As dusk descended over Luxor, a most uncommon lunar eclipse hung high in the heavens above the Valley of the Kings; that of a blood moon. All across the eastern hemisphere, many millions of onlookers raised their heads skywards to witness the strange spectacle of the crimson-coloured satellite, yet amongst the craggy limestone cliffs surrounding the valley, all seemed silent and still; save only for the occasional patrols of the security staff employed to protect the many tombs from trespassers.

Nestled west of the Nile amidst the Theban Hills, the skyline dominated by the pyramid-shaped peak of Al-Qurn, the valley had been formed over many millenia by the steady rains of the Pleistocene Epoch cascading upon the plateau; slowly wearing away at the rock. In the 15th century BCE, the valley attracted the attention of Tuthmose I, the first pharaoh to be buried there; yet of the more than five-dozen tombs discovered in the valley thus far, only twenty or so were found to contain the final resting places of rulers, many others dedicated to royal advisors and an assortment of other nobles.

Over the intervening millenia, the valley had played host to many visiting invaders, from the ancient Greeks to the Romans; whilst in 1799, Napoleon Bonaparte embarked upon an expedition to study the site, surrounding himself with surveyors, archaeologists, astronomers and engineers. Some years later, in 1816, Giovanni Belzoni, a former circus strongman turned archaeological explorer, declared the valley to be devoid of any further tombs to be discovered; however in 1922, his words were disproved when Howard Carter uncovered the stone steps leading to Tutankhamun's tomb.

Nowadays, visitors to the valley could view only a handful of the tombs, the on-site security staff employed to prevent flash photography that could potentially cause damage to the hand-painted heiroglyphs upon the plaster walls; a far cry from ancient times when the area was fiercely guarded by the itinerant mercenaries known as the Medjay.

In a far corner of the valley, outside KV66, site of the recently discovered tomb of Tikeltootsi I, a pair of robed figures crept cautiously down the narrow flight of steps carved into the bedrock before disappearing into the dark depths of the burial chamber beyond. Having bypassed the patrolling security staff, the trespassers pushed ahead of them an apparently protesting prisoner, that of Doctor Rosetta Stone; the young Egyptologist's wrists remaining bound behind her back with torn sheeting since her abduction earlier that afternoon, a strip of the same material still tightly tied over her mouth.

Upon a wall of the burial chamber was painted a depiction of the Eye of Horus, illuminated by the light of a lantern held aloft; applying pressure to its pupil caused a narrow section of the wall to slide slowly aside, accompanied by the sound of stone scraping against stone. Beyond the concealed portal lay a torchlit passage twisting and turning its way beneath the bedrock, along which the silent procession trooped; presently the prisoner was led into an antechamber carved many millenia before into the subterranean stone.

Inside the antechamber, it came as no surprise to Rosie when she encountered her missing colleague Petra; a pleading, pitiful expression etched upon frightened features as the abducted assistant curator locked eyes with the Egyptologist. Petra lay stretched out upon a stone slab, one of several standing against the west wall of the chamber's fairly cramped confines, struggling somewhat all the while. The young woman had been mummified, observed Rosie, though not entirely, for the embalming bindings ensnaring her squirming body began from the neck down and ended at the exposed soles of her bare feet; frightened whimperings muffled with the thick folds of a length of linen tied over her mouth.

Before Rosie realised what was happening, the burly, red-robed brute known as Sa'id lifted her bodily before placing her upon an adjacent slab; upon instruction from Delta he at once began to entwine the Egyptologist's torso with bindings. Soon Rosie found herself as utterly helpless as her colleague, each struggling desperately to free themselves, but to no avail; destined to become the first of many playthings to appease the long-dead queen once the high priestess had awoken the ruler from her eternal slumber.

Beyond the antechamber, the tunnel twisted towards the left, ending in an enormous natural cavern; its interior forming the inner temple of Tikeltootsi's fanatical followers. The temple's interior was illuminated by many burning braziers, the flickering lights of the flames casting creeping shadows across rough, rocky walls; its ceiling, seemingly somewhat weakened with the passing of time, supported by a series of stone pillars.

