In the city that used to be called Wahemibra, Maatkheru stood guard by the southern entrance of the mastaba of the Pharoah Senakhtenre.
Senakhtenre had received a proper royal burial from the townspeople, his jewelled coffin lain in a boat together with the effigies of a hundred servants and ten barrels of meat and fruit. The Book of the Dead had been etched into his walls, whose spells he would read to appease the spirits as his soul sailed through the Duat.
They had crafted the two sphinxes from limestone to guard his body till his soul returned, placing one at each door. Calling on Osiris, the priests had etched the spells of life into the creatures, awakening them with the sealing of the tomb.
In daylight, Maatkheru and his brother Sef-Iret slumbered in stone. By night their eyes opened, like discs of gold, and they prowled the tomb, above and below. Not one soul trespassed without meeting their wrath.
For five centuries, Sef-Iret and Maatkheru stood watch over the master with only the spirits for company. They made acquaintance with the old camel Musad, who sometimes passed this way towards the well, sharing tales of how Wahemibra had changed to Umbar, how their Pharoah's name was still spoken now and then across the town.
Then Maatkheru awakened one fateful night, to silence. That evening, Sef-Iret had been smashed to pieces while he had slept. The spell lay cracked in two, and he was gone. The master’s tomb had been raided via the north entrance, his golden jewellery stolen, the doer of these deeds nowhere to be found.
The enraged townspeople rallied to defend the temple in shifts by day. To this day, they continue to protect it while Maatkheru sleeps, and the pharoah's jewellery has yet to be found. Though he cannot leave the tomb, the sphinx calls to the passing spirits for their eyes and ears, determined to solve the crime. News has come that a living person has seemingly vanished without a trace, but surely it isn't related...
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