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Description
Her mouth muscles had gone numb, like they were injected with novacaine only without the tingle. She had to have been screaming for help for at least two hours now, and she didn't even know if she was screaming anymore, the sound had become so familiar. Her throat was sore from the combined efforts of screaming for so long, going so long without water, and the sand all around, dust coating the air. It was so dark, she couldn't see anything around her. All she could feel was the wall upon which she was leaning, and the sand her hands were resting on. The bottoms of her toes were pressed against the opposing wall in the narrow tunnel; she couldn't see the end of it and she didn't want to go any further back. This was a trick tunnel; a trick tunnel in a pyramid as a matter of fact. She felt excessively stupid. She had just planned on running a few corners and then, when she heard her mother calling her name in that familiar worried voice, she'd jump out, scare her, and then they'd laugh it off, continuing after the tour guide through the rest of the pyramid.

She'd taken a wrong turn, slid through a caution sign, and fallen down a ramp. Coughing up a mixture of sand and blood, she'd sat up a little amount, coughing some more and trying to get her breath back in deep gasps. Then, a sliding pannel to the side moved and a rusted, dusty old spear had shot out; she'd read about this, occasionally in trick tunnels of a pyramid there would be spears at the bottom of ramps like these, meant to slice through a persons Achilles heel and leave them to bleed to death. She was so small and sitting at such an angle though, that it had pierced her hip; she'd jumped when it made contact, making it rip down the top of her thigh. It wasn't a long cut but it stung and she'd cried out, crawling a small distance away and being dismayed to find the spear was so loosely held in the wall it moved with her. She pulled it out and tried to keep herself from crying; pressing her khaki shorts against the cut and hoping the pressure would make the bleeding stop. In Egypt, a lot of creatures skittered at the scent of blood.

She reached over to the side lightly, flinching as her hand touched the wood of the spear. She pulled her hand back to her side and decided that she'd stopped or would stop screaming; what was the point? Nobody had heard her for the past couple of hours, and the next tour wasn't until tomorrow morning at six. She was going to die here and that was that. She squeazed her neon orange eyes shut, letting the tears stream down her small, rounded face. She was going to die at the age of seven, nobody was there to hear her call, her parents had abandoned her, and the touring company too. She pulled her knees to her chest, ignoring the stinging in her hip, and wrapped her thin arms around her thin legs. Nearly everything about her was thin. She was thin and lean and always had been. And she ate like a bottomless pit so it really made no sense; not like she'd had food in hours, of course. It was starting to get chilly; arabian nights usually cooled down a vast amount. She shivered. Her lime green tank top, khaki shorts and hiking boots would not get her through the night. She ran a hand through her black hair; it was slanted, straightedged, and went from the base of her skull to her chin. You could feel the sand in it from her trip down the ramp, and there was probably some blood matted in it. She felt dirty, hungry, tired and sore and all she wanted to do was go home.

It was there in the dark of an Egyptian pyramid that this girl became aware of her powers; there was an odd sound that surrounded her, a mixture between rushing water and high-pitched wailing. She hoped the place wasn't flooding; then again it would probably be quicker than just lying there and waiting for death to take her. Lifting her head and opening her eyes, her dull, lifeless expression suddenly perked up into one of starry-eyed surprise. The tunnel was lit up with the hyroglyphs on the wall, all shimmering with a silver light. She suddenly moved away from the wall to sit in the middle of the tunnel, looking up at the glittering pictures of an ancient society. Her attention was drawn by two, long, weaving streams of the silver light, coming straight at her. She jumped into a standing position, but all she managed to do was quiver in fear. She had nothing to fear though, it seemed. The lights just weaved tight around her spear wound and it closed. With the new light in the tunnel, she could see it was just a white, permanent scar now.

Then, without being aware, her mouth opened in a sharp gasp and a white orb flitted out; well, actually, she wasn't sure if it was white or not. It was white, then black, then every color of the spectrum at once, although that was impossible. It wasn't stripes or anything, it was just... everything at once. She watched it in wonder as it started to stretch and become a shape... in only a few seconds it had taken the shape of a beautifully-formed woman; a princess only imagined in fairy tales. She was a see-through ghost white, but still retained the colors of a living person. Her long dark hair was half over her shoulder and half trailing down her back, a headress of green and red settling on the top of her heart-shaped face. She had straight-edged bangs, as was the tradition with noble women in ancient Egypt, and retained the light tanned skin tone of the Egyptian heritage. Her face was kind, the large, thickly lined eyes showing nothing but positive energy, her face lit up in a gentle smile. Her nose was prettier than what most realistic depictions of the past were. Her body was draped in the purest white linen, see through on the arms and legs but non-revealing where it was necessary. Adorning her ears and neck were golden and turqoise jewellery, depicting marks of the Gods. Her feet were bare but spotless.

