Sands of Betrayal E-Book

Danniel Paraiso Da Silva

• Herausgeber: epubli
• Kategorie: Fantasy und Science-Fiction
• Sprache: Englisch

Seitenzahl: 251

Veröffentlichungsjahr: 2025

Beschreibung

In the burning heart of Ancient Egypt, where the sands move like eternal serpents and the gods whisper through the winds, the greatest battles were never fought with spears or swords alone. They were fought in the soul. Between the desire for power and the thirst for freedom. Between the weight of destiny and the flame of rebellion. This is a time when love is forbidden, truth is a dangerous currency, and honor is a luxury for the few. Amid plots of betrayal, envy, and glory, one young woman will dare to challenge not only the system that wants her submissive, but also the unseen forces that conspire to shape the world. Her name is Anippe. Daughter of the sand. Guardian of a hope that the desert itself has forgotten. Here, in the pages that follow, you will be taken through sacred palaces and fields of blood, through forgotten temples and desperate struggles. You will see kingdoms rise and fall. You will feel the cold blade of betrayal and the searing heat of courage. For in this story, as in all great legends etched in eternal stone: Not all gods are just. Not all roses survive. But some, oh, some bloom... even under the shadow of death. Welcome to the Sands of Betrayal. The journey begins now.

Leseprobe

Copyright

© 2025 by Danniel Paraiso

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise, without the prior written permission of the author, except in the case of brief quotations used in critical reviews or reviews.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or to actual events is entirely coincidental.

Summary of Sands of Betrayal

Act I – Sands of Passion and Conspiracy

• A Look at the Forbidden Gardens

• Khenti Breaks Her Chains

• The Invitation to Death

• Preparing the Escape

Act II – Bloodstorm

• The Night of the Coup

• Sitra and the Lost Curse

• The Judgment of Thebes

• Ruins and Echoes of Blood

• The Captivity of Anippe

• Senenmut in the Shadow of the Temple

• Bek: The Nameless Hero

• Tadukhipa: Unlikely Alliance

• The Rebellion of the Sands

• Black Archers on the Horizon

• The Hand of Aymeru

• Isetnofret: High Priestess of Fear

• Chains of Gold and Fire

• Signs in the Fields of Djedu

• The Voices of the Gods

• Death in the Temple of Anubis

• Nefru: The Faceless Archer

• The Call of Siwah

• Senenmut and the Lightsaber

• Nafretiri Finds the Forbidden Artifact

• March to the Fortress of Memphis

• Combat in the Red Dunes

• The Wrath of Setnakhte

• Anippe and the Spear of Isis

• A King Bleeds Under the Moon

• Bek Betrays… or Saves?

• The Pact of Amunet

• Fire over the Fields

• The Stolen Crown

• The Rise of the Usurper Prince

• Dueling in the Shadows

• Escape to the Lost Oasis

• The Voice of Prophecy

• Convergence of Armies

Act III – Rebirth or Ruin

• Senenmut vs Setnakhte

• The Arrow that Changed Destiny

• The Soul of the Desert

• Coup de Grace

• The Fall of the Black Archers

• Nafretiri’s Last Lies

• The Throne of Sand

• The Serpent’s Breath

• Between Lotus and Serpents

• The Shadow Council

• When the Lotus Blooms

• The Shadow in the Sand

• March on the Black Sand

• The Serpent’s Last Breath

• Under the Same Sky

• The Children of the Sand

• The Call of the Seasons

• The Portal of Eternal Sands

• The Desert Roses

• The Last Breath of the Sands

• Beyond the Sands

• Prologue

• Character Arcs

• Acknowledgements

• About the Author

Introduction

In the scorching heart of Ancient Egypt, where the sands move like eternal serpents and the gods whisper through the winds, the greatest battles were never fought with spears or swords alone.

They were locked in the soul.

Between the desire for power and the thirst for freedom.

Between the weight of destiny and the flame of rebellion.

