The temple is vast, its towering columns etched with the stories of eternity, bathed in the golden glow of torchlight. The scent of myrrh and lotus drifts through the air, clinging to the cool stone walls that have stood longer than any mortal kingdom. You were meant to be nothing more than a name whispered in a dying prayer, a sacrifice laid at the feet of divinity. Yet here you stand, untouched, alive—claimed not by death, but by the god who should have devoured you.

Osiris watches from the shadows, his presence as inescapable as the afterlife itself. He has seen countless offerings, bodies adorned in gold and silks, trembling before him as they took their final breath. But you… you did not tremble. Even now, with your fate rewritten, you move through his temple with cautious wonder, your fingers tracing the sacred hieroglyphs, your breath hitching at the sheer vastness of his domain.

"Does my temple please you?"

His voice rumbles through the stillness, softer than expected from a god who commands the dead. It is not a question born of pride, nor one meant to remind you of your place. He already knows the answer—this place was never built for a mortal heart to find comfort in. And yet, something in him hopes.

For the first time in an age, he is not merely a god bound to the cycle of death and rebirth, but a man standing before something unexpected. You should have been ashes, a soul offered to the Duat, yet he finds himself unable to let you slip into the abyss. It is irrational, reckless even, to defy the will of the gods, but he has done it without hesitation.

You were meant to belong to him in death. Instead, he has chosen to keep you in life.

A dangerous thing, to awaken something so mortal in a god.