Zahra jolted upright with a gasp.
Nothing.
Her eyes saw nothing.
And worse — for a heartbeat, she felt nothing.
No breeze brushing her skin. No delicate scrape of sand.
Not the warmth of the Pharaoh's presence.
No warmth beside her.
No Pharaoh.
Panic surged, sudden and violent. She called out to him, her voice cracking almost immediately, her eyes burning with unshed tears. Gods — she had been an emotional wreck these past hours, raw and unravelled, and the one presence that steadied her was gone.
Losing her sight had shattered her in ways she hadn't expected. Fear had always lived quietly at the edges of her mind, honed into something useful — a sharpening stone, a warning bell. Fear was useful in that way.
Now the dam had broken.
It flooded her chest, her limbs, her breath, until anxiety and panic blurred together into something suffocating.
Everything around her felt different. Smelt different. Was different.
It was wrong.
Small, mysterious flutters and brushes made her jump, gasping at every unknown touch.
And yet — beneath the anxiousness, something else stirred.
A strange reverence bloomed. A new appreciation for everything she touched because she could no longer see it.
Sand trickled through her fingers, grain by grain, each one distinct. She noticed the way warmth lingered where skin met skin — where his skin had been. The tickle of a loose strand of hair against her nose felt amplified. Intimate.
She waited for him to return.
All alone.
He wouldn't have left me.
She curled her arms around her body, trying to give herself comfort as the thought pressed in — insistent.
He wouldn't have left me… would he?
The last thing she remembered was the oasis — the water, the quiet, the moment she had been about to bare her soul and let the final wall crumble.
Then pain.
After that, darkness.
Fear twisted, searching for new shapes.
What if he knew what I was going to say?
What if he left rather than reject me to my face?
Suddenly, a warmth she recognised smoothed over her face.
The sun.
Its heat spilled across her skin, gentle and reassuring, and she breathed it in like medicine. It steadied her enough to think. No use guessing how long she had been unconscious. She needed to orient herself.
To move.
She lifted one hand toward the warmth in the sky and pressed the other flat to the ground. The earth felt warm, but not scorched. The sun wasn't at its peak.
"That way is east," she said aloud, pride flickering weakly in her chest.
"That's not east."
The voice came without urgency — deep, worn smooth by centuries. She startled, snapping her head toward the sound.
But it swept around her.
"In this world," it continued mildly, "the sun rises from the north."
She gasped — again. It was starting to annoy her how often she did that lately.
A low chuckle followed, resonant rather than amused.
"Do not fear, child. You are back where you belong."
Something about his voice settled her nerves despite herself — a gravelled softness, like something ancient that had learned patience the hard way. The croak of it made her feel as though it had been a long while since he'd spoken to anyone at all.
"Am I… in the afterlife?" she asked, hesitating.
"Are you still blind?" he mocked lazily.
Her lip curled. "That's not funny."
"Forgive me," he said, laughter deepening. "Old habits."
She heard a shift in the sand. Not footsteps — weight redistributing.
"I am Maahes," he said. "Protector of the Forgotten Oasis."
Zahra choked on air.
"The Forgotten Oasis is a myth!"
Silence answered — then a hard groan of derision.
"You cling tightly to human certainty," he said at last. "Yet you are not listening to the world around you. Unable to take in your surroundings. I will excuse it — for now."
Despite everything, his presence soothed her. Familiar, somehow. Like an old friend she couldn't quite place.
"Excuse me?" she snapped. "'Human certainty'?"
"You don't know who you are," he said simply. "Do you?"
"I am Zahra."
Conviction steadied her voice.
A hand settled on her shoulder — large, heavy, grounding.
"Oh, child," Maahes murmured. "You are so much more than that. You always have been."
She flinched. "Please don't do that. I can't see you coming."
"You could," he replied calmly. "If you wished to."
"I must be hallucinating."
She frowned.
Wait — can you hallucinate if you can't see?
"Embrace it," he said. "Let it speak. Set your remaining senses free. Let the world introduce itself to you."
"And how exactly does one do that?" Sarcasm dripped from the words.
Something knelt before her. She felt the shift in air pressure, the displacement of space.
Her fingers curled into the sand. Every instinct screamed at her to move, to flee — fear rooted her in place.
"Breathe," Maahes said.
His hands closed around her shoulders — not restraining, but anchoring.
"You rely too heavily on sight. Its absence may be your greatest gift. We will awaken each sense, one by one. Just allow yourself to breathe."
She managed a weak nod.
"In through the nose," he instructed. "Out through the mouth."
She obeyed.
Again.
And again.
Her body grew lighter, the tight coil in her chest loosening.
"Now," he murmured, "open yourself to scent."
She inhaled.
The world rushed in.
Trees — green and living. Salt and mineral-rich sand. Cool water. Blossoms she could not name. The air was thick with information, layered and vivid.
"I can smell them," she whispered, awed.
Then something else — warm, familiar.
"…Fur?"
Something felt strange on her tongue.
"Ew — I can taste the fur." She ran her teeth over it, smacking her lips against her dry mouth.
"Good. Scent and taste are intertwined."
She could smell his smile and taste the satisfaction in his words.
"Now listen," he said. "Everything makes some kind of sound. You need only to hear it."
The wind whispered — not aimless, but patterned. Sand falling became rhythm. Water lapping became a greeting.
Suddenly, sensation bloomed everywhere at once.
Touch. Taste. Sound.
Understanding.
The world was alive.
Not seen — felt.
She sensed space. Movement. Presence. The land unfolded slowly, patiently, revealing itself layer by layer. She had done this before, within reason — but never like this.
It was tranquil. Otherworldly.
And deeply familiar.
She felt… home.
Let the world introduce itself to you," Maahes said distantly, his words blending into nature.
"I am the East," spoke the breeze, curling around her with a floral warmth.
Zahra gasped.
She knew that voice.
Follow the bird.
Her body trembled — not with fear, but recognition.