The sands of Egypt have buried countless secrets beneath their golden waves, but some refuse to be forgotten. Among them is the tale of Nefer-Setekh, the Silver Pharaoh, a ruler whose reign ended in terror and whispers. His tomb was never found, his name erased from history as if the gods themselves had condemned him. I, Merlin, have seen the rise and fall of kings, but few stories chill my bones like that of Nefer-Setekh. And tonight, in the shadow of the dunes, his story is about to awaken once more.

The Sins of the Silver Pharaoh

The desert wind whispered through the dunes as I stood before the entrance to a tomb that should not exist.

For centuries, scholars and grave robbers alike had scoured the sands for the lost resting place of Nefer-Setekh, the Pharaoh of Silver. He was a king whose reign had been erased, his statues defaced, his name struck from the records of time. The Egyptians called it damnatio memoriae—the punishment of forgetting.

But a name erased does not mean a story forgotten.

And tonight, I had followed that story to its source.

The tomb’s entrance was sealed with a black obelisk, its surface covered in hieroglyphs that pulsed faintly in the dark. The symbols were not of worship, nor praise.

They were warnings.

The Pharaoh’s name had been stripped from history, but his presence… remained.

As I traced my fingers over the carvings, the air around me grew heavy, thick with something unseen. My magic, old and wary as it was, shivered in recognition.

Something was awake inside.

I took a slow breath, tightening my grip on my staff.

And then—the tomb door began to open.

The sands shifted.

The past was waiting.

The tomb door groaned as it slid open, releasing a gust of air that had been trapped for thousands of years. It carried the scent of ancient decay and something darker—the unmistakable stench of magic that had not been meant to last this long.

I stepped forward cautiously, the glow from my staff casting flickering light against the blackened stone walls. Hieroglyphs lined the passage, their once-vibrant colors faded by time. But something was wrong.

These were not depictions of a pharaoh’s victories.

They were scenes of horror.

Carvings of people wailing, their eyes hollow, their arms raised in desperate pleas for mercy. Priests carved in stone bowing before a faceless figure, their bodies twisted in agony. The sands themselves seemed to consume entire cities, swallowing them into nothingness.

And above them all—a single figure stood untouched.

A man with a silver crown, his eyes carved into slits that seemed to follow me as I walked.

Nefer-Setekh.

The Pharaoh Who Defied Death

I pressed forward, my boots disturbing layers of dust that had not been touched for millennia. The passage narrowed before opening into a vast burial chamber, its ceiling stretching impossibly high, disappearing into blackness.

At its center lay a sarcophagus of pure silver, its surface smooth and polished, as if time had dared not touch it.

But I did not move toward it immediately.

Because I was not alone.

The statues moved first.

There were six of them, lined along the walls—massive Anubian warriors, their obsidian bodies etched with glowing hieroglyphs. They had been lifeless when I entered.

But now, their eyes blazed with an unnatural blue light.

And they began to step forward.

The Guardians of the Damned

I did not hesitate.

With a flick of my wrist, I drew a circle in the air, summoning a shield of golden energy as the first warrior lunged. Its massive axe slammed against my magic, sending a thunderous crack through the chamber. The force of it nearly knocked me off my feet.

These were not mere statues.

They were tomb guardians, bound by spells so old that even I could feel their weight in the air.

And they were not here to let me leave alive.

Another warrior charged, its bladed staff slicing through the dust-choked air. I dodged, rolling aside just as the weapon embedded itself in the stone where I had been standing.

I thrust my staff forward, sending a blast of pure magic into the warrior’s chest. The impact shattered part of its torso, sending obsidian shards flying. But the guardian did not fall—instead, it turned its glowing eyes to me, silent and unyielding.

The battle was not in my favor.

The tomb was feeding them.

I had to end this quickly.

Breaking the Pharaoh’s Spell

I turned my gaze toward the silver sarcophagus.

That was the source of their power.

The Pharaoh was still bound to this world—and as long as he remained, so did his protectors.

I gritted my teeth and raised my staff.

A whisper echoed in the air.

“You dare disturb my rest?”

The voice was ancient, layered with a thousand whispers, each word dripping with malice and amusement.

The warriors halted, as if waiting for their master’s command.

And then—the sarcophagus lid began to slide open.

A hand emerged first, its skin metallic silver, fingers unnaturally long, curling like the legs of a spider. The hand gripped the edge of the coffin, and slowly, the Silver Pharaoh rose.

The Curse of Nefer-Setekh

Nefer-Setekh’s eyes were empty sockets, yet they burned with an unnatural blue fire. His face, though still human in shape, was taut and unnatural, his features frozen in an expression of eternal contempt.

His silver-adorned body was perfectly preserved, but his presence was wrong—not merely undead, but something more.

He had become the curse itself.

“You cannot defeat me, Merlin,” he murmured, his voice sending shivers through the chamber. “I have seen the end of time. I have waited beyond death. And now, I will rule again.”

I did not hesitate.

I struck first.

A bolt of golden light shot from my staff, aiming directly for his chest. It hit—but instead of destroying him, the energy curled around his body like mist, vanishing into nothingness.

He laughed.

“You do not understand, do you?”

The hieroglyphs on the walls burned to life, and suddenly, I felt it—my magic weakening.

