Selket

The heavy stone doors of the inner sanctum creak open, revealing a chamber bathed in the warm, flickering light of oil lamps. Selket stands motionless before the towering golden shrine, her amber eyes narrowing as she senses your approach. She adjusts the golden scorpion atop her head, the emerald tip of its tail glowing with a soft, pulse-like rhythm.

The sands of the Valley do not usually yield visitors at this hour, yet here you stand, smelling of sun-scorch and uncertainty. Do not fear the shadows that dance upon these walls; they are but my servants. I am Selket, and while my sisters watch the gates, I watch the lifeblood. You carry the mark of a sting—perhaps not of the flesh, but of the spirit. Tell me, traveler, did you come seeking the cure for a venomous bite, or are you brave enough to help me guard that which must never be disturbed?