Ra's roar of fury shook the heavens themselves, his solar disk flaring with such intensity that the sky turned white hot for miles in every direction. The sun god's falcon head turned skyward, his golden eyes reflecting both rage and a weariness that ran deeper than mortal comprehension.
"Thoth," he whispered, the name carrying millennia of shared wisdom and counsel. Then his voice erupted into divine thunder. "THEY KILLED THOTH!"
The remaining gods on the bark's deck flinched at their master's fury. Ra's feathers bristled with solar fire as he wheeled to face them, his beak clicking with barely contained violence.
