📖 ( The Resort – Day One)
The sun was brutal that morning, hanging low over the desert like a flaming coin.
The glass walls of the resort shimmered, half-hidden in the golden dunes that stretched endlessly toward the pyramids in the distance.
"Dad, are you even listening?"
Adam's voice cut through the silence like a crack.
He stood barefoot in the suite, arms crossed, his mop of messy dark hair shadowing his narrowed eyes.
Mike Arshur looked up from the ancient papyrus spread across the table. His coffee had gone cold. Again.
"Yeah, I'm listening," he lied.
Adam scoffed and turned away, walking to the balcony.
Mike sighed and leaned back in his chair, rubbing his eyes. The symbols on the scroll were unlike anything he'd seen in his twenty years of digging into the myth of the "false pharaohs"—the supposed gods who vanished beneath the earth.
Except now… he was starting to believe they never vanished at all.
"Adam," Mike said softly, "I know this trip isn't exactly your idea of fun, but—"
"You mean it's not a research trip disguised as a vacation?"
The kid had a point.
Mike stood up and walked toward him. "I just thought maybe... we could spend a few days together. No school, no labs, just... us."
Adam didn't answer.
Instead, he stared out across the sand, the pyramids catching the morning light like alien ships buried halfway in the earth.
Suddenly, he flinched.
His fingers shot to his ears.
"Again?" Mike asked, stepping closer.
Adam nodded slowly, wincing. "It's like… like something's humming. Low. Really low."
Mike's heart skipped.
Adam had been diagnosed with Extreme Auditory Sensitivity since he was four. It was rare—borderline debilitating—but sometimes, it made him hear things no one else could.
Things no one should hear.
"You want me to call Dr. Rami?"
Adam shook his head. "It's not a headache. It's… rhythmic. Like drums. Far away."
Mike froze.
Something about that felt... wrong. Too familiar.
Then his phone buzzed on the table.
Unknown Number.
Blocked ID.
He hesitated—then picked up.
A static-filled voice whispered,
"They are stirring. The Earth beneath you is hollow."
Click.
The line went dead.