The man stood before the sarcophagus at the end of the faded red carpet, tall lit candlesticks lining both sides. The faintest shine of gold could be seen on each of them, concealed underneath the melted wax of thousands of consumed candles. The marble walls stood cracked and crumbling, the grand pillars holding the tomb up so worn that a single, well-placed blow could send the entire place crashing to the ground. 

“You shouldn’t have come,” he spoke, the words wheezing from his rotten throat. His face was little more than a skull covered with skin so loose that it looked like it was moments away from slipping off, and he was wearing tattered grey robes that barely concealed his skeletal body. 

“What are you, the tomb’s guardian?” scoffed Reece, standing on the opposite end of the hallway, a pristine Glock 19 in his hand and a Kevlar vest over his dirt and sweat-stained tank top. “You sure you didn’t crawl out of the coffin yourself?” 

“This tomb holds nothing you desire.” 

Reece started walking towards the man, dust kicking up after each step he took. “That’s what I heard about the last three places, too. All of them had at least a bit of gold, and a bit’s worth a lot in this economy.” He shrugged, as if apologetic. “Hope you can understand, old timer.” 

He shook his head, making sure to stand directly in front of the sarcophagus. “There is nothing here but malice and hate. The man who died here was a cannibal in life. He has not changed, even in death. Go back.” 

“Heard a lot of that, too. Evil demons and ghosts and whatever who’ll haunt me after I liberate the place. Haven’t experienced a lick of haunting yet.” 

“I beg you, go—” 

“With all due respect,” he interrupted, stopping just a metre away from the man and putting his hands on his hips, “shut up. You got two options, alright? One, you give this whole protector thing a rest, and you get out of here. Go back to see your great-great-great grandkids. Two, you stay here, and I blast the cobwebs out of your head.” 

“I have no family. I swore, sixty-eight centuries ago, to—” 

A massive bang filled the room, and the man’s body fell to the ground, a hole bored directly through the middle of his forehead. Wisps of smoke rose out from the barrel of Reece’s handgun as he held it in the air for a few moments, before sighing and holstering it. “Listen, would’ve killed you anyway, but if you’d run, at least the last thing you’d be thinking about was something other than me pointing a gun at your head.” 

Using his foot to push the old man’s corpse aside, he stepped forward, resting both his hands on the lid of the sarcophagus. It was rather plain, with no engravings or adornments at all, besides the thick layer of dust. 

“Let’s see what you’ve got for me, hm?” he said to himself, pushing on the front of the lid. Slowly, he started applying more and more force, grunting with the effort, until the hideous sound of stone grinding against stone told him that his efforts were being rewarded. He pushed and pushed, sweating from the ordeal, until the lid crashed to the ground, kicking up a cloud of dust. Reece coughed and covered his mouth and nose as best he could with his hand, squinting through the dust until it settled. He took a peek inside the sarcophagus, a wide grin on his face. 

Besides the mess of bones in there, it was empty. The grin disappeared immediately. 

“Oh, fuck off!” he shouted, kicking the sarcophagus and yelping with pain, hopping around on one leg and reaching down to hold his toes. “Fuck!” 

He continued to hop for another few seconds before settling, running his hands down his face in exasperation as he stared into the empty coffin. 

“Bastard had the money for a massive tomb, but none for any decorations inside the box?” he muttered, reaching in and pulling out one of the bones. It looked like an arm bone. Or a leg bone. Didn’t matter, really. He tossed it to the side, hearing it rattle on the ground, and reached in to grab another. 

A long, violent, wet cracking sound echoed around the room, and the candles all went out at once. Reece froze, now suddenly blind, his arm still deep inside the sarcophagus. 

“I told you,” a voice said from behind him. A deep, grating voice that sent cold shivers down his spine. “You shouldn’t have come.” 

Reece hastily grabbed his flashlight from his belt, fumbling with his sweaty fingers and turning it on, spinning around and waving the light all over, finding nothing except for the old man’s body, which had been torn open, a puddle of dark blood spilled all over the ground and the broken ends of bone scattered across the floor. There was a bloody trail that led to the centre of the hall before it stopped. 

Reece’s heart froze as he watched blood drip from the ceiling down onto where the blood trail ended. Feeling as though he was about to throw up, he pointed the flashlight upwards. 

Standing there, upside down on the ceiling, was a horrific mass of writhing flesh, dripping with blood and viscera. It had many, many arms that all ended in bony, uneven claws, and its head, if you could even call it that, was lined with hundreds of teeth, but it didn’t even seem to have a mouth. It stared at Reece with no eyes, unmoving. 

“You have two options,” the same voice spoke, and the creature shuddered unnaturally. “One, you try to leave, and I tear you limb from limb. Two, you get into the sarcophagus, and survive another few weeks before thirst claims you. Whichever you choose, your body will serve as my master’s food in the beyond.” 

Reece swallowed hard, his entire body shaking. He looked back at the open sarcophagus, then at the creature once again. 

“Shit.”