AN: Hey all! Sorry for the slow update. This chapter was an absolute BEAST! I hope you enjoy reading it, even if it's a bit on the long side. Regardless, thanks for your patience, and for continuing to come along with me on this wild ride! :)

Even in the dead of night, the road to Giza was uncomfortably warm.

Though Atem had wanted to ride at the head of the column, to give himself the benefit of a headwind, Mahad and Seto had insisted on being the lead riders. As was tradition, Atem and Satiah rode in the middle of the convoy, tailed closely by two lesser priests of the Memphis Conclave, whose horses were drawing an enormous stone tablet behind them. With any luck, the slab would bear the ka of Horus by morning.

The column was also flanked by two lines of footsoldiers, and the effort of their movement, together with the lingering heat of the sand, turned the air around the convoy thick and humid. While they navigated the miles of dunes between them and their destination, Atem felt his thoughts weighing as heavy as the air. He wanted to be comforted by the presence of his wife beside him — Satiah herself looked ready to take on half the world with her warrior's attire and determined gaze, which seemed not to have left Menkaura's pyramid since it came into view just outside the Memphis city limits. Still, Atem couldn't help but feel anxious at the thought of asking Satiah to jump feet-first into danger with him.

His doubts were only multiplied by the resistance of his court — when he'd told them of his intention to take Satiah with him into the pyramids, Atem thought Aknadin's Millennium Eye might pop out of his skull. Indeed, if Atem hadn't already castigated his Guardians for speaking against the queen, it was likely Aknadin wouldn't have been able to hold his tongue. Mahad and Seto, too, seemed skeptical of the plan, which required them to sit idle on the surface while their Pharaoh descended into an ancient tomb to face a power unseen for centuries.

Hours later, Mahad and Seto were still wearing their uncertainties plain as day in their postures, though Atem wondered if it had more to do with their relationship to each other than anything else. It seemed ever since they met, the two priests bore an unspoken rivalry between them — in court sessions, they contradicted one another no matter the topic, and in sparring matches they often targeted each other before any other opponent. Even now, Atem could hear them bickering over which star to use to gauge the time, and listening to their hushed banter brought an unexpected smile to Atem's lips.

Soon, the convoy crested a huge dune, bringing them up to eye-level with the base of Menkaura's pyramid. Even though it was the smallest of the three Great Pyramids, Menkaura's tomb was no less imposing than his father's and grandfather's, and it somehow seemed even larger than the last time Atem had stood in its shadow, some ten years earlier.

After a brief pause to survey the landscape, the convoy continued onward, following a trail northeast to avoid a known bandit hideout in the mastabas. They were able to move much faster on the packed sand, and soon they descended into a small depression against the north face of the pyramid, where its base was split with a large, craggy opening. Here, the convoy came to a halt, with the footsoldiers forming a neat circle to corral the horses while Atem and the priests dismounted. Atem felt his eyes drawn upward, and even in the quiet light of the stars, the pyramidion atop Menkaura's tomb scintillated brightly.

Just then, he felt a presence behind him, and he knew even without looking that Satiah was about to lay a hand on his shoulder. At her touch, he finally turned, trying to let himself feel assured by her confident aura.

"Are you ready?" she asked.

Atem barely heard her over the pounding of his heart, but he nodded all the same. With a deep breath, he moved to stand before the void at the foot of the pyramid. While he stared into the whistling shaft, he heard the rush of fire and footsteps at his back. He turned, seeing Seto and Mahad holding lit torches in their hands, which they offered as they approached. Atem and Satiah each took one, and the light revealed looks of worry on both Mahad's and Seto's faces.

"My Pharaoh — my queen," Mahad said, raising a hand to cover his heart. "I must beg you once more — let me accompany you into this chamber."

"We are your sworn protectors," Seto agreed. "It goes against our very nature to let you stride so willingly into harm's way."

