Lion Head Mesa retrograde

Akhtar’s brain was wildly spinning. He let his eyes fall closed again, raising his head towards the ceiling, even lifting an ear.

What could he say?

A murmur. He shocked himself out of his trance, eyes going wild and wide. That was not the voice of his conquerors, the gods brought by odious kings and treasonous commanders.

He took a deep breath, feeling it turn to ice in his lungs.

Blood. He said a moment later, shaking himself.

Isis wishes for blood.