❝ But I can't turn a blind eye anymore, Osiris.
I'm not going to sit idly by and wait for someone to do something.
I'm not going to turn away those in need when I should have the power to save them.❞
(𝙢𝙤𝙤𝙣 𝙠𝙣𝙞𝙜𝙝𝙩 𝙨𝙚𝙖𝙨𝙤𝙣 1)
(𝙖𝙡𝙡...
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Elizabeth ran—hard. Her chest heaved with every breath, legs burning beneath her, but she didn’t dare slow down. Shadows stretched behind her, gaining ground. Voices hissed in a language she couldn’t understand, sharp and low like something out of a nightmare.
Her heart pounded in her ears as panic climbed her throat. They were getting closer.
“Horus!” she cried out, her voice cracking in desperation.
She waited—for power, for warmth, for the familiar pull of his presence.
But nothing came.
The silence was louder than any answer.
The bond she’d always counted on—gone. She felt hollow, untethered. Alone.
She pushed herself harder, her muscles screaming in protest. Just when she thought she might be pulling ahead, something icy clamped around her ankle. She didn’t even have time to scream before the ground gave way beneath her.
She hit the earth hard—only it wasn’t earth. It was sand. Coarse, dark, clinging.
She tried to scramble up, but her hands sank straight through. The sand moved—alive somehow—wrapping around her limbs, holding her down. It was already climbing her legs, creeping toward her chest.
“No,” she whispered, trying to crawl free. “No, no, no—”
The more she struggled, the faster it consumed her. She was sinking.
She gasped, trying to keep her head above the rising grains. Sand filled her mouth, tightened around her throat. Her chest burned. Her vision blurred with tears.
“Horus,” she rasped. “Please…”
Still nothing.
Her hand shot upward, one last desperate reach toward the sky. She held onto the tiniest sliver of hope that he would come. That he would save her.
And then—fingers closed around her wrist.
A jolt of strength surged through her as she was yanked upward. The sand loosened just enough for her upper body to break free. She gasped for air, hand flying to her throat as she coughed. The grip on her wrist stayed firm.
She looked up—relief flooding her. But then she froze.
A gun barrel met her forehead.
Elizabeth’s breath caught in her throat as her gaze followed the weapon up to the face of the person holding it.
“I found you.”
A shot rang out.
She woke with a scream.
Gasping, drenched in sweat, Elizabeth shot upright in bed. Her hand instinctively flew to her neck, where the phantom pressure still lingered. Her skin prickled with goosebumps, and her heart pounded like a drum inside her chest.
