When the moon bleeds upon the water, and the river forgets its song,
A maiden pale as mourning light shall be cast to wake the drowned.
Her breath shall stir the depths where fallen gods lie dreaming,
Her heart shall tilt the scales of the living and the dead.
Through her defiance, the Nile shall rise—
Through her love, the underworld shall break its chains.
It was the prophecy Raymun had heard since childhood —a lullaby whispered by nervous servants, murmured by old nurses when they thought she slept,
a story meant to soothe yet always sounding like a warning.
And now, as darkness curled around her like a closing fist,
it was the only thing that rang in her mind:
those ancient words,
those terrible promises,
those whispered chains of fate tightening around her.
Raymun's eyes fluttered open to darkness rippling above her — the night sky, vast and merciless. The air smelled of wet earth and river reeds. Her body was half-submerged on the muddy shore, her soaked gown clinging to her like a second skin.
She coughed, water spilling from her lips, her breath rasping against the silence. For a long, dizzy moment, she could not remember where she was… only the drums, the torches, the Pharaoh's eyes. Then the memory struck like a blade: she had jumped.
And somehow, she was still breathing.
She pushed herself upright with shaking hands.
The moonlight silvered her white hair and turned her pale skin ghostlike. Her dress, once thick linen, now hung sheer and heavy, its damp folds nearly transparent.
She wrapped her arms around herself, trembling.
A rustle.
Her head snapped toward the sound.
A figure stood a few paces away — tall, motionless, half-shadowed by reeds.
"Who's there?" she whispered, her voice hoarse.
He stepped forward, and moonlight touched him.
He wasn't like any man she'd ever seen. His skin was a deep bronze, glinting faintly with droplets of water, muscles carved in smooth lines down his chest and arms.
Gold bands clasped his forearms and biceps, each etched with symbols that shimmered faintly when he moved. His hair, black and wet, fell loose to his shoulders, framing a face too sharp, too perfect — like a statue carved by divine hands.
But it was his eyes that held her — golden, glowing faintly in the dark.
Raymun froze. Her heartbeat roared in her ears. Every instinct screamed to run, yet her body refused to move.
"There is nothinf to be afraid of, woman." he said, voice low and smooth, almost melodic.
She took a step back anyway. "Stay away."
His brow furrowed slightly, a trace of amusement flickering over his lips. "If I meant you harm, you wouldn't be standing right here."
She blinked, her throat tightening. "What… what do you mean?"
"You were drowning," he said simply. "I pulled you out."
The words hit her like cold rain. She looked down at herself — the silt on her hands, the torn hem of her dress, the bruises on her knees. She remembered sinking, the world fading, her lungs burning.
She remembered giving up.
Her eyes flicked back to him. "You saved me?"
He gave a faint, almost careless nod. "You were heavy for someone so small."
The blush rose before she could stop it. She turned away, clutching her wet dress tighter to her chest, the fabric clinging stubbornly to her curves. He was starting to get on her nerves.
"Thank you," she muttered, unable to look at him.
The silence stretched. She could feel his gaze linger — not lewd, but curious, assessing, like she was something strange washed ashore from another world.
Finally, she forced herself to face him again. "Who are you?"
The corner of his mouth curved, just slightly. "A man who happened to be here," he said. "Call it luck."
"Luck," she echoed quietly. She was never lucky.
He didn't answer. Only watched her — those golden eyes gleaming faintly as though reflecting some hidden fire.
The night air pressed close between them, heavy with water and silence. She wanted to ask more — how he'd found her, what he wanted — but the words tangled in her throat.
Instead, she said the only thing she could manage. "I should go."
When she looked up again, he was still watching her — patient, unreadable, the ghost of a smile playing on his lips.
And though she didn't know his name, or what he truly was, one thing settled deep inside her as she held his gaze.
The events of last night slowly flooded her memory.