At its heart stood assembled some two-dozen acolytes, the females attired in the traditional black robes of their order, the menfolk clad in crimson; each bowed before an enormous effigy of the goddess Corvus casting a watchful eye over the temple. The statue had been hand-carved from obsidian, its glistening surface adopting an eerie effect as it reflected light from the flickering flames; powerful arms outstretched as if preparing to pounce upon the unwary. The statue stood upon a pair of passerine legs, long, slender and scaly; cruel talons curled about the pedestal upon which it rested. Yet most unsettling of all was the idol's head, fashioned to represent a raven; the opened beak of its mouth emitting a silent screech, whilst a pair of sparkling rubies served as the goddess' eyes; the precious stones seemingly following the movements of some unseen prey, awaiting the moment to strike.

Before the statue stood the high priestess of the temple, a slender, somewhat stern young woman with coffee-coloured skin and slanting eyes, the irises hazel in hue; her narrow, nubile features framed by a flowing headdress fashioned from raven feathers. The priestess' breasts nestled beneath a black velvet brassiere beset with sparkling semi-precious stones, abdomen enshrouded in a loincloth tailored from the same material, trailing upon the temple floor; bare legs ending in unshod feet, her wrists adorned with elegant golden armlets.

A stone altar stood before the high priestess, upon which was laid out the loathsome, leathery husk of Tikeltootsi; the long-dead queen's embalmed, withered remains removed from its burial bindings. Atop the altar burned a pair of black candles, one at each end; highlighting the hideous, hollowed eyes and chiselled cheekbones of the mummy. Presently, the priestess' fingers fell upon an ancient, leatherbound tome, the Book of the Dead; turning the yellowed papyrus leaves, she soon settled upon a page.

Suddenly, before the resurrection ceremony could begin, the high priestess was interrupted by the appearance of Delta and Sa'id; the pair pushing their way through the throng of fellow fanatics, approaching the altar. Upon being ordered to step forth by the furious priestess, Delta bowed humbly before the young woman; when instructed, she reported the failure of herself and her subordinate to secure the headband as instructed. At these words, the pretty priestess became most petulant, ordering that the pair return at once to Cairo to capture the artefact from the museum's vault; warning them that they would pay with their lives if they failed in their task for a further time. As Delta and Sa'id scurried trembling from the temple, obeying the priestess' orders, the resurrection ceremony continued.

At the high priestess' signal, the robed worshippers assembled before the altar began to chant a low incantation murmured in Late Egyptian, the archaic language common to Tikeltootsi's time; at once the young woman read aloud the words of the resurrection ritual hand-scribed upon the papyrus.

Outside in the valley, a sudden freak squall swept across the sands as storm clouds settled high above the limestone hills, whilst within the temple, the ritualistic chanting reached a crescendo as the priestess poured out the final passage; suddenly, a strange, swirling mist, supernatural in origin, slowly seemed to seep from the statue's open beak.

Weaving its way amongst the supporting pillars, amidst astonished onlookers, the incorporeal form appeared to display some degree of intelligence as it whirled throughout the throng, seemingly studying each startled, fearful face in turn; finally lingering a while above the embalmed body laid out upon the altar.

After some time had elapsed, the supernatural swirl of mist settled itself upon the prone form of the long-dead pharaoh before apparently entering the body through the mummy's open mouth; for a while afterwards, all was silent and still within the temple. Yet deep inside the dessicated corpse, a transformation was taking place, the restored soul of Tikeltootsi seizing possession of her own body after so many millenia.

All at once, a thousand thoughts filled the mummy's head, in spite of the absence of a brain; the ancient Egyptian embalmers removed such matter, believing the heart to be the most important organ of the human body. Who was she? Where was she? What was happening here? She possessed no eyes, of that she was aware, yet somehow she could see; the blinding light of the braziers burning before her hollow sockets. She possessed no tongue as far as she could tell, yet somehow she could taste; bitter embalming oils and incense assaulting her senses. The loathsome, leathery remains of her mummified form were worthless, she realised, for it was no longer her own body; merely a hideous husk stuffed with straw containing the restored soul swirling inside.

All the while, all eyes within the temple had settled upon the altar, awaiting any indication that the ceremony had been a success. It was not long before the acolytes' patience was rewarded, as first a forefinger flickered into life, followed by a foot; finally a frightful, throaty gurgle emanated from the mummy's mouth. The assembled acolytes looked on in awe as the animated corpse slowly raised itself into an upright position upon the stone slab, the high priestess at once shrouding the shrivelled figure with a robe of black velvet to preserve what little of the mummy's modesty remained; in an instant, a pair of stick-thin yet surprisingly powerful arms adorned with golden bracelets pushed the priestess away.

