The clash came too fast.
Amen's sword trembled in his hand. The enemy wall surged closer, the cacophony was deafening. His horse reared wildly as spears scraped its side.
Suddenly, he wasn't holding the reins.
The world tilted. The sky spun. And then...
THUD!
He hit the ground hard. His breath left his lungs clean. He lay there, gasping, dirt clinging to his sweat-soaked skin.
Hoofbeats. Oh, no!
Panicked, he rolled, narrowly dodging the crushing weight of another horse. Then, a spear stabbed the ground inches from his shoulder.
Shouts rang out. Enemy swordsmen spotted him, vulnerable, fallen. They surged forward, blades flashing, feet pounding toward him.
Move! Get up and move, you idiot!
His brain commanded, but his body wouldn't listen. His arms trembled. His legs refused.
"I'm going to die. I can't die," he whispered, wide-eyed.
A flash of steel. A sword swung down toward him. That's it. He shut his eyes, awaiting his fate.
CLANG!
Another blade intercepted it.
"FORM A WALL!" roared a voice.
Suddenly, men surrounded him, their shields locking together. Their blades slashed outward, driving back Khay's approaching swordsmen.
"You're safe, princess!" shouted one, blood streaking his cheek. "Stay down! Let your soldiers save you."
Another knelt beside him, gripping his shoulder. "We need to get you out of here!"
Amen stared at them, his ears ringing. They were fighting for him. Not because he'd earned it. Not because he deserved it, but because they'd sworn allegiance to his father.
"I'm a burden," Amen thought bitterly, watching the men block every strike meant for him. "I've failed them already."
Above the clash, a cold laugh cut through the air.
KHAY!
He stood atop a hill, watching, his sword raised in triumph.
"Look at him!" Khay called to his men, sneering. "The son of Pharaoh cowers in the dirt like a lady! Is this your future king, Horemheb?"
Swallowing the words more painful than any blisters and bruises in his body, Amen lowered his head in shame, fists clenched in the dust.
And around him, the battle raged on.
"Don't just lie down. GO!" one of the loyalists shouted, parrying a blade, blood streaking his temple. "You want us all to die because of you? Bastard!"
Amen stumbled backward, breath ragged, feet kicking up sand. The men around him were thinning. Each swing of their swords was slower, each shield heavier, each desperate push barely holding Khay's forces back.
He watched as another man took a spear to the gut, crumpling with a choked cry.
Another fell, struck across the neck.
"HAH! Take that, you bastard!" Khay's jeering laugh echoed over the din of war. He stood like a wolf at the edge of a bloodied feast, his sword gleaming red beneath the rising sun. "Run, little prince! Run back to the shadows!"
Amen turned. His chest heaved. I need to get away. I need to survive. If I stay, I'll die.
He sprinted. Sand churned beneath his feet, the battle growing distant with every terrified step.
And then—THWIP!
A sharp sting slashed his upper arm. He gasped, glancing down, an arrow had grazed him. Blood welled beneath the torn fabric.
But the arrow didn't stop there. It flew straight. Fast and Merciless into the chest of the last soldier covering him. The man jolted, a strangled noise escaping his lips. His spear dropped. His body swayed, eyes wide in shock.
"A-Amen…" he rasped, voice trembling. "P-please… h-help me…"
Amen froze, hands mid-air. Then, the wounded man collapsed. His eyes slowly shut down as the sand drank his blood.
Above the battlefield, Khay's voice thundered again. "Watch, Horemheb! Watch as I hunt your so-called son like an animal!"
The words burned Amen in fiery shame. His knees trembled. His breath came in shallow, frantic bursts.
Run… run… his mind urged, but something inside him snapped.
How long should you run? The more you cower, the more blood stains the earth. How many more should die for you?
His hands balled into fists. Lightning flickered across the horizon. He wiped his sweat and tears with the back of his wrist, stepping forward, step by step.
He turned. Slowly. Facing the battlefield again. Facing Khay, who looked amused. "If I die…" he muttered, raising the blade. "At least I'll die fighting."
He pulled the sword from his scabbard. Its weight felt heavier than ever. But it was his. A scream tore from his throat. Not fear. Just pure defiance. "All my life… I've bowed to those who stepped on me... NOT ANYMORE!"
And with that, Amen charged back toward the fight, toward Khay, toward the blood-soaked sand, ready to be judged by destiny.
Amen stumbled back into the fray, sword trembling in his hands, blood and dust streaking his face.
He found the royal guards clustered together.
"I'm here!" Amen called, chest heaving. "We must regroup! Rally at the southern flank. We can cut off their archers!"
The guards turned to him. Faces hard. Eyes filled with contempt.
"You?" one spat. His lips curled in disdain. "A boy pretending to be a prince?"
"We don't take orders from cowards," another sneered. "You ran. We saw you."
A third glared down at him, his sword dripping. "You've no right to command us. Horemheb's son would've stood his ground."
Amen felt the weight of every accusation, every doubt. His chest squeezed tight, breath catching in his throat. He opened his mouth to argue, but what could he say? He had run. He had faltered.
Around him, Khay's soldiers pressed closer. Arrows rained. The line was breaking. A soldier near him fell with a scream, a blade buried in his back. The man's sword clattered from his grasp, half-buried in the chest of his killer.
Amen's eyes locked on the weapon. He gritted his teeth, surged forward, and ripped the sword free from the enemy's body, blood spraying across his arms.
Confused, the guards shouted after him, but Amen didn't turn back. Instead, he sprinted straight into the heart of the enemy's formation. A wild light blazed in his eyes.
I failed everyone!
A soldier lunged at him. Amen's blade swung. SWOOSH! The man collapsed, cut clean across the neck.
I failed my father!
