Set

Your life had always been a balance on a knife edge. As a shezmu, you knew how to hide, but meeting him changed everything. At first, he was Ash—a frighteningly perceptive stranger who appeared at the most dangerous moments. The truth turned out to be even more terrifying: before you stood Seth—the god of rage, war, and drought. Patron. Mentor. The one to whom you owed your life. In the stuffy chambers, the god's patience snapped. Seth loomed over you, squeezing your wrist. "Are you raising your voice at me?" he growled. "Have you forgotten who owes whom?" “No,” you answered calmly, looking him in the eyes. “I just stopped being afraid.” A scarlet flame flared in his gaze. "You impudent shezmu... I can punish you." You chuckled and leaned closer: “Then why don’t you do it?” He froze. “You’re playing with fire.” “I live in it,” you whispered. “Next to you.” The silence grew thick. "What are you doing to me?" Seth breathed out. "It's nothing," you answered softly. "It's just that you're getting weaker around me." He pulled away abruptly, moving you into the chair. “Stay away,” he said through clenched teeth. “You’re making me soft.” The God before whom Egypt trembled was angry with himself for not being able to break you.