"Where am I?" she hissed in a hideous, husky tone; her throat had been filled with stuffing by the embalmers to preserve its shape, yet the voice was audible to all assembled nonetheless.

"The temple of Corvus inside your own tomb, majesty!" explained the priestess, head bowed before the mummy, crossed arms pressed upon her chest as a sign of respect, "You ordered the architects to incorporate it into their design in readiness for your death!"

"My death? Then I am dead?" hissed the husky tone in horror, "This is the afterlife?"

"You were dead, majesty, yet we, your faithful followers, have returned you to life in keeping with your instructions!" revealed the priestess patiently, "The resurrection ritual was a success!"

Once again, a thousand thoughts flooded the mummy's mind, or rather the collective consciousness of her soul; perhaps they were not thoughts but memories, she pondered, flashbacks of her former existence becoming bolder by the second. Concentrating intently, images of palaces and pyramids passed through her thoughts; of desert dunes, dust storms and sand between her toes. And then there were feathers. Feathers floating in a breeze. Feathers falling from the sky to settle at her feet. Though she knew not why, she felt a strange sense of serenity surrounded by the feathers, a feeling of contentment. Finally there was pain. An intense, piercing pain between the ribs of the taut skin seemingly strangling her torso. The memory of such an overwhelming stabbing sensation caused the mummy to experience many different sensations, from astonishment to anger, agony and outrage; finally thoughts of revenge.

"The assassin... I remember now... How long have I lingered between this life and the next?" she enquired eventually.

"Well, admittedly it has been many years, majesty..." replied the priestess, not daring to look upon the empty eye sockets she could sense were burrowing into her brain.

"How long?! Answer me!" snarled the mummy in a slightly strangled tone.

"More than three and-a-half millennia, majesty..." murmured the priestess, perfectly well aware that sooner or later the long-dead queen would have to be told the truth; however nothing could possibly have prepared her for the fear she now felt in the mummy's presence.

"Three and-a-half millennia? Impossible! My servants were instructed to perform the resurrection ceremony at the first solar eclipse following my death!" snapped the mummy in incredulity.

"Your servants were all slaughtered by your successor, majesty - the location of your tomb lost to time! Yet throughout the intervening millennia there were those that kept the faith in secrecy, our ancestors remaining alert for any evidence of the tomb's discovery over the centuries!" assured the anxious young woman.

"Then why did your ancestors not search for themselves?" snarled the mummy.

"They would have searched, majesty - however the valley was guarded for many centuries by the Medjay! Even now it remains guarded, albeit by a handful of far lesser foes!" explained the priestess.

"And what of you? Do you claim to command these that supposedly follow me faithfully?" enquired the corpse, casting the hollows of her eyes across the acolytes bowing before her in fear.

"I do, majesty!" confirmed the cowering priestess.

"Very well..." pondered the mummy, as gaunt, blackened fingers wandered across her forehead, "And now, where is my enchanted headband, my gift from the great goddess Corvus herself?"

"Apparently it was removed when your body was taken from the tomb to the museum, majesty!" explained the priestess, wishing beyond hope that the matter of the missing headband could be postponed until such time as it had been recovered.

"Museum...?" repeated the mummy in puzzlement; the priestess proceeding to explain the circumstances behind the exhumation of the body, where it had been taken and for what purpose, prior to its recovery at her command.

"I see... And so these servants operating under your orders have thus far failed to recover my headband?" hissed the mummy in an icy tone.

"It seems recovery of the headband has eluded my acolytes, majesty - but rest assured they will succeed! If it is your wish, I will punish them for their failure!" proposed the priestess.

"And is it your opinion that these servants are unworthy?" wondered the mummy, "Should those that fail me be made to suffer as a consequence?"

"Indeed they should, majesty!" agreed the priestess, her response a little more bold than before.

"So be it..." decided the mummy, before turning to address a barrel-chested, red-robed male fearfully bowing before her withered form, "You! Approach the altar at once!"

Immediately the acolyte approached as instructed, trembling somewhat as he did so; hopping down from the stone slab accompanied by the creaking, crackling sound of dessicated skin, the horrific corpse ordered that the high priestess be bound. Seizing the struggling, astonished young woman before placing her bodily upon the altar, the acolyte accepted two short lengths of hemp handed to him by another of the assembled throng; at once the priestess' wrists were bound behind her back, ankles similarly secured.

"If you deem these servants you have ordered to recover my headband to be unworthy, then why did you not oversee so important a task yourself?" enquired the mummy in a somewhat sneering tone, "And now, in keeping with your counsel, that all who fail me must be made to suffer, I shall adminster a fitting punishment for your own failure!"

