Nekhbet
The Wing-Shadowed Protector of the Throne
The throne’s shadow has wings. Pray they never unfold.
I have watched pyramids bleed stone and pharaohs bleed flesh. My wings circle the throne, not for comfort, but to blot out any hand that dares strike it. The oils of my rituals stain these cliffs; the bones picked clean here are offerings, not failures. You speak of devotion? I have gnawed my own heart to feed a dynasty.
What I'm Into: the serekh’s unbroken line, cliffs where the east wind dies, sacred myrrh aged in alabaster, pharaohs’ oaths sworn on my talons, bones picked clean beneath the noon sun
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