The girl felt her knees go even weaker; who was this woman who looked so like the women in ages past? Maybe she was finally losing it and imagining all this; maybe this was what dying was like and she was getting taken to heaven. The woman must have sensed her fear for she placed a gentle hand under her chin. It felt like a fog, but it had all the strength of a normal hand as it tilted the girls face to look her in the eyes. The woman murmured something in a language that the girl could not understand, before moving her hand and offering it for the girl to take. Without being aware of doing so, the young girl took the womans hand and the next thing she knew was simply blackness. She woke up at the front of the pyramid and at first was fearful; where was the woman? But she had nothing to fear, for she was right there, stroking her hair lightly. The young girl stared, before managing to ask, "Who are you?"

The woman looked like she was inwardly struggling before managing, "I am the Goddess of the wild birds. Of water and weather, immortality and justice. The moon and night and things associated. I am Nephthys; protector of the dead."

The young girl stared, her eyes becoming the size of saucers. "Goddess... I...." She wasn't sure how to continue but was saved by the woman putting a finger to her smiling lips; the sign for silence. A rustle near-by caused the girl to switch her focus. Her parents were exiting the pyramid!

Her mother looked relieved, then she saw the woman. She froze in her steps, watching the woman intently. The girl looked up and watched the ghost-Goddess stand, walking to her mother and... straight through her father to get to her! Didn't her father see her? Her mother clearly did. Her father scooped her up and blocked her view. She caught snips of, "We were so worried!" and "Thought we'd lost you!" Her elder sister, Annette, was looking up at her in concern but the girl struggled to look over her fathers shoulder. She watched the Goddess and her mother converse in whispers, and was excited to hear she could pick up bits of their conversation as well. She cursed herself for her sudden sleepiness. She rested her head on her father shoulder and struggled with herself, trying to stop herself from giving in. It was no use, soon she was held tight in sleep's grasp. She managed to hear this much before giving into the darkness;

"She is my reincarnation, Marika. Bristol is the one to complete the prophecy."

~The Prophecy~

Although Bristol isn't aware of this yet, this is the prophecy;

'Day after day and night after night, the dead complete their awful flight. I protect them all as they pass, guiding them with my high class. They follow me, don't dare disobey, what do they have to lose by what I have to say? I'm the goddess of death and heed my words, I'm getting tired of this dreaded work. The torment and anguish I feel in these souls, hurts me deep in my heart, deeper than where you find the river coal. My heart is shattered by both my husband and job, although you cannot see it I continuously sob. My weeping and words mean nothing to you, but you should pay attention for lack-there-of you will rue. One day when I've retired from this life, you will be taken over, by strange weapons and knife. Your kingdoms will shatter, your civilizations will fall. The graves will be robbed, fallen will be your obelisks so tall. People will save some treasures in the future, this I have seen. Your kings will be remembered, also your queens. Your stories will be told and kept deep into time, treasured by newborns and those old with grime. But listen carefully, for this is true; I will be stripped of my powers and my status that grew. There and then the death will be lost, left to wander and rot. Soon one will find the exit to our time, wreak havok and chaos, commit awful crimes. Much innocent blood will be spilt and none shall be safe, any survivers will be left to quake. Unless my return which is sure to come, can sacrifice herself and then we will have won. Her pure, clean blood shall save us all, running into deaths hall. Then and there, forever more, the death will no where to go and there will be peace once more.'

Parts of the prophecy are predicted to have been lost, but that is what is known to only Marika, Bristol's mother.

Bri will figure out the rest of the prophecy when the time comes.

It involves;
'...a Spanish helper by the name of Raphael, will come and help you complete this spell. He keeps the dead at bay while you do your job, kelling yourself and letting your blood be robbed. Darling dearest, I shall call you my own, for when you are dead you will take my throne. The closest thing I have to a female heir, I bless you now so that nothing compares. You will live your own life, and fight your own fights, but when it is time, your life will end with a knife. I shall protect your heart as best as I can, so that it won't be shattered by love in your short life span. Although I can't ensure that you won't fall, I'll try to keep you standing tall. If you do end up in love, I'll make sure it's pure, so then you can pass on completely sure. It will be hard with love weighing you down, but saving the world is love's sweetest sound'.