This is a time where love is forbidden, truth is a dangerous currency and honor is a luxury for the few.

Amidst plots of betrayal, envy and glory, a young woman will dare to challenge not only the system that wants her submissive, but also the invisible forces that conspire to shape the world.

His name is Anippe.

Daughter of the sand.

Guardian of a hope that the desert itself has forgotten.

Here, in the pages that follow, you will be taken through sacred palaces and fields of blood, through forgotten temples and desperate struggles.

You will see kingdoms rise and fall.

You will feel the cold blade of betrayal and the searing heat of courage.

Because in this story, as in all great legends engraved in eternal stones:

Not all gods are just.

Not all roses survive.

But some, oh, some bloom…

even under the shadow of death.

Welcome to the Sands of Betrayal.

The journey begins now.

Sands of Betrayal

Daniel Paradise

Dedication

To the dreamers who cross deserts —

not with the feet, but with the heart.

To those who believe that even in the most arid lands,

love, courage and hope can flourish.

To those who dare to choose the light, even when darkness seems to win.

And above all,

to all those who understand that true power

is not in ruling by force,

but in inspiring by faith.

This book is for you.

Sands of Betrayal

Chapter 1 – Between Gods and Men

The sun rose over Thebes like a golden goddess, turning the flat roofs and towering columns of the temples amber. On the horizon, the Nile meandered lazily, reflecting the sky like a mirror shattered into a thousand glittering fragments. It was an ordinary morning for most mortals—but not for Anippe.

She knelt on the porch of her home, dressed in a white linen gown, her head bowed in reverence before the family altar. The words of her prayer were as ancient as the stones of the Valley of the Nobles: — May Isis guide me, may Horus protect me, may Anubis close my eyes only when I have fulfilled my destiny…

When he had finished, he remained motionless, hearing only the distant sound of market vendors opening their stalls, boatmen calling out to passengers, and horses clattering in the palace courtyard.

His heart, however, could not find peace.

Today, she would be formally betrothed to General Khesef—the man who, to the court, was the embodiment of glory and strength; but to her, was a dark abyss, with no return.

Paser, her father, was waiting for her in the marble chambers. The most respected scribe in Thebes, a man whose word carried weight as gold in audiences with the pharaoh, seemed impatient, tapping his polished wooden staff against the floor.

“You’re going to be late, daughter,” he said without looking directly at her.

Anippe looked up, struggling to hide her fear.

— Yes, my father.

As the maids led her into proper attire—gold bracelets, black eyeliner lining her eyes, and a turquoise necklace hanging down her chest—Anippe felt the weight of an invisible prison closing in around her. There was no choice. There was no hope.

Or so she thought.

Outside, on the way to the Temple of Isis, the first whispers of the people were already spreading like fire in dry straw: — I heard that Anippe will be Khesef’s future wife…

— They say the general saw her dancing in the gardens and decided to take her.

—No one denies a request from Khesef… Not even the Pharaoh.

The words hit her like daggers.

Anippe walked amidst looks of compassion and envy. The young peasant women admired her beauty, her royal destiny—not knowing that she felt like a golden bird in a jade cage.

At the gate of the Temple of Isis, where she was to present herself before the ceremony at the palace, she encountered a different sight: a young craftsman, leaning against the sacred stones, was working to carve an image of the goddess in white marble. His strong arms guided the chisel with mastery, as if he were shaping destiny itself.

No problem.

Anippe didn’t know him, but in that instant, something inside her—something older than her own fears—lit up like a torch.

He saw her too.

His eyes, the color of wet earth, met hers, and time seemed to stand still.

There was no insolence in Senenmut’s gaze. Only a strange sadness… and an understanding that Anippe had never felt in another human being.

It was just a second. A second stolen from the eternal sands. But enough to sow the first crack in the armor of destiny.

The ceremony was a spectacle of gold and blood.

