3 Day 0 part 2

"I'm not crazy!" Hazel insists, and I raise my eyebrows at her. She wrinkles up her nose. "This is because I'm Asian, isn't it? This is racism at it's finest; I am hurt and offended, and the only way you'll be able to make it up to me is by letting me come to the museum and see the pretty bones."

I laugh, shaking my head. "Goodbye Hazel."

"I'm going to get you later for this, bi—" She starts to yell, but I cut her off before she can finish her sentence. Shaking my head with a small grin, I pocket my phone and head up to the front desk, flashing a smile at the person behind the front desk.

"Hey Iris."

"Good morning Miss Collins." Iris smiles. "Was that Hazel you were just talking to?"

"Yes." I reply wryly, rolling my eyes. "If she turns up, can you possibly send her wherever I'm not?"

Iris chuckles, the corners of her eyes crinkling. "I can try Miss Collins, but I have a feeling she won't listen to me if she does turn up."

"Yeah, you're right. I'm pretty sure she'd hurt you to find out where we were, and I don't want to do that to you." I sigh over-dramatically, surprising another laugh out of her. I lean forward, looking her in the eye. "I take it back. Give her whatever she wants, just save yourself."

"Always one for the dramatics, Miss Collins." Iris shakes her head, sliding something towards me over the counter. "Your father is on the second floor, in one of the closed off exhibits. You can use that to get in and see him."

"Thanks Iris, you're a star." I grin. I'd been here so many times by now that I didn't even need to tell her what I wanted for her to know. "Remind me one of these days to bring you some cookies. You help me sneak around the museum far too much for free anymore."

"You say that every summer Kiara. It still isn't any trouble." Iris replies, gesturing me forward with a small smile. "Now go, you're holding up the line."

I glance behind me, smiling sheepishly at the disgruntled family waiting behind me.

"Sorry!" I snag the key-card off the counter, saluting Iris with it. "Bye Iris! Thank you!"

She waves me off with a laugh, turning back to the family in front of her and apologising with a gracious smile.

Stuffing my hands in the pockets of my hoodie, I stroll through the museum, letting my gaze wander around aimlessly as I walk. By now, the rooms of the museum are as familiar to me as the back of my hand. My father's been working here ever since my parents finalised their divorce and he moved away, and every summer since then I've stayed with him and basically lived in the museum. Unlike my father and Hazel though, who were both archaeologists at heart, I was more fascinated in the ancient stories behind the museum's famous artifacts: the stories that shaped our civilisation today and made every single part of our world entirely unique, the stories that still had the power to influence the future. +

Those stories were what cultivated my desire to become a traveling journalist. I found them so interesting, so entirely intriguing and fascinating that I was filled with an unquenchable desire to share their enchanting tales with the rest of the world. That's why Hazel and I were such good friends; she wanted to uncover the artifacts, and I wanted to share their importance with the world. It had been our dream since we were little to travel the world together and uncover as many ancient civilisations as we could, one dusty cave at a time. But those dreams were still a little far-fetched for a pair of eighteen year olds fresh out of high school, so for the time being, I had to content myself with visiting museums like the one my father worked at, and writing articles on my blog about the enriching histories hidden within their walls. It was a small step toward becoming the journalist I had dreamed of becoming since I was eight years old, but I liked to convince myself that I was making a difference somewhere. Somewhere, someone was reading my articles on the new tomb they recently discovered in Egypt, and until I had made it through my journalism degree, that was enough for me.

Well, assuming my mother doesn't succeed in shipping me off to law school like she wants, of course. But I didn't like give that possibility much spotlight in my think-tank.

My face twisting up into a scowl at the thought, I shake my head and head into the elevator, pushing the button for the second floor. Just as the doors are about to close someone slips through, almost knocking me over in the process. They curse, dropping their papers in their attempt to steady me.

"I'm so sorry!" The person apologises, crouching down to pick up the papers. They meet my gaze as they straighten back up again, and their expression brightens. "Kiara! I wasn't expecting you to be here."

"Clearly." I reply bemusedly. The person winces, pushing their wire-frame glasses further up their nose. I grin, nudging their shoulder. "I'm kidding, Seth. Are you okay?"

"Yes, yes, I'm fine. I'm just in a little bit of a hurry, that's all." My father's assistant shrugs, straightening up the files in his hands. "I'm late. Again."

"I'm shocked." I tease. "You realise he doesn't care, right? He's the worst when it comes to being on time. I'm pretty sure he was even late to his own birth."

"Be that as it may, this is the one time I really shouldn't have been late." Seth grimaces. "They're opening the exhibit soon, and there's still a lot we have to sort out before they open it."

"Well hey," I bend down just as the elevator doors open with a chime, picking up a stray page and handing it to him. "Just blame it on me. Say that I distracted you talking about dinosaurs or something."

"I specialise in ancient civilisations Kiara, not dinosaurs." He replies flatly, a touch of offense colouring his tones. "There is an immense difference."

"Hey, okay then." I hold my hands up in the air. "You can face the wrath of my father on your own then."

"Thanks." He says dryly. Then he pauses, staring at something on the underside of my wrist. "What's that?"