"Thank you, my friends," Atem said, trying his best to limit the waver in his voice. "But this is the way it must be." He glanced briefly to Satiah, surprised to find her gazing at the two Guardians, looking somewhat touched.

"I promise we will return," she declared. "And when we do, your king and country will be stronger for it."

Seto and Mahad lowered their heads in deference to their queen.

"Seto," Atem said, summoning the priest's eyes up again. "I know not what form the Holy Ka will take, should we be deemed worthy to receive it. You must be ready to capture it at any moment."

Seto nodded firmly, gripping his Millennium Rod close to his chest.

At this, Atem turned to his wife once more. For a long moment, he stared at her, tethering himself to the light in her eyes before finally allowing himself to be embraced by the darkness below.

They crept in silence along quiet corridors and chambers — a path Atem had all but memorized from studying plans left by the tomb builders, but which seemed much closer and narrower now that he was in them. The air, too, grew ever denser as they descended, until finally, they rounded a bend to the precipice of Menkaura's burial chamber.

The room itself was small and unadorned — as was tradition, the Pharaoh's tomb had its own separate chambers dedicated to storing his worldly possessions for use in the afterlife. All that stood before them now was Menkaura's lonely sarcophagus — close to the sidewall and slightly askew from the middle of the room.

Centering himself with a deep breath, Atem stepped over the threshold and came to stand over his predecessor's sarcophagus — heavy, gray, and etched with all the great legends of his time. Satiah soon joined him, sliding her torch into a rusted sconce on the wall above to help light the thick stone. But as she stepped back, her eyes were not drawn to Menkaura's resting place — she continued looking straight at Atem, her brow set low with conviction.

After bending to lay his own torch on the ground beside him, Atem returned his eyes to the top of the sarcophagus. He held his palms upward and opened his mouth to utter the spell that had been ingrained in his very mind and heart and being since he first read it. But for a long time, it seemed as though the words were escaping him. Satiah must have felt it too — she lifted a hand and placed it again on his shoulder, squeezing tightly and sending her strength into his soul.

"'Brave Horus,'" he began, "'god of sky and strife — in your Hand, you wield the blade of righteous victory. Reveal your weapon to us, so that we may use it to strike down the enemies of your people.'"

His words echoed hollow in the close chamber, but when the darkness finally swallowed his intonation, only silence dared to follow.

Then suddenly — light.

Blinding. Warm. Familiar, yet ancient. Quiet — almost deafeningly so.

The floor beneath his feet fell away, and then came a rush of air from below, hot like fire and filled with the grit of sand.

Even as he tumbled through the flashing light and warmth, Atem thought only of Satiah. He reached for her — tried to scream for her, but the heat swallowed his voice, sending scorched air and sand scratching down his throat like freshly forged nails.

In the midst of a strangled breath, his body made contact with something firm, but forgiving. Thankfully, he landed shoulder-first, and though the impact knocked the wind out of him, he was able to quickly scramble to his feet, taking in his surroundings. He was standing between two windblown dunes, with the night sky overhead choked by dark thunderheads. Flashes of white streaked from cloud to cloud, followed soon after by low, angry rumbles.

Still coughing wet grit from his lungs, Atem stumbled up one of the dunes, greeted with a broken landscape: Rows of mudbrick buildings lined a street overrun with sand, and the path snaked upward through even more half-crumbled structures toward the darkened horizon in the distance. Suddenly, a flash of light illuminated a familiar shape where the land met the sky — two pylons, standing like mountains against the thrashing storm.

He was about to call out for Satiah when the muffled sound of coughing reached his ears. He turned to see his wife emerging from an alley between two buildings, beating her hand against her chest and stumbling toward him. He raced to meet her, reaching out to support her as she cleared her airways enough to speak.

"Where are we?" she heaved.

Atem looked over his shoulder. "I think we're in Thebes," he said, pointing to the horizon, where the deep blue glow of heavy clouds continued to gather. The flashes grew more frequent and concentrated above the pylons there, revealing the familiar walls of the royal palace — behind which appeared to be the source of this anomalous storm.

