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𝔼𝕍𝔼ℝ𝕃𝕐ℕ slammed back another shot, the burn of the liquor barely registering as it slid down her throat. The glass hit the counter with a sharp clink, her fingers already reaching for the next. Across from her, Jenny and Nick stared, their expressions a strange mix of shock and confusion, as if they were looking at a ghost.

The bar's dim lighting cast long shadows over the counter, the murmurs of other patrons blending into a dull hum. Above them, the television flickered, the image distorting for a moment before stabilizing.

"A United States military plane crash-landed in Surrey this evening, narrowly missing Waverley Abbey..."

Jenny's gaze flickered from the screen back to Everlyn, her brows knitting together. "How did you get out of that plane?" Everlyn paused, the shot glass hovering near her lips. She gave a half-hearted shrug before tossing the drink back.

Nick leaned in slightly, his voice low but weighted with disbelief. "There's not a single scratch on you." Everlyn let out a short, nervous chuckle, her fingers tightening around the rim of the next glass. "Guess I'm lucky." She downed it swiftly, hoping the alcohol would drown out the unease settling in her chest. Nick exhaled, watching her carefully before speaking again, softer this time. "Thank you. For saving my life."

Everlyn turned to him, her expression unreadable. For a brief second, her usual wit and bravado faltered. "...You would've done the same for me."

Nick held her gaze before giving a small nod, taking a sip from his own glass.

Then—

"Everlyn."

The voice sent a shiver up her spine.

She turned sharply toward the bartender, her breath catching.

Vail.

For the briefest moment, he stood behind the counter, pouring a drink as if nothing had changed as if he wasn't supposed to be dead. Then, just as suddenly, he was gone. Everlyn blinked, her pulse pounding in her ears. Maybe it was the booze. Maybe it was exhaustion. Maybe she really was losing her mind. Jenny's voice pulled her back. "Listen, Everlyn. Nick. There's something you should know." Everlyn turned back to her friend, gripping the edge of the counter as Jenny continued, her voice tinged with hesitation.

"You both know I work with a group of archaeologists," she began, carefully choosing her words. "We've developed this theory that an Egyptian prince was deliberately erased from history. We've been searching for something called the Dagger of Set—a ceremonial knife with a large jewel at the hilt. Set is the Egyptian god of death, and legend says that when the dagger and the stone are together, they have the power to give Set physical form. I'm convinced it was hidden here in Europe, stolen by Crusaders centuries ago."

Nick leaned in, intrigued, but Everlyn barely heard them.

A dull, throbbing ache bloomed at the base of her skull, a strange pressure building in her head. Her temples pulsed, her breathing shallow.

Then—

"Everlyn."

The voice again. Faint, distant, but unmistakable.

Her gaze snapped toward the far side of the room.

Vail.

Standing there, watching her, motioning for her to follow.

Everlyn let out a shaky breath before abruptly pushing her chair back. "Excuse me." Without another word, she moved quickly through the bar, weaving between patrons until she reached the bathroom. She showed the door shut behind her, gripping the sink as she lifted her gaze to the mirror.

Vail's reflection stared back at her.

Everlyn's stomach twisted. "What are you doing here?" Vail smirked, tilting his head slightly. "Good to see you again, Evie." Everlyn shook her head, rubbing her temples. "No, no, no. This isn't happening. I think I drank too much."

"Nope," Vail said casually. "You're not going mad. You shot me." Her hands dropped as she stared at him, stunned. "Wait, wait, wait—you—you stabbed Greenway." Vail sighed, running a hand through his hair. "I saved you." Everlyn scoffed. "You murdered him. You attacked Nick and Jenny!"

"And you shot me," he snapped, his smirk vanishing. "Three times. Three times, Evie." Everlyn hesitated, her guilt flashing across her face before she muttered, "Okay, yeah... and, alright, maybe the third one was unnecessary. You freaked me out, I panicked. I'm sorry, okay?" Vail narrowed his eyes. "Not okay. Look at me." He jabbed a finger toward his own reflection, his tone sharpening.

"I'm cursed, Everlyn. And you're cursed."

Everlyn's breath hitched. She took a half-step back. "...What do you mean, I'm cursed?"

Vail's expression darkened, his voice lowering.

"There's only one way to break it." His eyes locked onto hers. "You're going to do exactly what he wants. Or this is going to get a lot worse for both of us."

Everlyn felt the weight of his words settle deep in her bones, a slow, creeping realization unfurling within her. And for the first time since she had clawed her way back from the dead—she felt truly afraid.

