the reign of a Pharaoh, and to mourn the loss of a beloved ruler.
After the ceremony, Amon stood before the entrance to the royal tombs as the burial chamber was being prepared. "We meet here to honour the memory of Pharaoh Khensa, and pray to the gods to guide her safely into to the afterlife." The priest's voice was solemn; his eyes were closed—as if he was speaking to the gods themselves.
Amon found himself surrounded by impressive trinkets of all sorts, including an array of golden necklaces and jeweled bracelets that Khensa must have cherished dearly before her passing. He was in awe of the fact that he was even allowed to be near such riches; it was like he was given a chance to be with her one last time. The priest continued his speech as he gestured over to where the boy was standing. "May she carry her most prized possessions into the afterlife—her jewels, her gold, and most importantly, her favourite servant in all the land!"
Amon's heart started racing as the priest spoke his words; it sounded as if he was being asked to be buried alive with the Pharaoh. Amon didn't feel worthy of such an honour, but the Pharaoh's will was not to be questioned. Still though, as his eyes darted around to the crowd in front of him, he felt unease creep up his spine like a serpent slithering across the sand. "M-me?"
"Yes, you, Amon. She was quite fond of you; she wanted to take you with her into the afterlife. You have served her for many years, and now it is your turn to serve her in death."
Amon's heart pounded as he was suddenly the centre of attention from everyone in the crowd. He wasn't sure if he should be flattered or terrified by the offer, but he was too overwhelmed to think about it all too much. With his head down, he nodded and stepped down into the burial chamber; it felt as if he was passing through a portal to the afterlife, itself. The tomb had a certain musky, dusty smell to it, like the air had been trapped inside for far too long. Along with that, there was an uncomfortable, almost divine presence that hung in the air—as if the Pharaoh herself was watching over him from above.
After a few moments, the silence was cut by the sound of the temple doors slamming shut, locking Amon away from the world. The sounds of the crowd from outside the tomb faded, and soon enough, Amon could hear nothing once more. He was alone.
The torches living the walls had already grown quite dim, and as they struggled to burn in the stale air of the tomb, it seemed like the entire room was slowly turning to shadow. Amon looked around the tomb; the carvings decorating the walls seemed to tell a story of a young boy and a woman. It was a story of love—forbidden love, perhaps.
The more that Amon continued reading the story, the more he felt an uncomfortable feeling creeping up his spine. He could sense that something was amiss; the story was all too familiar to him—he had lived it all before. It wasn't just a story about a boy, it was a story about him, and about the Pharaoh.
"Amon?" a raspy, yet familiar voice called out to him from the darkness. "Are you here?" It was coming from the sarcophagus, and as Amon got closer to it, he could sense an unnatural warmth coming from within the golden casket. "Come closer," the voice urged him. The lid was slightly ajar, practically begging to be opened. "Let me see your face."
With trembling hands, Amon pushed the lid aside and was met with the sight of his Pharaoh. Her body was adorned in gold and jewels, and wrapped in the finest linen cloths, but her face was pale like a ghost's, and her skin was rough like sinew. The smell of embalmment lingered in the air, along with a foul stench that was unlike anything Amon had ever smelled before. It was enough to cause Amon to stumble backwards, but the moment Khensa started to move, the boy could only stand himself still, shivering like a frightened mouse.
Khensa's body rose from the coffin like a marionette on strings, as if the gods themselves were pulling her out of her sarcophagus. Amon, though, was too frozen in fear to even move a muscle; he could do nothing but watch as the Pharaoh began to shuffle towards him in a grotesque dance. Her movements were slow and awkward, as if she was not used to walking on her own two feet; despite this, though, she walked with clear purpose.
Amon couldn't believe his eyes—and he didn't want to, either. He couldn't bear to see his Queen like this—like a creature that was not supposed to exist. She was the Pharaoh, and yet she was not; she was alive, but she was not. As she reached out to touch his cheek, the feeling of her sinewy flesh brushing against his skin made Amon recoil in horror, with tears starting to well up in his eyes.
With an expression of putrid lust on her face, Khensa moved her hand lower to the cusp of his chin, lifting his head up so that he was staring into the pits of her sunken eyes. "You have been a good servant to me, Amon." The words were like a swarm of locusts, buzzing in his ears as she spoke them. "Now, let me serve you."
Amon struggled against her horrible embrace, but as her cold, clammy lips started pressing against his own, he knew he could do nothing to resist her. "P-Pharaoh!" Amon cried, trying to back himself away from the Pharaoh. "We s-shouldn't do this!"
It did little to stop her, though. Soon enough, he had backed himself up against the sandstone walls, and the Pharaoh