Lord Ran's fist met the table with a rattling thud.

"Insolent! All of them!" he snarled. His impact did little more than scuff the surface, but his wrath was painfully evident. He stood and festered in his spot, the massive king-sized bed behind him a disheveled and silky mess. The very woman he shared it with hummed in disinterest while examining her nails; in comparison to the lord's broiling demeanor, she sat rather serenely near him.

"You are aware that this is not the first revolt," she asked, though her tongue handled it like a statement.

"It is one of too many!" he snapped, only to wince upon realizing his tone. He corrected himself, an apology tinging his voice. "Sphinx Nation is too powerful to fall at the hands of their own people."

Sekhmet giggled, a sound sultry and carnivorous like a panther's purr. "Perhaps you should start believing your own words." She rose and sauntered up behind the lord. Her front pressed into his back and fingertips smoothed across the expanse of his chest; the action pumped jelly into his legs and poured frost down his spine. Her lips grazed his shoulders lazily. "You're pushing your limitations, Ran. Worrying about this is..." Her mouth twitched. "Below you."

"Nothing concerning my nation is below me."

Nails scraped Lord Ran's skin.

"How selfish," the queen whispered. At first, her husband had mistaken it for a grumble, an utterance of displeasure, but the soothing circles she ran over the crescents on his chest spoke otherwise. It was a motion of apology. It couldn't have been anything else, he figured. Sekhmet's embraced tightened. "We rule together, Ran. This nation is ours. Correct?"

She was toying with a risk, she knew this, but Lord Ran's outright claim of Sphinx Nation had stirred a fury within her as ravenous as any beast, yet tamer and more practiced than the strike of a serpent. He had overstepped his boundaries, and whether he did this intentionally or not wasn't of her concern; all that mattered was reminding him of his place.

Realization sunk into Lord Ran, swift and suffocating. Suddenly, his wife's affectionate strokes morphed into cold slithers, her coos hissed sharply in his ears, and the confines of their chamber transformed into a predator's cove. "I..." His voice faltered, falling victim to a gulp as sweat beaded along his forehead. He cleared his throat before stuttering, "Y-yes. Together-"

"Your Majesties! Royal General reporting in!"

As if a spell shattered, the intensity evaporated from existence and Queen Sekhmet released Lord Ran. A sigh of relief nearly escaped the man, but he held it in at last moment. Slapping on what he hoped to be confidence matching his wife's own, the lord allowed their visitor entry. "Enter, General Dado."

Dado waltzed in with purpose and hurry. Aside from his helmet and gauntlets, he was still dawning his armor. "Apologies for intruding." He took a moment to bow, sweat spilling down his cheeks and becoming lost in the dark forest of his beard. "We've managed to stabilize the square and hush the majority."

Sekhmet cut into the conversation before Lord Ran could. "By majority, you mean not all." Her arm looped around the lord's-a silent warning. He heeded it loud and clear; his mouth clenched shut as a bitter glaze coated his insides.

Dado huffed in exhaustion. "Unfortunately, that is indeed the case. We've..." He hesitated to continue, a bout of conflict and disappointment filling his features to the brim.

Sekhmet possessed all the patience in the world when she needed to, however, she found no amusement in Dado's discomfort. Not this time, at least. "Out with it, general," she ordered.

Dado's next words scrambled from him. "We've come across a body."

"Casualties during a riot isn't unheard of," Lord Ran scoffed.

The general's gaze hardened. "It is when concerning the corpse of our priest."

"What!" A string of curses swam underneath the lord's breath. "Savages! All of them! What good would come from targeting our only father?!" Absolute rage rolled from him like a monsoon. Religion and following the principles of Ra rested a step below Princess Rayna on the ladder of social stability. The thought of murdering Sphinx Nation's one and only priest was pure sacrilege. It was uncertain if Father Hakim had even anointed a successor yet.

"They were apparently making a statement," Dado continued gravely, "The villagers were demanding Kazue's head on a stake. Since they couldn't get to him, I..." His throat ran dry. "I suppose they targeted the priest in retaliation and...they carved traitor into his chest. He was left there to die."

"Are we aware of which peasants did this?" Queen Sekhmet asked. It unsettled the lord and general how indifferent she appeared in face of this new development. Her expression remained graceful and stoic, not unlike the countless busts of her head scattered throughout the palace.

"No, we don't. But..." Dado's memory flashed back the band of men that escaped the siege. The men he turned a blind eye to. If only he had acted. If only he had encased his heart in iron and apprehended them, this wouldn't have happened. "I have suspicions of who they may be."

