Chapter ~ No Mercy

The silence of the chamber pressed against Nofri-it like a suffocating shroud. He stared at the barred window, the faint glow of moonlight offering little solace. His mind was a storm of conflicting emotions—guilt, rage, and a gnawing ache that felt too much like regret.

Hekama.

The boy's face haunted him. His son. The word felt foreign, almost impossible to accept. Nofri-it's hands trembled as he traced the scars on his wrists, the raw evidence of his years in captivity. While he had suffered in Cairo's dungeons, Azech-I had been here, raising the child he never knew existed.

But the question lingered, unanswered and damning: Had Azech-I truly raised him out of love, or as a weapon against Nofri-it?

The sound of the door creaking open snapped him from his thoughts. Nofri-it tensed, his body instinctively bracing for another confrontation. But it wasn't Azech-I who entered this time.

It was a servant, an older woman with graying hair and a face weathered by years of labor. She carried a basin of water and a bundle of cloth. Her eyes flicked to Nofri-it, and for a moment, pity softened her features.

"Pharaoh Azech-I has ordered that you be tended to," she said quietly, setting the basin down on a low table. "You are to be cleansed and dressed before sunrise."

Nofri-it's lips twitched into a bitter smile. "Cleansed?" he repeated, his voice dripping with sarcasm. "I suppose even prisoners must look presentable in Thebes."

The servant didn't respond. She dipped a cloth into the water, wringing it out before approaching him. Nofri-it flinched when the damp cloth touched his skin, the coolness a stark contrast to the heat radiating from his fevered body.

"Why?" he muttered, his gaze fixed on the floor. "Why does he do this? Is it not enough to humiliate me? Must he play these games?"

The servant hesitated, her hands pausing mid-motion. "The Pharaoh has his reasons," she said carefully, her tone guarded. "He is not a man easily understood."

Nofri-it scoffed, his jaw tightening. "He was once."

The servant said nothing, her silence speaking volumes. She continued her work in quiet efficiency, wiping away the grime that clung to his skin. Nofri-it allowed her to tend to him, too exhausted to resist.

As the minutes stretched on, his mind drifted once more, tugged back into the depths of memory.

Five Years Ago...

The palace gardens were alive with the scent of blooming lotus flowers, their petals glowing pale under the light of the moon. Nofri-it leaned against a stone pillar, watching as Azech-I paced before him, his hands clasped behind his back.

"You're restless," Nofri-it observed, a hint of amusement in his voice.

Azech-I stopped, turning to face him. "Restless?" he repeated, arching a brow. "No, lioness. I am troubled."

Nofri-it tilted his head, his curiosity piqued. "By what?"

Azech-I sighed, running a hand through his dark hair. "The whispers from Memphis grow louder," he admitted. "Cairo is planning something, though I cannot yet see what. And you…" He stepped closer, his voice dropping to a near whisper. "You seem… distant."

Nofri-it's heart raced, his pulse pounding in his ears. He forced a smile, masking the turmoil within. "I am here, am I not?"

Azech-I studied him for a long moment, his piercing gaze seeming to see through the lie. "Yes," he said finally. "But for how long?"

The Present...

The memory was like a dagger twisting in Nofri-it's chest. He had known, even then, that his betrayal would shatter whatever fragile bond they had built. But he had convinced himself it was necessary. A mission. A duty.

And yet, as he sat there now, his body weak and his spirit fractured, he couldn't help but wonder if it had all been worth it.

The servant finished her work and stepped back, bowing her head. "You are ready," she said simply.

Nofri-it looked down at himself. His wounds had been cleaned, his skin anointed with fragrant oils. He wore a simple tunic of white linen, a stark contrast to the ornate robes he had once adorned as a guest of Thebes.

"Ready for what?" he asked, his voice flat.

The servant hesitated, her gaze flickering to the door. "The Pharaoh will summon you soon," she said. "It is best not to keep him waiting."

Before he could respond, she turned and left, the door closing softly behind her.

Nofri-it sat in silence, his mind racing. He knew Azech-I well enough to understand that this was only the beginning. The Pharaoh's vengeance would not come swiftly—it would be a slow, deliberate unraveling, designed to break him piece by piece.

And yet, despite the fear that coiled in his chest, a spark of defiance still burned within him.

"You may have me in chains, Azech-I," he murmured to himself, his voice steady. "But you will never have my soul."

The sound of approaching footsteps echoed outside the chamber, growing louder with each passing second. Nofri-it straightened, his jaw tightening as the door creaked open once more.

This time, it was Azech-I himself who entered.

The Pharaoh's presence was overwhelming, his tall frame draped in black and gold, the symbols of Anubis etched into the cuffs of his robes. His dark eyes locked onto Nofri-it, and a slow, dangerous smile spread across his lips.

"Rise, lioness," Azech-I commanded, his voice like thunder. "Your place is no longer here."

Nofri-it pushed himself to his feet, his body protesting with every movement. He stood before Azech-I, his chin lifted defiantly despite the trembling in his limbs.

Azech-I's smile widened, but there was no warmth in it. "Come," he said, gesturing toward the door. "It is time for Thebes to see what has become of its traitor."

Nofri-it swallowed hard, the weight of those words settling over him like a crushing wave. But he forced himself to step forward, his gaze never leaving Azech-I's.

The war between them had begun anew, and this time, there would be no mercy.

To Be Continued...