Arthur's home was nothing like the palaces of the energy wielders he had read about in fables; it was a simple structure of mud and stone on the outskirts of Menhet, always smelling of toasted bread and dried papyrus.
As Arthur returned from the necropolis walls, the sun had begun its descent, leaving orange streaks dancing across his pale face. Before he could set foot inside the threshold, something small dashed toward him with lightning speed.
"Arthur! You're late again! Mother says if you don't bring the firewood now, she'll use your hair as fuel for the oven!"
This was Elin. His adopted sister, a year younger than him, with curly hair and eyes as clear as the Nile at dawn. To Arthur, she wasn't just a sister; she was the only person who never looked at him as a "stranger" or the "orphan of the ruins."
Arthur smiled despite himself, trying to hide the slight tremor in his hands from the scene he had witnessed in the desert. "Elin, stop shouting. I was… thinking."
Elin narrowed her eyes, placing her hands on her hips in a mock-serious stance. "Thinking? Or were you watching the warriors at the walls again? Arthur, Father told you a hundred times—those powers aren't for us. We are people of clay, and we live by the clay. Don't go near a storm you cannot stop."
Inside, Arthur found Sethi—the man who had taken him in—sitting and mending fishing nets. He was a sturdy man, his skin bronzed by the sun, but his eyes held the wisdom of ages. Sethi looked at Arthur for a long moment, then at the pendant hidden beneath his shirt.
"You've returned, my son," Sethi said in a voice as calm as a flowing river. "Sit. The food is ready."
At the humble table, silence draped over them, but Arthur's mind was deafeningly loud. He felt a strange heat radiating from his chest, as if the "Spark of Ra" he saw in the desert had left an imprint on his soul.
"Father," Arthur began tentatively, "is it possible for an ordinary person… someone like us… to awaken two paths at once?"
Sethi stopped eating. A heavy silence followed, so thick that the crackling of the wood in the fireplace sounded like explosions. Elin looked at her brother with concern, her smile fading.
"That is heresy against the laws of the world, Arthur," Sethi said with a sternness he had never used before. "The Sun does not meet the Snow, and the Stars do not touch the Clay. Whoever tries to unite the paths finds their body torn asunder before they can utter a single word. You are our son, and the Arthur we know is a skilled hunter. We don't want to lose you to illusions."
Arthur felt the pendant grow hot against his skin, as if it were protesting Sethi's words. At that moment, he felt a strange pulse—not the beat of his heart, but a rhythmic thrum coming from the earth beneath his feet (The Desert Path) and the flickering candlelight (The Sun Path).
Later that night, Elin followed him to the small rooftop. She didn't want him alone with his thoughts.
"Arthur," she whispered, looking at the stars. "Whatever it is you're feeling… don't do it alone. I know you aren't exactly like us, and I know that pendant isn't just an ornament. But promise me… you won't burn yourself out alone."
Arthur took her hand; it was unnaturally warm. "I promise, Elin. But the world is changing… and I feel like I'm part of that change, whether I want to be or not."
That night, while the city slept, Arthur woke to the sound of whispering coming from everywhere and nowhere. It wasn't a human voice—it was a mixture of shifting sands, rushing water, the clashing of Greek swords, and the chants of the Chinese Spirit.
The Spark of the World was looking for a way out.