Queen Sekhmet waved her hand dismissively. "Seize and arrest them immediately." Her fingertips danced along Lord Ran's bicep. How small, she noted before cutting an appreciative glance at the general; comparing his physique to her husband's own was akin to holding up a boulder and papyrus in juxtaposition. Unfair. Unwarranted. Yet far from the unusual.

"If they wish to make a public example, then so shall we."

†

A child groaned and wailed in his mother's arms as blood seeped through bandages wrapped about his head.

Crimson stained and caked half of his face, while the rest were swathed in tears. The woman tried to shush him, grimacing from her own injury as she cradled her abdomen. Her wound appeared to be fresher; a coat of blood glistened on her palm and judging by the ghostly dullness in her eyes, she had lost a dangerous amount.

She was nothing more than one of nearly a hundred villagers who suffered the same fate. They all bustled about and screamed at the gates of Sphinx Palace. Sorrow, rage, and agony blended into one, echoing through the atmosphere like the woes of generations past. The bloodlust had somewhat died, but their thirst for recompense grew by leaps and bounds.

There had been a call for audience.

Villagers and wives and children alike were skeptical of the announcement, but the guards were adamant; besides, instincts warned them that disobeying would've lead to further bloodshed. Now that they have gathered, impatience swarmed the people as fatigue and pain began to settle in. They longed for an apology, retribution for the guards' violent treatment, and, above all else, the Hajin's decapitation. Anything else would not be accepted.

Suddenly, the twirling and clicking and shifting of gears. Even in the presence of the famous technological phenomenon, each soul among the crowd remained stoic. Awe had no home in their bruised and abused bodies. The gates parted with a long, whining creak and revealed ten guards. Six stood side by side in pairs, while the others shoved along four vendors in handcuffs.

"You're protecting a sin!" Jahib shouted, jerking fruitlessly against his bindings. He snarled over his shoulder at his captor. "And you call yourselves Egyptians! We're only doing what you're all too spineless and weak to-" A solid punch to his jaw silenced him. The guard reaffirmed his hold on the vendor while grumbling threats into his ear; though the words seemed intelligible, Jahib scowled. He attempted to spit blood at the guard, which earned another strike to his temple. He grew dizzy, reality doubling in his eyes as his feet clumsily shuffled forward.

Unlike Jahib, Serb and his followers were reduced to terrified husks.

The villagers exploded with renewed fury at the sight of their shackled brethren. However, their cries pounded on deaf ears and the guards pushed through without preamble, ignoring the abundance of flying spittle and ugly, twisted countenances. They have endured horrors of far greater caliber-in comparison, this was child's play.

Attention was pried away from them and placed back on the gates when the clomping of hooves overlapped each other. A majestic white mare appeared pulling along a large chariot; it was of royal and prestigious design, completed by the emblem of a sun crafted into the side of its body. Dado sat at the head of the chariot, his posture erect and expression blank as he handled the reigns.

Behind the chariot, a massive cart piled with wood rolled sluggishly. Two more horses hauled it in; they neighed and snorted, their powerful muscles contracting under the effort. Dispersed atop the pile were four giant stakes, which glistened ominously in the oranges and reds of dusk.

Roars quieted in purchase of creeping curiosity.

"What manner of display is this?" a peasant muttered in confusion.

"Are those stakes?"

"Mommy? W-what're they doing?"

"What does this have to do with us? Bring out the Hajin already!"

The guards, chariot, and horses slowed to a stop.

Dado reached underneath his seat and retracted an unlit torch. He dismounted and scanned the faces before him. With every gaze he met, the deeper his chest hollowed. Once again, his eyes momentarily shut and a prayer for forgiveness slipped through his teeth. He then stationed himself next to the chariot's door.

His voice boomed over everyone's heads.

"We call you to audience for the witnessing of four men's crimes!" A pause. A moment to soak in the heavy silence. "And the deliverance of a lesson," he reached for the handle, "From the royal family of Ra!"

Lord Ran was the first to emerge and the first to be on the receiving end of howls and protests from the crowd. A scowl itched to stretch across his visage, but he maintained composure and descended from the chariot proudly. Queen Sekhmet stepped out after him and no word nor number could describe his distaste when the yells hushed again. Any human being with a sense of touch could caress the fear and respect her presence provoked, and Lord Ran struggled to swallow the fact that he couldn't produce a similar reaction.

However, his anger shifted to shock as their shrieks tripled upon Rayna's appearance.

More importantly, at the sight of Kazue clinging to her robes.

Lord Ran marched forward and inhaled deeply until his chest ballooned. He released a shout, raw and raspy and sending convulsions through his diaphragm. "Cease!"

