11/30/2025, 4:48 PM
Hysteria. The ravings of a traumatized man. Here, he would pause briefly to catch his breath, before hurrying on with the next of the wild auguries.
It was the fog. It was the mist, and the dimness of night which lit the imagination— even one spirit so intrepid as Setemhotep.
“Your head is aflame, sesh,” one paw braced the gilt neck while the other bid the bloody man to stand. “You’ve endured enough for one night. Go to Sitamun. Leave the corpse to me and I will take it to the hemet.”
No, Pharaoh would not hear of these ill omens, lest they abduct his imagination in the same way.
It was the fog. It was the mist, and the dimness of night which lit the imagination— even one spirit so intrepid as Setemhotep.
“Your head is aflame, sesh,” one paw braced the gilt neck while the other bid the bloody man to stand. “You’ve endured enough for one night. Go to Sitamun. Leave the corpse to me and I will take it to the hemet.”
No, Pharaoh would not hear of these ill omens, lest they abduct his imagination in the same way.