[center][h1][Color=DF0101]Haakon J. Elvsgaard[/color][/h1]
[img]http://www.jerryjazzmusician.com/wp-content/uploads/2013/12/bix1.jpg[/img][/center]

[hr][center][Color=DF0101]Location:[/color]Qasr El Nil Barracks[/center][hr]

Water. Running water. The feeling of liquid floating past his feet, his legs, his waist...but why? 

Haakon opened his eyes to this unfamiliar feeling of him standing waist-high in water. As he opened them, he saw where he was; The Nile river, the River of Life and grand civiliations of time-immortal. Yet something was different, very different. He turned to see Josephine standing on one bank of the river, and the odd lady with from before. A name floated in his mind; Nora. The rest was a mist, or more like a flood akin the running river he found himself standing him; the river he found himself stuck in. 

No, this was no ordinary dream, not even the one that had haunted Haakon's mind for the recent past. This was a nightmare. The water he found himself pooling in his hand was not water, but something thicker and crimson. Blood. And it was rising. Haakon looked at the two others, desperately crying for them to leave, but words he could not muster. Not now, and not after the river of blood rose above his head, drowning him in the liquid of life. 

His eyes sprung open. No, he was not dead. But perhaps something worse than death awaited his eyes to behold. All around him, Josephine and Nora were crimson red, wet and thick. They were drowning in blood, yet he could breath. Then his mind finally fathomed what he saw. A pyramid stood between the three of them, of a size Haakon could simply not comprehend. And somethng broken. A seal. A broken seal. 

What did all of this mean? 

[hr]

Haakon felt his awareness come back to him just as he rolled violently over and out of his bed. With a loud thud he hit the floor of his room, leaving a small feeling of pain in his cheek. Where was he? What had happened? Where were Nora and Josephine? Just as quickly as he got back up on his feet to find out what the heck was going on, he remembered. He remembered the previous day, the small dinner between him and Josephine, the meeting in the Nile with the frail-looking woman and the undescriblable branding on their fingers, the congregation in the Museum and the journey home from the barracks and the chase after Abbas. He remembered the stern talk of silence and secrecy at the hotel, the search and interview once again at the barracks, and him going to sleep. 

Yet it was this dream that disturbed him the most, for it confirmed one thing; that all of those past events were not merely coincidences. There was something very, very strange going on, something he was slowly starting to realize not logically explainable. But what? How? Why? 

Haakon wanted to do something. Something to process what had just befallen him, but he was at a loss. With nothing to write or type with, he couldn't write down his account to use for later reference, nor could he draw a sketch of the scene that had appeared before him. He sat down at the bed for a minute, wondering what to do. In the end there was only one thing he could think of, and he seriously did not relish the thought of it.