There was a waver, as if the villagers were prepping to heed his orders. Contrary to what he thought, they retaliated with further shouting and a few individuals attempted to squeeze through the guards. Lord Ran gaped. He experienced the community's incompetence and tantrums before, but this was on an entirely new level of disrespect. He never imagined the villagers lashing out at their precious princess, no matter what circumstances befell them. They were supposed to adore her unconditionally.

Once again, the audience's complaints sifted through the chaos.

"Get that thing away from her!"

"Kill the Hajin!"

"Bring the little devil's head!"

All the while, Kazue found his heartrate incapable of slowing; it threatened to rip through his ribs and scurry away into the slums, back to where he belonged. His frame quivered as he buried his face within Rayna's leg, trying to recount the reasons why he loved his guardian spirit. She is strong. She will protect me. She will never leave me. She doesn't call me H-haji--... Not even his mind could bear to utter the accursed title.

He half-expected the princess's nails to dig into his scalp or arm, her accustomed reaction to his public touchiness; however, she did not move a muscle. She merely remained rooted in spot while presenting a faux expression of hurt and astonishment.

Finally, Queen Sekhmet grew bored. Perhaps a tad agitated as well. She lifted a single hand and in the blink of an eye, her surroundings declined into whispers and gasps, each individual commoner holding their breaths in anticipation. Unbridled satisfaction and power swirled deep within her core, which was only enhanced by the huff that traveled from her husband. The obedience encompassed her pride deliciously.

Lowering her arm, she approached the prisoners. "Today, we stand before murderers. Absolute scum and the lowliest of criminals." Jahib puffed out his chest defiantly as her sight fell on him. She smirked in response, finding the act beyond amusing; she patted his cheek, gentle and mocking. "Not only will they pay the price for their foolishness, but all of you will learn of your fates if you follow in their footsteps." She scanned the vendor up and down, her sudden silence applying layer upon layer of suspense onto her viewers.

Another beat of stillness.

She gestured towards the stakes.

"Chain them up. Today, they burn."

Murmurs split the air. Jahib and his accomplices' eyes widened, their jaws fell slack with blossoming horror, and pleas for mercy were already fumbling to escape their mouths. They fought frantically against the guards, kicking and screaming and tugging desperately, but the cart grew closer by the second. They were dragged up to the stakes, where it took the guards a matter of minutes to bound them in place. Their wrists were restrained around the pole and chains coiled around their legs and torsos, limiting their movements to violent jerks of the head. The scent of distilled wine filled their nostrils.

Queen Sekhmet delivered Lord Ran a meaningful glance. Understanding the look, he cleared his throat and resumed from where the queen left off. "You all shall watch this! Let this image burn into your memory and remind you," Dado lit his torch and ran it along the wood surrounding the captives' feet, "That we do not tolerate rebellion! Not anymore!"

Flames kindle to life, illuminating the pure terror rattling Jahib to the bone. "S-stop! Please! This is madness!" he begged. Heat began licking at his ankles, triggering his first of many yelps of pain. He desperately craned his neck until he spotted Kazue. "You're doing this for a filthy-" Another scream. "F-for a filthy Hajin?!"

"We do this to discipline your kind!" Lord Ran said. "And we do this to avenge the death of a priest!" He turned to the peasants while pointing at Jahib. "You all fraternize with Father Hakim's murderer!? If so, then consider yourselves next!" An Egyptian child reeled back in fear while squeezing her father's hand, tears spilling down her malnourished cheeks.

"Father Hakim?" Kazue mumbled. He glanced up at Rayna in a mixture of disbelief and dread, silently begging her to reassure that he had misheard. Instead, the royal teen's jaw clenched. She nodded so stealthily that the boy nearly missed it; however, he didn't, and as the weight of everything crashed over him, oxygen fled from his lungs and the energy was sapped from his legs. "No...o-oh no. No, no, no, no, no," he whimpered. "N-not Father H-Hakim!" His pale face shot up several degrees and an unbearable sting erupted beneath his eyelids.

Jahib's screams intermingled with the others', creating a symphony of agony that would haunt Kazue's dreams for years to come. Just as the boy tried to shield his eyes within the confines of Rayna's robes, her fingers weaved through his locks and nails dug into his scalp. He winced from the sensation and grew stiff as the princess's voice floated into his ears.

"Watch, Kazue."

Hesitance held him hostage for a fraction of a moment. Gulping back his nausea, he slowly freed his face and watched as fire crawled up Jahib's thrashing, writhing, tortured form. His screams had devolved into something wild and animalistic, as if a creature was being ripped limb from limb by a pack of wolves. The boy hugged Rayna so closely that his cheek pressed into her thigh, yet his gaze didn't stray from the public execution.

