Below, cries of the wounded rose from thawing throats.

Warriors yelled.

Bach’uuk tugged Jake back toward the shelter of the pyramid as a battle—centuries old—restarted anew. A flash of fire drew his eyes to the west. Off in the distance, a blazing craft drifted up from the desert floor.

The royal barge.

It rose higher and higher, swinging toward the city. Even without a spyglass, Jake knew who captained that windrider. He pictured Kree standing at the prow, his middle eye blazing with black fire. With the Great Wind vanquished, nothing stood between Kalverum Rex and Ankh Tawy. Though it was centuries overdue, he intended to have his victory here.

As Jake fled back into the pyramid, he swore he could hear cold laughter flowing across the desert. Or maybe it was his own guilt.

What have I done?

Jake’s only hope was to reverse what he’d started. If he could get the Great Wind blowing again, he’d have some chance. He could use the ruby crystal to refreeze the growing battle at the foot of the pyramid, returning all to what it had been.

But what then?

The people of Deshret would still be trapped, ruled by the black fist of the Skull King. He’d promised Nefertiti he’d help her people. But how? And what about Pindor? Was he a prisoner aboard that barge?

All these thoughts and questions, laced with bitter guilt, tumbled through him as he fled down the tunnel and back into the inner chamber. Another bellowing cry of the pteranodon chased after him, stronger and more potent. The sharper screams of warriors followed amid the cries of the dying.

Across the chamber, Marika swung around. “Jake!”

She stood in the middle of the triangle of timestones, bathed in the brilliance of Ankh Tawy’s heart. The crystal sphere spun wildly above the metallic archway, blazing with light. Below it, the archway itself had turned into a shining mirror—reflecting the room, the triple glow of the timestones, even Marika’s robed form.

He yelled to her as he ran. “Marika, take out the ruby stone! Now!”

She lifted her arms, confused. “But, Jake—!”

“Do it!”

Instead she stepped out of the triangle and pointed toward the mirrored archway. He didn’t understand her hesitation. No matter what she was trying to tell him, nothing else mattered for the moment. He had to get to those timestones and rip them out before it was too late.

Only steps from the triangle, he realized something odd.

The mirror in the archway continued to reflect the room, but Jake wasn’t in it. In fact, a robed reflection continued to stand within the triangle, her back to the room—even though Marika stood off to the side.

Confusion drew him to stop.

The figure in the mirror turned, dressed in an Egyptian dress, her face painted beautifully.

“Jake,” the woman said, her voice full of love, her eyes shining with tears and astonishment.

Stunned, he fell to his knees at the impossibility of it.