The days bled together in the grandeur of the Menkara estate. Naiya—once Chaya—had settled into her new life with a sense of detached grace. The noble family's kindness enveloped her, but the world she now inhabited felt like a dream she couldn't quite remember. She was treated like their daughter, and in a way, she allowed herself to believe that maybe this was where she was meant to be. But there was a gnawing emptiness within her, an ache she couldn't escape. She missed her family. She missed her old life. The life she'd once known in her modern world, where time was linear and things made sense.
At night, as she lay in her lavish bed beneath silken sheets, the memories of her modern-day existence would sometimes creep into her mind, though fragmented and distant. Faces of loved ones, the buzz of a busy city, her studies, her friends—everything that had been so real and tangible now felt like a distant echo. But the vivid dreams she had once had, the ones where she wandered through the desert, met a pharaoh, and experienced moments of burning passion with him, were completely gone. They were erased from her mind, as though they had never existed.
As the days went by, Naiya couldn't help but wonder: why was she here? Why had fate pulled her into this time, into this life that felt both foreign and familiar? Was there a greater purpose, one that she was supposed to understand? Or was she simply a lost soul in a time she didn't belong?
It was on one of these restless days, as she wandered through the bustling market, that she felt the weight of her questions grow heavier. Her steps were slow, almost mechanical, as she examined the goods—scented oils, fabrics, trinkets, and jewelry. The sounds of bartering and laughter filled the air, yet Naiya's mind was elsewhere. The desert heat hung heavy in the air, and the scent of spices and incense mixed with the faint smell of horses.
She paused at a stall selling intricately designed pottery, running her fingers over the smooth ceramic as the merchant chattered on in Egyptian. She was lost in the colors of the pieces, the patterns and textures, but something else tugged at her attention—something she couldn't place.
From across the market, the crowd seemed to part for a moment. It was subtle at first, a small ripple in the movement, but Naiya's eyes darted up instinctively. Her heart skipped a beat. She didn't know why, but there was something about the figure emerging from the crowd that made her stomach twist with anticipation.
A tall, confident man walked toward her, his posture straight, his dark eyes scanning the marketplace with quiet authority. His presence was commanding, but there was a certain ease to his movements. The golden light of the sun cast a halo around him as he drew nearer, the people around him giving way respectfully.
Naiya's breath caught in her throat. She knew that face—though she didn't understand why. He looked like someone she should know, someone whose presence had always been there, lingering on the edges of her memories. His chiseled features, the regal way he carried himself, all of it felt so incredibly familiar.
But no. She had no idea who he was.
He was nothing like the men in the market—noble, yes, but there was something more about him. His gaze locked onto hers, and in that instant, she felt like the world around them had faded into silence.
He stopped just a few feet from her, his eyes flicking to the pottery she had been examining before meeting her gaze again. "I see you appreciate the artistry," he said with a soft, almost amused smile. His voice was deep, rich, and carried a subtle authority that couldn't be ignored. He spoke in perfect Egyptian, though Naiya noted his slight accent—something that set him apart from the local merchants.
"I do," Naiya replied, her voice almost a whisper. "It's beautiful."
"Not as beautiful as the markets of Thebes, but it has its charm." He chuckled softly, his eyes never leaving hers.
There was something in his gaze—a glint of recognition, a flicker of something familiar—but Naiya couldn't place it. She forced herself to look away, unsure why she felt so nervous in his presence.
He noticed her hesitation. "Forgive me," he said, his voice softer now. "I don't think we've met before. I am Thut." He didn't add anything else, no title, no noble rank. Just "Thut."
Naiya blinked. Thut? The name struck her, but she had no idea why it felt like it carried so much weight. She had heard it in passing, whispered between the servants and the handmaidens, but she had never thought much of it. It was a common name, wasn't it?
"I'm Naiya," she said, feeling the words leave her lips before she could stop them. She wasn't sure why, but saying her adopted name felt like a small rebellion against the life she had lost.
Thut's eyes lingered on her for a moment, his smile faltering slightly as if searching for something in her expression. But then he nodded, as if coming to some unspoken conclusion. "Naiya," he repeated her name, testing it, before adding, "It's a pleasure to meet you."
Naiya's heart fluttered, though she couldn't quite explain why. Something about his presence felt like an answer she hadn't asked for—a missing piece of the puzzle that was her life here. Yet, she had no reason to feel so connected to him. She didn't even know who he truly was.
"I must be going," she said after a beat, her voice betraying a hint of hesitation. "It was nice to meet you, Thut."
"Likewise," he said, his gaze lingering on her for just a moment longer before he gave a polite nod and turned, disappearing into the crowd.
As Naiya watched him leave, her heart continued to race. The name Thut seemed like a whisper from the past, a ghost that haunted her thoughts. But why? And why did her soul ache in his presence, as though she should know him, as though they had crossed paths in another time?
She shook her head, trying to clear the confusion. There was no time for distractions. She had more pressing questions, more important things to figure out.
Yet, as she turned to leave the marketplace, Naiya couldn't help but feel that fate was slowly guiding her toward something greater—something she couldn't yet understand. And that something... had the name Thutmose written all over it.