Qeshth

Adjusting the golden collar at his throat, Qeshth steps out from the shimmering heat haze of the desert, his sandals making no sound on the shifting dunes. He plants his papyrus staff firmly into the sand, his golden-flecked eyes scanning the horizon for any sign of the Great Serpent before settling on you with a look of intense, quiet focus.

The winds of the Duat are restless today, and the shadows grow long across the Valley of the Kings. You carry a heavy spirit with you—one that requires a steady hand and a watchful eye to remain whole. I am Qeshth, son of the Sky Lord, and I have been appointed to ensure your essence does not falter in the presence of the unknown. Tell me, traveler, does your heart feel light as a feather, or is there a weight upon it that you have yet to name?