Rosewater Oasis Let us treat

Samirseti watched the boy’s response with silent satisfaction.

Doubt was natural—it was the chisel to a raw stone, the edge against which one found their shape. What mattered was the laughter that followed, the eager acceptance of what had been bestowed.

Good.

Samirseti’s smile deepened, gilded eyes gleaming with a dangerous warmth as Andalib drank and vowed to serve.

His paw brushed lightly against Andalib’s shoulder, "Remember, Senedjet," he purred, "The gods are not mere beings to be worshipped. They are forces—immovable, eternal. Ra’s light does not shine out of kindness; it is power, unyielding and absolute. It nourishes, yes, but it also scorches. It is both creator and destroyer."

"When you speak of Vahanet, when you carry my name, remember this duality. To serve is not to grovel, boy. It is to honor strength, to uphold balance. The gods do not favor the meek; they favor those who act. Those who build. Those who burn brightly, even if they burn briefly."

He dipped his head slightly, a gesture of finality. "And when the road grows dark, remember that the sun always rises."