Imonhoteph, The forsaken one

The shambling corpses carefully placed down the big sarcophagus in front of Faust, he calmly laid down his hand upon it.
“Rise, Imonhoteph, I call you fort once again to this realm to tell these poor mortals the secrets of the grave.”
The undead started to chant, a horrible, hollow, guttural cacophony of gurgling and hissing voices, and so, a new voice joined the chant. It was dry like paper and harsh like a sandstorm, promising an eternity of torment and despair. And so, the Sarcophagus slid open, and a hand clad in ancient cloth, dead and dried fingers clutching a ebony staff adorned by a white skull.
“The Ankh is a lie…” the new voice whispered.
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