Like pure instinct, a mantra thrummed through his core and tumbled from his lips.

"E-e...emotions equate to weakness. Emotions equate to weak...ness...Emotions equate to weakness." His tongue felt heavy and numb, yet the rest of his being pulsated with overwhelming sensations. Guilt. Disgust. Nausea. Fear. Comfort...Acceptance.

However, nausea won out.

His insides lurched, causing him to emit a gurgling groan. Slapping a hand over his mouth, Kazue raced around to the front of the chariot and emptied what little contents he had in his stomach onto the ground. His throat burned, the vileness of acid blanketing his taste buds.

The screams lasted for hours.

†

Evening came.

Kazue was perched on the edge of Rayna's bed, adorning fresh robes for sleep and a distant, bland expression. The princess was prepped for slumber as well, yet she sat up rigid and observant of the child's every move. He hadn't said a single word since discovering Father Hakim's murder and his innate light failed to blind her. In fact, she doubted it still existed. Or perhaps, just maybe, it retreated within him to recover from the execution, to slather itself in the balm of his innocent, untainted mind.

Rayna felt the strange obligation to speak and lift the stifling atmosphere, but the aches lingering along her back clouded her thoughts. She strangled her fingers within her lap. She couldn't afford to succumb to whatever foreign sentiment was driving daggers through her heart, not when all she could imagine was a whip tearing gashes through her skin-

"It's my fault, isn't it?"

Rayna's eyes flickered up, visibly caught off guard.

Kazue didn't wait for a reply. He had yet to look at her; the far wall beckoned his attention. "F-Father Hakim. He's...he's dead. Because of me." A sniffle and tremble of the lips. "A-all, all I do is bring b-bad things to everyone." At long last, he locked eyes with her, but Rayna deeply wished he hadn't. The absolute regret and sorrow raging behind his pupils expanded the blade within her chest. "I j-just wanted him to ado-...a-adopt me! A-and now I got him killed!" Globules rolled down his cheeks, intermingling at his chin with a thin rivulet of mucus. He attempted to wipe his face clean, but it just smeared the mess all over. His breathing grew erratic and labored.

"G-guardian spirit?" He crawled further up and plopped into the princess's lap, who fell as frozen as a statue. Her lips parted, tempted to snap at the boy, but the art form of language suddenly baffled her. Kazue tugged and twisted his sleeves.

"I don't bring bad things for you, d-do I?"

Yes, he did. He brought so many bad things. He brought confusion. He dismantled the very foundations of her emotional balance and left her vulnerable in an abyss of questions. He awoken sentiments that rendered her sickeningly weak. He stirred suspicion and a critical eye from her mother. He made her act recklessly, carrying his unconscious form back to her room. He brought her nothing but pain and frustration.

Rayna swallowed.

"Bad things always come to me," she said.

It didn't explain why Kazue was in her life, but it was the most honest answer she was willing to give. Like the snapping of a thread, Kazue crumbled and sobbed openly into her lap. He gripped fistfuls of the sheets.

"I-I'm so s-sorry!"

Rayna's hand lifted, hovering over the child's head...

It came to rest in his locks and remained there. Kazue's cries strengthened in retaliation. Minutes evolved into hours. Another suspended eternity forced the princess to surrender and she internally lamented over her lack of fight. It became easy to submit to it. Far too easy for her peace of mind. Something changed, and it terrified her more than any punishment Queen Sekhmet could give.

†

Kazue had cried himself to sleep, practically glued to Rayna's lap. A puddle of drool soaked through the sheets, leaving her leg uncomfortably sodden. A grimace twisted her lips and yet, despite the disgust, her hand stayed. Exhaustion should've seized her hours ago, but her thoughts ran rampant that night and denied her the sweet release of sleep.

Her drowsy eyes wondered over the child. He was still an enigma she had yet to solve. The hope waned, degrading and decomposing until its remains were bits of pitiful minerals lying supine in the soil-she'd never figure him out.

"What sort of child are you?" she whispered.

However, she sighed upon noticing how horribly disheveled his robes were. The cloth slipped from his shoulder and exposed his skin to a draft. She could make out a sheen of goosebumps traveling down his back, disappearing underneath silk. She reached out to adjust it with her free hand, but then fell motionless.

A scar.

Disfigured tissue the color of soft pink. Before she could second-guess her actions, Rayna pulled the robe down further and examined it.

She inhaled sharply.

She had seen this image before.

Kazue's scar resembled the symbol etched into the illegal device.