The air changed before the light did.
Zeke felt it first—a dryness that scraped the back of his throat, a weight that pressed down on sound. When the dimensional door folded away behind them, the birdsong and sprinkler clicks of the neighborhood vanished like a lie being corrected.
They stood at the edge of sand.
Not dunes—placed sand. Packed, sloped, intentional. Stone walls rose on either side, angled inward as if the structure itself were leaning closer to listen.
Above them, carved into weathered stone, loomed a pyramid.
Julie squinted up at it. "Okay. New rule."
Zeke wiped sweat from his brow. "Let me guess. Don't touch anything."
"Don't assume anything," she corrected.
His HUD flickered, the text arriving with none of the playful flair of earlier levels.
LEVEL SIX: PYRAMID OF FEAR
No music. Just wind, whispering through stone corridors that hadn't cared about people for a very long time.
From Zeke's belt, the First Toy hummed—low, reverent. "This place predates jokes."
"That's rude," Zeke muttered. "Jokes are timeless."
They hadn't taken three steps when voices drifted from the right.
Tourists—two of them—stood just outside the pyramid entrance, clutching cameras like talismans. Their eyes went wide when they saw Zeke and Julie.
"Thank god!" one cried. "We thought we were—"
A low moan rolled out from the shadows behind them.
Zeke raised his Soaker and fired without ceremony. The zombie dissolved, leaving nothing but echoing silence.
The tourists bolted.
SAVED.
Julie didn't linger. "Inside. Now."
The pyramid swallowed them.
The temperature dropped instantly. Torchlight flickered along narrow corridors, throwing shadows that stretched and bent in ways that didn't quite agree with the geometry of the walls.
Zeke's footsteps sounded too loud.
"Why do I feel like we're trespassing?" he whispered.
"You are," the First Toy replied. "So was everyone else."
They moved west along a passage, and Julie slowed abruptly.
"Here," she said, pointing.
A dark patch marred the southern wall—not a door, not a crack. Just absence.
Zeke frowned. "That's… nothing."
"Exactly."
She stepped into it.
The world shifted sideways.
They emerged behind a sloped sandbank in a hidden chamber, the torchlight here dimmer, older. A lone explorer stood in the far corner, pressed against the wall, eyes darting toward a sarcophagus carved into the stone.
The lid scraped.
Julie sprinted.
Zeke fired at a zombie rushing in from the opposite side, then turned just as the sarcophagus lid burst open.
A Mummy rose.
Bandages yellowed with age. Eyes burning green. It didn't lunge. It stepped.
Zeke backed up, firing steadily. The shots slowed it, peeled layers of cloth away—but it kept coming.
Julie grabbed the explorer and dragged him clear.
SAVED.
"Why won't it die?" Zeke hissed.
"Because you're too close," the Toy said calmly.
Zeke retreated, firing as he went. At a distance, the Mummy finally shuddered and collapsed into dust.
Zeke exhaled. "Okay. Ranged. Got it."
Julie checked the chamber quickly—opened a pot, skimmed the sandbank. A faint chime confirmed a pickup hidden beneath the slope.
They stepped back through the hidden passage, returning to the main corridor like nothing had happened.
The pyramid didn't acknowledge their shortcut.
They headed east, then north, and ran straight into their first collapsing roof gate.
Stone slabs hung overhead, cracked and unstable. They passed beneath—
—and behind them, the ceiling slammed down with a thunderous crash, sealing the passage in a solid wall of rubble.
Zeke jumped. "HEY."
Julie stared at the collapse. "So… that just happened."
The Toy was unapologetic. "Forward motion has consequences."
"Everything has consequences," Zeke snapped. "That's not helpful!"
They pressed on.
The corridor bent north, then east again, and at the corner, two Mummies emerged in perfect, unhurried sync.
Zeke backpedaled, spraying soda cans to stagger them, then retreated down the hall, firing until they crumbled.
Julie kept count under her breath. "Don't stop. Don't let them touch you."
Beyond another set of roof gates, they found an explorer in a small chamber, shaking beside a sandbank and a pot.
SAVED.
Then another chamber. Another explorer.
SAVED.
Each rescue felt quieter than the last. No cheers. No relief. Just movement.
They slipped through another dark wall—another nothing—and found a tiny room in the heart of the maze. Ancient artifacts lay scattered like toys left behind by gods who'd grown bored.
An explorer crouched among them, eyes bright with fear and wonder.
"Don't touch anything," Julie said automatically.
SAVED.
The pyramid seemed to shift as they moved, corridors repeating with subtle differences. Julie began marking turns in her head, building a map she couldn't draw.
"Left after collapse. Right before sarcophagus. Long south corridor," she murmured.
Zeke followed without question.
They passed a secret passage they ignored—for now—and pushed west until sunlight spilled through a wide opening.
Outside, in the northwest clearing, stood another pair of tourists. They looked sunburned, exhausted, profoundly done with adventure.
Julie waved. "Run."
They did.
SAVED.
They ducked back inside before the pyramid could notice.
Julie led them into the hidden passage they'd skipped earlier. Sandbanks. Pots. A room tucked away from everything.
Two tourists huddled there.
And a baby.
Zeke froze. "Why is there always a baby."
Julie scooped it up gently, not even pausing.
SAVED.
They exited through the western corridor, passed a fork, and Julie turned east. Two Pandora's Boxes waited there, heavy and humming with restrained chaos.
Zeke's eyes widened. "We should not be allowed to carry these."
The Toy sounded almost fond. "And yet."
They moved south through two more roof gates—both collapsed behind them, sealing options they might want later—and followed a final hidden passage deep into the pyramid's core.
The chamber was small. Close. An explorer stood near another sarcophagus, panic etched into his face.
The lid creaked.
Zeke didn't hesitate. He fired from maximum distance, pouring everything into the emerging Mummy until it burst apart mid-step.
Julie grabbed the explorer.
SAVED.
The final Pandora's Box pulsed beside them, heavy as a promise.
Zeke picked it up carefully. "I feel like we just robbed a museum."
"You did," the Toy said. "History rarely enjoys that."
They retraced their steps as best they could—through corridors that felt tighter now, through collapsed gates they blasted open once and never looked back at again.
When they finally emerged into daylight, Zeke blinked hard, squinting against the sun.
The pyramid stood silent behind them.
Julie didn't turn around.
Neither did Zeke.
The exit shimmered into existence nearby, gentle and merciful in a way the pyramid never had been.
As they stepped toward it, Zeke glanced at his inventory—Pandora's Boxes stacked neatly, waiting.
"So," he said, forcing a grin. "Ancient curses. Suburban zombies. Evil plants. What's next?"
The First Toy's voice dropped to a near-whisper.
"Celebration."
Julie stiffened. "That's not—"
The door opened.
And somewhere beyond it, faintly, impossibly…
…jingle bells rang.