Atem looked back at Satiah, and suddenly her eyes grew wide. "Listen!" she gasped.

Between more rolls of thunder, Atem heard it — high, thin clashes, like metal against metal, all drenched in sounds of pain and struggle. Cautiously, Atem pursued the noise further up the street, stopping where a large building marked a bend in the path. He pressed his back up against the wall and maneuvered himself to the edge so he could peer around the corner unseen. Squinting through the dark, he was greeted with a chaotic scene: dozens of footsoldiers were clashing together in an all-out brawl, swinging hulking swords and long spears and painting the sand red with their strife.

In the mayhem, Atem could barely distinguish the belligerents of this battle. One side — the one that appeared to be winning — bore shades of red on their armor, with the other favoring blue. But as Atem looked closer, it seemed the soldiers themselves were barely men at all — beneath their bronze helmets were only blackened shadows, with two piercing white lights shining out where their eyes should have been.

Suddenly, one of the red-clad spectres cut down its opponent, allowing Atem to glimpse the shield it held: a flash of lightning overhead clearly illuminated the cartouche of Amenhotep emblazoned upon the shaped bronze. His heart hammering with fear, Atem looked down at the spectre's conquered adversary — and even drenched in blood, Atem instantly recognized the symbol of Ramesses the Great painted on the soldier's armor.

"Atem!"

Satiah's voice cut clear over the sounds of the battle, and Atem turned to see more red-clad warriors emerging from an alleyway behind them. Unfortunately, Satiah's exclamation seemed to have alerted the soldiers further up the street as well, who were now subduing the last of Ramesses' men. Panicked, Atem backed up into his wife and began turning in a circle, looking for some way to escape the encroaching apparitions.

"What are these things?" Satiah hissed, pressing her shoulders up against his.

"I don't know," Atem replied. "They look almost like ghosts… Projections of memory, perhaps — from the battle between Amenhotep and Ramesses."

Satiah huffed her frustration, and Atem continued to sweep his eyes around the clearing. But it seemed no matter which way he faced, only the looming shadow of the palace filled his vision. Before long, they were surrounded, and the groans of Amenhotep's undead minions grew as deep and menacing as the thunder overhead.

Just then, a flash caught his eye — one of the soldiers had lunged toward Satiah, who was already lifting her hand to the sky by the time the spectre took two steps. Instantly, a sharp streak of magic struck the sand, sending the soldier tumbling backward into his comrades. Atem was relieved to see the Shieldmaiden materializing before his wife, her shield drawn up high and her spear tucked low.

Amenhotep's soldiers let out rippling cries of anger. While the line of spectres before him began moving in unison, Atem raised his own hand above his head. "Black Luster Soldier, heed my call!"

His vision was blinded temporarily by another warm pillar of light, from which the fabled Black Luster Soldier soon emerged. Nearly two stories tall and armed with a hulking blade, Atem was confident the Soldier would make quick work of Amenhotep's army. Predictably, as the first wave of lumbering minions began to attack, they were cut down as easily as stalks of barley. Even so, Atem knew it would be foolish to stay where they were — and while Satiah's Shieldmaiden seemed to be holding her own as well, the waves of soldiers were clearly only growing larger.

"We have to get to the palace!" Atem called to Satiah. Over his shoulder, he saw her nod her agreement.

Together with their spirits, they turned north toward the palace, which rose above the sea of warriors like cliffs over a thrashing surf.

Atem braced himself as the bloodthirsty spectres crashed upon them, and in flashes of bronze and silver and umbral black, he and Satiah cleaved a path through their foes. The Shieldmaiden was methodical — precise; the Black Luster Soldier, mighty and merciless. When a moment ago, Atem had been stricken by dread, with each swing of his monster's blade, he could feel his soul growing hot with vigor. These sensations felt strangely foreign to him — any other time, casting such powerful magic would have quickly drained him of his ba. But as he looked over at Satiah, watching lightning flashing in her eyes as she commanded her spirit, he felt almost unstoppable.

