Chapter ~ Kill Me

The night air carried the scent of burning oil and desert roses, an unsettling contrast to the horrors unfolding below. Nofri-it stood rigid, his fingers pressing into the stone railing as if it were the only thing keeping him from collapsing.

The prisoners knelt in ordered lines, their wrists bound in bronze shackles, their eyes hollow. Some still bore the remnants of royal insignias—the last of Memphis' warriors, nobles, and loyal guards who had fought for their kingdom.

They had fought for him.

And they had lost.

Azech-I's grip remained firm on his shoulder, his thumb idly brushing against the exposed skin near his collarbone. The touch was deceptively gentle, almost thoughtful—an illusion of tenderness beneath the layers of cold, calculated cruelty.

"Do you know why they are still alive?" Azech-I murmured, his voice a low rumble against Nofri-it's ear.

Nofri-it's jaw clenched. He would not give him the satisfaction of a response.

Azech-I continued undeterred.

"Because I want you to understand, Nofri-it. I want you to feel it in your bones—" His fingers curled slightly, possessive, dangerous. "—that everything you abandoned has paid the price for your sins."

Nofri-it sucked in a sharp breath, his heart hammering against his ribs.

This was his punishment.

Not just the gilded cage Azech-I had placed him in, not just the cold chains wrapped around his wrists—no, his torment was far crueler.

Azech-I wanted him to watch.

To see the suffering of his people and know that it was because of him.

The silence stretched between them, tense and suffocating, until Azech-I finally released him. The absence of his touch was almost worse than the presence of it.

Almost.

Nofri-it turned slowly, his movements controlled, masking the storm inside him. He met Azech-I's gaze—a deep, smoldering abyss that revealed nothing and everything all at once.

"Kill me."

The words left his lips before he could stop them.

Azech-I did not so much as flinch. He merely tilted his head, his lips curving into a humorless smile.

"Kill you?" he repeated, as if tasting the words.

Then, in a sudden movement, he gripped Nofri-it's chin, tilting his face up to meet his eyes fully. The torchlight flickered, casting sharp shadows across Azech-I's features—his high cheekbones, the sharp line of his jaw, the cruel amusement dancing in his gaze.

"Tell me, my lioness," he murmured, his breath warm against Nofri-it's skin. "Do you truly believe I would grant you such mercy?"

Nofri-it's breath hitched, but he refused to look away.

Azech-I chuckled softly. "No, Nofri-it. You will not die." His thumb traced along Nofri-it's lower lip, slow, deliberate. "You will live—long enough to learn what it means to betray me."

His fingers slid away, leaving behind a lingering warmth that felt like a brand.

Then, he turned and descended the grand steps into the courtyard.

Nofri-it remained frozen, watching as Azech-I moved with the slow, deliberate grace of a panther. The prisoners did not look up as he approached—whether out of fear or defiance, Nofri-it could not tell.

The murmurs of the Theban guards echoed in the air, the metallic clank of chains shifting as they prepared for whatever their Pharaoh commanded next.

Azech-I came to a stop before one of the kneeling prisoners—a man whose face Nofri-it knew well.

His breath caught.

Seth.

Once a noble warrior, now reduced to a prisoner at the mercy of Thebes' ruler.

Azech-I crouched, eyeing Seth as one might a wounded beast. Then, with an almost lazy motion, he grasped the man's chin, forcing him to look up.

"You served Memphis well," Azech-I mused, his voice carrying through the courtyard. "But tell me, warrior—was it worth it?"

Seth said nothing. His lips were cracked, his body trembling from exhaustion, but his eyes—his eyes still burned with defiance.

Azech-I sighed, as if disappointed.

Then, without warning, he struck.

A sickening crack echoed through the air as the back of his hand connected with Seth's face. The warrior collapsed onto the stone floor, blood spilling from his split lip.

A sharp gasp tore from Nofri-it's throat. His fingers dug into the railing, his body tensed as though it would move on its own.

Azech-I tilted his head up, locking eyes with him once more.

"Speak, Nofri-it," he commanded, his voice deceptively calm. "Beg for his life."

Nofri-it's breath came in short, uneven bursts. He wanted to.

He should.

But the moment he spoke, he would be giving Azech-I what he wanted.

His submission.

