Pharaoh's Crypt

Step into a sealed Egyptian pharaoh's tomb. A low fire burns in a sunken stone pit carved with a winged scarab, oil lamps flicker along painted columns of hieroglyphs, and two jackal-headed guardians stand watch over a golden sarcophagus, where a single bandaged hand has slipped out from beneath the lid.

Deep bowed-string drones and low, resonant bass fill the chamber, while a distant ney flute drifts through sparse, unresolved phrases and dry oud notes echo into the stone. Slow, muffled frame drums keep the pace of an ancient procession somewhere far below. Brooding, regal and a little sorrowful, never loud, it's a steady backdrop for reading, writing, working, or a long dark night in October.

The Pharaoh's Crypt lies deep beneath the desert sand: a royal tomb of painted columns, golden jars and lamps still burning for a king who never quite left. Put it on for an October night when you want somewhere ancient and regal, mysterious rather than frightening, and quiet enough to stay beside for hours.