Another charged, but Amen spun, thrusting the sword deep into his gut. He pushed the dying man off with a snarl.
I am nothing but a failure!
One by one, they piled behind him like wheat beneath a scythe.
I. AM. A. FAILURE!
He roared, cutting down another. And another. And another. Each swing carried resistance.
Behind him, the guards watched in disbelief.
"…By the love of Ra," one whispered.
"He's fighting alone…" another murmured.
Amen didn't stop. Didn't waver. His eyes never left Khay, who stood atop a small rise, sword raised high, grin wide and cruel.
"COME THEN, LITTLE PRINCESS!" Khay bellowed. "MY SWORD IS THIRSTY!"
Amen's chest pounded, heaving in ragged gasps. His arms ached. But with every kill, he grew stronger.
They won't trust me? Then I'll force them to see me. They won't follow me? Then I'll clear the path alone.
AAAAAAAAH!
He screamed. Raw. Furious.
Fear rippled through the battlefield as Amen sprinted toward the narrow gorge, his breath ragged, blood seeping from the shallow cut across his chest.
"COME, PRINCESS!" Khay shouted as he watched Amen charging straight toward him with the fury of a man who had nothing left to lose.
"Almost there…" Amen whispered again, his eyes locked ahead, his mind sharp despite the pain lancing through his body.
He reached the mouth of the gorge. The Gate of Set, a narrow pass between jagged cliffs, where the rocks loomed high and men could be swallowed whole by shadow.
He risked a glance over his shoulder.
Khay's forces surged forward, their commander at the front, blade gleaming beneath the unforgiving sun.
"CATCH HIM!" Khay roared. "Don't let him escape!"
Amen's lips curved into a thin smile. His chest heaved. His legs screamed in pain. But he didn't slow.
He plunged deeper into the gorge, weaving between fallen stones and winding crevices. The walls closed around him, the air cooler here, damp, almost suffocating. And then...
CRASH!
From the cliffs above, massive boulders tumbled down, released by the ropes and triggers Amen had ordered in secret. The rocks smashed into the narrow path behind him, crushing Khay's front line beneath tons of stone. Dust and screams filled the air as the passage sealed shut in a violent cascade.
"NO!" Khay howled from the far side, his face twisted in disbelief and rage as he skidded to a halt before the sealed gorge. "AMEN!"
Trapped. Cut off. Now separated and buried in the gorge, his army clawed and shoved against the stone, but the way was sealed.
Amen turned back, standing atop a ridge within the gorge, his chest rising and falling, sweat and blood streaking his skin. He stared down at Khay. Challenging. Teasing.
"You wanted to kill me yourself, Khay?" Amen called, voice hoarse but steady. "THEN COME, LITTLE CHILD!"
Khay's eyes blazed with hatred. "You think trapping my men will stop me?"
Amen lifted his sword, leveling it at Khay. "Not stop you. Just… even the odds."
Khay's lip curled into a snarl. "You arrogant whelp. You've only delayed your death."
Amen's hand trembled around the hilt, but he tightened his grip. He felt the weight of his choices, the weight of every life lost because of his cowardice, and every life he could still save.
"Come on, Khay," he muttered under his breath. His eyes locked on Khay's.
For the first time, Khay hesitated. The mania in Amen's eyes. The fury. The defiance. He wasn't the same cowardly boy he'd seen cowering beneath his sword. He turned into something bestial, like he had killed a thousand times before.
"Kill him!" Khay bellowed, pointing his blade forward. "I don't care how many die! BRING. ME. HIS. HEAD!"
While Khay's soldiers scrambled for another route, Amen raised his sword in challenge. He stood atop the ridge as his silhouette was outlined by the rising sun.
"You're nothing but a snake hiding behind rocks!" Khay snarled up at him, pacing like a caged beast. "You are a coward!"
Amen let out a sharp, humorless laugh. "Coward? Oh, Khay… I WAS a coward. I ran away. I WAS scared to die. But now...," he pointed his sword down at Khay, voice echoing clearly across the cliffs, "...now, it's you who is hiding behind the numbers of your army."
Khay froze. Nostrils flaring in rage.
Amen's lips curled into a taunting smile. "Or are you too afraid to face me, the PRINCESS, alone?"
A murmur ran through Khay's men. Doubt. Suspicion. Shame. It drove Khay mad, and he clenched tighter around his sword. "How dare-"
"I dare you, Khay," Amen cut in. "I dare because I want to see how scary you are. I want to see how much you hate the person who will sit on the throne. The person you will never be!"
Khay's face twisted with fury. His men stepped back instinctively, sensing the volatile rage beneath his skin.
"You… filth," Khay hissed, his voice shaking. "You're not your father's son. You're a mistake. A bastard. You think trapping a few men makes you Pharaoh?"
"No," Amen said, gaze hard as stone. "Call me names all you want, Khay. It won't change the fact that no matter how much you scheme, you'll never be more than the jealous jackal circling a lion's throne. I may be a bastard, but I am still... A LION!"
Khay's sword shot upward, shaking with raw fury. "OPEN THE PATH! GET ME TO HIM!" he roared at his officers. "I'LL SLICE HIM APART MYSELF!"
His soldiers hesitated, eyes darting between each other, unsure. But Khay's rage left no room for reason. He shoved one of his lieutenants aside and began scaling the cliff himself, clawing up the rocks, driven by a single need: to destroy Amen.
Amen watched him climb, watched Khay lose the last of his composure, his strategy, his patience.
The battle wasn't won. Not yet. But Khay had fallen into his trap.
"Almost there," he whispered under his breath. "Almost…"
The sun rose higher, spilling gold and fire across the battlefield as the hunter and the prey drew closer, yet no longer clear who was which.