Before Vail could answer, the sound of a door creaking open startled Everlyn.

Her breath hitched as she spun around, instinct taking over. She lunged for the handle and slammed the door shut before the man outside could step in, twisting the lock with a sharp click. She exhaled, turning back to Vail—who simply stood there with his arms crossed, an amused smirk playing on his lips. "You do realize," he drawled, "you just ran into the men's bathroom, right?" Everlyn's eyes darted around, suddenly taking in the urinals lining the far wall, the scent of cheap cologne and beer lingering in the air. "Oh, for—" She groaned, rubbing her forehead before shaking her head. "Not important right now." Vail chuckled but let it slide as she squared her shoulders, her voice regaining its edge.

"What do you mean, I'm cursed?"

Vail's smirk faded, his gaze darkening.

"How do you think you survived the crash, Setepa-i?" The foreign word slithered through the air like a whisper from the past, sending a shiver down Everlyn's spine. Her lips parted, confusion flickering across her face. "What?" Vail took a slow step toward her. "You know what it means." His voice was steady, certain. "He's got plans for you, Evie. He's coming for you. And he won't let you go again." A storm of thoughts crashed through her mind—fragments of memories she didn't recognize, whispers of a name that sent a pulse of dread through her veins.

Then—

A flash.

Dark eyes staring into hers, ancient and knowing. The weight of something unseen pressing against her chest.

Ahmanis. The name struck her like a lightning bolt, and panic clawed its way up her throat. She needed air. Everlyn, fumbling with the lock before yanking the door open. She bolted out of the bathroom, barely registering the startled looks from the patrons she nearly collided with. The cold night air hit her like a slap as she stumbled onto the empty street, her breath coming in ragged gasps. She braced herself against the brick wall of the bar, fingers gripping the rough surface as she fought to steady her pounding heart.

Her breath curled in the chilly air.

Her thoughts wouldn't stop racing. And somewhere, in the deepest part of her mind, she swore she could hear a voice whispering her name.

Everlyn's breath came in shallow gasps, her chest rising and falling in frantic rhythm as she fought to steady herself. The night air was sharp against her skin, but the cold did little to quiet the storm inside her. She pressed a trembling hand against the brick wall, her fingers curling against the rough surface, grounding herself.

A noise cut through the silence.

The faint, skittering sound of claws against damp pavement. Her body stiffened. Slowly, her gaze drifted toward the dark alley beside her, where the shadows seemed to stretch unnaturally, swallowing the dim glow of the streetlights. Then, the sound of rustling. A scurry of movement.

Rats.

The creatures emerged from the darkness in a frenzied wave, their tiny bodies darting toward her like living shadows. A strangled cry tore from Everlyn's throat as she stumbled back, panic clawing at her insides. She turned to flee, however she never made it as a presence loomed before her, blocking her escape making her breath hitched.

There, standing in the flickering light, was him.

Not just any nightmare.

Ahmanis.

The ancient prince, draped in decay and power, watched her with dark, piercing eyes that held centuries of longing. His once-dry flesh had begun to reform, veins crawling beneath his skin like vines reclaiming stone. Everlyn felt her pulse hammering against her ribs, but her body refused to move. A silent war raged within her—fear, confusion, something else—as Ahmanis took a slow step forward.

Then another.

Until he stood before her, close enough that she could see the faint shimmer of life returning to his once-dead form.

"My desert flower," he murmured, the words ancient yet strangely intimate, spoken in the tongue of a time long buried.

His hand rose, fingers ghosting over her cheek with a reverence that sent a shiver racing down her spine. His touch was impossibly warm. He tucked a loose strand of hair behind her ear, his thumb lingering just beneath her jaw, as though memorizing the feel of her. He leaned in, his presence overwhelming, suffocating. Everlyn could feel the weight of centuries between them—the hunger in his gaze, the quiet possession in his touch. A blinding flash. Two glaring headlights. A blaring horn. Strong hands yanked her backward just as a car sped past, its tires screeching against the wet pavement.

The moment shattered. Everlyn gasped as reality crashed back into her, the cold biting into her skin, the pounding of her heart a deafening drum in her ears. Nick and Jenny were at her sides, gripping her arms as they pulled her away from the street. Their voices were distant, muffled by the rush of blood in her head.

She turned, wide-eyed, searching the shadows.

But Ahmanis was gone.

As if he had never been there at all.

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By: SilverMist707

I hope this is alright as I was a bit tired while writing this. Also, how was your day or night? <3