second

 priest did not sleep.

 priest did not dream.

 senmut fasted, and once he had passed that harsh threshold did the holy man began his dreaming. water sustained him.

 he searched for Nazli in the worlds now opening to his mind, which opened as the flowering of the sacred lotus.

 he refused all meals. he walked alone in the desert, singing until voice went to fracture by stinging vials of blown sand. 

 but he could not find her!

 addled steps threw the red prince at last far across the dunes, where Ra burned him and scorched his upraised palms; senmut stumbled and fell, over and over, thinned body landing in summary heap at the bottom of a shallow stone corridor which had opened beneath his feet.

 beyond, lined stones stood half in darkness, indicating more chambers in descendant view.

 the priest lay silent, breathing yet insensate.

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 what brought to him? many things. there was more work to be done, but he had faced much loss; she could not fathom the heartbreak he endured! the reports of the Mazoi brought no news of the lavender girl, and though Toula had faith this test was not her own to endure. and would she have so much of that faith, were it her husband? her children?
 she prayed always for the priest. soon, soon their prayers would be answered—
 Toula saw him as he tumbled, and spurred her attendants and guard into a quicker pace to meet him. by the time she arrived to him, she did not even realize what they had come across—what the Gods had brought him to discover. only him,
 and Toula realized with her heart in her throat that she could not lose the red priest-made-prince either. the Pharaoh reached to help him stand, and murmured a command to one fellahin to gather some small morsels to bring to her. now she looked back at the emerald eyed man, looking him over—she saw that he breathed, to her great relief, but he did not look well! “can you hear me?” she asked of him, circling around him! still she did not recognize that she no longer walked among the hot sands of the Oasis but a cool floor!

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 he heard.

 a voice not his own came from his throat; "pharaoh. please send your servants away."

 and he saw her through the blurring emerald uplift of a vision, and felt the fel energy from this cavern pulsating around her. around pharaoh. it tried its dog's-head attempt to encircle and was rebuffed by her power.

 senmut did not quite understand what he saw;

 only that the truth of his search came to him, riotous with new knowledge, new and darkened things. pharaoh was the conduit through which he might truly ascend to High Priest. then all would be known to him.

 something — denied.

 he rose at last, aching; he rose and stood before his sovereign, and gazed upon her with a faraway look.

 senmut turned. he walked into the darkness, seeking to lead pharaoh through the goddess night into whatever lay beyond.

 a ritual formed, ancient, shrouded; he did not know from where the memory had come, and thought it his own mind. a recoiling. a marvel. could it be done?

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 thank the Gods! an exhale of relief to see his gaze, to see him move. his request is considered for a brief moment, and then she looks around them. where were they? she marveled at the size of the space they lingered in, and as she looks ahead of them, its depths are unknown to her!
 and so, she determines to meet him somewhere in the middle. “you will wait here, and come only when you are called,” she instructs, “you may fetch water and food for yourself, of course, but remain near. if you tire, send another in your place,” for she and the priest moved into uncharted territory, and if she needed their aid should he fall again she would not have him wait for assistance.
 he, though, seemed confident and renewed, stepping forth without fear. and so she followed him in much the same way, keeping to a reverent quiet. the sound of her quiet footfalls could be heard through the soft click of nails echoing around them, and her gaze shifted from the unknown to the familiar as she regarded the priest.
 what had they found? where did he lead them?

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 indeed the ground was different, and several times the priest wanted to look down, but was compelled not to do so.

 it was not Amun who walked with them, nor the goddess Nwt; no. none of these. its name swirled just out of reach, as light fell in golden shafts just ahead.

 a chamber of stone, many feet across and around, hewn long ago by unknown work. a wide dais of darkened rock over which the sun shone through hidden places above, portals in the desert.

 upon the platform, two standing-stones with cupped alcoves in their center rested, and he knew them to have been the effort of thrones.

 he turned to pharaoh and watched her with the self-same reverence, with more.

 "Divine One. Set, Seth, Sutekh. Lord of Chaos, it is He who resides here. this is a sanctified place of the Dread Lord."

 senmut was desperate; the man who was flesh was willing to pledge all for one.

 one even above pharaoh.

