Rosewater Oasis Killed him, took his name, and I got new glasses.

intended for @Samirseti

Awakening: Lion's Head Mesa

Coughing, sputtering, cloaked in dirt and dust, Nokht had awakened beneath the heat of the beating sun, having collapsed once he dragged himself through crumbling passages, towards the last fading glimmer of light. Left behind his family. He shook his head as he lifted it, and looked back; as if expecting it had been some sort of nightmare.

It was no nightmare.

Do you want me to die or to live? He muttered to the ground, no, he would not dare look these disgraceful gods in their eyes.

They would see him cry no longer.

He braved the task of standing, and rose to shaky limbs, crying out as the feeling in his leg came back full force. All of its wrappings were lost to the rocks, and he was cut up beneath the thick, dark shroud of dust that covered him from ears to paws. His head spun but soon found vision once more upon the searing wastes. He didn't know where to go, what to do, but he knew that there was nothing left for him, not here.

---

Entering Rosewater Oasis

He didn't even know how long he'd been walking. He had gone through a meadow, large spires of rock, been fortunate enough to find water to drink and wash himself in, giving him his first meal since the collapse; a decently sized fish. He had rested his leg, it would kill him, soon.

Then he had kept going. No end in sight.

Perhaps, he would walk off the earth itself.

samir finds him—a corpse dragging itself through the glory of the oasis. the boy’s leg hangs limp, mangled by scars and left in disrepair. so young, yet already forged in the fires of survival. his scent is thick with pain, a bitter musk that clings to the air.

samir approaches, a shadow painted across the sands, his golden gaze fixed upon the boy. no words escape him, only a low chuff to announce his presence. then, with a jerk of his head, he commands the boy to follow.

without waiting, the pharaoh turns, his form disappearing over the dunes like a specter, leaving the boy to decide if he is strong enough to keep pace.

unbeknownst to him yet, he would be waiting on the other side. a final stretch for nokht to make, and then he would know salvation.

He cannot look back, and so he looks forward; a sea of endless wastes before him. From the corner of his eye, amongst the spare brush and dunes of sand, a mirage; his mismatched gaze glimpses the figure of a man, obsidian and gold.

Anubis?

Nokht meets his eye and glares.

And then he invites him, disappears over the dunes.

Was he not angry? Not enraged at all he had done? He abandoned his family, surely he deserved far worse than the peace of an easy crossing, following the hound of death like he was an old friend.

What was it like, over there? Did it hurt?

Snakeskin boy limps after him, convinced that on the other side, all that he'd lost waited for him in sweet reunion. When none stood there but death himself, Nokht looked to him boldly for an answer.

pharaoh watches the boy approach. his gaze sweeps over the boy’s form—scarred, battered, but still standing. still breathing. he moves first, stepping forward with the grace of a panther.

his shadow falls over nokht, enveloping the boy. the faintest flicker of interest crosses samir’s face as he tilts his head, studying the stranger with a critical eye. still, he says nothing.

then, without warning, samir lifts his chin and turns. his tail flicks once. to follow. follow, he says.

to your salvation.

and with that, the pharaoh disappears over the dunes. ascending one final, tall hill of sandstone, and unveiling below the oasis in all her grandeur. palm trees framed by the radiance of ra, a pool of water that glitters with the rays of His light. the faintest movements of dwellers who move, tending to her.

The man before him was not a god, but someone else, instead. He smelled of other wolves, and Nokht still felt every earthly sensation. He moves with a sort of feline elegance, a picture of perfection in the face of its sheer opposite. The stranger's shadow washes over him and he preaches of Salvation.

I don't believe you. He mutters in boyish dismissal, panting as the desert heat took his toll on him. Crushed leg screamed in pain, but Nokht kept his reactions within. He had been taught how, after all, he had to. He still felt the stare of one-eye from the shadows. Heard the hound in every rustling bush. That fear, unshaken, motivated him to follow this stranger, who did not reek of green or rot.

Once again, he left him behind and dipped beneath the dunes, inviting a game of chase. Nokht walked in the same prints left behind, until they stopped at the cusp of a sandstone peak, looking down on a vast oasis; lush vegetation framed the outskirts of clear blue waters, tall palms overhead reached to the heavens.

He turned to face him, straightening his posture and sizing the man up Who are you?

samir turns to him. there is no amusement in the pharaoh's expression. nothing but a distant premonition of grief, a man who has mourned and come to acceptance. he straightens, his chin lifting as he speaks, his words flowing like the nile.

i am samirseti, he begins, the dark plumage of his neck lilting as chin presses to, pharaoh of vahanet, god-made, the living sun, nephew of muat-riya isetnofret toula, goddess of the red serpent, morning and evening star. blood kin to semer-wati rashepses, god of the red serpent, divine consort of Her light.

his gilded gaze burns into nokht. you stand before the chosen of the gods. if you wish to live, boy, you will come. you will believe.

and again, he is walking. a black panther kissing the horizon of gold, bathed in the light of His radiance, the chosen of Ra who lives above and gazes down below.

Pharoah.

and nephew of pharoah. Kin to semer-wati.

She is dead. He says, the threat of a break in his voice ever present They're all dead. The severity of his words all too heavy for the mouth that spoke them. Eyes of amethyst and gold did not waver, they recounted it all with a distant blankness.

And now there was a new pharoah. Chosen by the gods. Sculpted by the gods in all their radiance.

Nokht too, was sculpted by them, but by their wrath and not their love.

I do believe. He speaks in a low tone that betrays the conflict that stirs in his heart. Of course he believed.

He was supposed to, at least. He didn't get many lessons on religion during his captivity. The rest he heard through fearful prayers in the halls of Muat-Riya's cenote. If the gods could save, then why did they chose not to?

pharaoh watches the boy with eyes heavy as the sands of the desert. his voice, when it comes, is soft, low, almost mournful—like the whisper of winds over ancient tombs.

i know, boy.

a breath escapes him, carrying with it the grief he does not show. his tail brushes lightly across nokht’s ears, a fleeting touch, an acknowledgment of shared sorrow.

they find eternity in the after, samir says. come. you need rest, boy. and tending to. tell me your story while we walk.

pharaoh moves with the grace of one who commands the earth beneath his paws, his shadow stretching long over the sands as he leads nokht toward the cool embrace of the oasis.

His story? He did not want to speak it. Instead he gave his name.

M' Nokht. came as the hesitance slipped from his demeanour, his steps fell in one after the other with Samirseti's as they followed the path down.

Each step, one not taken by the souls forever held in that pile of rubble, dragged down through that merciless, rushing water. Khusobek's lifeless eyes still rang clear in his mind. The shrill shriek of his daughter as she ran to his side.

They find eternity in the after.

He mumbled it below his breath in their shared tongue, if only because it pulled him from that place. He sniffled, but did not break. My family is, too...

and after all he had done to try and see them again. I need... He staggered forward, consciousness fading A sesh..

samir sighs.

he watches as the boy staggers, his gray form spilling like water down the dunes. samir is there.

he moves with the swiftness of one ordained by gods to act. his long strides bring him to the boy’s side, and with a fluid grace, he gathers nokht into his embrace. the boy is light, a thing barely tethered to this world, and samir feels the fragility of him as he lifts him onto his back—a back caped in gold, gilded by ra’s light and strengthened by divine purpose.

rest now, child, he murmurs. you are not yet lost.

and so he takes him, carrying nokht the rest of the way to the heart of the oasis.