Chapter Twenty-Four

Day 51.

I bolt upright with a gasp. My flurrying limbs knot something around my body, causing another shriek to ricochet through me. I fight brashly, blinded by the sudden bright light surrounding me.

"Kiara! Calm down!" Two strong forces pin my thrashing arms down. The familiarity of their tone placates me, enough for me to stop moving and blearily open my eyes.

"Ahmose?" I stammer, my chest heaving. He stares at me, his eyes probably just as wide as my own. I blink several times, looking down. "Why—why are you straddling me?"

Ahmose stills, blanching slightly. He scrambles off me and clears his throat, pointing to his right arm, which is pinned against his chest by a makeshift sling. "I feared you were going to hurt yourself, and I couldn't exactly hold you down with two arms."

"Oh." I push myself up to a seated position with my legs and press my hand against my head. My eyes flit over our surroundings. We're in the house that we had been staying in before we'd gone off to fight the golem — the house that he'd weaseled out of the flight attendant. That's not the weird thing though — what I don't understand is the sunshine that's peering in the window next to me. "What happened?"

"We beat the golem, najmay. Your plan was successful; you managed to pull the scroll out of its mouth." Ahmose tells me, sitting on the edge of the bed next to me. "But as soon as you touched it, you dropped to the ground like all the life had been stripped from your body. For a horrible, terrifying second, I thought you had died."

"But I didn't."

"No." He shakes his head. "You have been asleep for the past three days now. I do not know why, but I made sure not to leave your side once, just in case."

My heart warms at his softly spoken sentiment. I swivel around until I'm sitting by his side and brush my curls out of my face. I look down at my fingers as my words tumble out of my lips. "Ahmose, I remembered."

He stills. "What?"

"I remembered everything." I glance up at him through my lashes. He's as unmoving as a statue, his skin unusually pale. "Everything about our original life. Meeting you. Falling...falling in love with you. Dying with you."

Ahmose's Adam's apple bobs up and down. The next thing he says is slow, calculated. Like he's afraid the very words to come out of his lips are going to tilt the very world on its axis. "You remembered."

"Yes. Ahmose, I..." I pause my own words catching in my throat. Unfortunately, they don't manage to break through the barrier in my mind that his had succeeded in doing. I look down at my fingers. "Do you feel any different?"

I see Ahmose frown out of the corner of my eye. If he's surprised by my sudden change of subject, he doesn't show it. "What do you mean?"

"Well, we passed the third trial, right? That means we broke the curse, right?" I ask. His eyebrows furrow even more. "But I don't feel any different, and I thought I would. Even though I remember everything now, something still doesn't feel right. I still feel..."

"Heavy." He finishes. I nod. "Like there is a weight pulling down on your very soul and tinting the edges of your vision with darkness."

"Exactly." I bite my lip and meet his gaze. His expression is thoughtful as he watches me, his honey-golden eyes keen. "What made you think that there were three trials that we had to pass in order to break the curse?"

"Anubis told me." Ahmose replies. "Why do you ask?"

"Well right at the very end, when Kasiya—I was dying," I say, the differentiation feeling odd on my tongue. "Anubis told us that we had to pass 'trials' in order to break the curse. But not once did he actually define how many there were."

"No, he did not." Ahmose frowns again. "He informed me at the beginning of the very first reincarnation that I had a 'triad of trials' to complete."

"But what if he was lying?" I ask. "Or, what if those were three trials that we had to pass in order to get to the real battle? The boss battle? Where we could meet the god who cursed us face-to-face and break it once and for all?"

"It is not impossible." Ahmose sighs. He rubs his face with his hands vigorously and sighs again, this time much louder and much more exasperated. "Najmay, please do not tell me we are not done with this curse."

"There's only one way to be certain." I get to my feet. My legs start wobbling like jelly, throwing me off-balance. I squeak, falling backwards. "Ahh!"

"Woah!" Ahmose leaps to his feet, easily catching me with his good arm. His hand grips the small of my back tightly as he draws me into his chest. It's in that moment that I realise I'm wearing nothing but one of his shirts.

Oh god. Did he change me?

Ahmose's honey-golden eyes encapsulate me, concern burning in their depths. "Kiara? Are you alright?"

"I uh—" I lick my lips, hot shivers skittering down my spine when I notice just how little space there is between the two of us. My mind starts repeatedly chanting a devilish sentence. Kiss him! Kiss him! Kiss him!

"Najmay? What's wrong?"

