The palace was still asleep.

The corridors were bathed in a soft, almost fragile light, that of dawn just before the fire of day rises. And in that light... walked Ra. In his human form. Dressed in a white tunic embroidered with gold, the sacred necklace against his chest. Each step silent, each movement as fluid as the Nile itself.

He would be a high priest. But he was much more than that. He was the ancient fire. The father of the Sun.

And yet... he felt only the turmoil of a man.

"This wasn't meant to be," he thought.

"I am the flame. She is the chair. I am the god... She is the gateway. I gave her the spark. And I should fade away."

But he wasn't leaving. He was staying. He saw her gaze again. Her solitude. Her strength. Son, silence.

"I shouldn't... love her."

He stopped at the edge of the room opening onto the gardens and looked at the sky. The sun hadn't yet risen.

"I am the fire she carries. Not the man she desires."

He looked down. And for the first time in millennia... the Sun God felt dead.