"What?" I twist my wrist around to see what he's talking about. My eyes light up. "Oh, you mean my birthmark?" +

"Yes." He replies slowly, curiosity fleeting over his features as he studies it. It's a small, black mark that almost looks like a cross, with a loop on the top instead of a plain stick. It looks more like a tattoo than a birthmark , and if I had seen it on anybody else, I would almost suspect that it was. "It doesn't really look like a birthmark."

"Well, unless my parents tattooed me as a baby, I'm pretty sure it's a birthmark." I shrug with a grin, stuffing my hands back in my pockets again. "So what's this new exhibit about anyway? A mutant t-rex? A new species of the flying dinosaur? Oooh, did you discover a cat-sized triceratops? I'm not going to lie, that would make one hell of a blog post."

"You're just purposely trying to annoy me, aren't you?" Seth retorts, and I beam innocently up at him. He rolls his eyes, getting out his key-card and scanning it past the receiver next to a door. The door clicks, and he pushes it open with his shoulder. "For that, I'm not going to tell you."

"Boo, that's rude." I pout, skipping past him into a room full of darkness. I stop, blinking several times until my eyes adjust. "Woah, who turned out the lights?"

"The lights are always off." A new voice speaks up from the other end of the room. I squint in the low light, to see my father smiling at me. He tucks his pencil behind his ear. "It's a necessary precaution we take to protect the specimens from further damage."

"Dad!" I beam, bouncing over and giving him a one-armed hug.

"Hey kiddo." He returns the hug, squeezing my shoulder. "Did you have a good flight?"

"Well, I'm here, aren't I?" I reply, shrugging. "I just dropped my stuff off at your place before coming here. Didn't see the point in wasting any time."

"Is this obsession with museums hereditary, or?" Seth asks, walking over to us. "Because it's just creepy how equally engrossed you both are with this place."

My father doesn't respond, his eyes narrowing slightly. "You're late."

"I'm always late. I told you, I'm a terrible assistant, remember?" Seth retorts, handing my father the papers. After glaring at Seth for a few moments longer, my father snatches them off him, walking away and perusing them carefully.

"Turn the lights on for Kiara, will you?" My father says, already dismissing his assistant's tardiness. "But only on low. I want to keep these artifacts out of the artificial light as long as I can."

Seth nods and makes a bee-line for the light-switch. Moments later, the room is bathed in a warm golden glow. I twirl around in a circle, my eyes widening to the size of saucers as I take in the full affect of the exhibit.

"Woah, is that a mummy?!"

"It's called a sarcophagus." My father replies, not even bothering to take his eyes off the pages he's reading. "But yes, you are correct. The mummified corpse is still inside the sarcophagus."

"So what, this is another ancient Egyptian exhibit then?" I ask, clapping my hands together as I continue to examine the room in pure delight.

The sarcophagus, of course, is displayed proudly on a stand at the very front of the room, the four spotlights lighting it up from the bottom casting a mysterious shadow across the intricate detailing covering every inch of it's surface. To the immediate left and right of the sarcophagus are monumental gold statues of a dog-headed figure, standing stiffly to point and holding a spear as tall as them in their outside arm. In front of the sarcophagus, in the middle of the room, are two large glass cases, held up by stands decorated with equally intricate hieroglyphic carvings. On top of the glass cases are several large wooden boxes, containing what I assume to be the artifacts that are going to be displayed in the glass stands. Around the room, embellishing the otherwise plain cream walls, are various ancient Egyptian artworks, containing lines of hieroglyphics that complete the otherworldly atmosphere of the exhibit. I grin to myself slightly. Hazel would be having a hernia if she was standing next to me right now.

"This isn't just another Egyptian exhibit, Kiara." My father exclaims. "This is the mummy!"

"Wait, the mummy?" I raise my eyebrows at him, joining him next to the golden coffin. "What's the mummy? Every mummy is the mummy to you."

"This is the mummy I've been searching for for years, kiddo!" My father grins, his face lighting up with childish excitement as he places a gentle hand on the sarcophagus. "The one who has disappeared constantly throughout the timeline of history! Every time someone thinks they've found him, he disappears all over again, only to reappear in a completely different tomb or pyramid. He's so unknown to us that he doesn't even have a name. We have no idea who he really was back when he was alive." +

"So what's his name then?" I ask, lightly tracing one of the hieroglyphs with my finger. I glance up to see my father giving me an utterly unimpressed look. "Oh come on, don't give me that look. He has to have some sort of name. You wouldn't just open this exhibit and call it "Tomb of Some Mummy That Has No Name"."

"We call him the Osiris Mummy." Seth pipes up from the other side of the room.

"Why?"

"For many reasons." My father points at a series of hieroglyphs underneath the painted mummy's crossed arms, etched in a grove down the sarcophagus' middle. "These hieroglyphs here all have strong connections to the god Osiris, and these here," He points to the objects the mummy is holding. "Are a crock and a flail, which are the symbols of Osiris himself."

"That's neat." I reply sagely. He rolls his eyes at my lack of enthusiasm.

