Hello, dear readers! Pardon me for the amount of time between my teaser and this full-length chapter. I was just busy with the whole holidays commotion, and thinking up stuff and figuring out what to say for the latter part of this chapter. (You'll understand soon.) Anyway, I thought that below I'd make a reference list for the various foreign terms (besides the more obvious, wider-known ones) I use, so here you go! Happy reading!
Am-heh- A man with the head of a vicious hunting dog, he resides on a lake of fire in the underworld. Am-heh means "Devourer of Millions" and he could only be controlled by Atum, the father of the gods. (This is significant cause the Pharaoh's name is a variation of Atum, so keep that in mind as more chapters come out.)
Lake of Fire- These appear both in Christian and Ancient Egyptian religions, as an after-death place for the destruction of the wicked. Fire demons were also frequent here in the Ancient Egyptian underworld.
Ammit- Known as the "Devourer of the Dead", she is a demon who has the head of a crocodile, the front body of a lion, and the back body of a hippo. After death, a person's heart would be weighed by Anubis, the god of the dead, on a scale against the feather of Ma'at, the goddess of truth and justice. If the heart was heavier than the feather, the person's soul would be deemed "impure," and Ammit would eat the heart, dooming the person to wander forever as a restless spirit.
Renenutet- the goddess of plenty and good fortune.
Shematy- 1/12 of a deben, the metric equivalent of 13.6 grams in the Middle and Old Kingdoms of Egypt, and 91 grams during the New Kingdom of Egypt.
Season- Unlike ours, the Egyptians divided the calendar year into three 120-day seasons, which were made up of 4 months of 30 days.
. . .
Atem woke, sitting bolt upright as Rania's lifeless face passed into darkness behind his mind's eye. With one hand, he shakily wiped a thin sheen of sweat off his face as he attempted to process his vision. His hand trailed down his chin to touch the stone resting on his bare chest, as he picked it up and gazed at the Orichalcos.
What caused me to have that dream? The way I was acting . . . My thought processes . . . By the gods, I was Am-heh himself!
Dropping the stone to let it dangle on its chain, the Pharaoh put his face in his hands, then slid them back through his hair in exasperation. Untangling himself from the fine sheets covering his bed, he went out his chamber door to the dew-soaked balcony, as the first sun rays lightly began to kiss the tops of his feet. Leaning his forearms against the cold stone barrier, he looked into the distance toward the village, which was already bathing in Ra's glow. His eyes lighted on Rania's dwelling, even at this distance, where he was certain she and her mother would be going about their village life.
Notwithstanding the fact that they were going to be living in the palace in five (or more) days' time. She was going to be inside his domain, permanently. He felt his lips start to curl up into a smile, then part of his nightmare sounded inside his mind.
"No . . . You wouldn't . . . Atem, how . . . how could you?"
Her wide gaze flashed behind his own so that he no longer saw the bright white of the still-dawning sky, but the whites of Rania's eyes. They had been sick with fear, yet they were frozen on Atem's face, and not on the object that, he was sure, had caused the damage. Fingering the necklace again, he weighed some considerations:
Though that was a dream, it felt as strong as any vision. I thought and performed every action I took. Yet Rania . . . she looked petrified, as if Am-heh really were standing before her, whispering those foul words in her ear . . . Do I truly become that hideous, greedy being in the future? Do I succumb to the darkness, so that if I do not heed this nightmare's warning, I may see that same dread in her in reality? That could already be true . . . I've seen that expression before, though not quite as strong, during my last few encounters . . . Could there be a connection between Rania's fear and the Orichalcos?
Mystified, Atem held up the stone by its chain. The light-green crystal flickered innocently in the shadows that were still cast by the fleeing darkness, as though asking whether it was capable of enticing the wearer to do such deeds.
"please end my life . . ."
As the spectre of Rania's final plea echoed throughout his mind, he deciphered for the first time, alongside the hopelessness that had seemed to flood her very being as she lay caught by his hands, resignation, no doubt toward the fate worse than death that the Pharaoh had promised her.
Shaking his head to clear her heartbreaking voice from his mind, Atem mentally admitted his own pure, growing feelings for the girl as he rashly wondered what would happen were he to tear the stone and chain from his neck and cast them into the now-glittering air far above the desert sand. Were that not enough, he thought, as his fury at this evil grew, perhaps he could journey to the netherworld and throw the Orichalcos deep into the very Lake of Fire itself. Perhaps he might be lost to the jaws of Ammit or some other demons, and perhaps his kingdom would be bereft of its ruler, but at least no kind of harm would await and reveal itself to Rania.
