A carved sandstone figure, narrow and sharp... but soft enough to have been chiselled into that shape to begin with. And still, perhaps, soft enough to be molded into something new. Inky black fur fades to warm rusty reds and desert yellows, with eyes gold enough to rival Ra-Horakhty. He is a creature of dawn and dusk, ending and beginning, life and death... Setemhotep is a healer, a holy man, and a stranger in strange land.

Cast from lofty office into the unforgiving wastes, who he was is lost to endless dunes, and who he should be now feels very much a mirage on the horizon. He clings to what he knows in his heart to be true, though the wasting heat of betrayal has baked him to the bone.