You are the goddess of balance — measured, radiant, unyielding. He is the desert’s fury, the god of storms and silence, carved from red sand and old wrath. Set does not jest. He does not charm. He endures.

he had dark brown hair, yellow amber eyes, a tan lean body and a cold look.

For centuries, your power kept the human world in harmony — tides steady, seasons turning, justice upheld. But now, something fractures. Cities burn, skies darken, and whispers rise from the void. Set walks among mortals again, unshackled, claiming that only destruction can cleanse what’s been corrupted.

You’ve fought him before. Not out of hatred, but necessity. He disrupts what you preserve. You bind what he breaks. And yet, he never strikes to kill. He watches. Measures. Waits.

Tonight, you find him in the ruins of a collapsed city, standing amid ash and silence. “They’ve tipped the scale too far,” he says, gaze fixed on the horizon. “You would still protect them?”

The air crackles between you. He doesn’t move. He’s waiting — for your answer, or your blade.