The sun was merciless.
Ethan trudged through the scorched dunes, each step burying his boots ankle-deep in blistering sand. The recorder on his chest clicked softly, still functioning, its small red light blinking like a heartbeat. Sweat poured down his face and soaked his shirt, but his mind barely registered the heat. All he could think of was the pyramid ahead, rising from the earth like a memory carved into stone.
It was breathtaking. Massive. Monolithic. He wasn't looking at a photograph anymore. This was no digital model or museum relic. It was real. The Great Pyramid—though not yet known as such—stood only partially completed, its scaffolding of crude timber and limestone ramps stretching like veins across its face.
Workers toiled in the distance, their silhouettes barely visible through the shimmering heat. No one had noticed him yet. At least, not openly.
But someone had seen him earlier.
That figure in the dunes. Was it a mirage? Or had he really been watched the moment he arrived?
Ethan pulled the recorder up and spoke into it, voice dry and cracked. "Day one, hour three. Physical stress high. Hydration required. Visual confirmation of pyramid construction. Likely during reign of Khufu. Temporal coordinates accurate."
He scanned the horizon. The desert seemed to stretch endlessly, interrupted only by the low rise of rocky hills to the west. Civilization—if you could call it that in this time—was centered around the Nile. He needed to get there.
He tucked the recorder away and moved forward, but his legs gave out. The sand won. He collapsed to his knees, panting.
A shadow passed over him.
He looked up quickly.
A boy—barefoot, no older than ten—stood a few paces away, holding a clay jar. His dark eyes were wide, curious, but not afraid. His skin was bronzed by the sun, and his head was shaved save for a single braided lock.
Without a word, the boy extended the jar.
Water.
Ethan took it gratefully, drinking deep. It was lukewarm but life-saving. "Thank you," he said, voice hoarse.
The boy pointed toward the distant settlement. He beckoned, then turned and ran.
Ethan forced himself to his feet, jar in hand, and followed.
The boy led him through narrow pathways between tents and mud-brick huts. The air was thick with the scent of grain, sweat, and livestock. Ethan's clothes drew glances—his boots, his watch, his strange belt full of sensors—but no one stopped him. They watched. Whispered.
They had seen strangers before. Perhaps not like him, but strangers nonetheless.
Eventually, the boy stopped in front of a large tent near the edge of the camp. He pulled the flap aside.
Inside, it was cool. A table of carved stone stood at the center, covered in scrolls and tools. A tall man in white linen robes looked up from a papyrus sheet. His eyes, sharp and lined with kohl, narrowed when they landed on Ethan.
The boy spoke quickly in Egyptian. Ethan caught none of it.
The man stepped forward. His voice was deep, calm, laced with authority. "You fell from the sun," he said in halting Greek.
Ethan blinked. "You speak Greek?"
"Some," the man replied. "I was taught by a traveler from Crete. Many years ago."
Ethan nodded slowly. "I need help. Water. Shelter. And… knowledge."
The man studied him. "You are not from Crete. Nor from Nubia. Nor anywhere on this earth."
Ethan's heart pounded.
"You are...a star-born," the man said softly.
For a long moment, neither spoke.
Then Ethan said, "You can call me Ethan."
The man inclined his head. "I am Sahure. Scribe to the priests of Khnum. This boy is Hemiunu, my son."
Hemiunu beamed. Ethan realized then—he knew that name. Hemiunu. Chief architect of the Great Pyramid.
Time had not only brought him to a place. It had brought him to a person.
To history itself.
That night, Ethan lay beneath the stars, listening to the unfamiliar sounds of ancient Egypt. Fires crackled. Distant chants echoed from the riverbank. In the dark, he turned the recorder back on.
"Day one, nightfall. I've made contact with locals. One—Sahure—believes I came from the stars. His son is Hemiunu, who will one day design the Great Pyramid. I don't know if I'm meant to be here… or if this was a mistake. But the machine brought me to more than a time. It brought me to purpose."
He paused.
"I don't know what tomorrow brings. But tonight, I look up at the stars… and I don't feel lost. Not entirely."
The red light blinked once. Then silence.
The sands remembered.
And so did he.