Refocusing his gaze on the crystal before his eyes, Atem wondered what he would gain from the exchange, weighing what his own efforts had given him and what he would stand to lose should he dispose of the valuable stone: the respect of a girl against a fulfilled lust, the awe and obedience of a kingdom against the fear from his enemies, and finally, regard for himself as an honorable person against the inevitable power. Clenching his hand around the stone suddenly, the Pharaoh reflected on his ultimate choice. I, however, have gained increasing power since the Orichalcos has granted this shard to me, power that I can use to shield Rania and all the realm from any threat that lurks outside our borders. No, my own feelings toward the realm will ultimately triumph over the shadows that reside within.
His reflections finished, Atem turned aside from the memory-inducing sunrise into the shadowy compartments of the royal chambers.
. . .
Five days.
Five short days to make the transition from the once well-off village dwelling of her husband to the considerably richer buildings of the palace servants. Even after all the years spent practically in its shadow, Charissa never dreamed that she would have the chance to set foot where Aharon had walked.
Yet, here she was, breathlessly thanking the goddess Renenutet for her blessing upon her and her daughter as Ra rose to reign over the heavens. She was still not sure if this was a waking dream, for Rania had insisted on telling her in the morning, once Isis had escorted her back the previous night. Such was the effect of the news on Charissa that, she was sure, sleep could hardly have been had the previous night had she been it's receiver.
Sleep had surprisingly been the first thing on the bearer's mind when she brought back the news. Charissa glanced over to where Rania was going about her morning chores, a small smile ever on her face when she saw her mother. Charissa knew that she was most likely thinking about her request, and about how graciously it had been granted by the Pharaoh.
As she sat by one of only two windows in their little dwelling, Charissa saw one such sight as would make her daughter forget her happiness. Even from the distance they were at, she could see clearly the Pharaoh's outline on his private balcony, his presence emphasized by his ever-unruly hair. He appeared to be just leaning on the railing and looking in their general direction; whether his gaze was merely sweeping the distant landscape or pinpointed on their building alone, she could not be certain.
She was certain however, based on the times he had ventured into their village, always maintaining a respectful distance, to visit her beloved daughter. She had viewed the varying expressions on her face when she had turned back from the window where they had held their consort: hope, pity, and always an undercurrent of fear.
You will not get what you ultimately want, thought Charissa as she witnessed Atem's form eventually turning away from the light of the outside world. Rania will figure out a way to reveal the truth. Yet, should you fall under the demands of the Orichalcos with her, neither Ra nor all the gods will stop your immortal soul from being damned to the netherworld.
. . .
There was no telling what situation might fall upon one in those ancient times, especially when one was far away from the formality and predictability of the royal apartments. Priest Seto knew this all too well, as he sat in the outskirts of one of the kingdom's outlying villages. Night had fallen, his day spent by following orders and riding to each of the villages to supervise the division and deployment of the kingdom's soldiers. The little fire he had made was luckily able to ward off the slight chill in the air as he sat hunched beside it, resigned to spending the night camped out in the village as it was too late to attempt the journey back to the palace.
At first light, I'll ride back and give the report, he thought to himself. Meanwhile, he idly tilted his head against the cool night wind, which was carrying back to him, as he listened, to the amusing speculations of his two guards on the nightly watch as they stood on the small camp's outskirts.
"Sure is quiet out here," he heard one mutter, detecting a hint of nervousness.
"Too quiet, I think," said the comrade, as Seto heard the next guard shift his stance in the sand. "Usually there's at least some noise back in the city."
"Maybe it's on account of the creature that it's so still out here."
"Could be." Now there were definitely nerves playing a part between the two. "It might have killed everyone off before we got here."
Seto stood up, unbeknownst to the guards, who were still prattling on about their own superstitions. Eyeing the fire, he was wondering just how ignorant one had to be to say that a town was void of life, when he had clearly picked up some signs himself, when he turned around at the first guard's start. "What was that?"
Not wishing to hear any more explanatory talk, Seto walked up behind the two guards dismissively. "That was your imagination running away with you," he said as the two turned to him in surprise, looking more than a little startled.
"Master Seto-" the second guard stammered.
