The desert was silent again, the kind of silence that follows ruin.
No soldiers. No empire. No gods.
Only Ahn and Delilah walked beneath the violet sky.
Delilah's steps dragged through the sand, the Jackal's Fang hanging from her belt. Her eyes were hollow, her voice thin. "You said Egypt was finished. Why are we coming back?"
Ahn smiled without looking at her. The moonlight caught his grin, pale and sharp. "Egypt isn't finished. It's sleeping."
They stopped by the edge of the river, or what had once been one. The Nile still flowed, sluggish and dark, like blood that had forgotten its pulse.
Ahn crouched, dipping a finger into the current. "She used to drink from here," he said softly. "Said it tasted like sunlight after war."
Delilah frowned. "Who?"
Ahn's eyes lifted toward the dunes. "The one I'm looking for."
He didn't explain. He didn't need to. The air around him grew colder the longer he stared into the water.
Then he stood. "It's been ten years."
"Since what?"
"Since she closed her eyes," he said. "Drunk on her own mercy."
Delilah blinked. "You're talking about a goddess, aren't you?"
Ahn's grin widened. "Not a goddess. The goddess."
He turned his head slightly, his painted smile catching the starlight. "The one who almost ended the world for fun, then passed out before finishing it.
Delilah's hand went to her dagger. "You mean Sekhmet."
Ahn laughed quietly. "So you do listen."
He began walking again, tracing the curve of the Nile until they reached a ridge where the sand split open like a wound. The entrance was hidden beneath twisted rock, the faint shimmer of a veil flickering across it.
Delilah hesitated. "That's divine energy."
"Veil of rest," Ahn murmured. "Made by her priests after she slept. They didn't want anyone finding her again."
He stepped closer, pressing his palm to the air. The veil rippled like heat. Black cracks spread from his touch.
Delilah's throat tightened. "You're breaking a god's seal. You'll-"
"I already have," Ahn interrupted. His eyes glowed faintly red in the dark. "You opened the first gate in the vault when you freed me. This is the second."
The veil shattered with a sound like glass under water.
Beyond it, the air changed. The sand was no longer dry, it glowed faintly, gold and red.
They stepped inside.
There she was.
Sekhmet. The lioness goddess.
Her body lay half-submerged in a pool of amber liquid, her golden skin untouched by decay. The faint rise and fall of her chest proved she still slept. Her claws rested against the stone like weapons waiting for command.
Delilah's voice dropped to a whisper. "She's… beautiful."
Ahn tilted his head. "She's hunger."
He crouched near her face, studying the faint twitch of her eyelids. "Still drunk. Still dreaming."
"She's been like this for ten years?" Delilah asked.
"Thirteen, give or take. But time slows in this veil."
Ahn stood again, pacing around the pool. "The priests said she would wake when the world burned bright enough to offend her." He paused. "Seems no one's made enough noise yet."
Delilah frowned. "Then why are we here?"
Ahn smiled faintly. "Because we don't need to wake her. We need her awake."
He turned toward her, eyes sharp. "You see, when a god sleeps, their essence leaks into the world. It calls out to a vessel, a new one, even if the god doesn't know it. The body can rest. The soul, though… it wanders."
Delilah's stomach sank. "You're going to find a child."
Ahn grinned wider. "Not find. Choose."
Delilah stepped back, her hand hovering over her dagger. "You can't do that."
"I can," Ahn said softly, "because someone has to guide the next war."
He looked back at Sekhmet, her breath slow, her aura pulsing faintly beneath the water. "The lioness won't wake on her own, so we'll wake her through another."
Delilah's voice broke. "You'd curse a child with that power?"
Ahn didn't answer immediately. He watched the sleeping goddess, eyes distant.
Then he whispered, almost reverent, "Chaos is loud. But destruction… destruction is divine silence."
He turned away from Sekhmet, heading toward the broken veil. "Come. We'll need to find someone with a pulse loud enough to carry her name."
Delilah lingered, staring at the goddess's still form.
The water rippled once, faintly, as if something inside it had heard them.
Ahn smiled when he saw it. "See?" he said softly. "She's listening already."
And together, they vanished back into the desert night, the wind whispering through the ruins like laughter.
The night was alive.
