Maya's POV
"Choose!" Future-Me screams.
My hand hovers over the glowing ankh. Ten seconds left. Nine. Eight.
Khalid's grip on my wrist tightens. "Maya, look at me."
I can't. I'm staring at the photograph—at the ruins, at the destruction, at proof that my choices matter more than I ever wanted them to.
Seven seconds.
"If you're really me from the future," I hear myself say, "then you know what I'm going to choose. You've already lived this moment."
Future-Me's expression flickers. Just for a second.
That's when I know.
"You're lying." I drop the photograph. "You're not me at all."
"What are you talking about?" But her voice is different now. Less certain.
"I'm an archaeologist. I study time and history and cause and effect." My brain is working again, cutting through the panic. "If you were really future-me, coming back here would create a paradox. You'd remember this conversation from your past. You'd know exactly what I was going to say."
"Maybe I do—"
"Then why did you look surprised when I figured it out?" I take a step toward her. "And why would future-me wear the same clothes I wore two days ago? I'd wear something that proved I really lived here for ten years. I'd bring evidence I couldn't fake."
Future-Me's face twists into something ugly. Something that's definitely not me.
"Smart girl," she says, but it's not my voice anymore. It's deeper. Masculine. Wrong.
Her form shimmers and changes. The business suit melts into black robes. My face distorts into someone else's—a man's face, scarred and cruel.
"A shapeshifter," Khalid breathes.
The man laughs. "Close enough. Your people call us the Faceless. We wear whatever skin serves our purpose." He gestures at his companions in black armor. "And our purpose today is to kill the Star-Marked before she fulfills the prophecy."
"The photograph—" I start.
"Is real," the Faceless interrupts. "That future exists. But not because you stay. Because you leave." His smile is vicious. "We needed you to go home, Maya Hartwell. We needed you to abandon this timeline. Because without you, the Empire falls. And when the Empire falls, it stays fallen. No archaeological discoveries. No museums. No Dr. Maya Hartwell to interfere with our plans three thousand years from now."
My stomach drops. "You're from my time."
"We're from every time. We exist in the spaces between moments, ensuring history flows the way it should." He raises his hand, and dark energy crackles around his fingers. "And you, little archaeologist, are a mistake we're here to erase."
He throws the energy at me.
Khalid shoves me aside and takes the hit instead. The dark magic slams into his chest, and he goes down hard.
"No!" I drop to my knees beside him. His eyes are open but unfocused. His breathing is shallow.
"Khalid, stay with me. Please stay with me."
The Faceless and his soldiers advance. The Pharaoh's guards try to stop them, but the dark magic cuts through them like paper.
I'm going to die here. We're all going to die.
Then the air itself tears open.
A portal rips through reality, and Nefertari steps through it, her white robes billowing with power. Her eyes glow pure gold.
"You dare attack the Star-Marked in my city?" Her voice echoes with divine authority. "You dare threaten the chosen of the gods?"
She throws her hands forward, and golden light explodes from her palms. It's so bright I have to look away. When I can see again, three of the soldiers are just... gone. Disintegrated.
The Faceless snarls. "One priestess won't stop us."
"Perhaps not." Another voice, young and confident.
Prince Ammon steps through the portal with his own soldiers. They fan out, surrounding the attackers.
"But a prince and a priestess together?" Ammon's smile is sharp. "Those odds I like much better."
The battle erupts.
I try to help Khalid, but he pushes me away weakly. "The ankh," he gasps. "Use it. Go home."
"I'm not leaving you!"
"Maya—" He coughs, and blood flecks his lips. "The prophecy was wrong. You can't save us. Save yourself."
Tears blur my vision. "Shut up. You're not dying. I won't let you."
I press my hands against his chest, right over his heart. I don't know what I'm doing. I don't know how magic works. But the glyphs on the walls of the temple—I remember them. I remember the symbols for life, for healing, for binding.
My hands start to glow.
Khalid's eyes widen. "Maya, what are you—"
"Saving you." I close my eyes and let the magic flow. It pours out of me like water breaking through a dam. Ancient words fill my mind—words I've never learned but somehow know.
The wound in Khalid's chest begins to close.
Around us, the battle rages. Nefertari's golden light clashes with the Faceless's darkness. Ammon's soldiers fight the black-armored invaders. The throne room is chaos.
But all I see is Khalid. All I feel is his heartbeat growing stronger under my hands.
His eyes focus on me. The silver glow returns. "You're using ancestral magic. How—"
"I don't know. I just—" My voice breaks. "I'm not letting you die. Not for me. Not for anyone."
Something shifts in his expression. Wonder, maybe. Or fear.
"You really are the one from the prophecy," he whispers.
Before I can answer, the Pharaoh's voice rings out across the throne room.
"ENOUGH!"
The word carries power that makes everyone freeze. Even the Faceless stops mid-attack.
The Pharaoh stands, and I finally get a good look at him. He's younger than I expected—maybe forty, with kind eyes but a voice made of steel.
"This battle ends now. By divine right and royal command, I declare this throne room sacred ground. Any who continue fighting here will face the gods' judgment."
The Faceless glares at him. "You can't—"
"I am Pharaoh Amenhotep the Third, chosen of Ra, speaker for the gods, ruler of the Kemet Empire." The Pharaoh's eyes glow the same gold as Nefertari's. "Test me, and you'll learn exactly what I can do."
For three heartbeats, nobody moves.
Then the Faceless signals his remaining soldiers. They retreat toward the shadows, melting into darkness.
"This isn't over," the Faceless promises. "The prophecy will fail. The Star-Marked will die. And your empire will fall."
He vanishes, taking his soldiers with him.
Silence fills the throne room. Bodies lie everywhere. The air still crackles with leftover magic.
Khalid sits up slowly, touching his chest where the wound was. It's completely healed. "You shouldn't have been able to do that."
"Well, I did." I'm shaking all over, but I help him stand. "You're welcome, by the way."
He stares at me like he's seeing me for the first time. "You chose to stay. Even after he showed you what might happen."
"I chose not to be manipulated by a fake version of myself." I meet his eyes. "I haven't chosen anything else yet."
"Maya Hartwell." The Pharaoh's voice draws my attention. He's walking toward us, and everyone in the room bows. "Approach the throne."
My legs feel like jelly, but I force myself to walk forward. Khalid stays close beside me.
I try to bow, but the Pharaoh waves his hand. "No need. You saved my life tonight. And my Commander's. That earns respect, not ceremony."
He studies me with those kind, intelligent eyes. "Nefertari has told me your story. The betrayal. The time travel. Your confusion about why you're here." He pauses. "I believe I can help explain."
"Your Majesty, with respect," Khalid interrupts, "she's just been through a battle. Perhaps this conversation should wait—"
"No." I'm surprised by the strength in my own voice. "I want answers. I deserve answers. Why am I here? What is this prophecy? And why does everyone keep trying to kill me?"
The Pharaoh nods approvingly. "Direct questions deserve direct answers." He gestures to a side chamber. "Come. We'll speak privately."
Nefertari, Khalid, Ammon, and I follow him into a smaller room. The door closes behind us, and suddenly the chaos of the throne room feels very far away.
"The prophecy," the Pharaoh begins, "is three thousand years old. It speaks of a woman marked by stars who will come from beyond time to save or destroy our world." He looks at me. "You are that woman."
"But I don't want to be!"
"Wanting has nothing to do with it." His voice is gentle but firm. "You carry the blood of the first High Priestess. You activated the Temporal Ankh.