The Hall of Fallen Sand wasn't marked on any map of the city of Waset. No temple inscription mentioned its name , no priest dared to say this name aloud. But Layla always heard whispers—fragments of rumor exchanged between the night guards and low-ranking servants. It's a forgotten place that is buried in the city's old part, where the wind felt too quite and time didn't move.
She moved through the dusky streets of Waset city wearing her cloak tightly. The alleys was narrow and she felt like it's getting narrower as she moved, the air felt heavy and suffocating. The further she walked, the more the world seemed to shift—less noise, fewer lights, fewer people. It was as if the city itself was holding its breath.
The Eye of Horus pendant glowed faintly against her chest and it felt Strangely warm .
She turned down a passage barely wide enough to walk through, the walls was carved with faded symbols that looked like scratches on the walls. At the end she could see an old, half-buried stone doorway shaped like an arch.
, its keystone cracked and half-swallowed by sand. A dried dead date tree leaned beside it, , its roots dry as bone.
Layla stepped through.
The air changed instantly— it was cooler, hollow. The floor of the tunnel moved downward, deeper and deeper, until the light from the entrance vanished. She used an old stone to make a small flame so she can see and she followed the curve of the corridor.
Finally, she reached a vast chamber.
The sand was floating suspended in the air as if time is frozen . The floor was covered with dust, but the walls shined faintly, like glass beneath the layers of dirt. And at the center of it all stood Kesi.
He was different now.
His robe was no longer ink-stained it was covered with fancy designs made of threads of midnight blue. His hair was tied back, his eyes shined brighter. He looked like someone who had returned to their game after being out for a long time.
"You came," he said, like he had been waiting for this moment forever.
Layla crossed her arms. "This place… it doesn't feel real."
"That's because it remembers too much." Kesi turned, pointing to the walls. "This place is stuck between moments, where time doesn't work right.. Every moment that was meant to be forgotten… ends up stored here."
"Why did bring me here?"
"Because this place will show you what I can't explain with words ."
He extended his hand for her .
She hesitated only for a moment before taking it.
Instantly, The room changed shape in a strange way..
The sand rushed upward, forming shapes or scenes. A grand temple rising from black stone. A river of light winding through endless darkness. A child standing before a scroll that bled ink like blood.
Then, a flash—Layla's own face, younger, she was crying as a figure in white Repeated sacred or magical words in rhythm before her.
She let out a sharp breath and quickly pulled her hand away.
"What was that?"
Kesi's voice was quiet. "Soft sounds and memories of you still linger here.. Of you. Of this place. Of everything the palace has tried to hide."
Layla moved back , she was breathing hard., her legs shaking not understanding anything "I saw myself. And you. And… something else. Something wrong."
Kesi's eyes darkened and said . "You were chosen before you ever touched that scroll. They trained you without your knowing it. Dreams, lessons, punishments—scripts burned into your childhood."
Layla felt confused and replied
"I don't remember any of that."
"That's the point," he said. "They buried your past, hoping the future would never awaken."
Layla's fingers touched the pendant.
"I want to remember," she said.
"You will. But not all at once. If your mind breaks, you're no use to anyone." He stepped aside, revealing three other people standing in the shadows of the room. All of them were wearing simple robes, but each one had something… unusual about him.
The first one his eyes shined like silver, never blinking.
The second had a skin that is engraved by symbols that looked like fire.
The third was tall, quiet, her presence sharp as a blade—watched Layla with intensity.
"They're like you," Kesi said. "Scriptweavers. Survivors. Rebels."
The silver-eyed one bowed. "I'm Tarek."
The flame-marked girl smiled faintly. "Niva."
The tall one didn't speak, but Kesi said her name for her. "That's Sana. She doesn't talk unless it's important."
Layla looked at them.they were weird, Differen and Strange but there was something she felt comfort as She wasn't alone in this mess anymore.
"We're building something," Kesi said. "A sanctuary. A resistance. A new Order."
"Against who?" layla asked in a confused voice
"The ones who trained you. The ones who made the scrolls. The High Priestess and those above her." His voice dropped. "Even the gods, if we must."
Layla's heart jumbed. It was too much for her and too fast.
But part of her felt excited and anticipated what to come next like she had been waiting for this her whole life.
"So where do I begin?" she asked
Kesi smiled. "With one truth: you are not who you were told to be. You are more."
He reached into his robe and handed her a scroll—sealed with wax and marked with her own name.
Layla stared at it.
Her hands trembled.
Then, slowly, she broke the seal.