Lanterns swung from carved pillars. The air smelled of myrrh and smoke. Cats prowled along every wall and window, their eyes glinting like tiny suns.
Bubastis. The city of Bastet.
Even asleep, it purred with divine energy.
Ahn crouched on a rooftop, cloak fluttering in the wind. His painted grin caught the moonlight, sharp and silent. Delilah landed beside him a moment later, her boots hitting the stone without sound.
Below, the city stretched out in gold and blue. The temple of Bastet rose at its heart, its pillars etched with feline reliefs. Laughter drifted through the narrow streets. It was a rare pocket of life untouched by war, for now.
Ahn's eyes narrowed. "The air's too clean here."
Delilah followed his gaze. "You wanted civilization."
"I wanted a pulse," he said, his tone half amusement, half hunger. "Civilization is the noise around it."
They moved. Roof to roof. Quiet as ghosts
From above, Bubastis was a maze of domed homes, market stalls, and shaded courtyards. They passed a shrine where priests burned incense for Bastet, the smoke curling upward like pale claws.
Then Ahn stopped.
"There," he whispered.
In the street below, a young girl was walking barefoot through the market square, holding a folded note in both hands. Her linen dress was patched at the hem, but clean. Her hair was bound with a simple copper tie. She couldn't have been older than fifteen.
Delilah leaned forward. "She's just a courier."
"Watch," Ahn murmured.
They followed her movements across the rooftops. She stopped at a small home near the fountain, where a man sat mending fishing nets and a woman stirred a clay pot over a low fire.
The girl knelt beside them, handing the note to her father. "The innkeeper says the supply cart hasn't come. He'll need a new route if you still want the grain by morning."
The father sighed. "Always the same excuse. You tell him-"
She interrupted softly, "-to send word through the temple gate at dawn instead. The guards open earlier on holy days."
Her father paused, blinking. "How did you.."
"It's Bastet's day tomorrow," she said simply, tying her hair back again. "They'll open at the first bell for offering rites."
Delilah tilted her head. "She's sharp."
Ahn smirked. "She's awake."
The mother set down her ladle and smiled faintly at the girl. "You shouldn't be thinking about trade routes at your age."
The girl shrugged, voice even. "Someone has to."
Ahn's grin widened. "Perfect."
Delilah's voice was low. "You're not doing this here."
Ahn's eyes glowed faintly, twin points of red. "Bubastis is untouched by war, yes. But untouched things rot quietly. I'm giving the world a push."
Delilah looked back down. The girl had finished her errand and was walking toward the inn, the note clutched carefully, her pace measured.
"She doesn't look strong enough for a goddess," Delilah said.
"She doesn't need to be," Ahn replied. "She needs to break the moment the lioness enters."
He stood. "Power doesn't bloom in strength. It blooms in fragility that refuses to die."
The wind shifted, carrying the sound of cats mewling through the alleyways. The moonlight painted the girl's path in silver.
Delilah frowned. "You already chose her.
Ahn's smile didn't move, but his eyes flickered with intent. "I didn't choose her. Sekhmet did. The essence always finds its way."
He turned away from the edge, his tone suddenly quiet, almost reverent.
"Three years left until the lioness wakes. But by then… she'll already be walking."
Delilah stared after him, unease curling in her gut.
Below, the girl disappeared into the inn's glow, laughter echoing faintly behind her.
Ahn whispered to the night, "Sleep while you can, little vessel. Soon, the goddess will need a heart to burn through."
And as they melted into the rooftops again, a cat's low growl echoed from the street below- watching them both with glowing eyes that shimmered faintly red.
The city of Bastet slept under silver moonlight.
Even the cats were quiet.
Ahn and Delilah moved through the narrow alleys unseen. The girl had finished her errands, returned home, and now slept in a small loft above her family's workshop. Her breathing was steady, her hair loose against the straw mat.
Delilah stood by the window, whispering. "You're sure about this?"
Ahn crouched beside the bed, the faint red glow in his eyes reflecting off the vial in his hand. The liquid inside shimmered gold and rose, like sunlight trapped in wine.
"She drank this once before," Ahn murmured. "It made her sleep for thirteen years."
Delilah realized what he meant. "That's the same mix Ra used to stop her."
Ahn smiled faintly. "Almost. His made her sleep. Mine makes her share."
