It was damp and cramped in the muggy tunnel beneath Bil’Faridh. His face streamed with sweat. The jewels were no help. The torch in his left hand barely burned away the darkness ahead, but he made this trip so many times his legs never skipped a step.

“Pharaoh please, I must insist,” Aman sighed behind.

An even greater load weighed him down, but the boy barely breathed normally.

“Allow me to take the load.”

No doubt the boy heard the aching groans in his knees with every stride. Gawahir turned and grimaced at the brightness of Aman’s torch.

“There is no need for formality, we are alone,” he eyed the petite bundle over his right shoulder. His bulging arm wrapped around the girl’s waist.

“She only moans Pha… she will not wake, but I can carry your load.”

“No, I have my strength Aman, don’t worry about me,” Gawahir spun back around and lifted the overgrown sack of jewels. Returning the burning sensation into his arm, before kicking back into stride.

“There are stairs here. Be careful.”

“Thank you.”

Gawahir lingered at the bottom, waiting for Aman’s descent before continuing onward, deeper into the damp earth.

“It is a poor Lion who watches an elder carry a load while capable of sparing them the weight.”

“Elder? Are you saying I’m old, boy?”

“No, of course… never Pharaoh! Forgive me,” Gawahir smirked into the darkness again. Too polite for his own good.

“I’m teasing you, child,” he chuckled, then soured. What a strange time to laugh. Towards the goal he sought. How dare he find humour during such dark times? His aches spread beyond his joints and ravaged his heart.

“I will be fine. Let us be quick about it boy, we should cross under the Beast’s Tear by now.”

The flow of water rushed above their heads. Drumming along, dampening the ground as it dripped through the cracks. Their boots squelched upon the muddy stone below. It was cool for a bit.

Gawahir didn’t know when they made these tunnels. Though every journey through the ancient stonework convinced him it came long before somehow. Only he knew it, and it remained that way after reading the texts. He burned the page after the Witch told him. One born out of shame. Eventually, he learned to live with it, like most things.

He adjusted his silk mask, pinching out the sweat, dampening it, before lowering it entirely. The humidity returned after the brief respite of the Beast’s Tear. He wondered where the air came from. No pumps like those in the archives. Well, he couldn’t hear any. Discomfort was ever-present, sure, but he never had trouble breathing.

“Why couldn’t we walk through the district? You are pharaoh, no one would question you.”

He thought Aman was simpleminded, but no. Purity, childlike, until life shred it away. Words from any authority were truth to the boy until he was told otherwise. Everyone was kind until he was told otherwise. Loyal to a fault, Gawahir’s heart ached once again.

“Not everyone is as understanding as you are, dear Aman. There is uncertainty in the city. This sight would worsen tensions.”

“But we are solving one issue. We are solving the problem of the pharaoh’s kidnapping?”

“Indeed, but we cannot prove it, and those we seek help from desire secrecy.”

“If you told them, they'd understand.”

Innocent to a fault.

“May I ask another question?”

“Speak freely.”

“Why did the princes leave?”

“Would anyone be able to stop you from doing everything in your power to find me?”

Aman was quiet as the tunnel ascended slightly.

“Never.”

“The boys love their mother. I would be a cruel father to deny them the opportunity to save her.”

“Pharaoh Nadiyya is a kind woman, always smiling at any who passes her. I know you told me never to speak to her, but when she caught me, I wished to hug her, thank her even, for her kindness.”

Gawahir grunted, unable to speak, fearing what would spill from his lips. Despite the shock of her disappearance, despite his love. His initial relief would haunt him forever.

“People speak of the princess’ kindness. A magnificent beauty also, and she is yet to enter the city.”

“People like to gossip,” Gawahir grumbled.

What were the damned chances? It could not be a coincidence that Mazin returned with Jun’s lost daughter. Was it the Witches doing?

There was no shaking her influence. She claimed their partnership would end, but he doubted it.

Light flickered at the end of the tunnel, and Gawahir’s chest tightened. He doused the torch and did the same with Aman’s before turning on the strapping boy.

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“Aman,” he whispered. “When we ascend the ladder, you must not speak even when spoken to. Let me do all the talking. You might hear some things, some insults thrown at me. Do not defend me. It will be a battle of words and empty threats. Do not worry.”

“You honoured me by asking me to come, Pharaoh. I will not fail you.”

Damn you, boy, why must you make this difficult?

“If you’re unsure, just look at me and I will tell you.”

“Yes Pharaoh, I will not fail you.”

“Right then, let’s go.”

They shut the trapdoor, shovelling leaves over it again. Gawahir watched the calm face wrapped in warm silks, while Aman ensured the tunnel remained hidden. Her sun kissed face. She moaned a few times, but did not stir. Why the grey ones allowed such a young one to join their order puzzled him, though he was grateful now, made his task easy.