"Spare me the details," the High Priest said, cutting him off. "I've heard enough about how that simple little briefing from Mahad can just worm its way into your hearts before you care to give it one shematy of critical thought."
The second guard's ready-made apology was shortened by his companion's second start that night. "There it is again!" he cried, pointing wildly in the direction from whence a pale blue light briefly flickered.
Although all eyes instantly snapped to it at the mention of the guard's panic, Seto merely regarded it smugly, even going so far as to snort in amusement. "Perhaps it is only lightening."
"What if it really is something out there?" the second guard asked, and there was finally a tremor in his voice.
Wondering how such cowards came to earn their place in the ranks, Seto smirked and said, "Then I'd be interested to see how two of the Pharaoh's superstitious guards handle it."
Throwing his companion a glare, the first guard, favoring one side, began to slowly approach the point in the starlit desert where the light had last been seen. The firelight accented the guard's movements and made them more dramatic as his slightly hunched form slipped into the dark. The second mirrored him, cautiously stepping along toward the other side, looks of apprehension on their faces. Seto followed them, noticing with disgust how tensely they gripped the shafts of their spears.
The source of the light came off of a magnificent blue earring, dangling from the ear of and partially obscured by the long white locks of a rather foreign-looking girl. Her skin was ghostly-pale compared to that of the native Egyptians that were now creeping up on her, and her manner of dress-which were the lightest shade of blue and looked like the type of clothing a dancer would wear-instantly singled her out. She was kneeling in front of one of the few tents that the guards had set up, moving sand back from the entrance with careful hands. Whether due to the nervousness of the two men or hyper-awareness on her part, Seto thought, either way she turned her head to spot her would-be captors. Widened turquoise eyes grew narrow in an instant, as her steady hand shot toward the sand.
"Aahh!" The first guard stopped short and reeled in place as he desperately pawed at his eyes. Puffs of sand that were kicked up from her running feet followed the cloud that had shot from the girl's hand into the guard's face. Pausing beside his comrade, the second guard glanced at his companion before lowering his spear and charging after the fleet-of-foot thief. "Halt, in the name of the Pharaoh!"
"Nice try, mutt!" she spat over her shoulder as she started running even faster.
As the second guard continued to give chase, the first, his eyes clear enough so he could manage to see, dashed ahead of his comrade and, through what appeared to be sheer determination, tackled her about the waist. The both of them fell, the girl writhing and scrabbling at the sand like mad, desperate to get away. "Help me get ahold of her!" he called to his friend, as he kept wrestling with her, pinning her by her legs as it was. Every few seconds it seemed like he would lose his hold. "She's like a fish!"
His comrade complied and jumped into the fray as well, and after a few minutes of something that resembled a brawl, they had her, managing to drag her upright, even though with that position came a whole new set of challenges.
"Well done," said Seto, for he had been walking behind them quickly, not wishing to miss out on the situation. He now came up between them, as smugly as when he had interrupted their superstitious discussion. Glancing at each of them in turn, he nodded and acknowledged, "It appears you two aren't as hopeless as I imagined."
After he'd met the guards' gazes, which were somewhat changed considering the high praise they had earned (for it was Seto after all), he turned his attention to the girl. The two had hold of each of her arms, and held them tightly across her back, yet still she struggled, lurching her shoulders forward every now and then as though hoping to catch them off guard. She glared up at Seto with the eyes that were an unsettling shade of turquoise, turquoise that now seemed to be transformed into an icy fire in her face.
"We're happy to be of service, Lord Seto," stammered the first guard, blinking furiously to clear the remaining sand out of his eyes, as both of his hands were occupied.
"Indeed we are," said the second, nodding vehemently to emphasize his gratitude, although he seemed to struggle with his composure since the girl was jerking at him every two seconds.
Seto waved their grovelling aside dismissively with a careless hand. "Why don't we return to camp for some proper questioning?" He started walking over one of the dunes that stood between them and their settlement without bothering to glance behind. However, as before, he was listening, with intense interest now, to the goings-on that were taking place behind him. He chuckled to himself as the first thing he heard was the protesting shout of the captive: "Get your filthy hands off me!" There was then a scuffling sound, as the High Priest inferred that she had renewed her struggle with even more energy than she had expelled beforehand as she was dragged onward.
"We don't really have a choice," came the sympathetic murmur, and Seto guessed that it was the second guard before he continued, "because you'd run away again and it'd be our hides."
"Better yours than mine!" Thunk.
