Ra lay on a bed of stone, his body trembling with each pitiful breath his failing lungs pulled in. Even from a distance, Ramia could see the immense pain that plagued the sun god. Her eyes remained fixated on his body, her feet planted firmly on the floor, unable to step closer. His hand clutched tightly over his heart, muscles tensing and relaxing with each wave of agony that washed over his frail body. Everything in her stopped her from going to the god's side, although she knew his life was ending Ramia could not bring herself to do so much as breathe upon him. The strength had left his grasp, the strong color of his life flooding the air in a desperate attempt to leave his body. He was no bigger than a man, with no more strength than a newborn child.

Footsteps filled her ears, not the heavy and threatening steps of Apophis but the tired treading of her companions as they filled the rooms. Ramia did not meet their gazes, even as they stepped closer to Ra than she could. Is this all that remains? She asked herself, counting the number of bodies that filled the room. A child, a thief, myself and-- At last, her head moved, cast towards the open doorway just in time to see a bowed and wizened woman step through the threshold. And Ife. Relief flooded her bones when the older woman caught her gaze. Ife placed her hand on Ramia's shoulder, concern in her tired eyes. The hint of a smile flickered across her lips for the smallest of moments.

Ramia opened her mouth to speak, but the voice of Ra drowned out her own. "My children." The sound of his words filled her ears, little more than a rasp. Without hesitation, her eyes returned to the god who lay dying before them. There was pain in his eyes, a desperation in each gasping wheeze that left his throat. Slowly, they stepped forward, surrounding the edge of the bed. Ramia was the last to join, her hesitation stalling her feet. "I cannot heal from these wounds." The words sent a chill down her spine, dread settling in the pit of her stomach. Something is going to happen, her mind screamed. This will not end easily.

Her eyes flickered to Ife, but her gaze was not returned. The older woman was focused solely on Ra, her lips pursed into a fine line. "You are the chosen. One of you must--" Something overcame him, a seize of pain that stopped his words in his throat. Instinctively, Ramia reached out, ready to protect. The hand that clutched at his heart began to relax, fingers loosening their hold until Ramia could see what they held. A golden beetle, waiting patiently between his fingers, its legs twitching in anticipation. Khepri. The dread in her stomach grew stronger. "Take the scarab," Ra commanded. "Your life will replenish my own and you will find peace in the Field of Reeds." Glances were cast around the group as the weight of Ra's words began to settle. "Hurry. My body grows weaker with each breath, and little time remains."

The beetle crawled from between Ra's fingers, its body moving furiously fast as it climbed up to rest on the top of his hand. It watched them from its perch, black eyes shining. For a moment, there was silence. Ramia couldn't tear her eyes away from the small insect. One of us must die. One of us must die for the world to survive. For Ra to survive.

"I'll do it."

The voice that spoke first was a small one, yet the bravery it held was enough to snap Ramia's head up. She watched as a small hand reached for the scarab, only to be smacked away by the thief. "Don't be ridiculous," he said, his voice cold and aloof. "You're a child-- there's too much ahead of you." One of us must die. "I'll do it." These people have lives. They have families and loved ones. It would be an honor to die for my gods. Ramia lurched forward, scooping the small creature into her hand before he had time to move. "Hey--"

Ramia pulled her hand back towards her chest as the eyes of the group turned to her. "Touch it," she warned, a growling edge to her voice, "and I'll break your hand." One of us must die. It should be me. With the next word spoken, the room erupted into argument, each side trying to be louder than the rest as Ramia protected the scarab in her closed fingers. The volume steadily rose, her face flushing with color as words flew and hands snatched.

"That's enough!" A cry came from beside her, with all the scalding parental authority that it could muster. Immediately, the room was silenced. "Look at you all, bickering like spoiled children while our god dies." Grudgingly, Ramia turned her eyes to Ife, seeing the older woman's face bright and stern. "I am the eldest, the scarab will go to me. That will be the end of it."

"But--"

"That will be the end of it." Ife turned to Ramia, her hand outstretched. "Give me the scarab, Amisi," she demanded, but the younger girl did not move.

She shook her head, stepping backwards until she hit the edge of the stone bed. "No." Ramia told her. "I will not allow it." Not Ife.

Her voice was unwaveringly firm. "Give me the scarab."

"You have duties," Ramia urged, "responsibilities. The Pharoah's sons--"

"Will be fine without me." The older woman stepped forward. Ramia's eyes darted upward, looking between the other two for any sort of help. Her lips parted slightly, desperate for any sort of argument to make. Ife was in front of her, and when Ramia looked into her face she could see the finality in her eyes. "I'm not afraid, Amisi. This is the path Isis has chosen for me. I'm ready to walk along it." Isis is the mother of all things. The words felt like they had been spoken lifetimes ago, yet Ramia could still remember the calm acceptance Ife held when she spoke them. Even death.

