The Camel's hooves padded against the soft sand as they approached what Emmaline had spotted. She had fine eyes, Amal observed. It looked little more than an impression in the wall, though he could tell it was a door, being a thief accustomed to finding entrances and exits. The boulder at their back left looked like it was ever bursting out of the ground, and after a moment Amal noticed it wasn't the sand flowing that did it. It looked as if it had been speared into the ground many years ago, and the rock around the door having eroded by water or sandfall. 

Speaking of, there was a small area in the rock to their right that seemed to perpetually leak a stream of sand. The small grains filtered into what looked to be a hole that led deep underground. 

"Help me off," Emmaline said. Amal obliged, smirking at her curt manner as he eased her down to the ground. Amal hopped off with her, keeping the reins of the Camel close. They would be dead without the beast, or close to it. He reached into the straps on the saddle and pulled out the Shamshir he had taken, just in case. Emmaline meanwhile ran her hands over the strange doorway, trying to find a way to open it. 

"This could be an old tomb," she reasoned. 

"Or the bandits hideout, and it could be an unwitting trap." Amal replied, but he doubted it. There were no tracks leading here, and the bandits would likely have guards posted. Guiding the Camel, Amal approached the beautiful woman as she knelt down to take a handful of sand in her palm. She seemed to have deliberated a bit, before intoning words he had never heard before, waving her free hand above her outstretched palm as the sand began to gleam. 

Taking in a deep breath, she blew upon her palm, and the grains of sand brushed into the stone. Suddenly, glyphs and runes, crimson as the sun flared. The Camel grunted and reared back as Amal watched in fear and awe as the likeness of a cobra surrounded the strange archaric writings. Even Emmaline seemed disturbed, and she hopped back to absent-mindedly clutch Amal's arm for a moment, though she never looked away from the door, as if daring it to harm her. 

"What does it say?" She asked. Amal laughed, surprised. "You don't know? I thought you knew Arabyan."

"I do, that is not Arabyan." the blonde woman said. "Or not any I am familiar with." 

Amal nodded, realizing his bravado at recognizing some of it while she didn't, caught him off guard. "I cannot read all of it, but when I was younger, my master had a mistress...She studied ancient scriptures of Nehekara, and I would see things she had read or written. She would perform these rituals..." 

He shook his head, clearly trying to forget a morbid memory. The thief pointed at a symbol. "Asaph, Goddess of beauty, magic, and snakes." He said, and then he pointed at another two. "Tomb...Sanctuary..." His voice carried in the air as the wind suddenly died down, and suddenly both of them realized the sand that had been flowing had run out, and the stone doorway slid upwards as the rock foundations rumbled.
[@Penny]