Description
Her mouth muscles had gone numb, like they were injected with novacaine only without the tingle. She had to have been screaming for help for at least two hours now, and she didn't even know if she was screaming anymore, the sound had become so familiar. Her throat was sore from the combined efforts of screaming for so long, going so long without water, and the sand all around, dust coating the air. It was so dark, she couldn't see anything around her. All she could feel was the wall upon which she was leaning, and the sand her hands were resting on. The bottoms of her toes were pressed against the opposing wall in the narrow tunnel; she couldn't see the end of it and she didn't want to go any further back. This was a trick tunnel; a trick tunnel in a pyramid as a matter of fact. She felt excessively stupid. She had just planned on running a few corners and then, when she heard her mother calling her name in that familiar worried voice, she'd jump out, scare her, and then they'd laugh it off, continuing after the tour guide through the rest of the pyramid.

She'd taken a wrong turn, slid through a caution sign, and fallen down a ramp. Coughing up a mixture of sand and blood, she'd sat up a little amount, coughing some more and trying to get her breath back in deep gasps. Then, a sliding pannel to the side moved and a rusted, dusty old spear had shot out; she'd read about this, occasionally in trick tunnels of a pyramid there would be spears at the bottom of ramps like these, meant to slice through a persons Achilles heel and leave them to bleed to death. She was so small and sitting at such an angle though, that it had pierced her hip; she'd jumped when it made contact, making it rip down the top of her thigh. It wasn't a long cut but it stung and she'd cried out, crawling a small distance away and being dismayed to find the spear was so loosely held in the wall it moved with her. She pulled it out and tried to keep herself from crying; pressing her khaki shorts against the cut and hoping the pressure would make the bleeding stop. In Egypt, a lot of creatures skittered at the scent of blood.

She reached over to the side lightly, flinching as her hand touched the wood of the spear. She pulled her hand back to her side and decided that she'd stopped or would stop screaming; what was the point? Nobody had heard her for the past couple of hours, and the next tour wasn't until tomorrow morning at six. She was going to die here and that was that. She squeazed her neon orange eyes shut, letting the tears stream down her small, rounded face. She was going to die at the age of seven, nobody was there to hear her call, her parents had abandoned her, and the touring company too. She pulled her knees to her chest, ignoring the stinging in her hip, and wrapped her thin arms around her thin legs. Nearly everything about her was thin. She was thin and lean and always had been. And she ate like a bottomless pit so it really made no sense; not like she'd had food in hours, of course. It was starting to get chilly; arabian nights usually cooled down a vast amount. She shivered. Her lime green tank top, khaki shorts and hiking boots would not get her through the night. She ran a hand through her black hair; it was slanted, straightedged, and went from the base of her skull to her chin. You could feel the sand in it from her trip down the ramp, and there was probably some blood matted in it. She felt dirty, hungry, tired and sore and all she wanted to do was go home.

It was there in the dark of an Egyptian pyramid that this girl became aware of her powers; there was an odd sound that surrounded her, a mixture between rushing water and high-pitched wailing. She hoped the place wasn't flooding; then again it would probably be quicker than just lying there and waiting for death to take her. Lifting her head and opening her eyes, her dull, lifeless expression suddenly perked up into one of starry-eyed surprise. The tunnel was lit up with the hyroglyphs on the wall, all shimmering with a silver light. She suddenly moved away from the wall to sit in the middle of the tunnel, looking up at the glittering pictures of an ancient society. Her attention was drawn by two, long, weaving streams of the silver light, coming straight at her. She jumped into a standing position, but all she managed to do was quiver in fear. She had nothing to fear though, it seemed. The lights just weaved tight around her spear wound and it closed. With the new light in the tunnel, she could see it was just a white, permanent scar now.

Then, without being aware, her mouth opened in a sharp gasp and a white orb flitted out; well, actually, she wasn't sure if it was white or not. It was white, then black, then every color of the spectrum at once, although that was impossible. It wasn't stripes or anything, it was just... everything at once. She watched it in wonder as it started to stretch and become a shape... in only a few seconds it had taken the shape of a beautifully-formed woman; a princess only imagined in fairy tales. She was a see-through ghost white, but still retained the colors of a living person. Her long dark hair was half over her shoulder and half trailing down her back, a headress of green and red settling on the top of her heart-shaped face. She had straight-edged bangs, as was the tradition with noble women in ancient Egypt, and retained the light tanned skin tone of the Egyptian heritage. Her face was kind, the large, thickly lined eyes showing nothing but positive energy, her face lit up in a gentle smile. Her nose was prettier than what most realistic depictions of the past were. Her body was draped in the purest white linen, see through on the arms and legs but non-revealing where it was necessary. Adorning her ears and neck were golden and turqoise jewellery, depicting marks of the Gods. Her feet were bare but spotless.

