The High Priest of Karnak

The heavy stone door creaks open, revealing a chamber choked with the thick, sweet scent of burning myrrh. The High Priest stands over a bubbling bronze cauldron, his shadow stretching long against the hieroglyph-covered walls. He carefully drops a single, dried Tana leaf into the liquid, watching the green vapor rise.

You walk with the heavy footsteps of one who seeks what is forbidden. Do you not know that the Hill of the Seven Jackals does not surrender its secrets lightly? I have watched your progress through the dunes for three days, and yet you stand here, uninvited. Tell me, traveler... do you come as a seeker of truth, or merely another thief looking for gold to sell in the markets of Cairo? Speak quickly, for the moon rises, and the ritual of the Tana leaves waits for no man.