Turning around rather impatiently to see what the disturbance was, Seto beheld the second guard with a grimace on his face as one of his knees shook, and the girl with a temporary smug look before going back to struggling, then at his look the guard straightened and fell silent as he turned back around before walking on.
"Quit your squirming! You aren't getting away so stop trying!" said the first guard.
"Not a chance, meathead!" came the shout, as Seto heard the sound of yet another scuffle.
After a minute or so, there came the sounds of both male and female grunting, along with sand sliding, so Seto inferred that they must be pulling against each other. After another minute, the first guard asked, groaning, "Lord Seto, would it not be simpler to merely imprison this girl?" At this, she struggled even harder, and from the sounds of the guards, she nearly broke free.
"Perhaps," he replied, without looking back, "but the fact remains to be seen as to what reason she was loitering around our camp. We won't get anything out of her with mere imprisonment."
"Who says you'll get anything out of me either way?!" came the retort, two more thunks, and "Ouch! Stop that!" "Ow" from the respective soldiers.
Seto answered airily, "I say, and eventually my comrades will when they hear your tale."
"You act like you know me. That's a laugh!" A few exclamations came from the two as Seto guessed she nearly broke away again.
A sound of exasperation followed from the first guard. "Now we said to stop that! You act just like the Thief King! Except it took ten of us to hold onto him."
"It took fifteen, you moron, and he still got away!"
"A fine legacy that you're doing a great job of following," muttered the second. The High Priest wondered if he was onto something, for he had also noted something of a resemblance between her and the Thief King, who had been destroyed for a little more than a season and a half.
"Hardly!" she spat as it sounded like she was trying once more to get out of their grasp.
Just about at the end of his wits with those two, Seto, with relief, strode over the last dune and beheld their camp. Upon reaching one of their tents, he moved to the side of the entrance to make it clear that the guards should conduct the girl in ahead of him. This they did, sighing, albeit with the hardest pulling they had ever done thus far in their conquest, and all the more struggling on the foreigner's part. Eventually they got her into the tent, as Seto watched in amusement as strain became evident on all of their foreheads.
Panting, all of them stood still, resting temporarily until the first guard asked, trying not to sound hopeful, "Should we tie her up and leave her to you, Lord Seto?"
Somewhat dryly, he answered, "You can, then take up positions outside in case she tries to run away yet again."
Eager to follow orders, the second guard nodded. "Yes, Lord Seto." He reached toward his belt to where some cords hung as the girl eyed him with loathing.
The first guard, understanding his intentions, quickly grabbed the girl in a headlock before she could break free as she protested and clawed at his arm. "Get off of me!" He then threw his companion a quizzical look. "Do you think we ought to check her for weapons?"
The second guard swallowed nervously, nodded, and proceeded to awkwardly pat her down, realizing he had only gotten the short end of the stick when he got kicked and scratched at all the while. When the process was done, he knew it hadn't been for nothing, as he straightened with relief, holding three small yet elaborately-made throwing daggers.
The glare that the girl gave him caused his blood to freeze, as she spoke with all the authority of one about to issue a death sentence. "You put those back right now, buster!"
"Who do you think she stole these from?" speculated the first guard with difficulty, as he was now struggling to contain the girl as she strove to reclaim her precious knives. Unfortunately, he chose this moment to start binding her with the cords he hastily grabbed from the second guard, which led him to, as he released her from the headlock, become slightly less bruised and battered than his comrade.
"I earned them fair and square, thank you very much, now give 'em back!"
The second guard smirked. "Earned them from what gambling table?" he asked, as he tilted the blades to catch the rays of moonlight slipping in through the tent flap.
"For your information, they were a gift!" she corrected, watching the knives in his hand and looking absolutely livid.
"Frim the Thief King himself, no doubt," Seto said matter-of-factly, standing in front of her with his arms crossed.
"They're the last things he ever gave me," she answered sullenly, looking downcast as she struggled less, though her eyes still burned. "Now give them back. I'm not going to use them."
The second guard, undergoing a change of heart, looked sympathetic and moved to hand her the blades, but Seto's arm flashed out and prevented him from doing so. Lowering his voice to get his point across, and stepping closer, he said, "Not until you tell us the purpose of your little visit."
"If I'm not mistaken, that was your food tent, wasn't it?" She asked, as the fire in her eyes burned even brighter as they found the orchestrator of her capture.
