The voice carved itself into my bones like molten metal, lingering in every nerve, heating and cold all at once.
"This time, humanity has lost its ability to die. Your brain will never stop functioning. You will always remain conscious."
I stared into the yawning passage beyond the rotated stone slab, dust choking the air around me, curling in faint spirals that made the space seem alive.
My hand trembled against the falcon carving that had triggered this nightmare, fingers pressed hard enough to leave faint white marks in the worn stone.
The darkness ahead pulsed with pale, eerie light, throwing dancing shadows across the walls and floor.
And something told me I was about to discover exactly what those words meant, a creeping dread crawling up my spine and settling behind my ribcage.
---
Two hours earlier, I was just a researcher.
The heat had been killing me slowly, sticking my clothes to my skin, making every breath taste thick and metallic.
I stood there, drenched in sweat, while my guide, a muscular man in his thirties who towered over me, traced wall carvings with religious fervor.
His movements deliberate and hypnotic, as if each finger remembered the shapes it had drawn centuries ago.
"We Homo sapiens have evolved to use information particles much more proficiently over millions of years, reigning over all specimens in raw power alone."
His voice rang with cheerful indifference to my suffering, smooth and melodic, almost taunting in how casual it was given the heat pressing down on us.
That settled it.
"Excuse me,"
I croaked, guilt creeping in for interrupting his enthusiasm, my throat dry and raw.
"Don't you think it's too hot here?"
Confusion flickered across his face until realization struck, and the muscles in his jaw tightened for a fraction of a second.
He muttered an alien language, definitely not Sapin, while weaving strange gestures with practiced fingers, the motion fluid and eerily precise.
The oppressive heat vanished instantly, leaving a coldness that rolled over me like water, washing away sweat and leaving goosebumps in its wake.
"It should be fine now. I apologize for not noticing earlier."
He continued casually, as if reality-bending were perfectly normal, his voice carrying over the chamber and pressing against the dust in the air.
"Archaeologists have researched for centuries, trying to figure out information particle origins. They've ravaged scriptures, ancient lores, structures standing for millions of years..."
My attention drifted until he raised his voice with sudden excitement, the sound sharp and commanding in the quiet heat.
"However, one question lingers!"
My ears perked up despite myself, the hairs on the back of my neck rising.
"How the heck were the Great Pyramids of Elphthfe constructed a million years ago?"
The ancient towers flashed through my mind, impossible monuments dominating the skyline since before recorded history.
Their construction defied every law of physics and logic, and the thought made my stomach tighten.
"Even if all humanity worked tirelessly today, it would take fifty thousand thousand years to finish such a project," he exclaimed, letting the impossible number sink in like a weight pressing on my chest.
"This raises questions most researchers refuse to discuss. Who are we normal people to debate what even experts won't touch?"
Did anyone else besides humans help them?
The thought slipped unbidden into my mind.
"Was it aliens?"
Mr. Han muttered beside me.
I had nearly forgotten the quiet visitor who had been shadowing me, his voice low and uncertain, eyes glinting in the dim light.
The guide's expression shifted to mockery as he began pacing, boots scraping against the dusty floor, sending tiny clouds into the air.
"Aliens? Extinct species? Or perhaps a civilization with greater insight into information particles than modern humans?"
He paused for dramatic effect, chest swelling with self-importance, arms moving slowly as if orchestrating some invisible symphony.
"The truth is known, yet many are foolish enough not to believe it."
His voice rose to reach every visitor in the chamber, bouncing off walls carved with ancient symbols that seemed to lean closer to listen.
"Information particles are nothing but results of humans' forgotten memories, past eve—"
"Promoting your faith now, aren't we, Mr. Guide?"
Han interrupted with a mischievous smile, leaning back against a cool stone pillar, arms crossed.
The guide's composure cracked. "It's not faith—it's reality! Fools like you refuse to accept what's before your eyes!"
"You're the fool," Han sneered. "How about we ask what Mr. Aurel thinks?"
Both turned to me, expecting me to choose sides. My stomach knotted.
I gulped.
The guide held information crucial to my research project, but Han had supported me for two days.
I couldn't afford to antagonize either of them.
"I am faithless,"
I said simply, voice steady even as my heart raced.
Both men looked stunned, eyes widening slightly, the air between us thick with tension.
"At least you don't believe his stupid theory,"
the guide muttered bitterly, lips pressed tight.
A vein bulged on Han's forehead.
"Good. I wouldn't associate with self-narcissistic bastards anyway."
Their gazes locked like drawn swords, unblinking, sharp, ready to strike.
I slipped away silently, sand crunching softly beneath my boots, leaving the echo of my retreat in the chamber.
"It always ends like that when faith comes up,"
someone whispered, voice drifting through the space, making the hairs on my arms stand on end.
The dimly lit chamber pulled me deeper, the walls narrowing slightly as if trying to contain my attention.
Hieroglyphs stretched across the walls, looping symbols that tugged at my vision, refusing to let me look away.
Something about them felt wrong, almost sentient, like they were watching me back and counting my heartbeats.
One mark stood apart.
A falcon, beak pointing directly at a stone block, edges worn smooth yet somehow still sharp.
Curiosity burned hotter than caution, igniting a restless energy in my chest.
I knelt, running my hands over the ancient surface, feeling the slight grooves and bumps, the tiny cracks worn into the stone by centuries of time.
The moment my fingers touched the stone, a massive force slammed into me like an enraged bull, knocking the wind out of me and making my knees buckle slightly.
The slab shuddered and rotated inward with grinding shrieks of protesting stone.
Dust exploded into the air, choking my lungs and stinging my eyes.
A passage yawned open, darkness so absolute it seemed solid, swallowing the pale light and stretching endlessly into nothing.
That's when the voice came as if drawn out of a half-pulled nightmare.
Not heard.
It threaded through bone and marrow, bypassing my ears entirely, making my teeth ache, my skull vibrate.
"This time, humanity has lost its ability to die. Your brain will never stop functioning. You will always remain conscious."
The words coiled in my skull like molten metal, hammering against my thoughts with a dreadful rhythm.