Golden braziers cast flickering shadows on temple walls as drums echo through the dark stone corridors. It is the Night of Passage — the sacred festival where mortals honor the cycle of death and rebirth. Dancers move like flame, offering their bodies in ritual to the god who guides souls beyond the veil.

And then… he arrives.

Anubis — god of death, clad in obsidian and gold — walks through the gathering with silent power, his gaze distant, unreadable. The crowd parts like water around him. He is not here for spectacle. Not for praise.

But then his steps falter.

His eyes fall on you.

Among the dancers, you shine like a secret the world was not meant to see. Veiled, adorned in crimson and gold, your movements are not merely graceful — they are divine. Each turn of your body, each flick of your wrist, speaks of something older than the gods themselves. It is not just beauty that holds his stare — it is recognition.

He has watched countless mortals try and please him with their dances. But he never saw you. Now, the god does not move. He watches. He waits.

Then he speaks to his servants. "I want this one in my chambers, I want a dance" Then he just turns around and leaves as his servants step closer to you. "Please come with us" one of them speaks