Soon, they crested a hill, bringing them to the base of the promenade leading to the south-facing pylons of the palace. Briefly, Atem looked back to see decimation in their wake, but the stairs to the top of the promenade were swarming with still more warriors.

Satiah ordered her Shieldmaiden to advance, but Atem reached out a hand to stop her. "You protect the rear — leave this to me!" he called, sweeping his arm out to the Black Luster Soldier. The powerful creature rushed up to the bottom of the stairs, where a line of four men had begun descending toward them. The Soldier coiled its attacking arm back, then thrust it forward, skewering all four men as easily as fish to a spear. With a low growl, the Soldier hoisted its blade off the side of the stairs, sending the conquered minions sliding off to land in a crumpled heap in the sand.

Atem grinned wickedly, turning to motion for Satiah. She concealed her wonder with a smirk of her own, then quickly set off up the stairs behind the Black Luster Soldier.

"Not bad," she muttered as she passed. "But these are all mine."

Predictably, more soldiers stood between them and the palace, and Satiah immediately set to work ordering her Shieldmaiden to clear a path. Atem was in awe watching his wife work — the way her head looked to be on a swivel as she identified and called out the nearest threat. She and her ka seemed to be in perfect sync, despite the many weeks they'd spent apart, and Atem found himself wondering how he had ever considered leaving Satiah behind.

Just then, the air broke with a low, deafening sound that Atem at first thought to be another crash of thunder — but as his eyes were drawn to the source of it, above the palace walls, he was greeted with a harrowing sight: a shadow was cast upon the blue-black clouds, in the shape of two great webbed wings, unfurling to nearly the height and length of the pylons themselves.

Rapt by the sight as well, Satiah faltered a moment, long enough for her Shieldmaiden to be besieged by spectres. One of Amenhotep's minions managed to slash its sword across the spirit's shoulder, causing her to roar in pain and drop to one knee. Satiah, too, hissed sharply and grasped her arm. Incensed, Atem immediately sent his Black Luster Soldier in to deal with the attackers. In three wide swings of his sword, the spirit cut down the remaining warriors surrounding the gate of the palace. Atem turned back to Satiah, but she and her ka had already gathered themselves and turned to face the dark corridor beyond the gate.

With the path cleared, Atem ordered his ka to lead the way into the palace. Though the torches along the halls had all been snuffed out, he was able to follow the burnished glint of the Black Luster Soldier as it plunged deep into the darkness. More low rumbles and inhuman roars shook the palace walls, but Atem hardened himself, drawing on his new strength in preparation for what they would find at the heart of the storm.

As they rounded the corner toward the throne room, they were stopped in their tracks by an earth-shattering blast erupting through the wall, sending sand and stone cascading over their heads. Satiah's ka raised her shield to protect them from the debris, partially concealing a flash of golden scales which hung out of the collapsed wall for a moment before slithering back inside the throne room.

Atem and Satiah shared a stunned look before climbing over the rubble and making for the door. As they stepped up to the crumbling ingress, the sights and sounds of a raucous battle splashed over them, painting the throne room with flashes of light and chaos. Atem led the way just inside the door, crouching behind a pillar to get a better look at the clash.

Two colossal ka were tangling with one another — one a towering creature of blue, the other gold-tinged and scaled. The blue monster — built of hulking sinew, with razor-sharp teeth and claws — was easily twice as tall as the other, and already looked to have the upper hand in the fight. Its foe was a dragon-like creature with a long, slithering body of gold and a black underbelly. As Atem looked closer, he realized the creature had three heads — two of which were currently clutched within the claws of the blue monster.

"Look!"