Winter departed the Sank’Ta Province, which meant a last burst of cold approached. An awful occurrence of the south, biting wind and ceaseless chill before the season changed again. They might not have suffered snow, but this cold challenged it. At least the rain ended.

Gawahir raised his mask and held his hood in place, fighting the wind ruffling his cloak. The night was clear and starry, but he avoided them. Their judgment was too much.

He watched Aman approach. Everything he touched he ruined, and the boy would be another. A good deed once, but he recalled his intentions all those years ago. The bitter escapade in the street.

If Nadiyya can do it, why can’t I? Gawahir shuddered, pretending it was the cold to Aman.

The cruelty it would have taken to send the boy away when he realised his stupidity, much too late. He couldn’t break Nadiyya’s heart again, and not in this fashion. This was an apology, a twisted one, but an apology for his own conscious. She would never know. Safe and returned.

“Do they usually make you wait, Pharaoh?” Aman asked.

“Often, it is nice to have company for once.”

“From where do they come?”

“You will see.”

Aman hefted the girl onto his shoulders. She moaned again and shifted before returning to peace.

Bil’Faridh hid behind a veil of fog his eyes couldn’t pierce. Fifty was still some years away, but he felt beyond it, especially as the cold ravaged his joints. If he were a Tamer, this wouldn't happen.

“I can take the jewels now. My hand is free.”

Aman didn’t wait for his permission this time, and rushed over to snatch the sack from his ankles.

“Now you are unencumbered.”

Forgive me dear child, Gawahir smiled at him but turned away before the tears came.

Gawahir jumped when he felt a tap on his shoulder, cursing as he laid eyes on the lifeless eyes staring down at him. Darkness shrouded the figure, like the other standing beside the tear they had emerged from. Magenta sparked like lightning within it.

Aman cursed and trembled. He found his courage soon after. They entered the blackness and Gawahir welcomed the tearing of his body. Every fibre of his being ripped apart as he fell into the abyss.

Gawahir cursed. His body came together again. He wished for it to be permanent, an end to all of this. But no, his hands felt the crumbling stonework of the ruins once again. His knees wailed when he struggled back to his feet, screeching in pain after slamming down.

He shivered in the darkness, blinking the cracked columns and braziers with blazing magenta fire into his vision. The lifeless eyes of the shadows stood in the darkness, watching him and Aman, frozen beside him.

“My Lion returns,” the Witch’s voice threatened to steal his knees from him. Her mockery broke his heart anew. “With more than I require.”

Her cackles groaned the entire ruin, and dust trickled down from the hole infested ceiling above.

“Congratulations on your victory. I trust my services satisfied again?”

He bit his tongue.

“What’s the boy’s name?”

“Aman,” Gawahir squeaked.

“Aman, child, place the gifts at my feet.”

The ruin rumbled again, and Aman obeyed without hesitation. He placed the girl down beside the sack at the foot of the stage and rose again like a statue.

“Come back Aman.”

“Your son is mine now,” the ruin rumbled again when she cackled. “Ask your ask. You’ve earned that much, but first, I need the girl’s name.”

“Cyrea.”

The Witch said something beyond him and the braziers on either side of her veiled throne blazed like columns of fire. Then everything settled. Other than Cyrea. She jerked and twitched awfully, though never awoke.

“Speak your ask,” the Witch repeated, weakly.

“My… my wife, I want her returned.”

The following silence shattered him.

Did I push too far?

“Not unharmed? And you dare say she is your wife.” The Witch’s laughter hollowed him, emptying his soul. “You insult me. Do you not think I am capable? Maybe I will wait until Mandla forces another child in her.”

“Fuck you!”

“There he is, oh how I will miss this and your greed. Never will I meet such an obedient fool again. My time is at an end, but worry not, your last request will be done.”

“Good riddance,” Gawahir squeaked.

“Don’t push me, Atum Ra! You dare seek to redeem yourself now, after all you have wrought? The foot of my throne is where you should bow. Beg for children, you received them. You asked to keep your throne. Now you are Pharaoh Atum Ra, Emperor’s Bane. Demand your wife back. You will get her.”

“You lie. My children are my own.”

“Hah! How long did that take to sink? Is that why you bring Aman, to rid yourself of another mistake?”

The Witch’s magenta flames flickered again, and Aman jerked.

“I will enjoy the Stars falling on you all. I will be watching.”

“They’re my children!”

“And see how you have doomed them!”

“The Great Beast,”

“Do not speak of that lie to me Atum Ra! Begone, your troubles are your own again. Begone Atum Ra,” columns collapsed and shattered on the ground, the entire temple crumbled before his very eyes as every brazier lost its magenta fire.

A lifeless shadow snatched his collar and yanked him back into the tear of blackness. Gawahir let go. His body tore apart, piece by piece, until nothing remained.

He wailed when he became whole again. Gawahir clutched his head on his knees upon the brown grass of the Sank’Ta. Without a care for who might hear. No one but the glittering stars did, and they hated him as much as he did.