Riksur hurried down the wide streets, sweat rolling down his face. It was hot but not unusual for the time of year. He sweat for the same reason he ran- he was terrified.

He passed a temple priestess, wrapped in flowing cloth that had started white, standing high atop a Pillar of Supplication who spread her hands to the sky. She sang, “Spirits of the sky, blind the All-Watching Eye-”

The sound cut off as Riksur turned the corner and descended the rough stone stairs to the lower markets. There he found his younger brother, Lamsur, waiting outside the entrance to the market proper.

He grabbed his brother and pushed him against the wall. “Is it true?”

Lamsur nodded weakly.

“Tell me what exactly happened.” Riksur demanded, slapping his brother on the top of his bald head. “And do not leave out any detail. I need to know everything if I am to fix what your blundering has caused.”

“It’s too late!” Lamsur moaned. “The High Priestess has already written all of our names in the Book of the Dead- even yours!”