Satiah stretched out her finger toward the left side of the throne room, and in the flash of the strife, Atem clearly saw a man standing behind the blue ka. He was tall and noble, but he wore no royal regalia or symbols about his battleworn armor. Instinctively, Atem swept his eyes to the other side of the arena. Sure enough, standing staggered behind the gold spirit was another man — and this one was instantly recognizable as Amenhotep. His long, sharp features were dripping with blood, his pschent crown sliding down his narrow brow.

By the time Atem returned his gaze to the battle, the throne room was already shaking with another guttural cry. The blue spirit spread and beat its webbed wings, helping to balance its weight as it grappled the gold dragon down to the floor of the arena, pinning it beneath its clawed foot.

Behind it, the spirit's master stepped up and thrust out his hand. "Obelisk!" the man cried, "mighty Sword of Horus! Send this heretic to the underworld! God Hand Crusher!"

The creature lifted its immense hand above its head, gathering a swarm of lightning in its palm before bringing it back down to the earth and delivering a deadly blow to its foe.

The chamber was filled with a chorus of pain and agony, both from Amenhotep and his ka, which was now turning to stone beneath the blue spirit — Obelisk, as it was called. The heretic Pharaoh fell prostrate to the ground with a pitiful whimper — vanquished once and for all by Ramesses the Great.

Atem watched Egypt's most glorious king turn his gaze up to his spirit, whose red eyes glinted triumphantly as a silence fell over the arena. But not a shadow of a moment passed before both Ramesses and Obelisk turned their heads to where Atem and Satiah stood crouched in their dark corner of the throne room. Frozen with fear, Atem could do nothing but stare back — watching as Amenhotep, his spirit, and Ramesses' own body slowly turned brown and withered, blown away on the winds like so much sand in the desert, leaving nothing but the mighty Obelisk standing at the center of the arena.

The creature's shining teeth parted to release a roar of defiance. It raised its hands over its head again, gathering more lightning at its fingertips.

"What is it doing?" Satiah hissed.

Atem felt a chill ricochet down his spine. He grabbed Satiah's hand, then pulled her out from behind the pillar, just as Obelisk sent a storm of lightning to strike where they'd just been standing.

Taking shelter behind another pillar, Atem checked to make sure their spirits had made it out as well. "If I had to guess — it's challenging us to a duel," Atem explained to Satiah.

"What?! How can we possibly—"

But she was cut off again, this time by another bolt of thunder that sent part of the ceiling crashing down before them.

Atem was not content to let the challenge go unanswered. Centering himself with a sharp breath, he dashed out from behind the pillar, turning to face the Holy Ka before him. "Black Luster Soldier — attack!"

Small though it was compared to Obelisk, the Soldier did not hesitate to heed its master's call. Bravely, it streaked across the floor of the throne room, kicking off the ground to launch itself into it's foe's exposed core. Atem braced himself for the impact, which came a moment later, to the tune of split flesh and a roar of pain. Obelisk reeled back, and Atem clenched his fists in triumph — but his celebration was premature. The God reached out one of its clawed hands and clamped down on the Soldier's legs; with a lazy flick of its wrists, Obelisk sent Atem's spirit careening toward the earth.

The Black Luster Soldier landed hard on the floor of the throne room, leaving a crater of cracked tiles and sending all the air rushing out of Atem's lungs. He doubled over and clutched his middle, just barely managing to stay on his feet.

"Atem!"

Satiah's voice was drowned in another thunderous bellow, and Atem saw a shadow growing over him and his spirit where it lay writhing a few yards away. By the time Atem straightened, Obelisk was already raising its arm to deliver another blow of its God Hand to the Black Luster Soldier.

Suddenly, a streak of silver caught his eye, rushing out of the blackness to meet the God's fist. The throne room was then engulfed in white light, forcing Atem to wince away. But to his ears came an unmistakable sound: Satiah crying out in pain and her body collapsing to the ground.