"Nuh—nothing." I stammer. My cheeks warm. I place my arms on his shoulders and step back, consciously putting a foot of distance between the two of us. I pretend to look around the room so I can hide just how much my face is trying to impersonate a tomato. "Where is the scroll that we took off the golem?"

"On the kitchen bench." Ahmose follows me out of the bedroom. I self-consciously pull his shirt down lower at the back. If he notices my behaviour, he doesn't comment on it. "What are you thinking?"

"Well, all the other trials that we defeated gave us clues for the next one, right?" I walk around the kitchen bench and into the kitchen so the bench hides my bottom half and pick up the scroll. "So following that theory, there should be some sort of clue on this that points us in the direction of the final trial, if there is one."

"That makes sense." Ahmose nods. He points at the scroll. "Let's see what it says."

I grip both ends of the scroll in each of my hands. My heart starts thumping loudly in my chest. Slowly and painstakingly, I unfurl the ancient parchment, coughing slightly at the cloud of dust the movement throws up in the air. When the cloud dissipates, I lay it out on the kitchen counter and hold it flat with both hands. On the ancient parchment is one word, and one word only.

And it's in Czech.

My nose crinkles in frustration. "I can't read it."

"I can." Ahmose says. My attention darts to him. "It says 'Yossele'."

"But that's just the name of the golem." I frown. Disappointment starts to gnaw away at me. "That can't be right!"

"No, it makes sense. It does follow the tradition of the golem." Ahmose replies. He gestures to the scroll. "Try turning it over. See if there is anything on the other side."

"Oh." My cheeks burn with embarrassment. Of course. I flip the parchment over before my idiot mouth can say anything further. My eyes widen. Sure enough, there's something etched on the back side of the parchment, in suddenly all-too-familiar hieroglyphics. I read it out loud.

To defeat the sphinx, you must wield your individual intellect.

To best the cockatrice, you must employ your combined intelligence.

To vanquish the golem, you must apply your strength of character.

And to break the curse, you must prove your love conquers all.

"Ahmose, look." I point to the last line. "Does that mean what I think it does?"

"'To break the curse, you must prove your love conquers all'." Ahmose repeats. He looks up at me. Something flickers through his golden gaze, so quickly I almost don't catch it. "You were right. We have one more trial. We haven't broken the curse yet."

"We haven't broken the curse." I echo, falling back on the counter. I run a hand through my mess of curls and sigh. "How is this possible?"

Ahmose doesn't respond. His expression is torn, like he's at a loss of what to say or do next. He murmurs something under his breath in Arabic, obviously not intended for my ears — only this time, I actually understand what he says.

"When will this hell on earth end for me?"

My heart cracks at the unfiltered agony cutting into his tone. Tossing aside my trepidations, I step forward and push his hair out of his face, my fingers trailing down the side of his jaw. That one small action causes his breath to hitch and his entire body to still. He meets my gaze, his expression unnaturally open. Suddenly, I can see all the torment ravaging behind his eyes, the torment that has been plaguing him ever since Kasiya—I died in Egypt.

And somewhere inside me, buried deep under all the baggage and layers of our adventures together, a part of my heart echoes that same torment.

"We will defeat this, Ahmose." I say. Even though my tones are soft, my affirmation rings through strong. "We've made it this far, and now we know for sure that we only have to do one more thing to break the curse once and for all. And then you, we, will finally be free of this."

"We do not know that for sure, Kiara." He responds quietly. "We thought the golem was the last trial, yet here we are. How can we be certain there will not be another hurdle after this one, then another after that?"

"Simple." I reply. "We ask the person responsible for this whole mess."

Ahmose frowns. "Ma'at?"

"Exactly." I smile, my smile growing more vicious by the second. "Now that I remember everything, I am just itching to have a chat with the hateful goddess who decided to act upon my ancient father's vile ravings. We are going to return to Egypt, find one of Ma'at's temples, and throw the challenge right back in her face. She has a lot to answer for."

— — —

Within two days, Ahmose and I manage to make it back to Egypt, with the help of some cash we found lying around Adéla's Czech bungalow. The moment we touch back down on Egyptian soil a weight is lifted off my shoulders, and suddenly I can breathe easier. It's almost as if my body itself recognised that I was back in Egypt. I felt more at ease, more assured, more at home.

How on earth did I survive living in America for 18 years?

