Lion Head Mesa Reteh-qabet

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He glimpsed the small sleek shadow of his son. Khaemwaset rustled like the tempest’s own living beast, inherent in his dark dynasty’s riverblood.

“Gods storm their discontent,” the rupture of Rashepses' voice rose above the droning. “But an early rain is their blessing. These acts surpass even the power of the Living Gods.”

“Look, Kem.” Semer-wati motions for the electric burst of white in the sky, “it is called lightening. His brother, thunder, always follows,” and Rashepses took a wide step over his cub, body acting as shelter while they awaited the monstrous answer.