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 back to the path ahead did her gaze turn. never before had she seen something such as this when the room opened up—and she was drawn forward, even as Senmut paused to look upon her. what was in his gaze she did not then see, as she walked toward one throne.
 it was only his words that gave her pause. Set—a name she knew, a name that had grievously wounded her Godly counterpart,
 “this space does not seem so chaotic,” Toula tilted her head as she regarded him, inviting him to say all that he would—all that he knew! she listened, ignoring then the pull she felt.
 the priest compelled her more, then—and she turned to face him fully, giving him all of her regard.

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 "no. save for its hidden nature, its black depths, its knowledge." he knew pharaoh did not speak against him; even now she looked to him as a teacher. "Set is forgotten, remembered only for His chaos. but it is also He who is Lord of the Desert, of travelers." they had settled here in golden oasis, they had brought with them all which would set them above.

 but they must not forsake He Who Moved Beneath.

 new eyes, new eyes; they seemed to glitter with a sheen quite unlike senmut. "He is here," the priest said softly; "He knocks upon the door of my heart and wishes to possess."

 a breath, light shimmering; "to speak with you."

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 and in her heart there was love for Set, too—one meant to be brother, moved to act in such terrible violence against her beloved Osiris. there was truth in the words of the priest, she recognized this as she looked about them. that as much as her own tears, as powerful as those as Isis—the same!—manifested in the undoing water of Akashingo’s halls had brought them together… as though her people were the torn apart body of Osiris, brought together again—
 but now came Set, and as her gaze turned back to Senmut she saw… she saw…
 yes, it was Him who had brought them here, together. even in knowing Osiris was among them! and she knew the question posed might perhaps be the last of the priest, because a God did not truly ask. the sheen of his gaze was different, new—but known,
 was it herself or was it Iset that spoke so unfalteringly then, bidding that he “speak,” and waiting, wondering!

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 "pharaoh of red sand and lotus, of afterlife and gold. i speak now as intermediary for Set —"

 almost as soon as senmut had spoken did the shriek of a keening wind rise, swirling around the space until sand rose in pirouettes. heat poured upon he and pharaoh, and instinctively the man who was priest might have moved to shield her.

 but now he did not.

 face took on a cunning smile, eyes darkening in the half-light of the chamber. "long has it been since I spoke with a daughter of the gods."

 senmut transfixed in monotone;

 "a daughter of Iset. one who might have been My own. here you have found Me."

 malevolent; glinting.

 "will you ask something of Me?"

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 it was no longer the priest, who was so wholly transformed by Him! a foreleg rose to shield her eyes from the whipping sands summoned by His spirit, but as the winds quieted she stood taller, even though she did not know if she was ready to receive Him!
 she looked upon the God with some measure of awe and respect—it was so deeply ingrained in her, that even for the wounds Iset, and through her she herself, had suffered her deeply abiding faith did not permit her to shun Him, for even still He had import to her people!
 and, He had brought them here, another element she had not even thought to imagine—she thought His own hatred for His brother was as eternal as He Himself was. she considered his question, the invitation there—she turned from him now to leap upon her throne, turning in a swift pirouette to face him.
 “what has brought You to me?” she started, though she had many questions! but that He wanted to speak to her—did that not mean something?

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 "you, pharaoh," Set said, grinning savagely. He rolled His shoulders; He paced to and fro, exploring the confines of the flesh which now housed Him. "your priest is a bit — sexless," the god jested, mocking His vessel. "but no matter. he will do for my purposes."

 "pharaoh. we have summoned one another to this place, it seems. i do not want to be forgotten by your dynasty, Wife to the Gods."

 Set turned, stalking from the light into darkness; to where waters flowed.

 beyond the room were more splintered walls which fell away to darkest earth. only the sparest hint of light illuminated the gentle pools, three of them. varied in size and fed by ancient springs, it was their hue which drew the eye: a stunning darkblood color.

 "I am Lord of the Sands, and yet you have not come to Me, pharaoh." Set turned. "there is a name for that."

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