Before she could speak, he uncorked the vial. The air filled with a heavy sweetness, honey and iron.
He dipped his finger into it, drew a thin line across the girl's forehead, and whispered, "Drink deep, little vessel."
The girl stirred, lips parting slightly, but didn't wake. Her breath slowed.
Delilah's voice was barely a whisper. "She's just a child."
Ahn straightened, his grin unchanged. "So was every god before they remembered their name."
He lifted her in his arms, light as a shadow, and carried her through the city. They slipped past the temple, through the outer fields, until they reached the cracked entrance to the veil of Sekhmet.
The air there still shimmered, torn from their last visit. Ahn stepped through first, Delilah close behind.
The goddess still slept in her amber pool, unmoved, her golden skin catching the faint reflection of the moon above the veil.
Ahn knelt, setting the girl beside the divine body. He brushed her hair from her face, his tone almost gentle. "The body of the lioness, and the breath of the lamb."
He poured the last of the liquid between them. The scent deepened, sickly sweet.
The pool rippled.
Delilah stepped back. "What's happening?"
Ahn didn't answer. He pressed his palm to the water. The ripples turned to waves.
"The connection," he whispered, "was never broken. It only needed a bridge."
The light beneath the water shifted from gold to red. The goddess's eyes twitched.
Delilah's breath caught. "She's waking-"
"Not yet," Ahn murmured. "She's trading."
The ground began to shake. The walls of the veil groaned like stone under thunder. Delilah stumbled, grabbing a pillar for balance. "Ahn!"
"Out," he said simply.
They ran, sand pouring from the ceiling as the tomb-like chamber trembled. Outside, the night wind roared, lifting the dunes into spirals.
Then it happened.
A pulse, deep and thunderous, rolled through the desert. The air shimmered gold, then red, then something in between, violent, alive.
A scream echoed from inside the veil, not of pain but becoming.
The shaking stopped. The silence that followed was heavier than death.
Delilah turned to Ahn, panting. "What did you do?"
He stared at the veil, his grin stretching wider, his voice low. "I opened her eyes."
The air split.
A figure stepped through the veil, barefoot, trembling, the moonlight clinging to her skin.
It was the girl, but not. Her hair burned faintly red at the edges, her eyes glowed gold slit with black. Around her body, a faint shimmer of heat bent the air.
Behind her, the pool still held the goddess's form, but the chest no longer rose and fell.
Delilah whispered, "She's inside the girl…"
Ahn tilted his head, admiring the sight. "And the girl dreams in the body of a god."
The girl's lips moved. Her voice came out layered- two tones, one human, one ancient.
"Who… calls me from rest?"
Ahn bowed slightly, that painted grin still carved into his face. "A friend who missed the sound of your roar."
The girl's eyes narrowed. The golden pupils flared like fire.
"I remember the Nile," she said slowly. "I remember wine. I remember sleep."
Her voice deepened, vibrating through the sand. "But I do not remember mercy."
Ahn's grin sharpened. "Then we'll start there."
The heat around her intensified. The sand beneath her feet turned to glass.
Delilah stepped back, the reality of what stood before her sinking in. "She's awake…"
Ahn nodded. "Not fully." He looked at the girl, eyes gleaming red. "Three years left to remember what she is."
The wind howled through Bubastis, cats yowling in unison as the moonlight warped crimson.
And standing before the shattered veil, the child of Sekhmet smiled- her innocence gone, her gaze ancient.
The lioness had opened her eyes again.
The desert sun hung low, casting long red shadows across the ruined sands of Egypt.
The storm had ended.
Magnolia walked at the front of the caravan, his eyes hollow, his expression unreadable. Beside him, Poison trudged in silence, the edges of his clothes still charred from the tomb. Behind them, Isamu moved with a slow, deliberate gait, mortal again, but still radiating the quiet weight of someone who had worn divinity like a second skin.
The Pharaoh's banners fluttered as the gates opened. The palace guards froze at the sight, their missing warriors returned, alive, dragging behind them the heat of a battle that none had witnessed.
Inside the grand arena, Saijew's team waited.
Ren stood first, eyes wide as he saw them. "You're alive."
Sous exhaled a short, hard breath of relief. "Took you long enough."
Then they saw Saijew.
