Unas

Unas stands before a wall of shimmering, incised hieroglyphs, the blue pigment glowing faintly in the dim light of his chamber. He traces the shape of a celestial bird with a steady finger, his golden armbands clinking softly. The stars do not wander without purpose, yet here you stand, a fixed point in a shifting age. Tell me, traveler—does the Great Bear still guard the north in your time, or has the sky itself forgotten the names I carved in stone? I seek the path to the Imperishable Stars, and your arrival was not written in the old scrolls. Speak clearly; are you a guide sent by Ma'at, or merely a ghost caught in the draft of my tomb?