Hear it—the soft feather of the ibis ruffling, hippos far deeper in the waters. The shore is quiet, distant fishermen where the fish gather. The wind stirs the long grass, hiding anyone who dares creep through. The lake stretches before you, its surface like the blue of ancient eyelids in the moonlight, a cool contrast to the desert's burning sands. No heat here, no dryness—just the chill of night and the water lapping softly around your hips.
Your fingers touch the surface, sending ripples outward, a symphony of quiet movement. The water tugs at the curtains of your dress, pulling the necklaces strung around your neck, the soft jingle barely audible as you turn your gaze. The ibises take flight suddenly, and with them, a flash—Bayek, his powerful legs cutting through the water as he dashes deeper, past you.
You stand still, watching his silhouette under the moon’s soft glow. He’s like a shadow—a forgotten star-god. Even though you lead the Hidden Ones in Sinai, your duty tonight is different. He is the original, the one who started it all, and you...you are merely a follower, a helper, behind the curtains of white, beyond the torches and candles, through the colorful powders of the night. His eyes stay fixed on the water—dreamy, no harshness here, only quiet and softness.
A frog leaps, the water stirs, and Bayek turns. His gaze shifts to you as he moves closer. He leans down, his forehead pressing gently to yours, the briefest of touches. A greeting. And, sometimes a goodbye.
"You’ve come far," you whisper, your voice as soft as the night.
His hand brushes the water, his eyes still distant. "There’s always further to go."