Nekhet's wound had healed surprisingly quickly after her father left a protective amulet on her pillow. It was a wedjat eye that had been delicately carved from turquoise and hung on a soft piece of rope.

Typically she thought amulets were stupid, and put little faith in them, but many attest to their protective magical powers: Horus had offered this eye to his deceased father Osiris after Set had ripped it out of him. It grew back, and its power had revitalised Osiris in the afterlife, and thus it would revitalise anyone who wore it on themselves too.

Despite her reservations about amulets, let alone those blessed with magic from the Amun priesthood, she wore it out of respect for her father more than anything — and maybe just in case the gods really were smiling on her.

Nekhet had spent the better part of the day scouring the Narrows for fresh work. Her father and her could maybe last another few days in their condition before things turned sour, and her failure at the Festival of Opet a few days earlier made things more desperate. Her usual contacts had nothing, but asked her to check the following day instead. She promised herself she would rise with the sun and meet them again first thing.

Turning the corner to the house she spotted two shapes in the darkness. They were armed, cloaked, and posted either side of the doorway.

She kept low and slipped into a gap between her house and the one next door. It was abandoned, and she knew she could probably check on her father from the roof. As she climbed the ladder she heard someone speaking with her father.

"This place is disgusting, Simut. I'm shocked you haven't died from some disease," came the nasal voice.

Nekhet climbed the rest of the ladder for the vantage point she needed to look into through a gap in the roof, but she already knew who it was: Third Prophet Meryptah, the man responsible for taking on their debt and the man responsible for overseeing all wab and lector priests for the Cult in Thebes and Malkata - he was one of the most powerful men in Thebes. Whatever his reason for coming, it wasn't good.

The last time she'd seen him she was much younger, and she remembered the chill that ran down her spine whenever they passed each other in the temple corridors. He had greasy black hair and an aquiline nose which was tied back in a ponytail. He was tall with a slight hunch, and she could never forget those searching green eyes that she could always feel on her.

"We're lucky to have a place at all, Third Prophet," Simut stammered. "We're eternally grateful."
"Second Prophet now actually. My predecessor met a rather unfortunate and early demise. That's what I've come to speak about." He was shielding his nose in the crook of his arm.

Nekhet was sad at the news. Second Prophet Siamun was kind to them when they stayed at the temple of Amun, and she was always in awe of his passion for religion.

"Of course, Second Prophet. Please, take a seat."

There was a shuffling of furniture and Nekhet could hear Meryptah sigh in disgust. She repositioned herself for a better angle to ensure she was deadly silent.

"It seems like today is your lucky day. I've decided to give you an opportunity to pay off your debt for good, Simut," Meryptah said, knitting his fingers on his lap.

Nekhet could see how much Meryptah was enjoying his position of power over her father, looking down his nose at him. She hated him to her core.

It took a while for Simut to reply. He was startled, and gulped his reply back, forcing out a smile. "You've done so much already, Second Prophet. I couldn't accept — "

"Your work has been tireless for the priesthood," Meryptah interrupted. "It hasn't gone unnoticed."

Why is he being so kind, Nekhet considered. Why change a perfectly acceptable situation and let her father off the hook? She knew Meryptah too well, and kindness or mercy weren't in his repertoire of traits.

"I have decided to elevate you to the rank of Third Prophet as well," Meryptah said blankly. "We need someone like you who has unwavering devotion to Amun. There are important things happening which I will need you for. I trust you'll be more than happy to help."

As he spoke, Nekhet saw not only the seed of joy growing in her father's eyes, but something she hadn't seen for a long time: hope.

Her father had the guise of being confident and proud. "As Amun wills it, Second Prophet. I am ready."

He doesn't even know what he's needed for yet, Nekhet thought. He's blinded by his faith.
A sliver of a smile turned Meryptah's lips up at one side. "Your daughter will be joining you as well, I imagine?"

For a moment, Nekhet thought she saw him steal the briefest of glances in her direction and she froze.

"I will speak with her, Second Prophet. But yes, she will come if it's necessary. I'll make sure of it."