"Maybe you'll find these a little more interesting." He leads me over to the glass cases and hands me a couple of sheets of paper. "I can't show you the artifacts themselves because they're still wrapped in their protective casings, but these are photos of them."

"What are they?" I ask curiously. On one page, there's what looks like a heavy gold ring, the edges decorated with vibrant colours that frame a turqoise scarab beetle. On the other, is a much more delicately shaped cobra arm bangle, its slender golden body coiling around into three perfect loops.

"We're not entirely sure. Throughout history, these two artifacts — just these two — have always been discovered with this mummy. The ring here has a scarab beetle on it, which is the symbol for transformation in Egyptian. If you look closely, there are other hieroglyphs carved out on the band of the ring, spelling out what we assume to be a sentence, though it's true meaning is lost to us." My father points them out to me on the piece of paper. If I squint hard enough, I can just make out what he's talking about. He then points to the cobra. "And this here, is an arm bangle that I think relates to Osiris' wife in Egyptian mythology, Isis." +

"That you think?" I pause, glancing up at him. "Why the emphasis on the you?"

"Because he's the only one who thinks that." Seth pipes up, shrugging slightly when I look over at him. "Everyone else thinks he's just grasping at straws, but Thom here thinks he's right."

"I am right!" My father insists. He grabs the piece of paper off me and points to the ridge of the cobra's back. "You see here? Those are ankhs, which are both the Egyptian symbol for life and for Isis herself, as the patron goddess of fertility, creation and rebirth. Not only that, but the cobra was a frequent symbol and sacred animal to Isis herself throughout mythology."

"But how does that relate to the mummy?" I ask, and he falters.

"That's the million dollar question, Kiara." Seth replies when my father doesn't, heading over to us with a stack of files in his hands. "A question we're apparently supposed to answer before the exhibit opens in five days. Unless your father swallows his pride and admits that he might be wrong, of course."

"I'm not wrong!" My father retorts hotly. "This artifact is clearly linked to Isis!"

"Then why was it found with our mummy?" Seth challenges, folding his arms over his chest.

"There are numerous possibilities as to why it was found with our mummy! Perhaps it was an offering from his wife, or it was placed with him at burial for—"

Tuning out my father's impassioned bickering, I place the papers back on the glass case and walk back over to the mummy, my curiosity getting the better of me. I stop at the head of the sarcophagus and study the idealistic face inquisitively. Even though this is the first time I've ever seen this particular mummy before — or a real sarcophagus, if I'm totally frank — I can't help the bizarre feeling that I've seen them before, like I know the mummy. I slowly walk the length of the sarcophagus, letting my fingers trail across the edge, until I reach the placard standing in front of the golden coffin. I pause to read it.

'Estimated to be over three-thousand years old, this unique and mysterious mummy is thought to be mummified corpse of an unidentified male, guessed to be around twenty-one years of age. After many disappearances throughout history, it was finally discovered—'

I stop, my eyes widening as I glance back over at the face.

"Twenty-one years old, huh?" I muse to myself, shaking my head. "Man, it is weird to think that around three thousand years ago, you were alive and walking around like I am right now. I wonder whether you were hot back then. Is that what these hieroglyphs are really saying, do you reckon? They're just super ancient etchings of how you were hotter than the Ancient Egyptian version of Robert Downy-Jnr."

I grin to myself at the thought, skimming my fingers over the peculiar pictures etched down the middle of the sarcophagus. Without warning, the hieroglyphs that I touch all of a sudden light up, growing hot so suddenly that they burn my fingertips. I yelp, tearing my hand away and stumbling back a few steps. The hieroglyphs glow bright green for a few moments longer before dulling, returning back to their usual unseeming black state. I stare at them, my eyes wide.

What the hell just happened? Are they supposed to do that?

"Kiara?" My father suddenly appears at my shoulder, and I yelp again, jumping in surprise. He frowns at me, clearly confused by my reaction. "Are you alright? You look like you've seen a ghost."

"I—I think so." I stammer, still clutching my hand to my chest. "Are... are the hieroglyphs supposed to glow? Like, a weird bright green colour?"

"No." My father's frown deepens, and his gaze flickers between me and the sarcophagus several times. "Why? Did they?"

"I..." I blink several times, shaking my head. The hieroglyphs I'd run my fingers over remain black as night, and I start to wonder whether I had seen what I thought I did. "I thought they did for a second, but... I must have been imagining it. There's no possible way they could have done that, right?"

"No. It must have been a trick of the light. " My father squeezes my shoulder with a reassuring smile. "Are you sure you don't want to go home? I wouldn't mind if you did, you had a long flight after all, and I will be here for a while. You must be tired."

"No, it's okay." I smile back at him, gesturing to my camera. "I won't get bored. Besides, I want to be here to witness you nerding out over this three thousand year old dead dude. It makes me feel more normal."

"Okay, if you're sure." My father watches me warily for a few more seconds before walking back over to Seth, returning to their conversation in hushed tones. I let out a long breath and glance back over at the sarcophagus, my smarting fingertips not letting me dismiss my own caution as easily.

And even though it makes just about as much sense as the hieroglyphs suddenly lighting up like a fireworks show, I swear the sarcophagus' eyes stare right back at me.