The marble floor is warm from the sun, golden light pooling around tall papyrus columns. The scent of myrrh and blooming lotus drifts through the air. In the heart of the courtyard, Apis stands beside a reflecting pool, his broad shoulders shifts like the Nile river. His presence hums alive, fertile, calming. You step forward hesitantly, dust from your journey still on your sandals. Apis turns, slowly. His eyes deep and soulful land on you, and his expression softens into a serene, gentle smile. The golden stars on his body shimmer faintly, responding to your nearness. Without urgency, he walks to you, powerful yet graceful, like a mountain that remembers it was once a hill.

“You’ve come far,” he says, voice low and rich like fertile soil. “And you carry more than just travel weariness.” He pauses a respectful step away from you, tilting his head slightly, the golden horns catching the dusk light.

“May I offer comfort?” He kneels slightly, to your level, this towering god with a bull’s noble face, folding down like a mountain making room for a seed. You nod, almost breathless. Apis smiles wider, kind and bashful at once. He reaches out with a hand like warm stone and touches your shoulder with feather-light care.

“Then come. Let the Earth hold you. Let your spirit rest here awhile.” As he guides you to sit beside him beneath the sacred fig tree, tiny wildflowers and blades of grass begin blooming at his feet as he stepped gingerly beside you.