The ground beneath his feet quaked and cracked under the force of innumerable chariots chasing him down the desert. The sky thundered like his heart, stormy clouds gaping open to howl and rain needle-sharp drops. The battle cry of the soldiers made his ears numb. But he wouldn't give in. His legs sprinted like his life depended on it, which indeed was the case, and his eyes took him wherever they looked next.

"They will kill me."

He growled and glided down a steep sandy slide. With a quick glance he saw that many of the chariots failed to pass the region. He chuckled to see the defeated men roll down and the maddened horses neigh and run away.

"I cannot lose. Not to this betrayer of blood!"

His feet got scarred on the pebbles and the edgy rocks. A trail of blood followed him like a curse.

"At least I know he is a part of this same ichor. With me bleeding, he is losing too. His dynasty is crumbling."

And I will bring him to his knees, make him bow to me and ask for forgiveness.

A stinging pain pierced his back and he stumbled. He ceased to run, feeling a sleek long arrow stand out on his back. He pursed his lips, holding his breath and then took out the arrow in a cruel pull. A scream of excruciating pain left his painted lips. Blood drizzled on the golden sands.

His vision turned hazy. He turned back, seeing the soldiers closing the proximity. He knew his time was running out just like sand from a closed grip.

But he couldn't lose. He had to live. He still had not killed his greatest foe.

Against all odds and exhaustion he ran as fast as he could. He didn't know where life was leading him, what his next destination was, but he prayed it wasn't the afterlife. He still had a lot to do before death.

He was thirsty for revenge. He was craving it like a starved lion drooling at the sight of a youthful deer.

The terrain became rockier and darker under his feet. His toenail got uprooted, flesh protruding out and scarlet beads flooding his foot. It burnt like the scorching heat of his wrath.

And at last, he stopped to take a breath, for the road ahead came to an end. Life had brought him to a cliff. The river was waiting for him, its waves eager to snatch him to the deepest depths and suck the life out of his chest, filling his lungs with foam and water.

"I am sorry, Neferneferure. Forgive me for being a failure."

He brought out the little box of letters. Opening the lid, he sniffed her perfume. It eased his muscles and made him forget the pain.

But reality returned with a greater force. She wasn't there anymore, and maybe it was her wish that he should reach her. Maybe she felt it was better for him to rest in her arms than bathing in the blood of his brother.

"May justice prevail."

And Seti dived into the chaotic waters.