Azech-I's expression remained unreadable. Then, slowly, he unsheathed the dagger from his belt and held it out—offering it to Nofri-it.

A cruel invitation.

"Come," he said, voice like a whisper of silk. "If you wish to save him, kill me."

Nofri-it's fingers twitched.

This was a game.

A game he could not win.

Because Azech-I knew.

Even after all these years, after the war, after the betrayal—

Nofri-it could not bring himself to drive a blade through his heart.

And Azech-I was determined to remind him of that weakness.

The dagger gleamed under the firelight, waiting.

Nofri-it took a slow step forward.

His heart pounded.

His pulse roared in his ears.

His fingers hovered over the hilt.

Azech-I smiled.

Because they both already knew—

He would not do it.

The dagger's hilt was cold beneath Nofri-it's fingertips, its weight heavier than it should have been. Azech-I did not move, did not even tense—he merely watched, waiting, as if daring him to act.

The world around them had gone still. The guards, the prisoners, even the air itself seemed to hold its breath. The only sound was the distant crackling of torches and the slow, measured beat of Nofri-it's heart.

This was his moment.

His chance.

If he struck true, if he drove the blade into Azech-I's chest, this would all be over. The war, the torment, the suffering—

But the thought felt like an illusion, a mirage in the desert.

Azech-I's amber gaze burned into him, knowing, waiting. He knew, just as Nofri-it did, that the dagger would never meet its mark.

Nofri-it's fingers curled around the hilt. His breathing was unsteady.

"Do it," Azech-I whispered, low and inviting.

His voice sent a shudder down Nofri-it's spine.

It was a trap.

Not in the way a warrior set a snare, but in the way a beast lured its prey, drawing it closer, letting it believe it had a choice before striking.

If he hesitated, he would be weak.

If he attacked, he would lose.

No matter what he chose, Azech-I had already won.

The dagger trembled in his grip.

A memory surfaced—a flicker of the past, a whisper of a time before blood stained their hands.

Two Years Ago—Thebes, Moonlit Chamber

Azech-I lay on the stone floor, his breath coming in quiet, measured inhales. The candlelight cast flickering shadows against the walls, highlighting the sharp angles of his face, the golden sheen of his skin.

He was watching Nofri-it with a strange kind of intensity, though his lips were curved into something softer, something dangerous.

"You hesitate too much," he murmured, reaching up to twine his fingers into Nofri-it's hair.

Nofri-it stiffened, his body half-straddling the Pharaoh's waist, the dagger poised at his throat. The mission echoed in his mind like a warning—kill him, end it, rid Cairo of its greatest enemy.

But the words no longer felt like an order.

They felt like a lie.

Azech-I chuckled, his grip tightening just enough to make Nofri-it's breath hitch. "You won't do it."

The blade hovered just above his skin.

One quick movement—one breathless second—was all it would take.

But Azech-I's other hand traced along Nofri-it's arm, slow and deliberate, fingers barely ghosting over his wrist.

"Do you know why?"

Nofri-it swallowed. "Why?"

Azech-I leaned up, his lips a whisper away. "Because you belong to me, little lion."

The memory shattered as Azech-I's fingers closed over Nofri-it's hand, forcing the dagger down between them.

Back in the present. Back in chains.

A sharp gasp escaped his lips as Azech-I wrenched the blade from his grasp, the metal clattering to the stone floor between them.

Nofri-it's knees nearly buckled.

Azech-I let out a quiet sigh, tilting his head. "You never change, do you?"

The murmurs of the guards returned. The spell of silence was broken.

Azech-I turned, his movements fluid as he stepped away, signaling the end of this cruel game. "Take them away," he ordered.

The prisoners were dragged to their feet, their chains rattling against the floor. Seth cast Nofri-it one last glance before he was shoved forward, disappearing into the shadows beyond the torches.

Nofri-it swayed where he stood.

Azech-I's hand found his wrist, warm and unyielding.

"You disappoint me," the Pharaoh murmured, pulling him close until their bodies nearly touched. His lips brushed against Nofri-it's ear, soft and lethal. "But do not worry."

His fingers tightened, a silent promise, a warning.

"I have eternity to teach you obedience."

Nofri-it closed his eyes.

The real torment had only just begun.