Slowly, her hand opened. The golden scarab seemed to shine in the light. It moved from her hand and into Ife's, resting there just as it had. "Ramia," she corrected, watching the surprise in Ife's face. "My name is Ramia."

"Ramia." The name sounded good on her tongue.

Ra began to stir once more, each movement stiff and painful to witness. His hands reached out to wrap around Ife's wrist. Ramia stepped away, giving the other woman space. As she watched, Ra pulled her close, whispering into her ear with his dying breaths, softly enough that Ramia could not hear the words. Confusion passed across her friend's face, then relief, as if a long journey had come to an end. Ife straightened up, she turned back to Ramia with the scarab raised to her lips. "Goodbye, my daughter, and be good. I will watch over you."

Daughter. The word struck her hard in the chest, pulling the wind from her lungs. "No," she reached forward, stepping towards her friend. "Wait--"

The scarab passed through her lips and the world dissolved into light.

The After:

Ramia Gamal was no stranger to the night. The darkness that pooled around her feet as they moved was an old friend. The firm lines of her face were poorly illuminated in the dark, but her eyes peered out onto the moonlit sands with a glow. Other than the darkness, all that existed was a wind cold enough to tear at her cloak with ravenous fangs. The bite of the wind left its mark against her flesh, its venom buried deep into her veins until her blood ran cold against her heart and her bones were heavy with frost. As she crossed through the silent streets of the city, enjoying the safety of the silence that surrounded her, she could remember another time similar to this-- another night just as dark that had felt just as long. A night when gods and demons fought underneath a sleeping city, a battle raged by champions until the foul Serpent of chaos was banished once more.

In the past, Ramia thought herself made for the stars, destined to be a being that never thrived in sunlight. Little had changed since. She often found herself sleepless when night fell, wandering the streets like a thief with only her thoughts to keep her company. Now, however, she saw the world with new eyes. The demons of man and the creatures that lurked in the sunlight gave her no fear. Ramia Gamal was the champion of Neith, she had looked into the eyes of Ra and sent Apophis into the deepest pits of the Underworld. Nothing in the great kingdoms of Egypt or beyond could ever stir terror into her heart again.

The noise that slowed her feet to a halt was no louder than a breath. The shifting of dust across sand or the intake of air, the sound was little more than a tremble in the air. Yet, Ramia could not dismiss it. The merchant's stall she stood in front of was dark, the wares stored safely inside, waiting to be displayed in the morning once more. Heavy crates lay stacked by the side. Ramia stepped forward, her feet moving softly across the ground. The noise became a whisper, breathed on the trembling lungs of a child. A prayer reached her ears, its words fumbled and rushed. Placing her hand on top of the crates, Ramia looked over to the other side. Shivering in the cold of the night, a small bundle of cloth dared to call itself a child. In the dark, Ramia could make out the curls of knotted hair and the bare feet that slid along the sand. The child's head was pulled to its knees, arms wrapped tightly around its scrawny frame. She prays, Ramia thought as she observed the child, even in the cold and fear, she prays.

Ramia's mind filled with memories of her youth-- memories battle scarred and hardened, until they could inflict no more pain. As a child, Ramia Gamal woke in the night and prayed for the sun. The dark was a fearsome creature. It was full of beasts with jaws that dripped blood and ashen hands that reached for her heart. No one believed me, she thought to herself, picturing the memory so clearly it could have been in front of her. She had been a child, trembling in the dark, haunted by beasts of imagination. Now she stepped forward, a woman grown, with more wisdom than a pharaoh.

Ramia had seen Neith then, much as this child saw Ramia now. Her light cut through the darkness like a steel sword, banishing the demons of a child's mind. She could see her strength radiated in the dark eyes of a young girl, striking the fear from her chest, and Ramia found that the right words came easily to her. "Are you afraid?" she asked, and the child nodded, her eyes still fresh with tears. Slowly, Ramia crouched down beside her, looking at the frail frame that held her together and the trembling lip that tried so hard to be still. She's a brave one. She reached out, taking the girl's icy hand into the warmth of her palm. "The only creatures you need fear," Ramia told her, "are those who live by the daylight. Come with me, child. I will protect you from the demons."

Together, they rose up to their feet. Ramia wrapped her arms around the girl, lifting her from the ground until she was safe in her arms. She snuggled close to Ramia, relishing in her warmth as the older girl carried her out from behind the crates. I've lost every woman I ever called Mother. Something blossomed in her chest as she held the child close, a desire to protect that burned inside of her hotter than anything she'd felt before. "Do you have a name?" she asked. "A home I can bring you to?" Neith, the priestesses, Ife...Gone now, but they all taught me something.

The girl shook her head. "No," she answered, her voice cracked with tears but growing stronger in Ramia's presence. "I don't have anyone." Perhaps it is time I bear their title.

"You do now."

Ramia Gamal had not been afraid when the sun ceased to rise. She would not be afraid when night finally ended.