Plucking a raven plume from the priestess' headdress between withered thumb and forefinger, the mummy proceeded to softly swish the feather back and forth across the arches of the hapless young woman's bare feet; forgotten memories of a fondness for foot tickling fast flooding back as the exposed, squirming soles scrunched and creased as an instinctive yet futile form of defence. If the animated corpse had possessed a pair of eyes, the pupils would at once have lit up in elation as the torture victim twitched in torment; the pitiful pleas of the priestess imploring the mummy to show mercy falling on deaf ears.

Flicking the feather feverishly across the exposed soles, the mouth of the mummy settled with no little effort involved into a smirk of satisfaction; the tormented utterings of the priestess amusing the abomination. Teasing each toe in turn, the soft quill soon crept its way across the heels before brushing the balls of the feet; all the while the humiliated high priestess begged the mummy to show mercy.

Finally, the mummy ceased its frenzied assault upon the priestess' feet, fingers falling upon a dagger handed to her by the bowing red-robed acolyte at her side; tightly tied hand and foot, the young woman could only look on in horror as the blade, reflecting the flickering of the flames, flashed before her eyes. Yet to the priestess' surprise, far from finding the blade thrust into her heart as she had expected, the taut, dried flesh of the fingers grasping the dagger simply severed her restraints; the ropes falling to the flagstones of the temple floor.

"Do not lavish me with eternal gratitude, unworthy one - for it would have provided me with the greatest of pleasure to torture you to the point of death for your failings!" warned the withered corpse chillingly, "You have been freed from your bonds only for the fact that I have one final task for you to perform for me, one which you will not fail..."

Pinning the priestess' arms at her sides, the mummy proceeded to press the inflexible lips of its mouth against the young woman's own. Struggling in horror, the high priestess found herself powerless to resist the surprisingly strong palms restraining her; suddenly, she stiffened somewhat as a strange sensation overcame her, almost as though something had entered her body. At once, the mummy released its grip upon the priestess; the animated corpse collapsing in an unmoving heap to the temple floor.

Almost immediately, a strange transformation took place upon the priestess' face. The nose began to narrow a little, its sharp tip upturned ever so slightly. The cheekbones became much more chiselled, whilst shoulder-length locks of liquorice hair flowed freely once elegant, olive-skinned hands had pulled the priestess' headdress free. Electric blue eyes, pale and piercing, possessed a cruel quality, cold and calculating in intent; with a wicked smile forming upon her newly-formed features, Tikeltootsi exuded arrogance.

"Yes... I believe this body will serve me very well..." she smirked in satisfaction before turning to address the red-robed acolyte bowing before her in reverence, indicating the dessicated corpse curled up upon the flagstones, "Destroy this vessel, for I have no further use for it!"

As the acolyte removed the mummy, intending to incinerate the remains as ordered, the tyrannical ruler paused to ponder the pressing matter of her missing headband. Her servants had failed to recover the ancient artefact, it seemed; very well, she would adopt a hands-on approach towards reclaiming her headband, she vowed. Yet there was much she needed to learn of this new world outside of the tomb, she realised; at once her mind was filled with many questions. Did her palace in Thebes still stand? After more than 3,000 years it seemed unlikely, she surmised, but no matter; once the people of this new world were forced to bow before her upon bended knees, subjugated and enslaved, work on a new palace would commence.

Of course, there would be armies to overcome, she realised, yet nothing her enhanced powers could not handle once she had reclaimed her headband, of that she was certain; at once, the prospect of prisoners to torture filled Tikeltootsi with delight. The acolytes trembling before her would not be nearly enough to achieve her dreams of domination, she frowned, for their ranks would need to be significantly increased; this would not pose too much of a problem, she pondered, for fear alone would ensure a surge of servants would fast flock to her side. Finally, she turned her attention towards the silent, respectful acolytes; none daring to speak without first being addressed by the ancient, resurrected ruler.

"You!" she snapped, singling out a pair of powerful, red-robed males, "For the time being, you will act as my bodyguards until such time as my powers are restored! I will also require advisors to assist me in my scheme to recover that which was stolen from me! But first, I must offer up my undying gratitude to the great goddess..."

Bowing before the idol of Corvus, the queen at once acknowledged the ancient deity's role in her resurrection; the bejewelled eyes of the effigy sparkling eerily in the gloom...