Milo knew cats were trouble magnets.
He just hadn't realized they could also be curse magnets.
The moment Whiskers' paws touched the floor again, the whole pedestal trembled. A fine crack zipped down its side like lightning caught in stone.
"Oh no," Milo breathed. "That's… probably fine, right? Just normal, ancient-building settling noises?"
It was not fine.
With a deep, grinding groan, the headless statue began to glow—not warm and golden, but a cold, pale light that made the torch flames gutter. The light spread across the floor in thin, snaking lines, tracing strange symbols Milo had never seen before.
Whiskers backed up, her tail puffing to maximum volume. Her collar gave a sharp, urgent tick-tick-tick, as if it wanted her to move.
Milo took a step toward the door. "Okay, so we're just gonna—"
The door slammed shut.
From the walls, shadows began to slide. Not fall—slide. They peeled away from the corners like paint melting off a wall, pooling on the floor, then stretching into long, curling shapes that were not human.
Milo's voice went high-pitched. "Whiskers, I think we just opened… something."
One shadow reached toward the pedestal, its fingers long and claw-like.
"HEY!" a voice bellowed from the doorway.
The tall woman who had first greeted them burst into the room, spear in hand. Her eyes went straight to the glowing floor symbols. "You touched the idol?"
Milo pointed to Whiskers. "She touched the idol!"
Whiskers, utterly unbothered, sat down and licked one paw.
The woman jabbed the butt of her spear into the nearest glowing line. The light flickered, the shadow hissed, and the lines snapped like cut strings. The room seemed to exhale.
The shadows slid back into the corners. The torches steadied.
The woman turned slowly toward Milo, eyes narrowing. "The curse is awake now."
Milo swallowed. "The… curse?"
She nodded grimly. "Until the idol is restored, the land will feel the goddess's anger. Crops will wither. The river will rise or fall as it pleases. And the Pharaoh will hold you responsible."
Milo stared at her. "Me? But—" He pointed at Whiskers. "—she's the one with the magic collar!"
The woman actually smiled, just a little. "The Messenger acts as she must. The Keeper must deal with the consequences."
Whiskers yawned, showing off her perfect, white, pointy teeth.
Milo groaned. "Great. I've been promoted from roommate to scapegoat."
They left the Chamber of Shadows quickly. The priests were waiting in the hall, eyes wide with worry.
"The riddle," the woman said, pushing the golden-tied scroll into Milo's hands. "You'll need this. And you'll need to hurry—before the curse grows."
Milo glanced at Whiskers, who had already trotted ahead, tail high like she was leading the parade.
"Yeah, sure," he muttered. "No pressure. Just solve an ancient magical puzzle before we all get cursed into oblivion."
The collar around Whiskers' neck gave one soft tick, as if agreeing.