As the light dissipated, he was greeted first with the sight of the Shieldmaiden's limp form, lying beside the Black Luster Soldier, her shield discarded and cracked in half from where the God's fist had collided with it. He snapped his eyes behind, just in time to see Satiah pulling herself to her feet, her quivering arms hugging herself.

Instantly, Atem rushed to her, taking her beneath the arm and leading her behind a hypostyle pillar nearby. Over his shoulder, he saw the Soldier and the Shieldmaiden staggering to their feet and retreating as well.

"Brute force won't be enough," Satiah choked. Her breaths were labored — her ba winnowing. "You must tame it!"

Atem danced his eyes across her pained face, trying to find strength in her words again.

Suddenly, she grabbed his arm, squeezing hard. "Trust in your own ka," she gasped.

Blinking, Atem hesitated. But another low growl forced him back to the present moment. With a firm nod, he lowered Satiah to the ground against the pillar, then took her hands and kissed them before revealing himself to the God once more.

The chamber shook with a roar of rage, but Atem stood tall. He raised his arm to the sky, feeling heat and power coursing through him as he summoned his own ka. The Magician's Apprentice materialized before him, violet robes unfurling, looking stronger and fiercer than Atem had ever seen. Tamed, Atem remembered. It must be tamed.

The Apprentice reacted to Atem's thoughts immediately. Its spellbook disappeared with a loud pop, replaced a moment later with what looked like a long, coiled rope. But as the spirit unfurled the length and snapped it outward, Atem realized it was a whip — black and sharp, with a barbed tip that sparked as it cracked through the air. Grinning with new courage, Atem thrust his hand out to his ka.

"Attack!"

The Apprentice disappeared in a streak of violet, the length of its whip trailing behind. A moment later, the ka reappeared over Obelisk's shoulder and lashed the sharp leather harshly across the God's back. With a groan, the mighty spirit stumbled forward in an attempt to escape the next attack, but its mass was simply too immense.

"Again!"

Another loud crack filled the chamber, followed by more pealing roars.

"Again!"

The whip fell once more.

Finally, the God made an attempt to strike back, swiping its huge claws at the Apprentice. But the lithe creature was too quick — it disappeared in another purple flash, this time materializing by a nearby pillar. It flicked its whip around the base of the column, causing the barbed end to grip to itself, anchoring it in place. Again, Obelisk pursued, but with another easy dodge, the Apprentice flew across the chamber, crossing around behind another pillar, this time near the ceiling. The God stumbled into the taut line of the whip, and it soon found more of the sharp leather wrapping around its shoulders as the Apprentice once again swept across the throne room. Around and around, the spirit spun, tangling the God between leather and stone, until Obelisk could no longer move any of its extremities.

The Apprentice finally reappeared before Atem, its shaded features bearing a smug grin. Atem nodded, and his ka responded by pulling hard on the end of the whip, causing the God to lose its balance and come crashing into the nearmost pillar. The column crumbled and rained upon Obelisk as both fell to the earth, sending sand and smoke into an enormous plume above the floor. When the air cleared, Atem's ka was hovering proudly over its conquered foe, no longer an apprentice magician, but a God-Tamer.

But Obelisk still moved. Groaning its anger, its wings struggled against the whip which bound it, and Atem feared it would soon break free. Then, suddenly, another flicker of movement caught his eye. The Shieldmaiden had staggered out from behind a nearby pillar, clutching her spear in both hands. She stumbled forward, casting her eyes up at the Magician, who returned the gaze with wonder. With a triumphant roar, the Shieldmaiden threw her spear into the air, straight at Atem's ka.

In a flash of silver light, the Magician caught the spear, spun it downward, and thrust it straight between the God's shoulder blades.

Instantly, the chamber was filled with the same light and emptiness which had marked their arrival to this dreamscape. Through squinted eyes, Atem saw the form of the God melting into a spectral glow, twisting and braiding around itself until it was called upward toward the heavens, as fast as lightning streaking across the sky.

