Whispers of the Divine

Rameses hadn't slept.

The night had been restless—too many thoughts, too many feelings, and one pair of haunting eyes he couldn't get out of his head. He'd kissed her. Jade. And then somehow ruined everything immediately after.

And yet, even after she'd gone cold, distant, and all but disappeared, he still felt her. Like a thread in his chest pulling toward hers.

He sat in the quiet of the royal court chamber, absently swirling wine in a goblet he hadn't touched, trying to piece together the storm she brought into his world.

And then the doors burst open.

A guard stumbled in, breathless, wide-eyed. "Your Majesty!"

Rameses stood immediately. "What is it?"

"It's the foreign woman—the one from the stars. She… she jumped into the Nile."

His heart stopped. "She what?"

"She saved a child," the guard panted. "A girl who had fallen into the river. Everyone saw it. They say—" He hesitated, swallowing hard. "They say she brought the child back."

Silence fell.

"Back?" Rameses echoed. "You mean the child lived?"

The guard nodded. "They say she was dead. Blue-lipped, breathless. And the foreigner laid her hands on her and made her breathe again."

The goblet slipped from Rameses' hand, shattering on the floor.

He didn't notice.

Because outside the palace walls, he could already hear the chanting.

Low. Reverent. Growing louder.

"Praise to the goddess…"

"Praise to the river healer…"

"She walks among us…"

His blood ran cold.

Jade.

The woman who had cursed him with her gaze, defied him with her voice, and haunted his dreams long before they ever met—now revered by his people as divine.

Something shifted deep in his chest. A sharp pull. Familiar and terrifying.

He turned to the open balcony and stared toward the horizon, where the Nile sparkled in the morning light.

Rameses stood frozen, the shattered goblet at his feet.

He didn't know what he was feeling—shock, awe, a spark of something almost… fearful. But more than anything, he needed to see her. Now.

"Ready my chariot," he said to the guard. "I'm going to her."

But before the soldier could move, another voice interrupted—one of his scribes, pale and nervous.

"Your Majesty, forgive the intrusion, but the council is gathered. The urgent meeting cannot be delayed."

Rameses clenched his jaw.

Of course.

Politics. Always politics.

He looked once more toward the horizon, toward the river, toward her.

Then back to the court doors.

His hands curled into fists.

Just wait for me, he thought. Whatever you are… whatever you've become—I will find you.

Jade barely had a moment to breathe.

The child was safe. Alive. But now the crowd was swelling around her like a rising wave—praising her, chanting, some even kneeling as though she glowed with divinity.

Hands brushed her arms. Her robes. People cried and kissed the hem of her soaked garments. Someone tried to offer her flowers. Another bowed so low their forehead touched the ground.

It was overwhelming.

She took a shaky step back, then another.

What is happening right now?!

The word "goddess" kept echoing like a drumbeat in her ears.

"Blessed one," "healer," "divine." All of it.

"No, no, I'm not—" she tried to say, waving her hands, backing up—but no one was listening. They didn't want a reason.

They wanted a miracle.

And she'd just given them one.

Then, just as panic began to rise in her chest, a hand yanked her arm hard.

"What the—?!" Jade barely had time to react before someone threw a linen scarf over her head and pulled her sideways, ducking low through the throng.

She stumbled, blinded, held tightly by the wrist. The chanting grew distant. The sun dimmed. The air shifted. Stone under her feet.

Then—silence.

They ducked into an alleyway, cool and shaded. Hidden.

Jade ripped the scarf from her head, gasping, spinning around.

"Are you insane—?!"

She stopped.

Hassan.

Breathing heavily. Eyes sharp, but calm. His grip loosened.

"You're welcome," he said flatly.

Jade stood there, chest heaving, soaked through, a little breathless, and a lot annoyed.

"You could've just said something instead of dragging me like a sack of dates," she snapped, yanking the damp scarf off her head.

Hassan didn't flinch. His arms were crossed, his eyes hard and unreadable in the shadowed alleyway.

"You have no idea what you just did," he said.

Jade frowned. "I saved a little girl from drowning. You're welcome."

"You didn't just save her," he snapped. "You brought her back from death. In front of a crowd. In broad daylight. And now they think the gods walk among them."

Jade opened her mouth, then shut it.

Hassan stepped forward, his voice low and sharp. 

"They're calling you a goddess. A healer sent by the heavens. And now the priests and the council are in a frenzy. You've disrupted the balance of power in the palace—and they don't like that."

Jade felt a cold drip slide down her spine that had nothing to do with her wet clothes.

"But why? I saved a dying child for Christ sake!," she said. "They should be relieved!"

"That doesn't matter," he said flatly.

"Intentions don't mean anything here. Perception is everything."

He paused, then added, "The council has already convened. They've summoned the Pharaoh."

Jade's heart sank. "To decide what?"

Hassan didn't sugarcoat it. "What to do with you."

She stared at him.

"They're afraid of what you are," he continued. "And some of them… they want to use you. Others want to lock you away. Or worse."

The alley fell silent, except for the distant hum of the city behind them.

Jade's hands trembled slightly.

Her mind was racing.

She hadn't even dried off from the river and now she was being discussed like some cursed artifact in a political war room.