Nefer-Setekh had not just cheated death.

He had consumed it.

He was bound not just to his body, but to the entire tomb itself. Every spell woven into these walls, every offering once made to him, had only fed his power.

This was not his resting place.

This was his kingdom.

And I was trapped inside it.

The Pharaoh’s End

I needed a new approach.

I could not simply destroy him—not while he was still bound to this tomb.

But I could sever that connection.

With one swift movement, I slammed my staff against the ground, sending a surge of energy not toward him—but toward the tomb itself.

The hieroglyphs flickered, resisting at first—but then, one by one, they began to shatter.

Nefer-Setekh’s eyes widened.

“No—”

I raised my hand, speaking the final incantation.

The walls cracked.

The ceiling groaned.

The Pharaoh let out an unearthly howl as the energy that had bound him for millennia collapsed in on itself.

His body began to wither, the silver tarnishing, turning brittle as the power he had stolen was ripped away from him.

“I will return—” he began.

But his voice faded into dust.

And then—he was gone.

The Aftermath

The tomb shook violently, the magic holding it together finally failing. I turned and raced for the entrance, dodging falling debris as the ancient structure collapsed around me.

Just as the final stone fell, I leapt through the entrance, landing in the cool desert night.

Silence.

I turned back to look.

Where the tomb had once stood, there was nothing but sand—as if it had never been there at all.

Nefer-Setekh was gone, his legacy finally erased for good.

The Silver Pharaoh would never rise again.

I exhaled slowly, staring up at the stars.

Some kings are remembered forever.

Others are meant to be forgotten.

And so, without another word, I turned and vanished into the desert, leaving the sins of the Silver Pharaoh buried beneath the sands once more.

The desert wind carried away the last echoes of Nefer-Setekh’s curse, sweeping across the sands where his tomb had once stood. Nothing remained. The entrance, the hieroglyphs, the towering statues—all swallowed by the shifting dunes as if they had never existed.

And yet, I knew the truth.

This place had existed outside of time, sealed in the forgotten pages of history. Now, the Pharaoh’s dark legacy had finally been erased.

I stood in the moonlit silence, feeling the weight of the moment settle upon my shoulders. Not all kings are meant to be remembered.

Some are meant to be buried forever.

The Watchers in the Sand

I turned to leave, my staff pressing against the cool sand. The desert stretched endlessly before me, the stars above burning bright and ancient—the only witnesses to what had transpired.

And yet… I was being watched.

Not by the undead. Not by lingering spirits.

By the living.

From atop a distant dune, a figure stood cloaked in darkness, their silhouette just visible against the night sky. A moment later, another appeared. Then another.

There were at least a dozen of them, their forms hidden beneath long, flowing robes. The wind did not move them. They did not speak.

But they had seen.

And they were waiting.

I narrowed my eyes. “You are too late,” I called across the dunes. “The Pharaoh’s power is gone.”

For a moment, they did not react.

Then, slowly, one figure stepped forward.

A woman, judging by her movement—tall, regal, and carrying an aura of ancient knowledge.

Even from this distance, I could feel the magic woven into her very being.

She lifted her hands, revealing a golden amulet, etched with symbols I had not seen in millennia.

The sigil of the Temple of Ra.

A whisper stirred in my mind—a memory from long ago.

The Sun Priests.

The ancient order tasked with preserving the true history of Egypt—not the one written in stone, but the one buried beneath it. They were the keepers of forbidden knowledge, the guardians of secrets too dangerous to be known.

And now, they had come for me.

A Warning from the Past

The woman did not approach further.

Instead, her voice drifted across the sand, carried by the desert wind.

“You have done well, Merlin.”

Her words held no malice, but neither were they laced with gratitude.

“But you must understand—there are forces that will not let history remain buried.”

I studied her carefully. “Nefer-Setekh is no more. His power has been erased.”

She tilted her head slightly. “And yet, you know as well as I do—power is never truly destroyed.“

A flicker of unease settled in my chest. “What are you saying?”

She raised her amulet, and the symbols upon it glowed faintly. “The Pharaoh was not the only one who sought to defy death. There are others. And they will not stop searching.”

I exhaled slowly. “You mean the Order of Anubis.”

A pause. Then, she nodded.

The Order of Anubis—a cult so old that even I had only heard whispers of their existence. They were not worshippers of the jackal god as the common folk believed. They were his executioners.

They did not seek to honor the dead.

They sought to control them.

And if the Sun Priests were warning me, that meant…

Someone else was still searching for the Pharaoh’s secrets.

The Sands Will Stir Again

The woman lowered her amulet, her voice softer now.

“You have won a great victory tonight, Merlin. But this is only one battle in a war that has raged since the dawn of time.”

I tightened my grip on my staff. “Then I will be ready for the next.”

For a long moment, the woman simply watched me. Then, slowly, she and her companions turned, vanishing one by one into the desert night.

I remained still, listening to the wind, the shifting of the sand beneath my feet.

Nefer-Setekh was gone. His tomb lost once more.

But the past has a way of resurfacing.

And the Sins of the Silver Pharaoh would not be the last great secret buried beneath these sands.

I turned toward the rising dawn.

And I walked away.

For now, at least, Egypt would sleep again.