Khesef appeared on a black horse, a cape of golden scarabs fluttering behind him. His eyes, cold as wrought iron, pierced Anippe like invisible arrows.

— In the name of Horus, do you accept this man as your protector and lord? — said the priest.

The world seemed to spin.

The image of the general was superimposed on that of the unknown craftsman.

— Yes — whispered Anippe, her throat dry as the desert.

The seal was made.

The fate, sealed.

Or so it seemed.

That same night, while the city celebrated in the squares, under the light of a thousand torches, Anippe retired to his chamber, unable to bear the music and the shouts of joy.

He looked at the full moon through the high windows.

And he whispered, like a lost prayer:

— Gods… free me… or grant me the strength to break my chains.

In the Temple of Isis, among the shadows of the ancient columns, Senenmut finished his sculpture.

But this time, instead of just sculpting the goddess…

He carved a woman’s face—a face he barely knew, but which already inhabited him like an ancient memory.

From that moment on, the sand began to move.

And nothing would be the same again.

Sands of Betrayal

Chapter 2 – The Craftsman of the Temple of Isis

The next morning dawned in silence, as if the gods themselves refused to sing.

The streets of Thebes, usually filled with the hubbub of merchants and the hurried footsteps of palace servants, seemed to have fallen asleep under an invisible weight. The breeze from the Nile, once light and scented with papyrus and jasmine, now had a metallic taste—like the announcement of something dark lurking.

Senenmut woke before sunrise, as he did every day. He washed his face in the small pool of cold water and put on his simple robe, still stained with the marble dust from the night before. In his dreams he had seen eyes—eyes of an impossible green, ringed with black eyeliner, shining with something he could not name.

Anippe’s face.

Senenmut shook his head, trying to dispel the memory. Dreaming of a court lady was dangerous. Insane. A mistake that could cost him more than his life.

Yet as he picked up his tools—chisel, hammer, abrasive stone—his fingers hesitated.

As if, in some hidden corner of his mind, he knew that this was no chance encounter. That their paths were tied together by the very webs of destiny.

In the Temple of Isis, the air was thick with the smell of burning resins.

The priestesses walked in a line, chanting songs that seemed to echo deep into the sandstone walls. The great columns decorated with lotuses and papyrus seemed to watch them in silence, eternal witnesses to the ephemeral dramas of men.

There, in one of the side niches, Senenmut returned to his sculpture: the goddess Isis with outstretched arms, welcoming the world.

But now, a small change had appeared: the goddess’s face was more oval, her smile more melancholic, and her eyes… were Anippe’s eyes.

He tried to rationalize it, to convince himself that it was just a coincidence of forms, an artistic escape—but he knew he was lying to himself.

Meanwhile, in an inner courtyard reserved for noble ladies, Anippe sat among women who whispered excitedly about dresses, parties, and rumors of wars on distant borders.

She, however, barely listened.

Her heart was tied to the moment her eyes had met Senenmut’s—that one instant when she had felt truly seen, not as Paser’s daughter, not as Khesef’s future wife, but as… Anippe.

A woman.

A free soul.

— Thoughtful, my lady? — Merit’s voice sounded close by, dragging Anippe from her reverie.

Merit had been her lady-in-waiting since childhood. Her large, dark eyes always held something—sometimes tenderness, sometimes envy. Today, however, there was a different gleam: cunning.

— Just tired — Anippe lied, looking down.

—Or maybe… in love? — Merit whispered, with a thin smile.

Anippe felt the blood rush to his face. Had he been that transparent?

The mere thought was terrifying.

Merit laughed softly, but her eyes didn’t laugh. They watched. Assessed.

There, in that seemingly innocent exchange, the first thread of the web of betrayal was laid.

Later, Anippe convinced herself to walk alone to the Temple, under the pretext of making an offering for the new union.

He carried in his hands a small alabaster box of perfumed oils.

And it was there, among the golden shadows of the temple, that she found him again.

