Pharai
The jet hummed beneath me. A steady, mortal sound.
I was exhausted. Ruthor's body was exhausted. And the beacon in my ribs had not stopped pulling east since Cairo. So I did what I never do in front of gods. I closed my eyes.
"Rest," Hathor murmured beside me. Her hand found mine. "Just for a little while, sa Ra." [Son of Ra.]
I let the word settle. [Sa Ra.] Man. That's what I am. That's what I've always been. Even in this wrong skin.
Sleep took me fast. Too fast.
Sand.
Hot beneath my bare feet. Burning, shifting, real.
I gasped and opened my eyes.
Desert. Endless. Gold and red under a sky bruised with twilight. The air tasted of dust and myrrh. My chest rose and fell with lungs that fit. Arms that were mine. Long hair that fell past my shoulders in dark waves. This was my body. My real body.
Pharai.
"Iw wnn.k m kꜣ nṯr," a voice whispered on the wind. [You walk as a god.]
