Sleeping Kingdom

In 1883, an excavation team near Carcassonne discovered a sealed chamber beneath an abandoned monastery. Inside: a glass coffin containing the preserved body of a woman in an 18th-century gown, her skin still flushed pink.

Her death certificate named her Aurore de Laurant, born 1699, deceased 1720. Cause of death: “unknown paralysis during sleep.”

Forensic examination decades later revealed a rare combination of toxins — belladonna, opium, and wolfsbane — known in folklore as “the dreamer’s blend.” It slows the heart to near stillness.

Her father, Duke Étienne, had been a chemist with the royal apothecary, obsessed with “the suspension of time.”

Rumor says he tested the mixture on his daughter to preserve her beauty.

It worked — too well.

When she was entombed, still breathing faintly, the servants claimed to hear whispers through the marble door: “Don’t wake me yet.”

Modern analysis of her remains revealed something even stranger — microscopic traces of gold powder in her bloodstream.

As if she’d been embalmed from the inside.