Sneering as though it should be obvious, Seto said, "Yes, but we only have rations for a few days, and they shouldn't be wasted."
She rolled her eyes, obviously in disgust at the caliber of intelligence her captors were displaying. "Firstly if your men didn't eat as much, they'd last you twice as long, and secondly I'm not after the food. I'm after some of the herbs you're very obviously not using in your cooking."
Just how long has this wretch been spying on us? Seto thought to himself, becoming a little more interested in what she had to say as the second guard, looking slightly offended, asked, "For what?"
A new determination was alight in her turquoise eyes as she ignored the soldiers and focused on the High Priest. "On the outskirts of the closest town, there lives a family that once showed me kindness. Their little girl is sick. I know how to cure her, but I need that herb and this camp was the closest supply. I also know that you are not using it because when cooked, it dampens appetites. If you are using it, then your soldiers are even larger pigs that I first thought."
While Seto mulled over this explanation to himself, the first guard, thinking that he might attempt to get more details, asked, "What exactly are you planning on doing with this herb?"
Giving a sigh of exasperation and another eye-roll, she answered, "Mix it with other more common herbs to help the people who saved my life. Why is this such a hard concept?"
The second guard, still looking slightly miffed, answered, "It's not hard to understand at all."
This earned a look of disbelief and amazement from his companion. "You mean you actually buy her tall tale?"
In answer, the guard shrugged. "It doesn't really seem like a tall tale."
"Gee, maybe because it isn't," answered the girl with a hint of sarcasm. Turning her head to glance at them both, she asked, "And shouldn't you two have gone by now?"
Nodding to his comrade, and partially to her, the guard placed the knives he had uncovered at her feet with more than a little respect, then he strode through the flap with his comrade, completely ignoring the disdainful glare of Seto's dark-blue eyes.
When they were gone, Seto turned his piercing gaze upon her, wondering intently about her motivations. No one's ever had the audacity to outright fight I or any of my men, except the Thief King himself. Why would someone who appears to have known that vile creature wish to heal anyone? It does seem like quite a realistic lie, yet . . .
His reflections were interrupted by the girl tossing her head toward her back and impatiently saying, "My sheath for those is in my right sleeve. Since I answered your questions, could you give them back and let me go?"
Regarding the daggers, Seto stooped down and picked one up. Marveling at the beauty of a mere thief's possessions, he tilted the blade this way and that as he said airily, "Perhaps, after one more question I have, if you've been telling the truth thus far."
"Why exactly would I lie?" she queried in a deceptively calm voice, keeping her turquoise eyes on the knife.
"To make a clean getaway, of course," Seto answered nonchalantly, waiting to see what reaction his arrogance would produce.
"Look you, I don't have time for that! If that girl goes without treatment much longer, she'll be beyond my help!" she yelled, as she gave a jerk at her bonds, as though hoping the force of her determination would break them.
Suddenly, as the memory of Mahad's briefing struck him, Seto thought to ask, "What does she happen to be suffering from?"
"There's not really a word for it in your language. Basically, her body's shutting down and she's in a lot of pain. I know because it's happened to me before," she said, a little quieter as she lowered her gaze.
"Would it have any relevance to the creature that has been terrorizing the villages nearby?"
"No," she said, with a newfound attitude as she met his gaze once more. "And perhaps you should be more respectful of the dead."
His hope deflated that the little one hadn't been struck ill by the creature (whom Seto was figuring out with horror was Akefia's spirit), and his pride slightly stung, he responded, "I am aware of that, however that spirit is taking innocent lives with it." Lowering his voice and hoping to get a point across, Seto said, "Lives not unlike that girl you're attempting to save."
Her response, as the fiery eyes brightened, caused a chill to creep across Seto's skin. "Not unlike the people of Kul Elna."
Stiffening, he retorted sternly, "Neither I nor any of my comrades took part in the Creation." Quickly, as the High Priest pondered what he would do, he momentarily thought of his childhood, when he had been nothing but a commoner as well. Reflecting on that, he would have done the same thing this girl had done, especially for people he cared about and those who cared for him in return. She seemed sincere enough in that regard that he would have let her live, if not go free.
Yet she had dared to talk of the Creation! That blight upon their history, that unspeakable night, when hundreds of souls cried out in terror as they were torn from the still living bodies that harbored them, only to find themselves thrust into the abyss from which would arise their new prisons: the seven Millennium Items.