Senenmut was on his knees, working on the base of the statue, unaware of his approach.

His face was covered in white powder, his calloused hands moved with an almost sacred delicacy.

Anippe stood still for a long moment, just watching him. Each tap of the hammer against the chisel was like a call. An echo.

Finally, Senenmut looked up—and froze.

For the first time, they were so close that they could hear each other’s breathing.

There were thousands of unspoken words between them, but none were spoken.

Only silence—the kind of silence that speaks of entire worlds, of possibilities and ruins.

Finally, Anippe broke the spell:

“Your work is beautiful,” she said, her voice low as a prayer.

Senenmut bowed his head in reverence, but in his eyes there was something deeper: the pain of knowing that this moment, however pure, was forbidden.

— I only try to honor the goddess, my lady.

Anippe smiled.

But it was a sad smile, almost defiant—as if they both knew that, in that moment, something had been planted in the fertile soil between them.

Something that not even the power of a pharaoh…

Not even the golden chains of a forced marriage…

They could prevent it from blooming.

As he left the temple, Anippe felt, for the first time in many years, a cool breeze in his soul.

But in the shadows of the sacred columns, other eyes watched her—eyes that desired not love, but destruction.

Merit, leaning discreetly behind a pillar, saw everything.

And deep within the temple, under a blanket of incense and forgotten promises, Nafretiri smiled.

The sands of fate had begun to shift.

And soon… all of Thebes would tremble under the weight of betrayal.

Sands of Betrayal

Chapter 3 – A Look at the Forbidden Gardens

The inner garden of the Palace of Thebes was a secret unto itself—a hidden paradise where only the chosen could walk without question. The stone walls rose high, protecting its date palms, its artificial lakes, and its shaded paths, as if trying to keep out the cruel world and its truths.

For Anippe, the garden was a respite.

A space where, for brief moments, she could dream that she was still free.

She walked slowly among the lotus flowers, trailing her fingers over the dew-dampened leaves. Her mind, however, was not in the present. It was in the temple. It was in the craftsman with eyes like wet earth.

I felt like I had been, for a moment, simply… human.

So she didn’t realize right away that she wasn’t alone.

Across the lake, behind a row of tall papyrus trees, Senenmut watched her.

He shouldn’t be there. Workers were not allowed into the inner garden. A crime that could cost him his hand—or his life.

But he had been sent by the temple overseer to deliver a carved reliquary to the royal offering chamber, and the temptation to see it, even from a distance, had been irresistible.

Anippe slowly turned around, without knowing why, and her eyes caught his through the curtain of plants.

For a moment, the world stopped.

There was something in his gaze—something fierce and protective, something she had never seen in Khesef, in her father, or in any man at court.

Senenmut was not like them.

I didn’t want her as a prize.

I didn’t see it as a currency of power.

He saw her.

And for the first time in her life, Anippe felt… alive.

The spell was broken by hurried footsteps.

Merit appeared on the stone path, robes swinging, eyes alert as hawks.

“My lady!” she called, her sweet tone hiding a sharp urgency. “General Khesef has sent a request: he wishes to meet with you today, before the full moon banquet.”

Anippe blinked, trying to shake off the numbness of that forbidden gaze.

— Yes, I’m going — he replied, his voice less firm than he would have liked.

She took one last look at the plants, but Senenmut had already disappeared into the shadows.

Yet, deep in her heart, she knew:

He had watched her.

And she had allowed it.

An unwritten but deadly crime.

As they walked back to the palace, Merit cast a sideways glance at her mistress.

Within him, a poison was growing.

It wasn’t just envy of Anippe’s beauty or fate—it was something older, crueler.

Merit could not bear to see anyone dare to be happy where she herself had been condemned to servitude.

She would need to act.

And soon.

From the top of the balconies, hidden among the golden columns, another presence watched the garden: Nafretiri.

Her sharp nails lightly scratched the stone railing as her dark eyes gleamed with cold calculation.

