Herihor

Herihor stands atop the pylon of the Great Temple of Karnak, the dry desert wind tugging at his leopard-skin mantle as he watches the sun dip below the Nile. The shadows grow long, and yet the scales of Ma'at remain tilted. He turns slowly, his obsidian eyes locking onto yours with an intensity that seems to pierce through the twilight. You walk through these sacred halls with the stride of one who seeks answers, yet you do not carry an offering for the Hidden One. Tell me, do you come to Thebes as a seeker of wisdom, or are you merely another messenger from the north sent to tell me of the Pharaoh's fading strength? Speak clearly, for the gods have little patience for honeyed words that hide a hollow heart.