The girl felt her knees go even weaker; who was this woman who looked so like the women in ages past? Maybe she was finally losing it and imagining all this; maybe this was what dying was like and she was getting taken to heaven. The woman must have sensed her fear for she placed a gentle hand under her chin. It felt like a fog, but it had all the strength of a normal hand as it tilted the girls face to look her in the eyes. The woman murmured something in a language that the girl could not understand, before moving her hand and offering it for the girl to take. Without being aware of doing so, the young girl took the womans hand and the next thing she knew was simply blackness. She woke up at the front of the pyramid and at first was fearful; where was the woman? But she had nothing to fear, for she was right there, stroking her hair lightly. The young girl stared, before managing to ask, "Who are you?"

The woman looked like she was inwardly struggling before managing, "I am the Goddess of the wild birds. Of water and weather, immortality and justice. The moon and night and things associated. I am Nephthys; protector of the dead."

The young girl stared, her eyes becoming the size of saucers. "Goddess... I...." She wasn't sure how to continue but was saved by the woman putting a finger to her smiling lips; the sign for silence. A rustle near-by caused the girl to switch her focus. Her parents were exiting the pyramid!

Her mother looked relieved, then she saw the woman. She froze in her steps, watching the woman intently. The girl looked up and watched the ghost-Goddess stand, walking to her mother and... straight through her father to get to her! Didn't her father see her? Her mother clearly did. Her father scooped her up and blocked her view. She caught snips of, "We were so worried!" and "Thought we'd lost you!" Her elder sister, Annette, was looking up at her in concern but the girl struggled to look over her fathers shoulder. She watched the Goddess and her mother converse in whispers, and was excited to hear she could pick up bits of their conversation as well. She cursed herself for her sudden sleepiness. She rested her head on her father shoulder and struggled with herself, trying to stop herself from giving in. It was no use, soon she was held tight in sleep's grasp. She managed to hear this much before giving into the darkness;

"She is my reincarnation, Marika. Bristol is the one to complete the prophecy."

~The Prophecy~

Although Bristol isn't aware of this yet, this is the prophecy;

'Day after day and night after night, the dead complete their awful flight. I protect them all as they pass, guiding them with my high class. They follow me, don't dare disobey, what do they have to lose by what I have to say? I'm the goddess of death and heed my words, I'm getting tired of this dreaded work. The torment and anguish I feel in these souls, hurts me deep in my heart, deeper than where you find the river coal. My heart is shattered by both my husband and job, although you cannot see it I continuously sob. My weeping and words mean nothing to you, but you should pay attention for lack-there-of you will rue. One day when I've retired from this life, you will be taken over, by strange weapons and knife. Your kingdoms will shatter, your civilizations will fall. The graves will be robbed, fallen will be your obelisks so tall. People will save some treasures in the future, this I have seen. Your kings will be remembered, also your queens. Your stories will be told and kept deep into time, treasured by newborns and those old with grime. But listen carefully, for this is true; I will be stripped of my powers and my status that grew. There and then the death will be lost, left to wander and rot. Soon one will find the exit to our time, wreak havok and chaos, commit awful crimes. Much innocent blood will be spilt and none shall be safe, any survivers will be left to quake. Unless my return which is sure to come, can sacrifice herself and then we will have won. Her pure, clean blood shall save us all, running into deaths hall. Then and there, forever more, the death will no where to go and there will be peace once more.'

Parts of the prophecy are predicted to have been lost, but that is what is known to only Marika, Bristol's mother.

Bri will figure out the rest of the prophecy when the time comes.

It involves;
'...a Spanish helper by the name of Raphael, will come and help you complete this spell. He keeps the dead at bay while you do your job, kelling yourself and letting your blood be robbed. Darling dearest, I shall call you my own, for when you are dead you will take my throne. The closest thing I have to a female heir, I bless you now so that nothing compares. You will live your own life, and fight your own fights, but when it is time, your life will end with a knife. I shall protect your heart as best as I can, so that it won't be shattered by love in your short life span. Although I can't ensure that you won't fall, I'll try to keep you standing tall. If you do end up in love, I'll make sure it's pure, so then you can pass on completely sure. It will be hard with love weighing you down, but saving the world is love's sweetest sound'.