Rosewater Oasis Killed him, took his name, and I got new glasses.

samir finds him—a corpse dragging itself through the glory of the oasis. the boy’s leg hangs limp, mangled by scars and left in disrepair. so young, yet already forged in the fires of survival. his scent is thick with pain, a bitter musk that clings to the air.

samir approaches, a shadow painted across the sands, his golden gaze fixed upon the boy. no words escape him, only a low chuff to announce his presence. then, with a jerk of his head, he commands the boy to follow.

without waiting, the pharaoh turns, his form disappearing over the dunes like a specter, leaving the boy to decide if he is strong enough to keep pace.

unbeknownst to him yet, he would be waiting on the other side. a final stretch for nokht to make, and then he would know salvation.