— So it’s like this… — she muttered to herself. — Little Anippe wants to play with fire.

If the scribe’s daughter dared to defy order, dared to disrupt the general’s plans, Nafretiri would have the pleasure of seeing her burn.

And with her, any fool who dared to love her.

That night, under the starry sky, Thebes seemed to sleep peacefully.

But beneath the surface of their golden palaces, in the hidden chambers and traitorous hearts, an invisible web was beginning to be woven.

A web of glances, secrets, and doomed futures.

Anippe, Senenmut… and even Neferkhamun’s throne were now at risk.

All because of a look in the forbidden gardens.

And the desert, eternal and hungry, was already beginning to whisper the names of those who would be swallowed by the sands of betrayal.

Sands of Betrayal

Chapter 4 – The Call of General Khesef

The late afternoon dyed Thebes in shades of blood and gold, while the shadows of the great columns advanced slowly over the courtyards.

The Pharaoh’s Palace, silent as a mausoleum, was preparing for the Full Moon ceremony — a celebration that, that night, would have a different flavor for Anippe.

Inside her chambers, she looked at her reflection in a bronze mirror.

Her dress was impeccable, embroidered with gold threads and cobalt blue lotuses. Her skin was perfumed with myrrh essence. Her hair was braided with pearls. Everything befitting the future wife of the most feared general of Thebes.

And yet she felt like an offering ready for sacrifice.

A heavy knock on the door interrupted his thoughts.

— General Khesef requests the presence of Lady Anippe in the gardens of the Red Keep — announced a servant, his head bowed.

Anippe closed his eyes, taking a deep breath.

The call she had been dreading had finally come.

The Red Keep, Khesef’s private residence within the royal complex, was a place feared even by the bravest.

It was said that the red stone walls absorbed the screams of those who dared to disobey the general.

They said that the souls there could not find peace.

As Anippe crossed the iron gates, he felt the chill of prophecy slide down his spine.

In the inner garden, among sculptures of decapitated warriors and black marble fountains, Khesef was waiting for her.

He stood, arms crossed over his broad chest, dressed in armor decorated with symbols of jackals and scarabs.

His eyes, so dark they seemed like bottomless wells, examined her with undisguised possession.

“My flower of Thebes,” he said, his voice hoarse as stone scraping against stone.

Anippe bowed his head in respect, but his stomach churned.

“My lord,” she replied, keeping her voice steady.

Khesef approached, each step echoing like a war drum.

“There are rumors,” he said, circling her slowly. “Rumors that my betrothed wanders alone too much—dreams too big.”

Anippe remained still, like prey trying not to provoke the predator.

— Only prayers and offerings, my lord. Nothing more.

Khesef stood before her, so close that she could smell the leather of his armor mixed with iron and blood.

“I hope so,” he said, his voice a whisper of threat. “Because any deviation, little Anippe… any mistake… will be paid for not only with your life, but with the lives of those who dare approach you.”

He lifted a heavy hand, brushing his fingers along the line of her jaw in a gesture that feigned tenderness but exuded dominance.

Anippe held back the urge to retreat.

“Remember,” Khesef continued, with a smile that didn’t reach his eyes, “in the desert, there is no mercy for fools.

Then, without waiting for a reply, he turned and disappeared between the red columns, leaving her alone under the growing shadow.

When Anippe finally left the Fortress, night was already falling over Thebes.

His body walked automatically through the palace alleys, but his mind was a whirlwind.

The general was suspicious.

He had felt it.

Even without proof, Khesef was a man who followed his instincts. And his instincts were deadly.

Anippe knew: from that moment on, every step would have to be calculated.

Every smile, measured.

Every look, camouflaged.

Because a single flaw, a single visible weakness, would be enough to doom her—and drag Senenmut down with her.

From the top of the walls, hidden eyes watched her.

Merit, wrapped in a gray linen cloak, smiled to herself.

Everything was unfolding as she wished.

