Chapter ~ Chains And Blood

The echoes of the court's laughter still lingered in the air when Azech-I returned to his throne, his every movement deliberate, calculated—meant to humiliate.

He did not order Nofri-it to stand.

He did not order the guards to release him.

No, he let him kneel before the entire court, his shackled wrists resting against his thighs, his once-proud frame now bound in golden chains like an ornament placed at the Pharaoh's feet.

Nofri-it's gaze remained steady.

Not at the nobles. Not at the generals who once fought beside him. Not at the priests who stood in silent judgment.

Only at Azech-I.

The man who had once held him like something precious.

The man who had once whispered his name like a prayer.

The man who now sought to break him.

Azech-I leaned forward, resting his elbow against the armrest of his golden throne. "Tell me, lioness," he drawled, amusement thick in his voice, "do you think of him still?"

The words sliced through Nofri-it like a blade.

He knew what Azech-I was doing.

Knew he was trying to unearth the past, to salt wounds that had barely begun to close.

And yet, his throat tightened, his breath unsteady for the first time since stepping into this grand humiliation.

Azech-I's smile sharpened. "Pharaoh Cairo," he continued, eyes dark with something unreadable, "he who sent you to kill me. He who left you to rot in chains for your failure."

The court hushed, hanging onto every word.

Nofri-it did not respond.

Could not.

Because the moment Azech-I uttered Cairo's name, his mind was no longer in the great hall of Thebes.

It was back in the dungeons of Memphis.

—Five years ago.—

Darkness.

The kind that swallows sound, that clings to the skin like a second layer, suffocating, inescapable.

Chains.

The cold bite of iron shackles against his wrists, too tight, cutting into flesh.

The stench of damp stone, of blood long dried.

Footsteps.

Soft, calculated, drawing closer.

Then a voice. Smooth as silk, tainted with amusement.

"You disappoint me, Nofri-it."

A sliver of torchlight slithered into the cell, illuminating the man who stood just beyond the bars.

Pharaoh Cairo.

Regal, untouchable, his robes a cascade of gold and crimson. He regarded Nofri-it with something that might have been pity—if Cairo had ever been capable of such a thing.

"You were my most lethal weapon," Cairo mused, tilting his head. "Yet here you are. Broken. Useless."

Nofri-it said nothing.

His throat was raw from screaming. His body bruised from the punishments of failure.

But still, he did not kneel.

Cairo stepped closer, fingers wrapping around the bars of the cell. "Did he seduce you, Azech-I?"

Nofri-it stiffened.

Cairo chuckled. "Did he make you believe you were more than a blade in my hands?" His voice dropped, softer now. "Did he make you love him?"

Nofri-it's lips parted, but no words came.

Cairo leaned in, his voice a whisper.

"You did not fail because you were weak," he said. "You failed because you wanted to."

Silence stretched between them.

Then Cairo smiled.

"Very well," he murmured, stepping back. "If you will not die for me, then you shall rot for me."

And with that, he turned.

The cell door slammed shut.

And the darkness swallowed Nofri-it whole.

—Thebes. Now.—

The weight of memory settled like lead in Nofri-it's chest.

His fingers curled into fists, nails biting into his palms.

Azech-I watched him, searching for something—perhaps a flicker of guilt, of shame, of longing.

He would find none.

"Shall I tell you what became of Cairo?" Azech-I asked, his tone almost gentle.

Nofri-it's breath hitched.

Azech-I smiled, slow and cruel.

"I burned his temples to the ground," he said. "I crushed his armies beneath my heel. And when I took Memphis, I did not kill him immediately."

The court was deathly silent.

"I made him beg." Azech-I's voice was a whisper now, for Nofri-it alone. "For his life. For mercy. For death."

Something inside Nofri-it twisted, a storm of emotions he could not name.

Hatred. Rage.

And something else.

Something far more dangerous.

"You need not hate him anymore," Azech-I murmured. "I have already done so for you."

Then he rose from his throne.

"Take him back to his cage."

Nofri-it did not resist as the guards hauled him to his feet.

He did not speak as he was dragged from the great hall.

But as the doors closed behind him, a single thought burned in his mind.

Azech-I believed he had won.

That he had broken him.

But Nofri-it had not forgotten.

Not the pain.

Not the betrayal.

And not the love that had once made him weak.

One day, he would make Azech-I regret sparing him.

Even if it meant destroying them both.

To Be Continued...