The Cheetah Boy of Cairo: Secrets of the Sands (Part 2)

Previously

“Get off my tail!” Sekhmet hissed under her breath.

“Sorry, it’s too dark,” Amir replied, his voice strained.

The moon hung high in the sky, veiled by drifting clouds that occasionally cast fleeting shadows over Cairo’s ancient wall. The pair stood concealed beside it, their hearts racing as they waited for a moment to slip past the guards stationed by the gate and gain entry to the city. They had taken refuge among a stack of grain barrels, the rustling of the grain the only sound accompanying their breaths.

Sekhmet fixed Amir with a piercing stare, her eyes searching his face in the dim light. “Are you sure this is what you want?”

“I need my dad to know I’m alive,” Amir said, his voice trembling slightly. “He’s been worried sick for weeks.”

The sudden echo of footsteps drew their attention, followed by the metallic clink of a sword being sheathed. Instinctively, they darted behind the nearest barrel, their bodies pressed tight against the rough wood. Three soldiers hurried past, their voices indistinct but urgent.

“That was too close,” Amir whispered, his voice barely audible.

Sekhmet’s gaze remained vigilant as she peered through the gaps in the barrels. “We can’t stay here. I can sense at least a dozen guards nearby. We need to find another way in before we’re caught.”

As Amir and Sekhmet pressed themselves tighter against the barrels, a low chuckle suddenly emerged from the shadows. The sound was so unexpected and close that Amir’s heart skipped a beat. Sekhmet, who prided herself on her heightened senses, stiffened in shock.

“Looking for a way in, are we?” a voice whispered from the darkness, laced with amusement.

Amir’s breath caught in his throat as a figure emerged from the shadows. He was a tall man with a lean, wiry frame, his face obscured by a hood. The moonlight glinted off a scar that ran down his cheek, the only feature visible beneath his dark, tattered cloak. The man’s presence had been so undetectable that even Sekhmet, with her keen instincts, hadn’t noticed him. It sent a chill down Amir’s spine.

“How did you—?” Sekhmet started, her voice laced with suspicion.

“Don’t bother asking how I got so close without you noticing, love,” the man interrupted, flashing a crooked grin. “I’ve spent years perfecting the art of staying unseen. Now, I couldn’t help but overhear your little predicament. You’re not getting through those gates. Too many guards, too many eyes.”

Sekhmet’s eyes narrowed, her posture shifting to one of readiness, but Amir gently placed a hand on her back. They needed this man’s help, as much as they might distrust him.

“If you know a way in,” Amir said cautiously, “we’re listening.”

The man chuckled again, clearly enjoying their desperation. “I do, indeed. There’s a tunnel—a smuggler’s tunnel, if you will. It’ll take you right into the heart of the city, bypassing all those pesky guards. But,” he paused, his eyes glinting with something unreadable, “I’m not in the business of charity. If you want my help, you’ll need to do something for me first.”

Amir and Sekhmet exchanged a wary glance. “What do you want?” Sekhmet asked, her tone guarded.

The smuggler leaned in closer, his voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. “There’s a relic—an old piece of forgotten history. It’s hidden deep within the catacombs beneath the city. I need it. Rumor has it that it’s protected by more than just stone and earth. You get me that relic, and I’ll show you the tunnel.”

Amir’s mind raced. A relic buried in catacombs? The idea sent a shiver of both excitement and dread down his spine. But they didn’t have time for hesitation.

“Why don’t you get it yourself?” Amir asked, suspicious.

The smuggler’s grin widened, revealing teeth that gleamed unnervingly in the dim light. “Let’s just say the catacombs don’t like me very much. I’m more of a… topside man. But you two—especially with her,” he nodded toward Sekhmet, “might stand a chance.”

Sekhmet’s eyes were locked on the smuggler, searching for any sign of deceit. But the man’s face remained unreadable, a mask of practiced neutrality.

“Fine,” she finally said. “We’ll get your relic. But if you’re leading us into a trap…”

The smuggler raised his hands in mock surrender. “No traps. I’m a man of my word. You get me the relic, I get you into the city. Simple as that.”

Amir and Sekhmet knew they didn’t have many options. With a final, reluctant nod from Amir, the deal was struck.

The smuggler’s eyes gleamed with a strange mix of anticipation and desperation as he led Amir and Sekhmet out of Cairo, through the vast and barren desert. The sands whispered beneath their feet as they ventured farther from the city, the moonlight casting long, ghostly shadows across the dunes. The ruins they approached loomed in the distance, ancient and crumbling, half-buried by time and sand. Amir’s unease deepened with every step.

