For several quiet contemplative moments, Zeni observed the scarab beetle on her chest.

What were the odds that the trepidatious traveler had merely gifted this to her by accident? Hadn’t she mentioned that she was interested in dungeons? And wasn’t it equally strange that he happened to arrive just before she was to enter said dungeon? If Zeni were a more suspicious Sally, she might have thought that it was more than a coincidence. However, since she was, to her great and total disappointment, something of a naturally trusting optimist, she simply considered the fact that she had received such an auspicious artifact a little bit quirky.

And so, Zeni, embracing the spirit of adventure and perhaps a healthy dash of whimsy, acquiesced to the facts. She had an opportunity for the moment to keep her sekhem clean and clear while still gaining some benefits of receiving her first Ankh. She was doing what all little girls imagine themselves achieving at some point in their lives: having her cake and wearing it too.

She channeled the Ankh into the scarab on her shirt, bracing herself for the unknown. What she hadn't anticipated, however, was the torrent of pleasurable sensations that washed over her, as if a thousand tiny celestial masseuses had descended upon her, working their ethereal magic.

“Oh. My. Ra.” Zeni breathed.

It was a bit overwhelming, but also…well, she wouldn’t go into the sensation it reminded her of.

“This is…well, this feels nice,” she said, power suddenly filling her body.

Her entire being buzzed with energy, humming like a hive of cosmic bees. She felt the Ankh connect with her Ka, and in a flash of insight, the connection was complete.

Before Zeni could truly comprehend the brand-spanking-new power surging within her, another message from the ever-charming Ptahnefer materialized, bearing tidings of a most informative nature.

Dearest Seeker, it began.

Do allow me to elucidate the fascinating details of your present situation. You see, until you place the Ankh within one of your sekhem, its full potential shall remain tantalizingly out of reach. However, fret not, for you can access its Ka as a reserve, a sort of mystical battery pack, if you will, until such time as you deign to place it.

Moreover, I am thrilled to report that your scarab is capable of storing not one, but two additional Ankhs before reaching capacity! Consider it a marvelous little celestial filing cabinet.

* Ptahnefer; deity (I’m new.)

Zeni absorbed this revelation, her mind whirring as it contemplated the possibilities afforded by her versatile scarab. What other surprises might it yet hold? And how might the Transformation Ankh's power shape her future? Only time would tell, and Zeni, with a spring in her step, ventured forth to uncover these mysteries.

—

A short while later, Zeni found herself face-to-face with a frightful creature of ghoulish proportions, its visage a veritable smorgasbord of ancient nightmares. The beast was a horrifying ten-foot-long serpentine behemoth with scales like blades and—if she was being honest—uncomfortably minty-fresh breath.

As she engaged in a fierce battle with the abomination, Zeni could hardly contain her joy at the overabundance of power she was able to channel so effortlessly, courtesy of her trusty Ankh. While the tantalizing Transformation abilities—whatever they might be—remained locked away, she reveled in the significant boost to her Ka’s stamina, and the sheer oomph behind her attacks was nothing short of exhilarating.

With a flourish, she landed the final fiery blows of Ignition of Ra on the ghastly creature, watching it crumble before her like a sandcastle under a particularly aggressive wave. Victory was hers!

Eager to make the most of her triumph, Zeni proceeded to loot the creature's corpse for any valuable ingredients, perhaps to be used in a potion or, if she was feeling hungry, a particularly zesty stew.

You could be reading stolen content. Head to the original site for the genuine story.

Among the remains of the vanquished creature she rifled through, Zeni discovered a trove of exotic ingredients, rich in texture and hue, as she carefully extracted them from the fallen foe.

Zeni's mind wandered back to Hesira's words from weeks ago, urging her to always, always, always gather tendons from mystical beasts, for they were more often than not valuable in crafting armor and other items. She smiled, picturing Aken and Basim in their workshop, brows furrowed, trying to forge a breastplate using the sinewy ligaments of a serpent.

First, using empty tincture bottles, she drew forth glistening vials of venom, a liquid seemingly so deadly that it appeared to mock the very concept of life. The viridian hue of the venom shimmered with the intensity of the sun's rays caught in an emerald's heart, promising a potency unrivaled by any concoction she knew.

Next, she carefully plucked a bundle of magnificent scales, their edges as sharp as obsidian knives. The iridescent surface danced with colors both subtle and vivid, reminiscent of the early morning sky as it shed the cloak of night. The scales seemed to contain a tale of their own, a story of battles fought and won, of wounds inflicted and armor forged. But all stories ended, and this one ended by being unceremoniously stuffed into the recessed of a satchel that was quickly becoming overcrowded.

