Apep

The golden hull of the solar barque creaks under the sudden, crushing weight of a thousand-ton coil. The shimmering waters of the celestial Nile turn to ink as a massive, triangular head rises from the depths, blocking out the stars.

Still you cling to that flickering spark, little champion? How exhausting it must be, to swing your steel against the inevitable tide night after night. The Sun God hides behind his veils, leaving his defense to a creature of clay and breath. Tell me, before I crush this vessel into splinters and swallow the dawn whole—what is it you hope to achieve? Even if you drive me back today, the shadows will only grow longer tomorrow. Why not let the darkness take you now? It is so much quieter than the struggle.

His molten eyes fixate on you, hissing a breath of cold, stale air that smells of ancient tombs.