The Tale of the Scarab

The Pharaoh’s Dream

Pharaoh Neferkare stood on the balcony of his grand palace in Memphis, overlooking the sprawling city that glittered under the afternoon sun. His reign was a time of peace and prosperity, but lately, he had been troubled. Strange dreams had haunted his sleep—visions of a golden beetle crawling across the sands, and with each step, the desert bloomed into lush greenery. The dream repeated night after night, and despite consulting his wisest priests, the meaning remained elusive.

One evening, as the sun dipped below the horizon, Pharaoh summoned his most trusted advisor, Ptahotep, a man known for his wisdom and closeness to the gods. Ptahotep arrived swiftly, his long robes brushing the marble floor as he knelt before the Pharaoh.

"Sire, you called for me?"

"Yes, Ptahotep. I am troubled by dreams that I cannot shake. A scarab, golden as the sun, walks through the desert, and wherever it treads, life follows. What do you make of it?"

Ptahotep’s brow furrowed as he listened. "The scarab is sacred, Pharaoh. It represents Khepri, the god of the rising sun and creation. Your dream must be a message, but its full meaning is unclear. I suggest we consult the oracle at the Temple of Ra."

Pharaoh nodded. "We shall leave at dawn."

As the night passed and the stars wheeled overhead, Pharaoh Neferkare lay awake, his thoughts consumed by the golden scarab. What did it mean? Was it a sign of hope or doom?

The Oracle’s Prophecy

The next morning, the Pharaoh’s royal procession made its way to the Temple of Ra, a magnificent structure built from limestone and adorned with carvings of the gods. Inside, the air was thick with incense, and the high priestess, draped in white linen, awaited their arrival.

Pharaoh Neferkare approached the altar, flanked by Ptahotep and his guards. He explained the dream to the priestess, her eyes narrowing as she listened intently. After a moment of silence, she led them deeper into the temple, where the oracle resided. The oracle, a figure shrouded in a dark cloak, sat in a room lit only by flickering oil lamps.

The priestess whispered something in the oracle’s ear, and after a long pause, the figure spoke. "The scarab you see is no ordinary symbol, Pharaoh. It is the Harbinger of Change. It speaks of a treasure hidden deep within the desert, a treasure guarded by forces both ancient and powerful. To find it is to unlock the power of life itself. But beware—the path is perilous, and many who seek it are lost to the sands."

Pharaoh’s heart raced. A treasure that could bring life? Could this be the secret to eternal power, the very thing every Pharaoh sought? He looked to Ptahotep, who seemed deep in thought.

"Sire," Ptahotep began, "this treasure could be dangerous. The gods do not give such gifts lightly."

But Neferkare was determined. "We shall find this treasure, Ptahotep. Prepare a team of our best explorers and soldiers. We leave within the week."

Into the Desert

The expedition set out at dawn. A caravan of camels, soldiers, and scholars, all led by Pharaoh himself, ventured into the vast desert. The journey was grueling, the heat unrelenting, and the sands endless. Days turned into weeks as they trekked farther from civilization, following the vague clues left by the oracle.

One evening, as the caravan rested beside a small oasis, one of the scholars, an old man named Djehuty, approached Pharaoh with news.

"Sire, I have been studying the maps and ancient texts, and I believe we are near the Valley of Kings. There is an old legend that speaks of a hidden tomb, a tomb that was sealed by the gods themselves. If the scarab in your dream is a sign, then this may be where we will find the treasure."

Pharaoh nodded. "We will go there at first light."

The next morning, they arrived at the Valley of Kings, its towering cliffs casting long shadows over the desert. There, hidden beneath layers of sand and time, they found what Djehuty had spoken of—a tomb, its entrance marked by a single golden scarab carved into the stone.

The Tomb of Khepri

The tomb’s entrance was sealed by a massive stone door, etched with hieroglyphs that warned of curses and death to any who entered. But Pharaoh Neferkare, emboldened by his dream, ordered his men to open it. With great effort, they pried the door open, revealing a dark tunnel that descended deep into the earth.

Torchlight flickered on the walls as they ventured inside, the air growing colder with each step. The tunnel led to a grand chamber, where a large sarcophagus lay at the center. Around it were statues of Khepri, their faces stern and watching.

Djehuty studied the hieroglyphs on the walls. "This is the tomb of Khepri himself, or at least a tomb dedicated to his worship. The gods must have sealed it to protect something."

As they approached the sarcophagus, a strange humming filled the air. The golden scarab from Pharaoh’s dream seemed to materialize out of thin air, glowing faintly as it hovered above the sarcophagus.

Pharaoh stepped forward, his heart pounding. "Open it," he commanded.

His men hesitated but obeyed. As the lid of the sarcophagus was lifted, a brilliant light filled the room. Inside lay a small golden artifact, shaped like a scarab beetle. Its surface shimmered with an otherworldly glow, and as Pharaoh reached for it, the ground began to tremble.

"The gods are angry!" one of the soldiers cried.

But Pharaoh, his mind consumed with the thought of the treasure’s power, grasped the scarab. In that instant, the tremors stopped, and the chamber fell silent once more.

The Power of the Scarab

With the golden scarab in his possession, Pharaoh Neferkare felt an immense surge of energy. The artifact pulsed in his hand, as if alive, and the air around him seemed to shimmer with its power. But something else stirred deep within the tomb. The statues of Khepri, once silent, began to move.

"They are awakening!" Ptahotep shouted.

The stone figures stepped down from their pedestals, their eyes glowing with divine light. Pharaoh and his men were trapped, surrounded by the guardians of the tomb.

"Return the scarab, or face the wrath of the gods!" a voice echoed through the chamber, though its source was unseen.

Pharaoh hesitated, the weight of the scarab heavy in his hand. This was the power he had sought, the key to immortality, but at what cost? The statues closed in, their stone arms raised, ready to strike.

"Pharaoh!" Ptahotep called out, "We must leave! The gods will not spare us!"

But Neferkare was transfixed, his gaze locked on the scarab. Could he really give it up now, after coming so far?

The Escape

In the chaos of the moment, one of the soldiers, in a desperate attempt to save his life, knocked the scarab from Pharaoh’s hand. It clattered to the floor, and instantly, the statues halted. The golden scarab, now glowing brighter than ever, hovered in the air once more, before vanishing into the ether.

Pharaoh Neferkare, shaken but alive, stumbled back. The power of the scarab had been beyond his comprehension, and now, it was lost again to the sands of time.

"Let us leave this place," Ptahotep urged, his voice quiet with relief. "The gods have spared us this day."

The expedition quickly made its way out of the tomb, the echoes of their footsteps disappearing into the darkness behind them. As they emerged into the light of day, Pharaoh Neferkare looked back at the tomb, a deep sense of both loss and understanding settling in his heart.

The desert had swallowed the treasure once more, and with it, the dreams of immortality.

Epilogue: The Legacy of the Scarab

Pharaoh Neferkare returned to his palace, his quest for the golden scarab now a distant memory. The visions of the scarab no longer haunted his dreams, but the lessons he had learned from the journey remained. The power of the gods was not something to be taken lightly, and some treasures were better left buried in the sands of time.

As years passed, the story of the golden scarab became a legend, whispered among the people of Egypt. Some said it still lay hidden in the

tomb, waiting for the next Pharaoh brave—or foolish—enough to seek it.

But Neferkare knew better. He had seen the power of the scarab, and he had felt its weight. Some things, he realized, were not meant to be possessed.