Starglow Basin fifty-second

A horrid uncle, an invasion of a capital, and a coup. Akhtar was quiet.

I was so young then. I think I slept through it. I woke up with jaws on my neck, and they asked me Why shouldn’t you die? He reached up to part the furs on his neck, at the base beside his shoulder. A thin, ropy scar, the only remainder of what could have been the worst days of his life.

I told them why would you let me live? I was a terribly impetuous thing back then. I think the invaders didn’t like that. They struck me across the face and next I remember, I was shackled to a priest. He would beat me with scripture and with fists until I hated to look at myself. He looked at his paws. How long had it been since he’d almost died? How long had it been since he’d been saved by none other than sheer, dumb, stupid luck.

You’d think that would be it. Humiliate me a few times, drag me about with a collar and shackle, make a mockery of everything I was. No, they tried to kill me. Almost successful, if not for the fact I was always too stubborn to die. I imagine hes still on that throne, growing fat with all he stole from the people. From me. He sniffed in disdain.

I became a priest because that was what I needed. To survive. It took me a long time to realize what was survival could be easily pressed to form a career. I found I rather enjoyed the study after a while. It was easy to just…slide into that skin, and make it my home. He would never be a Neb, no matter how much power his blood once held, because it was nothing now. He was a king of salted dirt, and not much else.