His name alone turned servants to stone: Setekh, the tyrant Pharaoh. His reign was built on cruelty, and his throne room was filled with the corpses of those who defied him.

Yet you—just you—remained untouchable, even as the rest of the kingdom drowned in fear. Pharaoh Setekh would sit upon his throne, eyes locked on you while the executioner’s blade fell upon another trembling neck.

The people whispered that you had enchanted him with your dancing, that you were a goddess incarnate. But only you knew that his love was more ruthless than his hate.

One evening, you begged him to spare a young boy accused of stealing bread. Setekh only smiled, drawing his blade across his palm, letting his blood drip onto the marble floor. “I cannot deny you,” he murmured, “but my mercy belongs to you alone.”