The bathhouse was silent save for the slow drip of water and the hiss of steam curling through the air. Kemet's sacred springs were said to be drawn from the heart of the earth—pces where the gods once wept into stone. Heka sat alone in the center pool, submerged to her shoulders, hair drifting behind her in tight coils. Smoke rolled gently off her skin, curling along the water's surface like whispers with no tongues to speak them; the steam and smoke mingled in the torch light to present a shimmering silver.

  Her eyes were bnk.

  In the silence, memories howled like a raging wind through the window of the mind. She had seen herself in that moment—in the reflection of Amon’s gaze as she’d lost control. What stared back at her had not been a woman. There was not his protector, not his avenger… not his queen. There was naught but a beast, a revenant… a monster. She had become the very kind of being her people had once been hunted for.

  And she’d hurt him.

  The very man who saved her from herself, the man she’d come there to save and to avenge… so recently roused from the glyph’s control, only to nearly fall under her relentless assault. In those rage-filled moments, he’d seemed so…

  She shuddered, her thoughts trailing off into the darkness. Her fingers curled under the water, fists forming as the smoke thickened over the water’s surface. A spearhead began to shimmer in the steam beside her, its edge jagged and bck like volcanic gss. Another memory. Another weapon.

  She didn’t notice the steps until she felt the air shift. The smoke curled to one side, as if yielding.

  Amon stood at the edge of the pool; his robes discarded in favor of simplicity—loose bck linen drawn across his shoulders. He made no move to speak, not at first.

  She did not turn to greet him, shying away from him in shame. “You shouldn’t be here,” she said, her voice a hoarse, timid whisper.

  “I should be nowhere else.”

  Silence.

  He stepped into the pool slowly, water rippling around him as he moved to sit a short distance from her. He didn’t reach for her. Didn’t speak again. Not yet. The smoke curled between them, a curtain drawn by pain.

  Finally, he spoke.

  “I went to see the murals today; the ones in the Hall of Lineage.”

  She stiffened.

  “They’ve covered it all up. The wedding, the war… and the Bck King’s betrayal. They painted his brother in gold leaf and called it glory.”

  “And now you know,” she said. “The blood your name was built on.”

  “In the end, it wasn’t even my name,” Amon admitted. “I never truly understood whose it was. Not until I saw you today.”

  Her shoulders trembled. “You think I’m that thing,” she whispered.

  “No,” he said gently. “But I saw the truth of what they feared.”

  She finally turned to look at him. Her eyes were red, not from anger—but from holding back too much for too long.

  “I don’t want to lose you,” she said. "I am ashamed of what I became given the excuse…" her body was shaking now. “I attacked you with all I was, with no way to stop myself.”

  Amon moved closer. "Then let me bleed, if it means reaching you. I can bear it. I choose to."

  The smoke between them shimmered. Flickered. For the first time, it softened.

  "You are not what they feared," he said, slowly reaching a hand toward her. "You are what I chose, and this is not the first time I’ve chosen you."

  She let him touch her, the smoke between the coiling around his fingers. Her hand trembled in his as she processed what he’d said before asking: “This is not the first time? What do you mean?”

  “As I y under the glyphs, I saw you. I saw through the Bck King’s eyes, and in his memories, I saw you. We’ve lived this life together, time and time again. Back then, I was Amir, the Bck King of Kemet, sent to eliminate the Shu-Ra, only to fall in love with their ancient queen, Lay.” He looked at her gently, “You were no less spirited then,” he ughed.

  “What happened?”

  “As in every life, we cursed and defied our fates. I brought you to Kemet to weigh my worth as a king, and you provided me with the counsel you always have. When time came to face the people of Kemet and to announce our wedding and the Shu-Ra alliance…” He looked down at his chest as if the arrow was still stuck in it. “The people of Kemet pierced my chest with an arrow immune to my fmes, and I died in your arms before I came to in the midst of the cultists.”

  A darkness crawled across Heka’s face as her smoke shifted erratically over the water.

  “This wasn’t the first time you’d seen that monster… was it?”

  “I saw it briefly. You knelt beside me, giving me a parting kiss, before blotting out the sky and decimating the people that took me from you.”

  Her hands covered her lips in horror. “The Silent Reign,” she whispered.

  “Yes,” Amon said calmly. “You are no monster, not then, and not now.”

  A tear slipped down her cheek.

  In the steam and the stillness, no gods spoke; ancient wounds shifted and twisted her chest.

  Amon gently pressed his fingers against her chin, lifting her head to meet his gaze; a gentle smile remained in pce, unwavering and immovable.

  “You are destined to be my queen in this life,” he said, his voice deep and smooth, “and in the next.” He finished with what was almost a whisper; their lips with but a breath between them, lingering. With his arm around her hip, he pulled her close, shattering the remnants of the smoky curtain she’d formed.

  When their lips met, a jolt shot through her, sparks dancing across the gold lines running across his skin. His lips held the warmth of life; they were soft, his kiss as sweet as honey. Centuries of lives lived together crashed together in waves, twisting together as their tongues did the same. His lips left hers to make their way down her neck, walking their way down her shoulder as the final remnants of her defenses melted under their warm. As she finally allowed herself to take some sembnce of piece in his arms, she opened her eyes to see the night sky, from beneath the now-golden haze of her smoke.