The force of its departure knocked Atem off his feet, bringing him crashing to the floor. He blinked the stars from his eyes, greeted now with an unfamiliar ceiling, much lower than that of the throne room. As he sat up, the vague edges of a torchlit sarcophagus took shape in the dark, flanked by Satiah's writhing form.

Atem surged to his feet and knelt beside her, helping her to sit up. "Are you alright?" he breathed.

She nodded, though a cough shook her lungs before she could speak. "Did we succeed?"

Atem looked toward the exit of the burial chamber, his heart thrashing with anticipation and wonder and fear. Satiah was first to scramble to her feet, bracing herself against Menkaura's sarcophagus to grab the torch she'd left in the sconce. They exchanged nervous glances before hurrying back through the pyramid, searching for the weak flicker of starlight at the end of the maze of corridors.

When at last they emerged back in the shifting sands, they were met with silence — and eyes. Dozens and dozens of eyes. Atem stared back at them, searching for Seto and Mahad among the sea of faces. He finally found them, standing beside the huge slab in the middle of the clearing — the slab now etched with the likeness of Obelisk, the Sword of Horus.

Immediately, Atem turned to Satiah. She dropped the torch and threw her arms around him, crashing her lips into his to share in the euphoria of their triumph. Atem held to her, kissing her fiercely even as laughter and amused applause began to ripple amongst their comrades. The soldiers banged their spears against their shields, and Atem felt his captured lips turning up into a smile.

They finally broke apart only at the sound of a throat being cleared nearby. Mahad was approaching, towing two horses behind him, which he offered to Atem and Satiah with a sheepish grin. King and Queen each took their reins and mounted, setting off through the desert to chase this newly kindled joy.

Atem was glad that the ride back through the desert hadn't tempered Satiah's passion in the least. From the moment they dismounted their horses and gave them to the stablehands, she turned to him with a knowing smile, then reached her hand out to him. He took it, and together they raced through the villa courtyard like forbidden lovers searching for a secret place to steal kisses.

And kiss they did — after bursting through the door to the nomark's suite and climbing the stairs to the bedchamber, Satiah threw her arms around his neck and pressed her lips against his as ardently as she had in the shadow of the pyramid. He returned the affections, and, after they had both kicked themselves free of their sandals, Atem carefully backed his way through the room until he was pinned against the wall between the bed and the bureau. Satiah reached a hand out to steady herself, then pulled away slightly and set her fiery eyes on his. With her free hand, she reached up and took hold of the Pendant around his neck, lifting it up and over his head. With her eyes still locked on his, she tossed it carelessly onto the bureau before surging forward to resume their kiss.

While their lips pulsed together in passion, Atem followed her cues and began removing her cloak and twisting her bangles from her wrists, throwing both onto the floor behind her. All the while, Satiah helped him free of his own adornments, his arm bands and gold-plated belt falling loudly to the floor a moment later. Their kiss was broken only when it came time for Atem to remove his tunic, which he dropped hastily to his side.

As the cool night air struck his skin, Atem's breath caught in his throat, halting his passion long enough for him to drink in the sight of Satiah standing before him in only her dress. Without the aid of a sash, the linen draped in one smooth line down her body, all the way to the floor. Satiah, too, took time to run her eyes across him, and Atem realized that this would, in all likelihood, be the most freely they had looked upon one another in the two months of their marriage. The thought set his heart aglow with a faithful thrill.

Slowly, he reached both hands up to rest at the base of her neck, his thumbs curling beneath the straps of her dress. Satiah sucked in a deep breath, and Atem hesitated, ducking his head low so as not to lose her drifting gaze.

"Sati," he said, his voice a low whisper. "I love you. You understand that, don't you?"

Her dark lashes fluttered as she blinked up at him, long and slow and trustful. Then, gradually, the warmth returned to her eyes and the smile to her lips, and she gave him a fearless nod, ready to join him in discovering this new and blossoming world of love.