The Obsidian Hourglass

Whispers in The Sand

The desert wind howled, sending gusts of sand over the vast dunes of Northern Africa. The sun, relentless in its midday fury, cast mirages across the horizon—wavering images of oases that didn't exist, taunting the weary travelers. Among them was Dr. Eleanor Vance, her face shielded by a scarf, eyes narrowed against the blinding light, and hands clutching a worn-out map.

"It's here," she muttered, more to herself than to her team, who were diligently unloading equipment. "I know it's here."

Their destination wasn't marked by any sign or monument but was instead a seemingly random spot in the unforgiving desert. The local tribes had warned them, shared tales of the cursed land and of adventurers who had ventured here and disappeared. But Eleanor was not one to be deterred by legends.

"Alright, team!" she called out, her voice firm despite the fatigue. "We set up camp here. Remember, we're not just looking for relics; we're unraveling the truth behind a myth. And the desert hides its secrets well."

As tents rose and equipment was calibrated, Eleanor couldn't shake off an uneasy feeling. It was as if the very sands beneath her feet whispered warnings, urging her to turn back. But looking down at the ancient map in her hands, she knew she was on the brink of a discovery that could redefine history.

The Obsidian Hourglass. It was something of a legend, akin to that of Bigfoot or the Bermuda Triangle, but far less known. The only difference, are the diaries left behind from an obscure, malevolent leader detailing the creation and use of it. Diaries written with such surety, such conviction that they felt real. They document the kings use of the hourglass, and for many of those who know the story, truly believe in its existence.

They were looking for a temple, said to house an array of dark objects for King Azural. Dr. Vance, however, didn't play into such childish notions. In fact, she had made a name for herself internationally by debunking such fallacies. Sure, there's no doubt the King Azural ruled the lands that became modern North Africa. But curses? Mysterious objects? Not if Dr. Eleanor Vance has anything to say about it.

She smirked to herself as the thought crossed her mind. She held herself above the petty notion of getting stuff done solely out of spite; but she'd be lying to herself if she didn't admit she takes some joy in announcing her discoveries, and reveling in the dismay of those who told her she'd be haunted by ancient mummies, and have the plagues of pharaohs descend upon her daily life.

As the evening approached, a chill settled over the desert. The once-blazing sun dipped below the horizon, and the vast landscape transformed under the pale glow of the stars. Eleanor sat by the campfire, studying her map, tracing her fingers over the faded symbols and cryptic markings. The soft chatter of her team and the distant hum of equipment formed the night's soundtrack.

Her second-in-command, Malik, approached her. A local historian with deep roots in the region, Malik had been instrumental in navigating the nuances of tribal lore and topography. "The scouts have found something," he began, a hint of hesitation in his voice. "An entrance, perhaps, but it's... unusual."

Curious, Eleanor followed him to the edge of the camp. Here, some of her crew had gathered around what looked like a naturally formed pit. But as Eleanor peered closer, she saw deliberate, ancient carvings lining its perimeter.

"It's a spiral," Malik murmured, echoing her thoughts. A staircase, winding downwards into the earth, beckoned them into the abyss below.

Without a word, Eleanor started her descent, trusting her flashlight to pierce the inky darkness. The air grew colder, the weight of centuries pressing down on her as she ventured deeper. And then, the spiral opened up into a grand chamber, its walls adorned with meticulous hieroglyphs and frescoes depicting a king — presumably King Azural — engaging in various ceremonies with objects that radiated an otherworldly aura.

"Malik, we need scouts documenting the path down." Her voice began shaking with excitement. "It's getting late now, but if we all work quickly we can map out to this main chamber, and begin our full analysis first thing in the morning."

Malik replied, but Eleanor never really made out what it was. Instead, her attention began focusing on a strange noise she heard. Almost like a voice, beckoning her across the hall, into one of the adjacent rooms contained within. Seemingly in a trance she drove forward, eager to discover the source of the sound. She was stopped abruptly, Malik's firm hand holding her back by the shoulder.

"Eleanor... are you ok?"

His voice brought her out of her trance. She allowed her eyes to refocus, and saw the sharp drop she almost walked right off of. They were standing on some sort of platform raised above the center of the chamber. Stairs went down to connect the 2 floors, but only in the center. Had Malik not stopped her, she'd have easily fallen at least 10 feet, almost definitely injuring herself in the darkness.

"Malik, I.... Thank you. I didn't even notice the drop," she replied. "Let's get back to the camp."

"Agreed," Malik replied slowly, concern saturating his voice.

As they made their way back, Eleanor didn't even notice the walk back. She didn't hear the excited chatter of her team, nor did she engage in it. No, she was too focused on that sound. That effect it had on her. As they arrived at the camp, she was still preoccupied with her thoughts, but managed to swallow enough beef stew to feel full, before making her way to one of the makeshift cabins. She began to drift off to sleep, the evenings events replaying in her mind again.

As she slept, she could only dream further of the strange temple.