"There you are," the pharaoh shouted as he entered the garden.
The tall stone columns, carved with figures of gods and ancient conquests, surrounded the open space. Between them, elegant palm trees cast long shadows across the alabaster floor, while small water channels flowed slowly, reflecting the golden sky of dusk. The air carried the perfume of rare flowers — blue and white lotuses — cultivated there not only for beauty, but for devotion.
The priestess waited beside a reflecting pool, motionless like a living statue. She wore light linen, almost translucent under the sunlight, adorned with gold necklaces and green gemstones.
When the pharaoh approached, she did not bow immediately. She simply said:
"Pharaoh, it is a pleasant afternoon, isn't it?"
"Clear days make problems more evident. There is much to resolve, especially our security," said the pharaoh, his tired eyes showing concern.
"Yes. Krarvathar told me you fear they will come." The priestess sat on the small clay wall and ran her hand through the water.
"You don't?" Uras observed her. "It is difficult to understand you, Neftraya. What are you hiding from me? The elves could easily arrive tonight and kill you without you even noticing, yet you act like a warrior confident of victory in battle."
Neftraya stared at him and ran her wet fingers across her brown lips.
"Yes, they will come tonight, or in the early hours of the morning… Or the next night. However, the pharaoh is right. They were quick to go after the dragon; they will be quick in their revenge against us."
Uras sighed and sat on the opposite side of the reflecting pool's edge.
"I am confident that our Gods will protect us. We have done their will. However, this protection will manifest through the strength of our soldiers. I can order a powerful escort for you. At night, they will take you to the main hall while we wait for them," Uras explained. "Ameinemhat said the Gods will warn him when the elves are approaching. Then we can fight them."
"Thank you, Pharaoh, but I am fine. I can take care of myself," the woman replied calmly.
Uras'Diptsur stared at her and shook his head.
"You behave very much like Meritbaraset. That sense of control, of dominance… In the end, that is what killed her. You are heading toward the same fate, Neftraya." He stood up, ready to leave.
"Ah, one more thing. There is a princess from a nomadic tribe in the east. She settled in the delta a few days ago and is already traveling up the river. She claimed she needs to speak with me because one of her Gods has the form of a scaly creature with wings, like Krarvathar. Do you… know anything about this God?"
Neftraya kept her face impassive.
"No. I know nothing about this foreign God."
"Very well. In any case, even if he is a God, he will be under the dominion of our Gods." He spoke with confidence and looked at her one last time. "I will let the Gods decide the outcome of your actions. If you survive the elves' attack alone, I will know you are more than a woman, and I will keep you by my side. But if you die, it will be the fruit of your own malice." He began to walk away.
Neftraya rose, bowed respectfully, and watched with a smile as the pharaoh departed.
"Beloved pharaoh, your kindness has surely never been seen in any other before you. What a pity that death will be your fate." She turned and walked toward the other exit of the garden.
////
The torches fixed in bronze holders cast an unsteady light, making shadows move like specters among the gathered men. In the center, a stone table displayed the layout of the palace, marked with small wooden pieces representing guards, gates, and strategic points.
General Nahkit-Sen and the other counselors analyzed the palace entrances and the best locations for the pharaoh and the prince to position themselves.
Setarek, for his part, was not paying attention to any of it. His eye was fixed on the flame of an oil lamp. He felt better than before, but there was still an unusual warmth inside him — not enough to make him sweat or tremble, but as if it were heating his core.
"Now I am your enemy…" Setarek thought of Ishara and the stories his mother used to tell about the elves. It made him sad, because he admired them. The elves were great warriors who fought against evil, and becoming friends with Ishara had been a great pleasure for him.
"Prince, are you well?" One of the generals noticed the young man's distraction.
"I am listening. You may continue," Setarek lied, pretending to look at the table.
But Setarek knew he had no choice. He shifted in his chair, wiggling his toes and fingers, as if trying to feel grounded in that place instead of floating in something unreal. He wanted to accept that this was real, that God was trusting him to fight against those he once trusted.
He sighed deeply, feeling his heart beating fast, and, surprisingly, realized he was not sad. He thought he should be. In truth, he felt complete. As if he finally had a real purpose, something beyond himself, with total certainty. He then smiled and embraced his fate.
"Good that you accepted." Something echoed in his mind. It was not an ordinary voice, but something coming from his own voice, from his own mind. "You will be great, Setarek. God is with you now."
The young man rose abruptly and smiled at the men present, who looked at him in alarm, as if the person before them was no longer the prince they knew.
"The victory tonight is certain. No darkness shall remain. It belongs to the light of our power. Allow me to suggest a new strategy…"
The prince smiled and looked at the map of the palace.