Khetum: The forgetten ones

"You know English?" I asked, my voice echoing softly in the ancient chamber as I stared at the enigmatic old man.

He furrowed his brows, his weathered face unreadable under the dim light filtering through the cracked ceiling. "Djed en-ek? Nuke rek iw iw-i nn siwa" he replied in a strange tongue, the tone sharp yet calm. (What are you saying? I can't understand.)

My mind raced, but I quickly composed myself. "Nekhet, iya, iw-i kheper r sekher medjat en-pa" I replied hesitantly. (Nothing, yes, I was searching for this book.)

He tilted his head slightly, his piercing gaze making me feel exposed. For a moment, I was convinced he understood me. Or maybe I was overthinking—it was hard to tell when the atmosphere itself felt alive, pressing down on me with a mystic weight. Shaking off the thought, I turned my focus back to the book in his hands: Khetum. That was all that mattered.

I reached for it carefully, half-expecting something to happen. My heart pounded as my fingers brushed its ancient cover. If opening this book had brought me here, maybe it could send me back. But as I opened it, I realized how wrong I was.

The first thing my eyes caught sent a shiver down my spine: Kylex Stellington. My name. Written boldly as if it were inked by fate itself. I could barely breathe as I flipped the page.

The next was about Khastor. The text was ancient, but somehow, I could read it. It told the story of a powerful king who, at just twenty years of age, built an empire that dominated all others. Khastor was a warrior and a conqueror, but amidst his campaigns, he fell deeply in love with a queen during one of his travels and married her.

Years later, the queen gave birth to a daughter, a child born into a kingdom already marred by endless wars. One rival king offered a truce—but only if Khastor married his sister. Backed into a corner, he agreed. His love for his first wife, however, never wavered. He dreamed of having a son, someone who could inherit the throne, as the laws forbade daughters from ruling. The second wife bore him the boy he longed for, but his heart remained tied to his first family.

Then came the whispers—a vile rumor that spread like wildfire through the kingdom. People claimed the first queen had bewitched Khastor, using black magic to win his love. They warned that her curse would destroy the kingdom if she stayed. At first, Khastor dismissed these claims as baseless, but the pressure mounted. His first wife bore him a second daughter, but her birth came at a terrible cost—the queen's life.

The king, consumed by grief, blamed the child for her mother's death. In his despair, he isolated both daughters, condemning them to live in the shadows of the palace, far from prying eyes. Still, he couldn't bring himself to banish them completely, torn between love and the superstitions of his people.

"Re nfr, iw-i r sedjem aat en-pa m-shew" the old man interrupted, his voice pulling me from the pages. (Time is over, I'm going to close this place soon.)

"Iry-ib, iw-i r shen sesh en-pa m-k" I pleaded, desperation creeping into my tone. (Can I take this book with me, please?)

The man studied me for a long moment, the flickering candlelight casting eerie shadows across his face. Finally, with a reluctant nod, he handed over the book. I clutched it like a lifeline and hurried back to Victor's house, my mind a whirlwind of thoughts.

"Where have you been?" Victor asked, his face a mix of concern and irritation as I burst through the door.

"Look!" I said, holding up the book like a trophy. His eyes widened as he recognized the title.

"Khetum?" he whispered, almost reverently.

We sat down, poring over its pages together. When he saw my name written there, his jaw dropped. "How is this possible?" he murmured, more to himself than to me. We continued reading, engrossed in the tragic tale of Khastor and his daughters.

Just as we were about to uncover more about the princesses' fates, a deafening sound shattered the silence. It wasn't just noise—it was a siren, a deep, resonating call that made the ground tremble. Victor and I exchanged alarmed glances before rushing outside to investigate.

The street was alive with motion. People knelt, their foreheads nearly touching the ground, as soldiers marched past in a disciplined formation. The air was thick with tension, the weight of something monumental unfolding.

"Bow down!" Victor hissed, pulling me down beside him. "Blend in!"

A regal Arabian palanquin, carried by loyal attendants, came into view. Even the soldiers lowered their heads in respect as it passed.

"Is she a princess?" I whispered, barely moving my lips.

"Yes" Victor replied under his breath. "She's the elder daughter of King Khastor."

"But weren't they forbidden from leaving the palace?" I asked, my confusion growing.

"They were" Victor answered grimly. "But three days ago, the king sent her to our neighboring kingdom."

I didn't understand. None of this made sense. As the procession disappeared into the distance, we retreated back inside, my thoughts spinning with unanswered questions.

Who was this princess? Why had the king broken his own decree? And, most importantly, how did my name end up in a book that seemed to hold the secrets of an ancient, forgotten world?