The smuggler, whose earlier confidence had been replaced by a tense silence, finally stopped at the edge of the ruins. He turned to Amir and Sekhmet, his expression grim, eyes reflecting the ghostly light of the moon.

“This is as far as I go,” he said, his voice devoid of its earlier flippancy. “The entrance to the catacombs is just beyond those ruins. Once you’re inside, there’s no turning back. The relic is buried deep, protected by things you’re better off not knowing about. But you need to get it, and get out. Quickly.”

Sekhmet’s tail flicked in agitation, but she said nothing. Amir couldn’t shake the feeling that there was more the smuggler wasn’t telling them.

“You’ve been down there before, haven’t you?” Amir asked, more a statement than a question. The smuggler’s eyes flicked toward him, a shadow of something dark passing through them.

“I have,” he admitted, voice low. “A long time ago. But I didn’t come out the same man who went in.”

Before Amir could press him further, the smuggler gestured to a half-collapsed archway in the ruins, the stones worn smooth by centuries of wind and sand. “The catacombs await. Don’t linger.”

Amir and Sekhmet exchanged a glance, then made their way toward the archway. The air grew cooler as they descended into the darkness, the smell of earth and decay thickening with each step.

As they ventured deeper, the silence between them became almost oppressive. Finally, Sekhmet broke it.

“Are you sure about this, Amir?” she asked quietly, her voice echoing softly in the confined space.

Amir hesitated, the question hanging in the air. “I don’t have much of a choice,” he replied, his voice low. “I need to get back into Cairo. I need to see my father again. I left so suddenly... He must think I’m dead or worse.”

Sekhmet’s eyes softened. “You couldn’t have stayed, Amir. Not after what happened in the pharaoh’s garden. Your first shift was... unpredictable.”

“I just need him to know I’m okay,” Amir said, his voice trembling slightly. “That I’m still me, even with this... thing inside me.”

Sekhmet nodded, her golden eyes understanding. “We’ll get through this, Amir. Together.”

He smiled faintly, grateful for her presence. Sekhmet had been his anchor ever since that day, a constant companion as he navigated the strange new world of his therian abilities. They had met by chance in the desert, both lost in their own way, and their bond had grown unbreakable in the weeks that followed.

The passage finally gave way to a vast underground chamber, the walls lined with ancient carvings and symbols that seemed to pulse faintly in the darkness. Amir’s eyes adjusted quickly, his senses heightened by the familiar tingle of an impending shift. Even without fully transforming, he could feel the cheetah within him stirring, ready to respond to any threat.

“Something’s off,” Sekhmet whispered, her voice a low growl.

Amir’s ears caught the faintest sound—a low growl echoing through the chamber. His heart quickened, the adrenaline surging through his veins. “Do you hear that?” he whispered, his voice tight.

Sekhmet’s ears flattened against her head. “It’s not that, it's them” she murmured, her voice tinged with unease.

Without warning, a figure lunged from the shadows, its form a twisted amalgamation of human and beast, with glowing red eyes and long, sharpened claws. Amir reacted instinctively, his body shifting into a partial therian form. His hands morphed into powerful claws, his teeth elongating into fangs as he met the creature head-on. The force of his attack sent the creature sprawling, but more emerged from the darkness, their low growls reverberating through the chamber.

Sekhmet darted forward, her lithe body a blur as she tore into the nearest guardian with a ferocity that made Amir’s heart race. The two of them fought side by side, their movements synchronized as if they had been battling together for years. Amir’s senses were heightened to a razor’s edge, every flicker of movement, every sound amplified in his mind.

The battle raged on, the guardians relentless in their assault. But Amir and Sekhmet held their ground, their combined strength pushing back the tide of monstrosities. With a final, powerful swipe, Amir brought down the last guardian, its body disintegrating into a cloud of dust that settled on the cold stone floor.

Breathing heavily, Amir shifted back to his human form, his body aching from the strain of the fight. Sekhmet padded over to him, her golden eyes reflecting a mixture of pride and concern.

“You handled yourself well,” she said, her tone approving. “But we need to keep moving. Whatever’s guarding that relic won’t be easy to defeat.”

Amir nodded, still catching his breath. “Let’s go,” he agreed, his voice firm despite the exhaustion weighing on him.

They pressed on, the chamber giving way to a series of winding tunnels that seemed to stretch on endlessly. As they delved deeper, the air grew colder, the walls narrowing around them.

Finally, they reached a small, circular room, at the center of which stood an ancient pedestal. Resting atop it was the relic—a small, intricately carved box that pulsed with a faint, eerie light. But as they approached, a low, rumbling voice echoed through the chamber.

“So, the last of my kin returns,” the voice growled, its tone dripping with malice.

TO BE CONTINUED