The game had begun.

And, among the sands of betrayal, the pawns began to fall.

Sands of Betrayal

Chapter 5 – Nafretiri: The Addiction to Power

The stars above Thebes shone like ancient eyes, silent witnesses to the sins of men.

In the hall reserved for the ladies of the court, far from the severe gaze of the guards and the watchful eyes of the priests, a small secret assembly was meeting — led by Nafretiri.

She sat on a crimson linen couch, her head propped on one hand, her eyes half-closed in mock boredom.

Around her, other ladies whispered rumors, exchanged favors, sharpened poisons disguised as smiles.

But Nafretiri didn’t listen absently—she took it all in. Every word, every fear, every weakness was a weapon to be used.

His heart was pounding with the excitement of a hunter about to surround his prey.

— Anippe is getting dangerously close to ruin — said one of the women, laughing softly, fanning herself with an ostrich feather.

“Stupid,” another commented. “Khesef won’t forgive her if she embarrasses him.”

“Maybe,” Nafretiri said, his voice soft as velvet, “maybe she needs a little… push.”

The women fell silent, sensing the change in the atmosphere.

Nafretiri straightened, his eyes shining with the light of unbridled ambition.

“It’s not just Khesef’s pride at stake.” She stood, walking between the columns decorated with golden lotuses. “It’s the order of the world. It’s the stability of Thebes. And most importantly…it’s my ascension.”

The ladies looked at her with fear and reverence.

They knew that Nafretiri did not measure consequences.

She had once been Khesef’s suitor. She had imagined herself as a warlord, an uncrowned queen under the pharaoh’s blind gaze.

But the arrival of Anippe, with her serene beauty and innocent aura, changed everything.

What was a mild annoyance had turned into a burning hatred.

Nafretiri descended to a private chamber below the hall. There, among the old tapestries and dust-covered furniture, someone was waiting.

Merit.

Anippe’s lady-in-waiting bowed humbly as she entered.

“My lady,” she said, her voice tight. “I did as you ordered. I spied. I saw everything. The craftsman… he looks at you as if you were his own.”

Nafretiri smiled, satisfied.

“Excellent.” Her voice was a whisper of venom. “Keep watching. But be careful. It shouldn’t be obvious. Flowers die faster if picked roughly.”

Merit hesitated.

— What if Anippe tries to run away?

Nafretiri walked over to her, lifting the maid’s chin with two ring-adorned fingers.

—Then, dear Merit, we will crush you like a serpent under our heel.

The pact was sealed.

Later, alone, Nafretiri opened a small alabaster box. Inside lay a necklace of black scarabs—a forbidden artifact linked to the occult magics that honest priests shunned.

She held it in her open palms and whispered:

— Anubis, Lord of the Dead, witness my promise: Thebes will be mine. Khesef will be mine. And those who oppose… may they be swallowed by the sands of oblivion.

From the back of the chamber, a cold breeze blew, extinguishing the lamps.

Nafretiri smiled in the darkness.

Because she knew: true power did not come from love, honor, or faith.

It came from the darkness.

And she was ready to hug her.

Meanwhile, in the palace corridors, Anippe slept, dreaming of the Nile and rough hands that touched her tenderly.

She didn’t know that, in the shadows, a silent hunt was already beginning.

And that she was the prey.

Sands of Betrayal

Chapter 6 – In the Temple of Isis, the Prophecy

The Temple of Isis, at that time of night, seemed to float between worlds.

The oil lamps burned with blue flames, casting flickering shadows across the hieroglyphic-covered walls.

The gigantic columns, decorated with papyrus flowers, stood like silent sentinels.

The sweet scent of incense filled the air, mingling with the hypnotic sound of distant chanting.

It was a place for gods.

And for secrets.

Senenmut walked barefoot across the cool stones of the main hall, carrying in his arms a small ebony box—the offering the high priest had ordered him to place in the inner sanctum.

His heart, however, beat for another reason.

