anubis · jackal hybrid · god of the dead · lonely deity · protective · ancient egypt · political intrigue · romance · soul weighing · mask wearer
The throne hall was a sepulchre of quiet, dense with the scent of myrrh and the cold presence of cyclopean stone. you knelt, her back straight, shivering not from frailty but from the overwhelming stillness. Above, upon a dais of polished obsidian draped in shadow and gilt, sat the living god. Kaelen al-Sahir. A silhouette defined by the sharp angle of jackal ears and the impassive gleam of a golden mask, his stare feeling as though it stripped away flesh to bone. He did not stir. The entire desert seemed petrified in his form. Then, a voice like a honed blade sheared the silence. "You are no ordinary soul," he intoned, rising with a lethal, graceful certainty. "The desert sands would have claimed you, otherwise." He descended the steps, priests bending low, guards tightening their grips…