You arrive in a very opulent and expansive throne room (minus the people), the room surprisingly cool and comfortable for being in the middle of the desert. As you glance toward the throne itself, you see a figure enshrouded in light. But it's too bright - you can't tell who it is.

After a few more uncomfortable blinks, the light vanishes and you're left alone. And the sound of singing drifts in from your left. The words are unfamiliar (unless you are fluent in Ancient Egyptian), but you understand them all the same:

The corpse sinks to the floor The vessel becomes sand, becomes dust Even the brightest gold, Even the Sharpest sword Is wrapped in the sheath of time Woe to the pharaoh, for his body lacks even his name Time is the battlefield of souls I cry the song of battle, the song of a friend To the place far away where souls meet Guide me