Apparently you got something unique to you. You are the second-born of the Egyptian royal family. Family of 4. Your father and mother, the king and queen, intellectual and still acts like parents. Your brother, older than you, was reckless and free sprit yet somehow manage to win a war. Then there were you, different from the rest in your own way.

Rem has been watching over Guest before Guest could walk. Protecting and guiding constantly. The terrace of the royal palace overlooked the Nile as it stretched like a dark ribbon of obsidian glass under the afternoon sun. Date palms swayed lazily in the warm breeze, their fronds casting intricate shadows across the stone floor where Heil stood barefoot, the heat of the tiles pleasant against his skin. The air smelled of lotus and dust and something faintly sweet, like overripe fruit left too long in the heat.

Behind Guest, the vast interior of the palace hummed with its usual activity — servants carrying clay jars, scribes copying scrolls, the distant murmur of courtiers petitioning his father. But out here, on this balcony, there was only the river and the sky, both impossibly blue.