The jolting of the plane hitting the tarmac bumps Ahmose awake. He jerks in his seat, groaning when his injured arm smacks against the seat in front of him. He cradles it against his chest, wincing at the slight movement. I wince, feeling his pain just looking at him.

"Are you alright?"

"I could be better." He grunts. "I could definitely do without this broken arm."

"You really should let me look at it." I say. Ahmose grunts again with an one-armed shrug. "I've had first aid training, Ahmose. I studied advanced science at high school; I'm good with anatomy. I can at least figure out what's broken and whether there's anything I can do to help with the pain."

"I am fine, amyrti." Ahmose replies brusquely. "I will feel much better when I am no longer trapped in this pressurized death container."

I can't prevent the laugh of surprise from bubbling up inside me. "You don't like flying?"

"No." He says shortly. "I prefer my feet to remain on the stable ground."

"Of course you do; how could I forget?" I laugh. I nudge him teasingly. "You didn't even like taking your father's cart to the market; you preferred to carry all your wares for over 3 miles to reach the city center."

A small smile flickers over Ahmose's face, but it's gone almost as quickly as it came, replaced by an expression that is scarily neutral. He turns away and gets to his feet, I blink, taken aback by his sudden change of mood.

Then I realise what I said.

I blanch, directing my attention to the landscape decorating the plane's window. I resist the urge to smack myself in the face repeatedly.

Hello foot, let me introduce you to your new acquaintance, mouth.

Ahmose rifles through the overhead locker and grabs our two backpacks. He slings his over his shoulder and tosses mine at the now vacant seat next to me. I bite my lip, wrapping my fingers around the handle and glancing up at him.

"Ahmose, wait, I didn't—"

Ahmose exits the plane without another word.

I sigh, sling the bag over my shoulder and hurry after him, apologising to all the exhausted passengers that I bump into.

"Ahmose!" I scurry after him, keeping his tall, hulking frame as my guiding star on the horizon. He doesn't slow down. "Ahmose! Slow down!"

Ahmose's shoulders tighten. He pauses, but doesn't turn around. I catch up with him, huffing slightly as I attempt to catch my breath.

"Is something wrong?"

"Is something wrong?" He repeats. He laughs humourlessly and shakes my head, grabbing my arm. He ignores my yelp of surprise and drags me out of the airport. It's only when we are alone, tucked away in an alcove behind the airport, that he stops.

I tug my arm out of his grip, rubbing my throbbing wrist. Ahmose shrugs his bag off and leans against the side of the building. He rubs his jaw with his hand, kicking the dirt with his foot. His posture is hunched, haunted. I stare at him, my brow furrowing in perplexity.

"Ahmose, what's going on?"

"When are we going to talk about it, Kiara?"

"Talk about what?"

"Your memories returning. You remembering everything." Ahmose says. "Kiara, it has been over a day and you have been avoiding talking about what happened."

"Well..." I hesitate, leaning against the building next to him. "What is there to talk about?"

"Everything, Kiara!" Ahmose responds tightly. I blink, taken aback by his sudden outburst.

"What do you mean, everything?"

"Gods curse you for your obstinacy." Ahmose cusses under his breath in Arabic. He pushes himself up off the wall and turns to me. "Why do you act as if nothing has changed?"

"Because it doesn't feel like it has changed, Ahmose. I'm still me. I'm still Kiara. I'm still an eighteen year old girl from America, who agreed to help a mummy to solve a curse. Only now, I'm that same eighteen year old girl with over twenty other lives shoved inside her!"

"You see, to me Kiara that doesn't sound at all similar." Ahmose retorts.

"That's because you don't get it!" I exclaim, throwing my hands up in the air. "Before I met you, I was a normal person. I had a normal life — I went to high school, I had a family, I had plans for my future.

"Then you turned up, with your fantastical stories of mummies and ancient deities and curses that I had to help solve. Throughout this whole ordeal, I have had it made abundantly clear that I am not who I thought I was. That my life was not my real life; it was just a ruse, fashioned by the gods to play a part in this sick curse. And to you, that was normal. That was just another day, another year, another reincarnation cycle at the office. But that was my life. What I thought was my whole existence turned out to be more fictional than mummies.

"So yes," At this point I'm yelling, my frustration pouring into every single word I say. "When my memories finally returned, when my life was proven to be a complete lie, I ignored it. I didn't talk about it. But how am I supposed to talk about it, when my real life ended over two thousand years ago?"

Ahmose stares at me. He doesn't say anything. Not a single word. He only acts.

He steps forward.

He cups my face.

And he kisses me.