At 15, I crawled into the Great Pyramid's sarcophagus—a broken boy with a crumbling spine. Five minutes later, I walked out healed. Doctors called it a miracle. Science still can't explain it.

Years later, when my car froze near Khafre's pyramid—engine dead, dashboard screaming coordinates to a city that vanished millennia ago—I understood: the stones remember. And they're not done with me.

This isn't fiction. This is what happens when 4,500-year-old energy meets a man who shouldn't have survived.