Nefer - The name given to the non-ascended, who have merged with no godly slivers and so have no workings of the divine in their flesh nor can summon an awat. Such individuals have not started on the path of abva yet, and so exist as mere potential in waiting.

I am a careful person, reserved by nature. I take action when there is clear gain and minimal danger to myself. However, a life sheltered from risk is a short path, wisdom I discovered without wanting to, eighteen summers old and barely two chits to rub together.

So when I stood on the eastern outskirts of the town of Hapheket – a decaying lean-to of a village that was one good gust from being blown back into the dunes – I did it because I needed a renewal, like Ra's daily journey across the sky, and there was no bigger opportunity available to one such as myself.

"Half of you will die on this sand," our assessor told the pack of us who circled him. There had to be at least a hundred watching as he stomped the sand beneath his sandaled foot for emphasis. "And those are the lucky ones," he went on. "Most of the rest will be dragged off for feeding. Scarabs eat slow and you get to feel every nibble."

The man, Ekmas, was taking pleasure in imparting this knowledge to us. His long hair was mixed with the feathers of Horus, the bodily transformation a sign that he had reached the third abva, maybe the fourth, and deserved the right to torture his lessers, which we most certainly were. He wore a whip at his side, and I was sure he would use it with barely any provocation – the casual cruelty he exuded was like a second robe he wore.

"Will it just be scarabs then?" a man without any signs of ascent said.

"Should have gone to one knee at the ask," I whispered. It was a bad habit of mine, talking to myself, and the people near me, a sly-eyed girl and a barefoot boy, glanced at me oddly. In my defense, when you spend enough time alone, you become the only companion you can count on.

A shriek brought my attention back center. Sure enough, the non-ascended man held his hands to his face, blood leaking from his fingers, and Ekmas was recoiling his whip, muscles bulging in the sun. It was his eyes that caught my attention though.

"Yellow?" I whispered. If the man already had the eyes of Horus, he could probably take the wings from a wasp at twenty cubits with that whip.

"Seemed brave to me," the boy with no sandals said, as if I'd been talking to him.

"Stupid, more like," the girl said.

Ekmas turned our way, and all three of us became as quiet as an ibis wading through a stream. He held those eyes on us – yellow for sure – another uncomfortable moment, before scanning the rest of those gathered, daring us with every fiber of his being to speak up again.

When there were no takers, he looked disappointed before barking, "Get going then! You keep a third of your slivers and none at all if you lose your spear." Some men with only a few feathers in their hair dropped linen-wrapped sacks onto the ground and out tumbled long bones taken from some tomb beast that had been shaved to points. "You break it, you better bring me the pieces," Ekmas said with a sharp smile, people darting forward among the mass to grab a weapon.

Nefers like us normally weren't allowed to carry anything more dangerous than a stone dagger, but when a god began to die and their pyramid rose from the depths, spilling creatures that had feasted upon them into the mortal realms? When such calamities happened, many restrictions were lifted.

Opportunity, remember?

Both the girl and barefoot boy had their spears and were off well before me, but I hardly noticed as I picked through the bleached rods. Too long or too short would be no good, and some had bends in them I didn't like the look of.

I had just laid hands on a spear my height and straight as an arrow, when I no longer felt the sun beating down on me. Peeking up, I saw one of the men with a few feathers watching me closely. He could probably only summon the awat of Horus for a few seconds, being at the first abva, but that was all he would need to squelch me into the ground like an overripe berry.

I was already bending over, but I prostrated myself the rest of the way to the ground, kissing the earth, the way the whipped man should have behaved when speaking to an ascended. I stayed exactly like that, others snaking out spears around me, until he snorted and wandered away. Quick as a cheetah, I darted off with my weapon of choice.

Power was all that mattered in this world, and I would bow until my back and knees ached if that meant I could get a sliver more of it. And if it was a god sliver at that, all the better.

***

There may have been over a hundred of us sent out to deal with the first ripple of this calamity, but the land we were covering was so vast it didn't take long for me to feel well and truly alone. I had two water flasks strapped on, so when I took a break atop a dune, I sipped at one slowly while leaning on my spear.

I had never carried a weapon like this before, but I had seen such things used and could imagine well enough how to go about it myself. The scarabs a pyramid produced were much larger than usual, at least a cubit long, as big as a cat. But this bone spear should let me stab through their hard shell.

After slinging my flask back behind me, I tried some practice pokes. The first few went well enough, but then I shifted my footing too much and slid a ways down the far side of the ridge before catching myself.

"Don't overextend," I chided. I might be risking my life right now, but that didn't mean I should discard the habits that had kept me alive this long.

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On the horizon, I could see the black point of the pyramid peeking out of the rolling sand. Getting too close to it would be certain death, but not near enough would mean that I would miss out on killing the tomb-beasts, the only way to harvest slivers.

Some would no doubt wait at the edges for those who had found slivers, stealing them on the back end, but I liked my chances against the scarabs and then avoiding my fellow hunters better than facing someone who might actually know how to use a spear head on.

I traveled a bit farther, noticing outlines of people in the distance now, but I was sure to keep to their edges. I trusted me, and that was all. The initial ripple was always the weakest, so I shouldn't need to count on others to succeed. Scarabs were usually the first tomb-beasts to emerge, though I'd sometimes heard tell of oversized locusts or other insects being what young hunters had to beat back. A flying tomb-beast would be harder to pin down, so I prayed to Ra these would be simple creatures, easily killed.

It wasn't much longer before I encountered the first of my prey. A scarab crested the ridge ahead of me, its black shell covered in softly glowing blue patterns, which would have set it apart even if it wasn't as big as it was. It felt at the air with the thin sticks atop its head, sensing me right away. In a chittering rush, it came at me, covering the intervening distance with speed.