He sat near the infirmary wall, his leg wrapped in fresh linen, the muscle around his Achilles bound tight in healing cloth. The blood had stopped, but his skin still twitched at every movement.
Kahn was beside him, sharpening a blade that hadn't been used since the last war. He looked up once. "You made it back."
Magnolia stopped a few steps away, his gaze dropping to Saijew's bandaged leg. "You said I was reckless."
Saijew grunted. "You were."
Then his eyes softened, almost reluctantly. "But you came back with him."
Isamu approached the Pharaoh, bowing his head low. "Your Majesty."
Neitiqerty Siptah studied him for a long moment. "You should not be alive."
"I shouldn't," Isamu said simply. "But Horus is gone from me. I owe that to your soldiers, and to my son."
The Pharaoh's golden eyes flicked toward Magnolia briefly, then back. "You were his father, once. That bond may serve Egypt again."
Before Isamu could answer, an alarm echoed through the halls, a short metallic tone from the watchtowers.
Ren frowned. "The outer cameras… someone's at the gate."
The Pharaoh turned. "Show me."
The main screen near the throne flickered to life. The image was grainy from sandstorm interference, a figure standing at the edge of the walls, hands raised, wrists bound in her own chain.
Delilah.
Her face was pale, her eyes sunken but clear for the first time in years.
The Pharaoh stood. "Bring her in."
Moments later, heavy footsteps filled the corridor. Four of the Pharaoh's highest generals entered, weapons drawn, escorting the prisoner.
Delilah didn't fight. The chains rattled as she was pushed forward, kneeling before the Pharaoh's dais.
Saijew's jaw tightened. "You have five seconds to explain why you're here before I decide those chains aren't tight enough."
Delilah lifted her head. "I came to confess."
Her voice was low, hoarse from travel. "Apophis controlled me. I thought I was following the Empire's will, but he used me to free something."
Magnolia's eyes narrowed. "Something?"
Delilah's hands shook. "The clown, Ahn, he wanted more than chaos. He wanted destruction. He found her."
Silence fell.
The Pharaoh's expression hardened. "Who?"
Delilah's eyes flickered, unfocused for a moment, like she feared saying the name itself would summon her. "The lioness. Sekhmet."
Every sound in the room stopped.
The Pharaoh's golden eyes widened slightly. Saijew froze mid-motion, his hand tightening around his cane. Even Kahn's sharpening blade stopped its rhythm.
Magnolia looked between them. "What?"
Saijew exhaled slowly, setting the weapon aside. "Sekhmet isn't a myth," he said. "She's the reason Egypt still breathes.
He stood, limping toward the center of the hall. "When Ra's strength began to fade, the mortals of this land grew greedy. They whispered of replacing the god of the sun with a throne made of flesh. Ra heard. He took the rage from his own eye and shaped it into her."
He looked up at the ceiling as if seeing history burn above them. "The goddess of war and destruction. She led his armies, burned cities, drank blood by the river. When Ra saw what he'd unleashed, he poured red beer into the Nile, said it was wine, said it was life, and she drank it until she slept."
Kahn added quietly, "They say she's been asleep for ten, maybe thirteen years. None have seen her form since."
Delilah's voice shook. "She's awake now."
The Pharaoh's gaze locked onto her. "Impossible."
Delilah met his stare, tears welling. "I saw her. The clown used a child, a girl from Bubastis. He made her the vessel."
Poison stepped forward, jaw tight. "A child?"
Delilah nodded. "She's alive… but she's not herself. The goddess moves in her skin. The real one sleeps inside Sekhmet's body."
A silence heavier than stone filled the hall.
Magnolia finally spoke, his tone quiet but sharp. "Then we're not fighting mortals anymore."
Saijew's gaze dropped to his injured leg, then to the team gathered before him. "No," he said. "We're fighting gods again."
The Pharaoh's golden eyes gleamed like the sun through dust. "Then Egypt must remember what it was built for."
Isamu clenched his fists. "To defend creation."
Magnolia's voice rose behind him, calm but burning. "And if Ahn wants destruction, we'll give him a war he can't survive."
The Pharaoh looked over his soldiers, his generals, his gods reborn in mortal form.
"The lioness is awake," he said. "Then we wake Egypt."
And across the arena, the torches blazed higher, the flames burning the color of the dawn.