Delving further, she uncovered an assortment of tendons, each one a horrifying nod to the strength and resilience of the fearsome serpent. Their silken strands seemed to whisper of the creature's coiled grace, of the swift and deadly strikes that had, probably once, been its claim to fame. At least until it came up against Zeni the…the…

She paused.

There wasn’t really a good adjective that started with the letter “z” that would work to strike fear into her enemies’ hearts and give her the weighty alliteration she desired. She considered this for a moment.

Zeni the Zippy? That wasn’t exactly the vibe she wanted to go for, now was it? Zippy? Hardly. She was measured in her pace at best. So she continued pontificating on the matter. Zeni the…Zany? No, that sounded too much like she was just repeating her name. Few things would resonate with the awe she desired quite like a stutter. She moved on. Zeni the Zealous sounded neat, didn’t it? Well, it did, but…she wasn’t really that, though. Unless it was concerning good conversation and a grand story, then she was quite the zealot indeed!

Hmm, she thought.

Now, if she was named Charlie, this incident would have been sorted immediately. She’d have been Charlie the Chopper, and that would be the end of it. Or if she were called Dana, she could be Dana the Destroyer, or even Dana the Diabolical. Fine titles by any metric. But…well, she supposed that line of thinking was a moot point. She was Zeni, and it was too late to change it, because she had several items of personal belongings back at Neith’s house that were hastily labeled as such. With a sigh, she decided it was something to figure out later.

Besides, after that rousing battle, she definitely felt like Zeni the Zonked. She was pooped.

Suddenly remembering Hesira's advice again, she got back to the task at hand—her alliterative byname a consideration for a later time. She carefully collected the serpent’s tendons, placing them in her pack. As she did, she couldn’t help imagining them being—perchance—woven into an object of immense power, perhaps as part of an enchanted artifact, or a warrior's sturdy armor, or a very gaudy bracelet she could wear to parties.

Lastly, she carefully extracted a cluster of gleaming fangs, each one a curved dagger of polished bone. Their pristine ivory surface seemed to mock the darkness they'd once borne, a tribute to the fathomless depths of the snake's obviously cruel and unfeeling heart. As Zeni beheld these formidable instruments of death, she could almost hear the haunting hiss that had once accompanied their lethal embrace.

With these precious ingredients in hand, Zeni the Zestful stood poised to continue her journey, her path now strewn with the spoils of her conquest.

—

Zeni ambled back and forth in a room lit by the flickering glow of ancient braziers, her attention flitting between the confounding puzzle on the wall and the map she'd obtained from the room guarded by what one could only describe as exceptionally grumpy frogs. The air felt as if it carried the breath of a thousand riddling sphinxes, each one eager to confuse her further.

The puzzle itself was an absurdly intricate contraption that appeared to be the lovechild of an over-prepared engineer and a particularly eccentric artist. It was the sort of thing that, had it not been potentially deadly, one might describe as "charming." Levers, pulleys, stone wheels, and ramps all haphazardly strewn together in a manner that would have made even Rube Goldberg raise an eyebrow.

The goal, it seemed, was to trigger a chain reaction by activating the components in the correct order. However, that order was more elusive than a cat in a room full of rocking chairs. Zeni sighed, wishing for a moment that the map she held could offer some assistance, but it remained silent on the matter, as maps are wont to do.

With a shrug and a deep breath, Zeni set to work doing what she always seemed to do: fiddling with the levers and inner workings, trying to summon their purpose. She knew that somewhere within this dungeon, there was more to find, and at least half of it would be worth the risk. She just had to persevere.

As she continued her tinkering, a moment of clarity struck her like a bolt of divine inspiration. The answer had been hiding in the very heart of the puzzle itself, coyly playing peekaboo with her sanity.

There was a section of wall, dead-center that had been cleaved out with some kind of heavy implement, as though blasted with a jackhammer or the front end of a pick-up truck. As she examined the area around the mark, she saw that one of the pulley ropes looked a lot newer than the other portions. Neith, when informing her of previous stories of brave heroes in the world, had often talked about the unconventional approaches they took to resolving seemingly impossibly complex problems. The memory of one of the previous riddle chambers floated up, the one where the door had been wrenched open, the puzzle remaining unsolved.

“Here goes nothing.”

A wicked grin crept across her face as she flashed out with her blade, severing the rope that was definitely not like the others. The weight tied to its center suddenly zipped upward as the contraption sprang to life, its parts interacting with the grace of a ballet dancer and the precision of a master clockmaker. The door before her groaned like an ancient mummy awakening from a particularly long nap, slowly creaking open to reveal what lie beyond.

With an air of triumph, Zeni sauntered into the doorway, her footfalls echoing. In her mind, the puzzle had been vanquished, and she couldn't help but think that if it had feelings, it would be feeling rather sheepish right about now.