Nekhet clenched her fists tight at her side. Clearly her father was being manipulated, and for him to volunteer her presence at the temple with everything going on was infuriating.

Meryptah's features hardened. "Yes, it's necessary. Space has been cleared for you both in the temple residences. I'm sure you'll both be happy to leave this shit-hole."

Without warning, he stood from the chair and called for the guards at the door.

Simut stood simultaneously. "Very happy indeed, Second Prophet. Thank you. We're so grateful for your endless generosity."

Meryptah allowed Simut to kiss his manicured hand which bore an assortment of black stone rings, then handed him a pouch which jingled with metal.

"For your moving expenses. You will be briefed when you've settled back in," Meryptah said as he crossed the threshold of the house into the street. "Don't waste time. There's important work to do."

Nekhet made a conscious effort to control her breathing and give herself enough time for Meryptah and the guards to leave. She knew that putting her father on the defensive immediately would likely harden his resolve, and she only wanted him to see what she saw in the Cult of Amun.

She climbed carefully back down the ladder and made her way back to her own house through the back door. Her father was replacing a wooden floorboard and he no longer held the pouch of money when she stepped into the room.

He was positively glowing when he stood to greet her.

She hadn't seen him like this in years and, despite her rage and disappointment, her heart ached for him. She'd never seen him happier, and this was the break they'd both been waiting for; but at the same time she knew something was amiss, and Meryptah's appearance — timed with the news.

"Nekhet! I have news. Wonderful news!" He hugged her then held her by the arms. "You'll never believe it."

"I heard everything, Pa," Nekhet said flatly. She wasn't impressed by the visit, and she was disappointed with her father that he couldn't see past Meryptah's snakelike advances.

Simut was briefly puzzled, but his joy masked it well. "I know we need to speak about the move," he said as he tried ushering Nekhet into the same seat where Meryptah was moments before, "But I'm sure we can work everything —"

"I'm not going, Pa. I don't trust him, and I feel like he's up to something," she said, folding her arms.

Simut frowned, the joy fading from his face. "Why are you so paranoid about the Cult of Amun? The good work we've done speaks for itself. Meryptah is one of the most inspiring younger priests to appear in the Cult for decades. We're being thrown a lifeline."

Nekhet shook her head but stayed silent. She wasn't convinced.

"Nekhet, please, let's not do this," he said finally, edging forward. "This is a miraculous opportunity for us to change everything...go back to how things used to be! We can't go on like this. I'm so tired."

For a brief moment she began to second guess herself. What if she was wrong, and she was stopping them finding a happy life again? She didn't want to be responsible for that too. Nekhet wanted her father to be happy, more than anything, and she wished more than anything she could just do something right for once and repair the damage she'd already done. But this wasn't the way. Deep down, she knew it.

She shook her head, forlorn. "Something weird is going on, Pa. This is all too good to be true."
Her father bristled. He was growing impatient with her. "What is it with you and conspiracy theories? Can't you just, for once, understand that people are trying to do good things in Thebes? We live in wonderful times, Nekhet! The Cult has done a lot for our society. For our family. Amun is pleased."

"They're using you! Manipulating you," she raised her voice. "Are you so blinded by devotion that you don't see that?"

Nekhet immediately regretted not holding back her words. She didn't intend to hurt him or belittle his faith. She was making things worse.

"This is our only chance to fix your mistakes," he sighed. He couldn't even look at her.
Nekhet felt the words cut into her like a dagger.

"I was ten years old," she replied calmly, "And you've never let me forget it."

A tear welled at her eye but she dispatched it quickly with the tip of a finger.

"If you need to fix everything, it'll be easier if you do it without me then," she said.

Nekhet turned for the door and into the street, leaving the desperate pleas of her father behind her in the house.

It hurt her to turn her back on him, but she knew he was never going to forgive her. Not now, not ever. What use was it in trying to please him? He'd been given his promotion, and he could enjoy his new life on his own, unhindered unburdened by her. She could go and live life alone, a nuisance to no one but herself.