The air in the Duat, the Egyptian underworld, hung heavy & cool. Khnum, the ram-headed god of creation, hunched over a massive, glistening potter's wheel

His powerful arms molded a lump of fertile Nile clay, his brow furrowed in concentration. Each spin of the wheel whispered of life, a counterpoint to the hushed reverence that filled the vast cavern

Suddenly, a flicker of movement caught his red eyes. A wisp of a form, barely there yet undeniably human, peeked from behind a towering urn engraved with hieroglyphs. He didn't flinch as he simply stopped the wheel, silence deepening before he spoke

"Are you lost, little soul?"

his voice rumbled, an echo of the Nile's very current