Rosewater Oasis let this prayer be your guide

samirseti steps forward. shadow swallowing the last rays of ra. he bid it so.

his gaze moves over them—his people. their faces worn, their spirits battered.

hemet-nesut’s words a hymn to what was lost and what will rise. she steps aside as he comes, yielding to the pharaoh. he stands before them, quiet, solemn. a single tear etching path over onyx cheek.

then he speaks. and:

He speaks. this is not the end. the gods test us, as they always have, to see what we may become. to lose the red sands is not to lose their blessing. no— eyes blaze upon those beneath, —it is to earn their fire. to be forged anew.

he raises his head, the embodiment of divine will.

we are their chosen, born from the ashes of akashingo. this is their will. vahanet shall not just rise—it shall ascend. stronger. greater. eternal.

he casts teary eyes to the sky dappled in the beginnings of stars. the pharaoh allows himself this vulnerability, a moment stolen from the stoic mask he wears for his people. he breathes: pharaoh muat-riya isetnofret toula, goddess of the red serpent, the morning and the evening star, divine queen of akashingo, mother of kings and daughters divine. raemka rashepses, god of the red serpent, consort of toula, royal son of ra.

you who ruled with grace and might, who forged a kingdom in the sands and carried the will of the gods within your veins. you, who were the stars that guided the mesa of yore. his voice softens. you have joined the pantheon now, where your reign endures eternal. your light does not fade, but strengthens, burning brighter in the sky above.