I planted my feet and stabbed down when it came into range, not reaching too far like I had before. And yet, instead of piercing the armored body of the scarab, the point of my spear deflected off, sinking into the sand. The tomb-beast barely slowed, the serrated pincers attached to its face opening wide enough to clamp down on my ankle.

With a quick shift, I kicked it, sending it rolling sideways. Wasting no time, I readied myself for its next charge, but the same foot I had just used moved wrong, and a glance down showed me why: my reed sandal had snapped. I quickly shook both feet free of shoes and then dug my toes into the sand as I met the scarab's second, oncoming rush.

This time it leapt unexpectedly, skittering up my body in a rush when it landed – a sickening and terrifying feeling – before I managed to spin it off me.

When it tried to go for my ankle again, I used the off end of the spear to wedge under it and flip, like a lever I had seen builders use. The move worked, the scarab's legs scrabbling at the air, giving it no purchase. This time when I stabbed down, my spear sunk into its softer underbelly. It let out a pitiful screech, the patterns on it dimming, and then was still.

I sighed, sinking down beside it, my heart still racing.

A spear sailed through the air just above me. It was a high throw that might have taken me in the head if I was still standing. It took only a moment to find the thrower: the boy without sandals stood at a nearby ridge, his hands empty.

"Thought you'd need some help," he said, half sliding down the sand toward me.

I was immediately on the defensive, putting myself between him and my kill, as well as his discarded weapon, and pointing my spear at him.

"Easy," he said, when he saw my reaction. "Bad throw is all. Hohkshen," the boy said, indicating himself with his off hand, as if me knowing his name would somehow create trust between us. "She's Mutemwia, my sister,"

I jerked around, seeing the sly-eyed girl behind me, both spears in hand and pointed my way.

"He's a pain," she hissed with an anger that I wasn't sure was meant for him or me.

Tallying my chances against them took no time at all, and placed the butt of my spear on the sand. "I'm Neerun. So you two would like to group up." If they wanted to play games like this, so could I. "It means we'll need to kill at least nine to get one sliver each, but after having faced one now, I think it shouldn't be too hard if we're all working together."

They shared a confused look past me, which was all the distraction I needed to scoop up the scarab's body and run. The pair cursed, chasing after, but I was taller than both and my bare feet actually gripped the sand better, letting me put on a burst of speed. I didn't think Mutemwia would have the skill to throw a spear while running, not while holding two, but that was only a temporary boon.

Ekmas and his men would certainly take the scarab and its embedded sliver off my hands if I could reach them, but that would leave me with nothing and return me to harm's way when I ventured back to the pyramid. I could drop the scarab and find more prey farther away. That would certainly be the safer choice. But if I had wanted to do that, I wouldn't have brought it with me in the first place. Maybe I could fight them. I was bigger and –

The sand shook underneath me, making it an effort to keep my footing. Doubly so when, without warning, the earth ahead of me exploded in a shower of debris, revealing a scorpion big as mud hut, with giant arm pincers that could snap a man in two.

I skidded to a halt, nearly dropping my prize, and then ran with all haste the other direction, shooting past the equally shocked siblings. This time they managed to reach my side in short order, each pushing themselves as hard as they could.

"What is that?" Hohkshen gasped.

Mutemwia growled, "Our death."

I was inclined to agree with her. "Split up," I said, my breathing getting heavy like Hohkshen's. I dared a look behind me, and my chest tightened when I saw that the massive scorpion was gaining on us, its six legs working faster than ours. "If we don't, we're all going to Osiris."

A screech came from above, and I managed to twist my neck up without slowing. It was a sight like no other: Ekmas hurtling toward us from on high. There was a shimmer of wide wings to either side of him, the awat of Horus granting him flight.

He slammed into the scorpion that was chasing us, a much larger metal spear in his hands that crunched into the beast's carapace. I came to a tumbling stop, and turned around so I could watch the warrior in action. Ekmas's strike had been so strong that the scorpion's body had driven to the ground, the golden spear sticking up on its own and keeping the beast pinned, despite its scrabbling limbs.

Ekmas jerked to the side, almost faster than I could follow, and then I saw that he was gripping the scorpion's tail that had tried to sting him.

"Mindless tomb-beast," he said, holding onto the stinger with barely any strain. These were the sort of people who hunted during the later waves of a pyramid's expulsion, when a calamity was swelling. Nefers such as us would never –

Ekmas gasped, his back arching and yellow eyes wide. It was only then I noticed that this scorpion had two tails and one of them had buried itself into the man, quivering as it pumped poison into his flesh.

With a feeble moan, Ekmas collapsed atop the scorpion's back, his veins darkening and bulging unnaturally as I watched. The tomb-beast was also finally quiet, the stab of its tail part of its final death throes. I could only imagine how many god-slivers a creature of that size would have in it, and as for Ekmas… Never had I witnessed someone of his ascension level perish, and so I wasn't ready for the silver liquid that came out of his mouth, flowing into the cracks of the scorpion and then starting to drip off the near side. Unlike the slivers that calcified in tomb-beasts, god essence that resided in people didn't harden. Instead, it poured out of them like blood, and at this rate everything Ekmas had possessed was going to be drunk up by the thirsty sand.

A scritch of sound jerked my attention sideways, and I pulled the dead scarab I was holding closer. It was Mutemwia, crouched on the ground nearby, and so too was Hohkshen. They were both staring at the same thing I had been.

They noticed my attention soon enough, we three looking at each other and then as one we dove toward the pooling silver liquid.

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