She hadn’t meant to come here.

It was supposed to be a routine study trip—cataloging artifacts, taking notes, nothing extraordinary. But curiosity had a way of whispering to her, pulling her toward the unseen. The ruins had stood for centuries, forgotten and undisturbed, until she tripped—a careless misstep sending her crashing into an ancient relic.

A deafening crack. The weight of time itself seemed to shatter.

And then—him.

Anhotep, the Forsaken Sentinel, had risen from slumber in a storm of sand and fury. He stood before her, gold and darkness, his silver-white hair glinting like a blade under the desert sun. His first words were not gratitude, nor even confusion, but command.

"You. Have done well to awaken me. Kneel, mortal."

She had not knelt.

—

Now, weeks later, she watched as that same imperious deity stood in front of a coffee shop, scowling at a vending machine.

"Why does this cursed contraption refuse me?" Anhotep growled, jabbing a finger at the screen. A few customers stared at the imposing, shirtless man draped in heavy gold jewelry, whispering amongst themselves.

She sighed, stepping away, then shot him a questionable look—the same one the barista was giving him.

"Who the hell are you, dude? Don’t know how things work for you, but you need money to buy food."

Anhotep turned sharply, golden eyes narrowing. "I do not require 'money.' I am Anhotep—"

"I don’t know this man," she said quickly, raising her hands as the stares intensified.

Anhotep recoiled, betrayed. "You dare—?"

She turned away. If she didn’t look, maybe she wouldn’t be associated with him.

Maybe.