They Broke the Tomb’s Seal — The Curse Was Released

In 1922, when the sealed tomb of King Tutankhamun was opened in Egypt’s Valley of the Kings, the world celebrated a miracle of archaeology—golden relics, jeweled coffins, and a boy king preserved almost perfectly for more than 3,000 years. But the celebration didn’t last long. Almost immediately after the tomb was breached by British archaeologist Howard Carter and his team, rumors began to circulate that the tomb was cursed, and that disturbing the pharaoh’s eternal rest would bring death. What began as whispers quickly turned into headlines when those connected to the discovery started dying in disturbing and inexplicable ways. The most famous of these deaths was Lord Carnarvon, the wealthy patron who funded the excavation. Only months after entering the tomb, Carnarvon suffered a seemingly minor mosquito bite that became infected, leading to blood poisoning and pneumonia. He died in April 1923, and the circumstances surrounding his death were deeply unsettling. At the exact moment he passed, Cairo reportedly experienced a sudden blackout, plunging the city into darkness. Back in England, his dog allegedly let out a howl and collapsed dead. Around the same time, a cobra—an ancient symbol of royal protection in Egypt—was discovered in Carter’s home, having eaten his beloved canary. To many, this was not coincidence, but a warning. Over the following years, more deaths followed, all linked in some way to the tomb. George Jay Gould, a wealthy visitor, developed a high fever and died shortly after leaving Egypt. Archaeologist Arthur Mace fell mysteriously ill and died young. Egyptologist Hugh Evelyn-White reportedly took his own life, leaving behind a note claiming he had “succumbed to a curse.” Newspapers around the world fueled the hysteria, repeating tales of an ancient inscription said to be hidden within the tomb that warned, “Death shall come on swift wings to him who disturbs the peace of the king.” While historians argue the inscription may never have existed, the deaths were very real. Skeptics have long tried to explain the curse away with science, suggesting toxic mold spores, ancient bacteria, or chemical compounds sealed inside the tomb for millennia could have caused fatal infections once inhaled. Yet science struggles to explain the eerie symbolism, timing, and clustering of deaths—especially since those who entered the tomb earliest seemed most affected. More than a century later, the Curse of King Tut remains one of history’s most chilling mysteries, blurring the line between myth and reality. A child king buried in splendor, a tomb sealed for thousands of years, and a trail of death that followed its opening continue to haunt the modern imagination, leaving one lingering question behind: was it coincidence, or did the tomb truly strike back?