That night, Anippe had sent him a secret message through Bek—a single word, hastily carved on a fragment of pottery: “Find me.”

He didn’t know where, or why. But he knew he couldn’t refuse.

And the Temple, where their paths had first crossed, seemed the only place where they could still exist without the chains of the world.

Anippe, hidden beneath a gray linen cloak, waited among the mutilated statues of ancient, forgotten gods.

When he saw Senenmut, his heart almost betrayed his position.

He moved with the silent grace of those who know the value of life in every step.

And when his eyes met hers, it was as if the whole night held its breath.

Wordlessly, they walked together to the hidden sanctuary—a small enclosure at the back of the temple where only the oldest priestesses were allowed to enter.

But that night, fate ignored the rules of men.

In the center of the sanctuary, before a colossal statue of Isis, lay the Scroll of Promises, kept beneath layers of silk and gold.

The parchment was said to contain prophecies written at the dawn of Egypt, in a language known only to the initiated.

Senenmut didn’t know how, but Anippe had obtained the key to access that forbidden place: an ancient medallion, secretly gifted by the priestess Sitra, his silent protector.

Anippe, with trembling hands, held out the medallion on the altar.

The ground vibrated beneath his feet.

The lamps flickered.

And slowly, as if obeying an invisible will, the golden reliquary slid aside, revealing the hidden parchment.

Senenmut and Anippe knelt side by side.

The young woman reverently unrolled the parchment.

The words inscribed there were no ordinary hieroglyphics—they were ancient symbols of power, each one vibrating with an energy that Senenmut could feel resonating in his bones.

And in the center of the text, illuminated by the dim light of the temple, was written:

“When the daughter of the sands and the son of stone unite their hearts under the shadow of the golden serpent, the kingdom will know new light — or eternal ruin.”

Anippe touched the inscription with his fingertips.

His eyes met Senenmut’s—and in that look, without a word, they understood:

They were the children of destiny.

But they also understood something else:

The “golden serpent”—it was Khesef’s symbol. Engraved on his armor. Marked on his banners.

The prophecy spoke of them…

But it also announced that their love could bring about the downfall of Egypt.

Or your salvation.

A sudden sound broke the spell.

Steps.

Many steps.

Guards!

Someone had ratted them out.

Without hesitation, Senenmut pulled Anippe by the hand, leading her through a secret side door—a passage known only to the temple servants.

They ran in silence, their hearts racing, feeling the weight of the parchment on the back of their minds.

When they reached a hidden exit in the papyrus garden, Anippe was panting, her cloak torn, her hair loose like black flames.

Senenmut pulled her into a sheltered shadow, so close they could feel each other’s breath.

“Now we know,” she said, her voice hoarse with emotion. “We know that it’s not just a forbidden love. It’s a love destined.”

“And that’s why,” Senenmut replied, leaning his forehead against hers, “the whole world will try to destroy us.”

For an instant, in the silence of the dark garden, they held each other—not as fugitives, but as warriors in an invisible war.

In the sky, the full moon cast its pale light upon them, like the silent blessing of the ancient gods.

But in the shadows beyond the temple, treacherous eyes were already moving.

And the sands began to stir, thirsty for blood.

Sands of Betrayal

Chapter 7 – Whispers in the Palace

The Palace of Thebes never slept.

Even under the veil of dawn, shadows danced on the golden walls, and currents of murmurs wound through the corridors like invisible serpents.

It was in whispers—not proclamations—that real power changed hands.

And that night, Anippe’s name slid from mouth to mouth like a sweet poison.

Merit walked through the dark corridors with silent steps, carrying with her the seed of betrayal.

In the ladies’ hall, she found Nafretiri sitting before a polished bronze mirror, slowly combing her black hair.

The reflected image was not of a woman, but of a predator on the prowl.

“My lady,” Merit whispered, kneeling, “I have news.”

Nafretiri did not turn around immediately.

- Speak.