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Steven was the only one who had an easy path. Since he took that lightened path that started over the home of the Heka Priest, he was the one who found his way through perfectly.

Once he stepped into the end of where the passage had taken him, he looked on both sides to check if there wasn't anyone there waiting for him and he kept walking forward with his flashlight in hand.

"Oh, my days," he gasped. He carefully stepped on the rocks that stood above the water in his way over to the tomb.

"First one in. Tomb fit for a pharaoh," his voice was laced with a mixture of excitement and fear.

The water surrounding all around the tomb was visible by its reflection on the roof, the sound of the water softly sloshing back and forth being a relaxing noise to Steven's ears.

He used his flashlight to keep eyeing all the corners of the place and recognized the statues instantly, and he probably would've said them in his sleep.

"Thutmose II. Nefertiti," he listed and his eyes brightened. "Oh, it's gonna be one of the big'uns."

His excitement was cut off short when Marc's voice popped up again, this time his figure reflecting in the clear water underneath him.

"So, you kissed her," Marc said in a slow voice, a bit of disappointment laced too.

Steven smacked his lips together. "What are you gonna do? Try and drown us now?"

"Yeah, I should," Marc replied casually, and Steven kept walking forward but with his eyes looking down at Marc every now and then. "But you also told her the truth about why I've been pushing her away. Thought not entirely. But that was unexpected."

Steven shrugged his words off. "Yeah."

He stepped on the last rock and after that, he jumped right into the large area where the tomb was placed in, right in the middle. A crack of sunlight brightened from above, shining on the highest part of the tomb and Steven couldn't help but let out another gasp at everything around him.

"Oh, wow. Look at that. Look at all these relics," Steven frowned and used his flashlight to get a better look. "Macedonian? No. What? No way. That's not right. That can't be right. That's Macedonian."

He was now inches away from the inscriptions in the tomb and his excitement was bubbling all the way to his chest once again, he couldn't even formulate full sentences.

"But the only pharaoh. . .But, I mean, he insisted on calling himself Egyptian. But. . ." he paused, got up from his knees and walked over to the top of the tomb.

"I think we're looking at the long-lost tomb of Alexander the Great."

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(Y/N) felt like she'd been running for an eternity. She thought she could still hear that loud clicking noise of the Heka Priest when she realized it was just her mind playing tricks on her. She had taken the route back where she had come from, and was forced to take the hard path through the enormous cave.

(Y/N) thought that she was alone since no one was following after her, but when she heard the sound of shuffling a few feet away and men yelling orders at each other, she was forced to turn off her flashlight in order to not give herself up. But it was too late.

The men, who seemed to be part of Harrow's group, began to fire gunshots at her in quick speed, and she had no choice but to run once again, though not for long.

(Y/N) made a quick turn to the left and before she knew it, she was thrown back into the sand ground and rolled with a groan leaving her lips.

The man who had knocked her down made his way towards her and she had no choice but to pretend like she couldn't move to allow him to think he had the advantage, waiting until he was close enough to land a punch square in his jaw and his nose repeatedly.

She got up to her knees and delivered another blow at the man before kneeling him in the groin, which caused him to squirm and cry out in pain and drop the gun that he was surprisingly still holding in one hand.

(Y/N) reached out for the gun first and the man realized that he had dropped it and didn't mind his dizzy state to try and grab it but just before he did, she fired the shot.

The bullet grazed his shoulder painfully, and the man yelled out from the top of his lungs as he held onto his wounded side, while (Y/N) shakily stood above him with a regretful look in her eyes at what she had just done.

The man's cries slowly died out, meaning that he was drifting out of consciousness as his eyes began to shut closed and when she noticed, (Y/N) couldn't muffle the scream that escaped her lips with the palm of her hand.

Her own scream echoed the walls of the passage, haunting her to the point that she didn't acknowledge anything or anyone around her, until someone knocked her off her guilt.

"You handled that beautifully," Harrow spoke up in that soft voice of his, a tone that was starting to get on her nerves. "It sure does look like you've had. . .experience."

"Why do men like you try to give compliments in the worse way possible?" (Y/N) was still gasping for breath and she dusted the sand and grime out of her pants and tried to walk away, not wanting to think about his last words.

Harrow stood frozen in his place, crocodile headed cane held tightly in one of his hands as he watched (Y/N) slip away from his sight before he spoke up once again. "Did you know, the scales achieve their judgement by revealing to me moments of sin and pain. And your friend. He is in agony. More pain than anyone could bear."

Harrow took a precautious step forward and leaned against the wall of the passage, like he was having a normal conversation and didn't have (Y/N) question herself entirely.

"And he still hasn't told you the truth," he continued, now moving his cane to his other hand. "I read his scales. The scales do not lie."

(Y/N), who had stopped before she'd gone too far just to hear what Harrow had to say, turned to face him and nearly met his eyes. "And I bet that you're just dying to tell me the truth, are you?"

A long pause was made between them. (Y/N) was now regretting how she didn't leave the moment Harrow began speaking, and now it looked like she had no choice. Harrow was patient, and when he saw the smallest hint of curiosity in (Y/N)'s eyes, he felt a smirk coming to his lips.

"There's a story, an ancient Egyptian myth. . ." Harrow began his tale. "About a princess that was slowly being consumed by an evil spirit. Hopelessly sick, with no sign of recovery. Do you know that story?"

(Y/N)'s panting to catch her breath was the only sound in the passage, and she nodded slowly at the question he was asking. "Yeah."

Harrow smacked his lips together. "I'm sure you do. With a father like yours, Omar Mahfouz; not surprised that you do. It's a shame what happened to him and his wife, his son — "

(Y/N) shook her head frantically at the mention of them, swallowing the lump in her throat. "Why are you telling me this?"

"Because if you know the story so well, you probably know who was the god that cured her from her demise."

Harrow saw the realization hit in (Y/N)'s eyes slowly, her lips parting just the slightest.

"Khonshu."

Harrow was pleased by her answer. "Correct," his tone was congratulatory, like a professor when a student payed attention to their lesson.

"You see, every avatar of Khonshu knows this tale very well, since there was a telling that the evil spirit would return to possess an innocent girl, and only his avatar was allowed to stop it."

(Y/N) furrowed her eyebrows. No, that can't be. . .her inner thoughts were through the roof. It didn't make sense but at the same time it did. She tried to believe that this was Harrow's way to divide them just like Marc said, but she wasn't too sure now.

"What are you implying?" she asked instead. "You're saying Marc knew all this time?"

"You said it, not me."

Her entire posture changed, and her eyes began to sting as she tried to hold back the tears. She didn't know if they were for anger or sadness, but she pinched herself in order to not show weakness in front of Harrow.

She turned her back on him and continued to walk away through the passage while Harrow sat back in his spot in calmness, observing her weak and fragile figure disappear out of his sight.

"Your time is running up!"