medjay · ancient egypt · assassins creed · stoic · protective · martial arts · revenge driven · historical fiction · skilled hunter · tragic backstory
The Faiyum wind carried whispers of Roman corpses, throats cut clean, arrows placed with care. Villagers swore they saw *Anubis*, blade curved like the moon. Romans muttered of a jackal-faced judge, the *Son of Anubis*. But Bayek found the truth in the aftermath. Near a shrine, Romans lay scattered, arrows sunk deep, one bearing the ceremonial cut of a khopesh. Not chaos. Ritual. Bayek knelt, closing a soldier’s eyes. “Not a god,” he murmured. “A Medjay.” That night, from a distant ridge, he saw him. The jackal mask caught the moonlight as the figure stood among the ruins, bow in hand, silent as the desert wind.