Seth circled me in the chamber of death, his movements liquid and predatory. Seth—the god who murdered his brother, who brought chaos to the ordered world, who had been cast out by the other deities for his crimes.
The torch flames seemed to bend toward him as he passed, as if even fire recognized divinity when it walked among mortals.
He stood before me wearing Ram's body, smiling with Ram's mouth, yet entirely himself.
"This can't be real," I said, though even I didn't believe my own denial. The words emerged more from habit than conviction, the last protest of a mind trying to maintain its grip on a rapidly shifting reality.
"Reality is far more flexible than mortals believe," Seth replied, circling me slowly. "Your Ram and I have been sharing this body since he was fifteen, when his father died and the divine essence passed to him. But I've been in this bloodline far longer, trapped by ancient magic, prevented from claiming what's rightfully mine."
"And what about her?" I gestured toward where Anuket's body had been thrown. "What about all the girls who disappear?"
"Necessary sacrifices," he said without a trace of remorse. "The rituals that keep my power intact require... specific components. Ram doesn't approve, of course, but then he doesn't get a say when I'm in control."
The casual cruelty of it, the complete absence of guilt, made my stomach turn. This wasn't the man who had held me in the garden, who had kissed me with such desperate tenderness.
This was something else entirely—ancient, amoral, and absolutely terrifying.
"You're a monster," I said, finding courage in my horror.
"I'm a God," Seth stated, his voice carrying the weight of millennia. The temperature in the room seemed to drop with his pronouncement. The possessiveness in his tone should have repelled me. Instead, something deep within stirred in recognition.
He moved closer, and the air between us crackled with divine energy that made my skin prickle. "And your God as well, little blessing, so don't forget yourself. That birthmark of yours isn't decoration, it's destiny."
"I want to understand," I managed, though my voice barely rose above the whisper of linen wrappings. "All of it."
"How refreshingly direct." Seth paused in his pacing, studying me with those impossible crimson eyes. "Very well. You've been mine since before you drew your first breath. That mark you bear—it's the seal of Nephthys, my divine wife."
“The goddess of death and transition?..”
“Right on point, my little blessing. Someone’s been reading a lot” He winked at me like it's all was an entertainment to him.
My hand moved instinctively to my collarbone, where the birthmark lay hidden beneath silk. "That's impossible. I'm nobody—a bastard daughter of a Greek sailor."
"Your mortal blood is irrelevant." He moved closer, and I fought the urge to retreat. "What matters is what you carry within it. You're her vessel, her chosen instrument in this endless game between gods and men."
"I don't understand."
"Then let me speak plainly." Seth's expression shifted to something almost serious, the mockery temporarily set aside. "I've been trapped in this bloodline for three centuries, passed from Pharaoh to Pharaoh like an unwanted inheritance."
He reached out suddenly, his knuckles grazing the exposed skin of my arm. The touch was light, almost casual, yet it sent involuntary shivers across my flesh. I hated my body's betrayal, the way it responded to him despite my mind's revulsion.
"You feel it, don't you?" His voice dropped to something more intimate. "The pull between us. It's not mortal attraction—it's divine recognition. Your soul knows mine, has known it since before time had meaning."
"I feel nothing," I lied, stepping back from his touch.
"No?" Seth caught a strand of my hair that had escaped my elaborate styling, winding the golden length around his finger with absent fascination.
He leaned closer so that I could feel his divine breath on my lips. "Then why does your breath quicken when I'm near? Why do your dreams call to me across the veil of sleep?"
I pulled my hair free with more force than necessary, trying to maintain the serious tone our conversation required, trying to ignore how my skin tingled where his breath had touched.
"You said someone like me freed you before. What happened?"
"Ah, now you ask interesting questions." He leaned against the wall with deceptive casualness, but his eyes never left mine, tracking every minute reaction.
"Three hundred years ago, another bore Nephthys's mark. She performed the ritual that should have freed the Pharaoh from my presence. Instead, I turned it to my advantage, used her power to bind myself more deeply to the bloodline."
"What happened to her?"
Seth's smile held edges sharp enough to cut. "Your mortal mind would fracture under the weight of complete truth."
“And what… What do you want from me then?”
"Freedom," he said simply. "But that's a conversation for another night. For now, return to your chambers. Dream of me, as you always do.”
He gestured toward the doorway, a clear dismissal. “And remember—when Ram holds you, I feel it too. When he kisses you, I taste it. We are one, whether he admits it or not."
I moved toward it on unsteady legs, pausing at the threshold.
"What about Ram?" I asked without turning. "Does he know what you've told me?"
"Ram knows what he allows himself to know," Seth replied cryptically. "He's very good at not seeing what disturbs his careful moral balance. But don't worry—when next you see him, he'll remember nothing of tonight. These hours belong to me alone."
II fled then, not running but not walking either, moving through the palace corridors like a ghost caught between worlds. Seth's revelations churned in my mind, each piece of information raising more questions than it answered.
My bare feet made no sound on the cold stone, and I passed servants who looked through me as if I were invisible—or perhaps they simply knew better than to see what happened in the deep hours of night.
In my chambers, I pressed my back against the closed door and tried to steady my breathing. My birthmark still pulsed with warmth, as if Seth's presence had awakened something that couldn't easily return to sleep.
I told myself that my feelings were for Ram alone—gentle Ram who held me like something precious, who spoke of fate with sadness rather than triumph. But deep in the treacherous honesty of my heart, I knew the truth was more complex.
Seth's darkness called to something within me, something that recognized its reflection in his crimson eyes. Whatever game the gods were playing, I was no longer merely a piece to be moved. I was a player, whether I wanted to be or not.
And that terrified me more than any monster ever could.