Chapter ~ Stretching Memories

The night stretched long and unyielding.

The torches burned low, their flickering embers casting shifting shadows across the polished stone walls. The air was thick with the scent of incense—frankincense, myrrh, and something darker. Something that clung to Nofri-it's skin like a binding spell.

Azech-I's scent.

It had settled into every fabric, every breath he took, as if even the walls themselves bore his mark. A slow, calculated invasion.

The golden cuffs on Nofri-it's wrists gleamed in the dim light, their delicate craftsmanship a stark contrast to their true purpose. They were not meant to hold him down. Not yet.

But they reminded him he was already trapped.

A pet in a palace of grandeur, his cage lined with silks and adorned with gold.

Yet beneath the luxury, the truth remained—he was owned.

His body might have been removed from Cairo's dungeons, but his soul had merely been transferred to another prison.

The sound of distant footsteps sent a shiver down his spine.

He's coming.

Azech-I never announced his arrival.

He did not need to.

The air shifted when he entered a room, as though the very elements bowed to his presence.

Nofri-it kept his head lowered as the great doors creaked open.

The heavy scent of cedar and amber reached him first.

Then, the slow, measured steps.

Each one deliberate. Unhurried.

A predator in no rush to pounce—because the prey was already ensnared.

"Nofri-it."

The name fell like a decree from the gods.

Slowly, Nofri-it raised his gaze.

Azech-I stood before him, draped in dark linen, his golden cuffs gleaming beneath the torchlight. His kohl-lined eyes were unreadable, yet there was something else buried within them. Something old. Something dangerous.

He looked like a Pharaoh carved from divine wrath itself—dark, unrelenting, and merciless.

Nofri-it's pulse thundered.

This was not the man who once whispered against his skin in the dead of night.

This was the ruler whose name was feared beyond the Nile, whose throne was built upon conquest, and whose heart had hardened into something unbreakable.

Azech-I moved closer, one hand reaching out—not to strike, not to wound, but to grasp his chin once more.

Just as he had done before.

The touch was deceptively soft, but the force behind it was unyielding.

Nofri-it did not flinch.

He would not give him that satisfaction.

Yet, when Azech-I leaned in, his breath ghosting over Nofri-it's lips, his voice was barely above a whisper.

"Tell me, was it worth it?"

The question sliced through the silence like a blade.

Nofri-it swallowed. "Was what worth it?"

Azech-I's grip tightened.

"Leaving."

The word carried a weight that pressed against Nofri-it's ribs, threatening to crush the air from his lungs.

He wanted to spit back that he had not left, that he had been taken.

That he had been chained and tortured and buried alive beneath Cairo's wrath.

But what good would it do?

Azech-I had already decided he was a traitor.

A liar.

A deception wrapped in flesh.

Nofri-it forced himself to smirk, though it did not reach his eyes. "Would it anger you if I said yes?"

Azech-I stilled.

A moment of silence.

Then, a low, humorless chuckle.

"You were always a terrible liar, Nofri-it."

The grip on his chin disappeared.

Azech-I stepped back, turning away as if he had already tired of the conversation.

But before he left, his next words cut deeper than any blade.

"You belong to me now. You will never leave again."

And with that, he was gone, leaving Nofri-it in the crushing silence of his own unraveling.

The heavy doors slammed shut behind Azech-I, sealing Nofri-it inside the chamber of silence and suffocating memories. The lingering scent of cedar and amber still clung to the air, a cruel reminder that Azech-I had been here—had touched him, had spoken to him in that voice laced with possession and something far more terrifying.

Something resembling grief.

Nofri-it sat motionless, his wrists resting in his lap, the golden cuffs gleaming in the dim torchlight. They were not locked, not yet, but their weight alone was enough. A chain need not be fastened to remind a captive of his place.

His heart pounded in his chest, not from fear, but from something colder. A deep, aching bitterness.

He could still hear Azech-I's parting words echoing in his skull.

"You belong to me now. You will never leave again."

The declaration had been absolute.

Unforgiving.

Final.

And yet—Nofri-it closed his eyes.

He had heard those words before.

Five years ago.

Thebes.

A warm night, thick with the scent of lotus and sandalwood. The silk curtains billowed from the open balcony, carrying the desert breeze into the chamber where two bodies lay tangled in the moonlight.

Azech-I had been draped over him, his bare skin flushed from their heated passion, his breath still uneven as he held Nofri-it possessively against him.

"You will never leave me."

The words had been a whisper against his shoulder.

A promise. A warning. A plea.

Nofri-it had chuckled then, running his fingers through Azech-I's thick dark hair.

"And if I do?" he had teased, knowing full well he never intended to.

Azech-I had growled, flipping him onto his back, pressing their bodies together until there was no space between them.

"You won't," he had murmured against his lips. "Because I will hunt you to the ends of the earth."

He had kissed him then, slow and deep, a seal to the vow neither of them had foreseen breaking.

Nofri-it's breath hitched as he tore himself from the memory, as if waking from a cruel dream.

That night felt like another lifetime.

That Azech-I no longer existed.

And perhaps—neither did the Nofri-it he had once loved.

He opened his eyes.

The torches flickered, shadows dancing across the golden walls. A slow, creeping dread settled in his stomach, though he did not know why.

Then, he heard it.

A distant cry.

A sound not meant for this palace of grandeur.

A sound of suffering.

Nofri-it rose, his body protesting, weakened by years of neglect in Cairo's dungeons. But he ignored the pain and moved toward the open archway leading to the balcony.

The warm night air hit him first.

Then, the sight below.

The grand courtyard, once a place of celebration and feasts, now bore something much darker.

Rows of men in chains.

Prisoners of war.

His people.

The remnants of Memphis.

A slow, cold realization settled over him.

Azech-I had not come merely to reclaim him.

He had come to destroy what little was left of his past.

And now, Memphis lay in ruins—its people at his mercy.

Nofri-it's fingers dug into the stone railing, his knuckles white.

He had spent five years in chains.

Now, he was watching his people suffer the same fate.

He barely heard the approaching footsteps.

Barely registered the presence behind him—until a strong hand gripped his shoulder.

Nofri-it did not turn.

He did not need to.

The heat of Azech-I's body was unmistakable, his touch as commanding as ever.

A moment of silence stretched between them, thick with unspoken words.

Then, Azech-I's voice—low, steady, unrelenting.

"Watch closely, Nofri-it."

His fingers tightened ever so slightly.

"This is what happens when you leave me."

Nofri-it inhaled sharply, his entire body going rigid.

But he did not look away.

Even as his heart shattered, even as the weight of his sins came crashing down upon him—

He did not look away.