Of course she knows, thought Seto in an instant, as he maintained his cold, hard exterior. If she truly was an accomplice of the Thief King, then she must have lived close to, if not in Kul Elna itself. She must still feel tenfold the sickness and heartache that even some guards will still quail at when reminded. Even for his reputation in the Pharaoh's court, he could still remember himself shuddering when he had heard what had become of the wrongdoers. If this story were true . . .
Seto had untied her bonds before he really thought about what he was doing. "Now go," he ordered, "before I change my mind about the number of dead I wish to have on my hands."
Picking up the remaining knives off the ground, while rubbing her upper arms where she had been tied, she answered, "I am aware of that. However, can you be considered innocent when you still use the Items made from that slaughter?" Straightening, she held out her hand impatiently. "Also I need my last knife," she said, tucking her white hair behind her ear to fully expose the mystical blue earring that had so petrified the soldiers.
Returning it to her, Seto replied, "I suppose we cannot, however," he continued, repeating what his predecessor had believed, "the Items have helped to keep a greater darkness at bay." Noticing her movement, Seto, out of curiosity, felt his hand becoming drawn to that earring.
Her own hand came up to block his. "I inherited this from my mother two years ago. She was a refugee from a different land where she had been a noble, then my father found her and helped her adjust," she explained, as a little of the downcast look from before came into her eyes, which were no longer blazing, as she looked away. "It and those knives are all I have of family."
Nodding and lowering his hand to his side, Seto acknowledged, "I see," musingly as he walked curtly outside, with her following. "We're letting her go," he announced to the two soldiers.
"What!?" protested the first guard. "My lord, are you sure that's wise?"
"You dare doubt me, soldier?" he asked, giving him an impatient icy look that he did not return. At the girl's perplexed look, he elaborated. "She's answered all of our questions, has she not?"
Agreeing with him, not wishing to be on his bad side, the second was quick to reply, "As far as we could account for, my lord."
The foreigner surprised Seto by interjecting, "Wait a minute." At all of their questioning gazes, she asked, "Didn't you have one more question? You were going to ask it, and then I got impatient." Just as her brows were crinkling awkwardly, she appeared to remember something. "Also, I still need that herb." Reaching into a pouch at her side, she came up with some coins and held it out to Seto somewhat nervously, as her eyes flicked back and forth to the two guards on either side of him. "Five stalks usually costs this much on the market. That's all I need."
Aware of the guards watching rather intently at such an interaction change between the two, Seto accepted the currency and pocketed it. "I have already asked whether you were aware of that spirit. That was the question I most wanted to have answered." Thinking for an instant, he said, "However, I would like to know your name."
"Most people call me Phantom . . ." she said, trailing off, hesitating. After a moment she continued, "but my real name's Ahlmira. If you ever need a favor, that's the name you should look me up by." Putting her fingers to her mouth, she whistled suddenly. Taken aback as the guards and High Priest were, they were even more so when out of the dark came a wild horse that was jet-black. As soft as the night itself, it came to a halt in front of her as she looked at Seto with an awkward gaze that had never been used by her before. "I owe you one, Priest Seto," she said sincerely as she turned away to go toward the food tent, while the horse, without any signal or gesture given, followed her as obediently as a dog.
She's obviously not used to respecting authority, he thought as he looked after her with bemusement and something like awe in his eyes.
"So that's it?" protested the second guard now, as he turned to look at him irritatedly. "She's just going to go about her business?"
"Weren't you the one that began empathizing with her in the first place?" Seto retorted scathingly, feeling some small satisfaction at their frightened look. "Go back to keeping watch, the both of you, or I'll have you replaced. And—" he left off, watching them about to snap to their duty, raising a finger in warning, "not one word of this reaches anyone," he said, deadly serious. "Understand?"
The poor soldiers' heads nodded until they were bobbing. Seto turned away in disgust to go sit before the fire again, this time to think about the events that had taken place that night.
"Yes sir!" the first guard said as they turned to go back to their long-vacated posts. Watching the pale form of Ahlmira ride off into the desert on the shadowy horse, he murmured to his companion, "Should we tell him the rumors about the Phantom?"
Glancing toward the fire, the first guard hissed back, "Seeing the good mood he's in now? Better not if we want to keep our positions."
"An excellent point," his friend conceded, as the last remnant of their visitor disappeared into the cold night darkness.
. . .
That's it for now! Thank you for reading, and please comment! I'm willing to take suggestions and/or constructive criticism!
See you next time!
