Lion Head Mesa seedling,

her hold upon the cenote was too thin, and when she woke next she was home, upon her throne. where ramesses should have been seated alongside her, there was only dust. satsu was weak; much of her ka had gone from her, and was even now siphoning across the wilds to muat-riya.

slowly, the pain of it lessened. it did not cease, and in fact satsu felt gradually more at-ease with the sensation; it almost felt like being alive again with the expectation that it would soon be over. instead of death, there was the chance for something new.

a song came upon the wind, and it was with the voice of ramesses' daughter. satsu drifted. descended. barely mist.

attention rapt upon toula as the prayer was made, and an offering
— laid now before her tomb!

beautiful. the song, the girl, the sight of her ka linking them.

i am sorry, satsu sighs to her ears;
i let my sadness grow too strong.

a kiss upon the girl's forehead; it would feel like a raindrop.
pharaoh.