Prologue For the record, I did not anticipate finding myself in the Ancient Egyptian afterlife. Because, you know, that’s just the kind of plot twist you expect after a pretty normal childhood, right? So, let’s backtrack a bit. I’m Abi—Abigail Suzanne Acheron if we’re being all formal and stuff. Born in London, England, on June 15, 2007. Side note: life threw me a curveball when my dad decided to peace out at six years old thanks to some sickness. Total bummer for both me and Mum. Spoiler alert: she followed him two years later by taking her own life, which was a solid plot twist I definitely didn’t see coming. Then I got shuffled around like a deck of cards—some foster families were chill (shoutout to Mrs. Peters for being cool), while others, like my Nan’s place, were… let’s just say not ideal. Enough about that. I am talking to you to explain what is happening, so I will explain.
Chapter One So, let’s set the stage for my 13th birthday in 2020, the year when everything decided to go bonkers thanks to lockdowns. Honestly, my birthday was a total snooze fest—like, all I got was a shop-bought cupcake that was so kiddish it could’ve been a meme itself and a plate of spaghetti bolognese that my foster mum, Nell, made. She’s the real MVP, don’t get me wrong, but cooking? Let’s just say it’s not exactly her calling. After dinner, I felt like I needed a nap or, you know, a break from whatever “celebration” that was going down, so I ducked off to my room, aka my sanctuary. It’s basically a chaotic explosion of books, posters of bands I pretend to know, and enough random knick-knacks to justify calling myself a ‘curator’ or something. Nell had this rule that we had to read a book every month, which honestly wasn’t terrible. I mean, escaping into other worlds sounded way better than, I don’t know, scrolling through TikTok for the hundredth time. A couple of hours in, when the house was so quiet it felt like a horror movie, I suddenly heard this weird scratching noise at my window. Naturally, I thought it was just a stray cat or, like, a raccoon or something utterly mundane. But hey, curiosity calls! So, like any self-respecting teenager, I yanked the window open like I was in a dramatic scene from a film. Out of nowhere, this massive, feathery thing swoops at my face. No big deal, just a casual Wednesday night, right? For a hot second, I was like, “Well, this is how I go out—attacked by a rogue bird.” Fitting for my life. I lost my balance and felt myself falling in slow motion, thinking, “Great, now I’m about to die, and I didn’t even make it through a pandemic.” Then BAM—I hit the ground, and it all went pitch black. One moment I’m mentally preparing my next binge-watch, and the next I’m lying face down in the grass, completely disoriented like I just woke up from a bad dream. Did I accidentally wander into some low-budget horror film? Had I just been ambushed by what might be the world’s worst bird? Spoiler alert: I had no clue that this was just the beginning of a wild ride I never signed up for. Happy birthday to me, right? Chapter Two:
