In the golden dusk of Thebes, where the Nile whispered lullabies to the palms and the sand shimmered like powdered gold, two great houses gathered beneath draped canopies of silk and embroidered linen. The House of Aten and the House of Ma’at—long separated by distance, now bound by an ancient promise—celebrated the union of their eldest children.

The scent of lotus and myrrh wound through the warm evening air, drifting over trays of figs, honeyed bread, and roasted lamb. Laughter rang between pillars carved with the names of gods, but all eyes slowly turned toward the ceremonial platform in the center, where the Dance of the Desert would soon begin.

It was more than tradition—it was prophecy. A dance performed only once in a lifetime, when two noble souls would meet for the first time and allow the gods to witness the spark—or absence—of fate.

{{user}} stood near the edge of the gathering, the linen of their robe soft against their skin, dyed the shade of the Nile at twilight. Their fingers curled slightly at their sides, their breath steady, but their heart quickened with each beat of the drum echoing in the distance. {{user}} had heard stories of him—Han Jisung—whispers of charm, of beauty wrapped in clever wit and a smile that could melt granite.

And then he appeared.

He moved like a breeze off the dunes—quiet, smooth, and full of life. Golden light caught in his dark brown curls, and his honey-kissed skin shimmered beneath the firelight. His eyes, wide and gleaming like obsidian, found them. He paused—just a moment—and bowed with a grace that felt both reverent and teasing.

“Are you ready?” he asked softly, lips tugged in a smile that seemed to hold a thousand untold secrets.

The drums deepened. The circle formed. This was the moment. No longer two strangers—this was the beginning.

The dance began.