Chapter Text
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In the bustling streets of Cairo, colorful stands with various merchandise adorned the sidewalks. Vendors from faraway countries used bizarre advertising techniques to attract possible clients, all of whom were entranced by the unique array of produce.The air was filled with cheerful chatter and heated bargaining, a common scene in this city.
No one was in a rush to do anything, nor was anyone worried about their responsibilities. It was the Abu Simbel festival, and everyone was excited to visit the temple to witness the magical alignment of rays. However, they weren’t aware of the tragic event that was about to change their lives…
• • •
Among the people crowding around the temple stood two scribes. They appeared to be pretty young, perhaps somewhere in their early twenties. One of them was busy scribbling something down on a digital scroll, while the other picked his nose.
“That’s really disgusting. Don’t touch anything with those hands or Abu himself will descend to slice your head off,” the occupied one muttered in disdain. Only thing he got in response was an unbothered grunt. He turned around to face the scribe, his gaze furious. “Do you realize how serious this festival is? We can’t mess up, and we definitely shouldn’t pick our noses in the temple of a freaking deity, Farouk!”
Farouk sighed, brushing a lock of his curly hair out of his eye. “Fine, Anwar. Can we go down now? It’s about to start!” Without waiting for an answer, he chased after the retreating throng. Due to the amount of people, it took him a few moments to be able to spot the statues lined through the corridor. There were many cracks in the walls, but thanks to the newest technology the visitors’ safety was ensured. Despite the damage it had endured throughout the centuries, it was still as mighty and gorgeous as ever. Farouk squeezed his way through the crowd, apologizing to anyone he accidentally pushed. “Scribes these days… only getting the job for the title…” An old woman grumbled disapprovingly. And she wasn’t that wrong.
Compared to Anwar, or really any of his colleagues, he barely did any work. His writing was bland and sloppy, with overused words and boring structures. Hell, he didn’t even know how he found himself amongst them anyway. His teachers would always tell him that he had potential, but it never managed to inspire him to improve. And now here he was, owning the title of a position he clearly did not deserve.
“It's about to start!”
The exclamation instantly grabbed the attention of the crowd. Farouk attempted once more to get closer, but his route was briskly blocked by a middle-aged couple. He groaned softly. Suddenly, everything went dark. Worried murmurs echoed throughout the temple. Was this part of the event? No one could ever be so sure about the plans Abu had in mind for them. However a feeling of unease coursed through our scribe's body. This couldn't be right. This wasn't part of the ceremony. If it was, the scribes would've known.
Farouk looked around, trying to catch sight of his colleagues. Anwar wasn't that far away, and it was clear that he was bothered too. Just as he was about to make his way towards his friend, a loud boom shook the temple. It was silent for a few moments until everything descended into utter chaos. People screamed and tried to get out of the temple, but to no avail. It was way too dense, and if the authorities didn't put an end to it right this instant the mob could result in some deaths.
Then, another boom could be heard. But this time, it was way closer. The people were pushing each other, trying to get out. And in the midst of the panic and gunshots, Farouk spotted the terrified Anwar. “Anwar!” He quickened his pace, but a loud scream saved him from getting crushed by a… block? He glanced up in fear. The ceiling was collapsing.
Blood was pounding in his ears as he resumed running, avoiding falling blocks. By now, almost everyone managed to squeeze out of the temple. An unlucky few got crushed. But the most gruesome sight were the ones who died in a desperate attempt to flee. But that didn't bother him. Anwar was trapped, his right foot stuck under a huge piece of stone. He wasn't a big fan of Anwar, but he was still his friend. And for the first time ever, he felt a sudden feeling of… protectiveness. Without even realizing it, he was immediately by his colleague’s side, hastily trying to free him. He was so focused, that he couldn't hear the clear ticking noise from above.
“Farouk… get the fuck out of here…” Anwar grumbled weakly. Despite his tough interior, his expression made it pretty clear that he had given up. This angered Farouk. This wasn't like the scribe, he was supposed to live on and achieve great things. He was the most gifted one in their academy, noticed by professors from a very young age. And now that he was out, many sought after his valuable skills. He was raised to be the best scribe of the generation, Egypt couldn't lose him now.
The beeping only got louder and louder, and that only made Farouk more determined to save his friend. He could care less about Anwar literally screaming at him to leave, all that mattered was removing that block. One, two, one, two. Then suddenly, pain shot through his stomach and he skidded across the rocky floor, away from Anwar. His friend had his other leg outstretched, which definitely meant that he was responsible. But Farouk didn't care, he just has to get him o-
The last thing he saw was Anwar’s solemn face before everything went white.