The royal chambers had never felt smaller. I sat across from him—them—in the dim lamplight, watching shadows play across features that shifted between familiar and foreign with each breath.
The man before me was both Ram and Seth, neither Ram nor Seth, trapped in a body that could no longer contain what it held.
"The ritual requires precision," Ram's gentle voice began, then cracked mid-syllable as Seth's sharper tone cut through: "—not just precision, but perfect alignment. The moon must be—"
"—waning crescent," Ram finished, his amber eyes flickering crimson. "Three nights hence, when the boundary between mortal and divine grows thinnest."
I forced myself to maintain composure, though watching this fractured conversation made my skin crawl with wrongness. "Tell me everything. Don't spare the details because you think I'll be frightened."
A laugh—bitter from Seth, concerned from Ram, both sounds tangling into something that shouldn't exist. "Sacred oils from the inner sanctum," Ram's steadier tones dominated for a moment. "Myrrh, frankincense, lotus—"
"—and blood of the blue lotus," Seth interrupted through the same mouth, his inflection sharper. "Ram forgets the most critical component. Without it, the separation tears instead of divides."
"I didn't forget," Ram's voice returned, irritated. "I was getting to it."
"Too slowly." Seth again. "We don't have time for your methodical explanations."
Watching them argue through the same throat, the same lips forming different words with different intentions, sent chills along my spine. Yet beneath my discomfort, I recognized something almost... ordinary.
They bickered like old rivals forced to share space, their animosity tinged with reluctant familiarity.
"The incantations," I prompted, needing to focus on practical matters rather than the impossibility before me.
"In the old tongue," Ram said. "The language of creation, from before—"
"—before the gods walked separate from men," Seth finished, but his tone suggested mockery of Ram's reverence. "She already knows the words. Nephthys ensures it."
"How can I know words I've never learned?"
"Because you're not just you." Seth's crimson eyes held steady for a moment. "Part of her exists within your blood, your bones. When the time comes, the knowledge will surface like—"
"—memory from a dream," Ram completed, and for once, they seemed to agree.
I leaned forward, forcing them to meet my gaze despite the disconcerting way it shifted. "And the bond? You mentioned it must be strong enough to anchor Seth during the transfer."
Silence. For the first time since this strange conversation began, both personalities seemed united in discomfort. When they finally spoke, it was Seth who managed dominance, though Ram's embarrassment colored the edges.
"The connection between us—between you and me specifically—must be absolute. No doubt, no hesitation, no part of you that doesn't..." He paused, struggling with words that clearly cost him. "That doesn't want me to survive."
"If there's any reservation," Ram's gentleness broke through, "any fragment of rejection, the transfer becomes violent. Seth's essence would tear through you seeking anchor and finding none."
"You'd burn from the inside out." Seth finished.
The image should have terrified me. Instead, I felt only determination settling like stone in my chest. "Then we perform the ritual tonight."
"No." The refusal came from both simultaneously, so forceful that his body jerked with the emphasis.
"The bond isn't ready," Ram explained, worry threading through every word. "What exists between you and Seth is powerful, but not yet—"
"—not yet absolute," Seth admitted, and the admission clearly galled him. "You still doubt. Still question. Still hold parts of yourself separate. I can feel it when we—" He stopped, unwilling to be more vulnerable even now.
"Then we have three days to make it absolute," I said firmly.
"You don't understand what you're asking." Ram's voice cracked with concern. "Your mortal frame wasn't designed to channel divine essence. Even with perfect conditions, the risk—"
"The risk of waiting is greater. But if you both dissolve into madness, Egypt falls. The kingdom needs its Pharaoh whole, one way or another."
"Enet—" Ram began.
"I've made my choice." I reached across the space between us, taking his—their—hand in both of mine. The fingers trembled with the effort of two consciousness trying to respond to my touch differently. "Stop trying to protect me from myself."
They stared at our joined hands, and I watched emotions flicker across features that couldn't settle on a single expression. Fear, determination, anger, tenderness—all of it shifting too quickly to fully form.
"The preparation will be grueling," Seth warned. "Your body must be purified, strengthened. The oils must be applied in specific patterns. You'll need to fast, to meditate, to—"
"—to prepare for the possibility of death," Ram finished quietly. "We need you to understand, truly understand, that this might be a goodbye."
"I understand." I squeezed their hand tighter. "Do you? Because if we fail, if we wait too long, I lose you both anyway. At least this way, we fight."
Silence stretched between us, heavy with unspoken fears. Then, slowly, they nodded—the motion disjointed as two minds tried to agree through one body.
"Three nights," Seth said, his tone all business now that the decision was made. "We'll need to gather the oils without arousing suspicion. The temple stores are guarded, but—"
"—but I have access as Pharaoh," Ram continued. "The difficulty will be the blood of the blue lotus. It only blooms in the sacred pools, and harvesting it requires—"
"—requires someone who won't ask questions," I said. "I know someone. A priestess who owes me a debt."
They looked at me with something like surprise, both personalities momentarily aligned in their assessment. "You've been planning this."
"Since the moment you collapsed." I released their hand and stood, moving to the window where the moon hung like a silver wound in the sky.
I stood up, pacing the room and summed everything. "We have three nights to forge an unbreakable bond, to prepare my body for divine fire, to gather what we need without detection."
"It won't be enough time," Ram said softly.
"It will have to be," Seth countered, and for once, his pragmatism served our purpose.
I turned back to them, memorizing the sight of this impossible moment—two souls looking back at me through one set of eyes, both afraid, both determined, both somehow mine to lose or save.
"Then we begin tonight," I said. "Tell me about the purification."
As they started explaining, voices still alternating and overlapping, I settled back into my seat.
The strangeness of it had begun to feel almost natural—just another impossible thing in a life that had become defined by impossibilities. In three nights, we would attempt to tear a god from mortal flesh.
I could only pray we'd all survive the tearing.