THE SIGHTLESS SEER – PART FOUR
Part Four: The Guardians Awaken
The air grew heavier as Mohamed led the gang further into the tombs. The corridors seemed to stretch endlessly, twisting and folding in impossible ways. Shadows pooled in corners and along the walls, moving with a life of their own. Each step deeper made the gang shiver with a mix of fear and awe, their earlier greed completely dissolved.
"You… you can see all of this?" one of the men asked in a trembling voice.
Mohamed nodded calmly. "Yes. But seeing is not knowing. Understanding is what matters here."
The gang stumbled into a chamber that was far larger than any he had encountered before. Pillars of black stone rose to a ceiling that vanished into darkness. Every surface shimmered with energy, almost alive, pulsating in rhythm with the tomb itself. In the center hovered an altar, and upon it lay objects that glimmered unnaturally—artifacts that hummed with power, ancient relics that should have remained buried forever.
Mohamed could feel them, every item resonating with the consciousness of its past owners. Some were protective, some cursed, and some… deadly.
He sensed the presence before he saw it—a massive shadow that coiled around the chamber. The Watcher hissed softly, a warning only Mohamed could hear. The gang froze, noticing the unnatural movement.
A figure emerged, humanoid but grotesque, its body elongated, limbs bending in impossible ways. Its eyes glowed with a faint golden light, and as it moved, shadows around it shifted like liquid.
"You are intruders," it said, its voice like a chorus of many, overlapping tones echoing inside their minds. "None may enter without acknowledgment of the tomb's guardians."
Mohamed stepped forward, unafraid. "I am here by choice, not by greed. They follow me because they are lost, not chosen."
The shadow's form pulsed, and suddenly, the gang screamed as figures of skeletal warriors rose from the floor. They were spectral, bound to protect the tomb, their eyes empty but their intent deadly.
One of the men tried to flee, only to be blocked by a wall of energy that shimmered into existence. Mohamed raised a hand. "Stop!" he commanded. The spirits froze, tilting their heads as if observing him.
"You… you control them?" the leader whispered, awe-struck.
"Not control," Mohamed corrected gently. "They recognize me as part of this realm. I am a witness, a guardian, a guide. They are bound to the tomb… I am bound to them."
---
The chamber shifted. The floor rippled like water, and the walls began to display visions: past kings, lost empires, rituals, and sacrifices. The gang staggered, their senses overwhelmed. One man fell to his knees, shouting, "This is madness! We didn't come for this! We came for treasure!"
Mohamed's voice remained calm. "And this is why you were brought here. Not for gold, but for understanding. Look carefully—see what you have dared to awaken."
From the shadows emerged more guardians, their forms twisting and merging with the walls. One of them stepped forward, a spectral knight holding a weapon that flickered between steel and shadow. The gang screamed again. Mohamed did not flinch.
"You are not ready," he whispered to the gang. "And yet… you will see. Watch, and learn."
The spectral knight moved towards the artifacts, and Mohamed raised his hand. A pulse of energy surged outward, and the figure paused mid-step. Its glowing eyes scanned him, and then it bowed slightly before dissolving back into the shadows.
"You see," Mohamed said softly, "these guardians do not attack without reason. They judge intent. They test hearts. Only the unworthy are harmed."
The gang shivered. The leader, pale and trembling, whispered, "I… I see. We… we should have left…"
Mohamed shook his head. "Leaving is not the lesson. Seeing is. Understanding is. Your survival depends not on fleeing, but on comprehension."
---
Deeper into the chamber, Mohamed guided the group toward a spiral staircase that descended further into darkness. The air became cooler, yet charged, vibrating with hidden energy. Shadows along the walls now formed shapes resembling ancient deities, their gazes heavy with expectation.
"You feel them, don't you?" Mohamed asked the gang. "The spirits are aware. They are watching. And they know you are not prepared."
The gang muttered prayers and clutched one another. Fear had replaced their greed completely. Mohamed sensed the energy growing stronger, more concentrated. The Watcher coiled around him protectively, warning him of currents unseen, of forces that could tear apart the unprepared mind.
Finally, they reached a massive hall. The ceiling soared impossibly high, and the air shimmered with a golden hue that defied logic. In the center of the hall floated a sarcophagus, larger and more radiant than any Mohamed had ever seen. It pulsed with life and intelligence.
He could feel it: the core entity, older than any civilization, aware and waiting.
"You have come far, Mohamed," a deep, layered voice echoed in his mind. "But only the true witness may enter. The others… are they worthy?"
Mohamed glanced at the gang. He could feel their fear, their confusion, their remorse. "No," he said softly. "They were never meant for this. They follow only because they cannot see. They are not chosen. But they must witness what they have awakened."
The sarcophagus pulsed brighter. Shadows swirled around it, forming spectral barriers that rippled with energy. Mohamed felt a connection—a bridge between him, the Watcher, and the entity within. He realized he could step through, and see the tomb's ultimate secret.
---
A sudden movement startled the gang. From the shadows, a figure emerged, but unlike the previous guardians, it moved with a disturbing fluidity. Its face shifted constantly, morphing between human and beast, beauty and horror intertwined.
"You… you are different," the leader stammered. "What… what is that?"
Mohamed remained calm. "It is the protector of the truth. The final guardian. You do not belong here."
The figure stepped closer, its many eyes scanning each of them. Mohamed felt its awareness probing, searching for intent. He extended his perception, communicating with it silently.
"Do not harm them," he whispered. "They are not ready."
The guardian paused, then withdrew slightly, allowing the gang to observe—but not touch—the sarcophagus. Its presence remained, a constant reminder of the power that lay beyond.
Mohamed turned to the group. "See now," he said softly. "This is what you sought and could not have imagined. Power, history, and knowledge that cannot be stolen. You are visitors in a world you barely understand."
The gang sank to the floor, overwhelmed. Tears and whispered prayers filled the chamber. Mohamed observed silently, his calm a stark contrast to their panic.
The sarcophagus pulsed once more, and Mohamed felt the Watcher's presence beside him, a silent confirmation. He understood: the tomb had accepted him as the true witness. The gang would leave with their lives, but their hearts and minds were forever changed.
And Moh
amed knew, with certainty, that this journey into the supernatural had only just begun.