Blood from the Mummy’s Tomb 1971

An expedition led by Professor Fuchs [Andrew Keir] locates the unmarked tomb of Tera, an evil Egyptian queen, and the discovery sets off a chain of chilling consequences. Fuchs is consumed by an obsession with his prize, and he brings the mummy and its sarcophagus back to England, secretly rebuilding a tomb beneath his own house. The home, once a quiet residence, becomes a hidden chamber where the ancient queen’s power seems to breathe again under careful watch. The atmosphere thickens with a sense of forbidden knowledge, and the line between reverent study and reckless ambition starts to blur.

Four days before her birthday, Margaret Fuchs, [Valerie Leon], who bears an uncanny resemblance to Tera and was born at the exact moment they spoke the queen’s name, begins to experience unsettling, dream-haunted nights. The situation intensifies as the past seems to intrude upon the present, and the ring she has been given — a relic from the queen herself — becomes a tangible link to a force well beyond ordinary understanding. Fuchs gives her the old queen’s ring and tells her to

wear it always

This command sharpens the sense that Margaret is more than a daughter; she is a vessel through which Tera’s legacy may reach out and exert influence. The tension grows as the ring’s hold over Margaret deepens, hinting at a power that could redraw the boundaries between life and death.

Margaret notices a man lurking in the vacant building across the street. He is Corbeck, James Villiers, an expedition member who has become her father’s rival in the race to control the queen’s legacy. Corbeck wants to restore Tera to life and, with a ruthless pragmatism, persuades Margaret to help him collect the missing relics. But each relic they surrender carries a price: the person who held it meets a sudden, fatal fate. The eerie pattern casts a pall over their alliance and makes the quest for the relics feel less like a scientific expedition and more like a grim ritual with deadly consequences.

As the trio closes in on the final pieces, the ancient ritual to reawaken Tera begins to take shape. Corbeck, Margaret, and Fuchs move through the house as if stepping through a doorway into another era, a doorway that promises peril and power in equal measure. Yet the revival’s price becomes clear: Margaret’s life hangs in the balance, and Fuchs must decide between his obsession and his daughter’s safety. The revelation shocks him, and he realizes that reclaiming the queen’s power could come at the cost of Margaret’s own existence.

In a decisive confrontation, Fuchs and Margaret deduce that the queen’s revival would spell Margaret’s death. They act to prevent Corbeck from completing the ritual, overpowering and ultimately killing him as the house trembles above them. The moment of supposed triumph is cut short, however, as Queen Tera herself awakens. The queen’s tangible power proves deadly, and she murders Fuchs even as Margaret makes a desperate, final bid to stop the incarnation of her power. In a struggle for an ancient dagger that could seal Tera’s fate, the house—built on the very foundations of superstition and science—collapses around them, pinning the characters beneath a collapsing history.

The aftermath unfolds in a stark, clinical hospital setting. A woman’s face is wrapped in bandages, and she emerges as the sole survivor among those who were pulled into the professor’s basement beneath the house. The other participants lie crushed beyond recognition, their fates sealed by forces that neither science nor sanity could fully command. In the final, haunting frame, the bandaged woman slowly opens her eyes and struggles to speak, leaving it ambiguous whether she is Margaret Fuchs, the daughter who dared to challenge a queen, or Queen Tera herself, resurrected but damned to endure the cost of power.

This story blends gothic horror with a lucid, modern curiosity about the consequences of resurrecting the past. It uses a taut, suspenseful rhythm to explore how ambition can blur moral lines and how love, loyalty, and fear intersect when an ancient evil returns to the present. The film’s atmosphere—dense with shadows, ritualistic overtones, and a creeping sense of doom—remains its most lasting impression, as the house becomes a quasi-character in its own right, harboring memory, danger, and the volatile energy of a bygone era that refuses to stay buried. The performances underscore the narrative’s mood, balancing restraint with intensity as the characters confront choices that could redefine life, death, and what lies beyond.