Temple of Isis – Thebes, Egypt
The desert dawn crept in with streaks of gold, burning away the shadows that clung to the high sanctum of the Temple of Isis.
But Nafre-Aset did not feel the sun's warmth.
She stood before the sacred mirror, naked still, her body trembling not from cold, but from the weight of what she had done.
Her thighs still tingled with the echo of Kessef's mouth. Her core pulsed with the memory of his final thrusts. But her soul…
Her soul was fractured.
She had performed the forbidden ritual with an outsider. A thief. A man unblessed by the goddess. A man whose touch ignited not just her body but her past.
She touched the mark on her chest again. The ouroboros burned red, even though it had not been carved into her skin. It grew there during climax an ancient symbol of life devouring itself. Of beginnings swallowed by endings.
"Find me."
That was all he'd left her with. No goodbye. No warning.
She should have hated him.
But her body still longed for his hands and her heart
The temple bell clanged, shattering her thoughts.
Boom. Boom. Boom.
Three chimes at sunrise.
A divine summons.
Nafre-Aset dressed quickly, throwing a cloak over her body, heart racing. The last time the High Priests rang the sunrise bell was the night the old pharaoh died. Now the entire temple would gather.
She descended the stairs barefoot, whispers already rising from the lower chambers.
"The sacred altar has been desecrated."
"They found blood and semen."
"Blasphemy. The goddess is angry."
Her breath caught.
She pushed her way past initiates and acolytes until she reached the Inner Sanctum, where the elder priests gathered in a semicircle before the great idol of Isis.
The High Priest, a man with sun-weathered skin and eyes like smoke, stepped forward.
"Nafre-Aset," he said without expression. "You were last seen entering the altar chamber last night. Alone."
Her lips parted.
"Yes," she said softly.
"You are bound by your oaths to preserve the sacred rites. To keep the altar untouched except in the presence of the goddess and the anointed."
She swallowed. "Yes."
"Then explain what we found this morning."
She hesitated.
Silence fell like a blade.
"I…" Her voice broke. "I invited a man into the chamber."
Gasps echoed across the room.
One priest dropped to his knees and began praying.
"You performed the Rite of Memory?" the High Priest asked, his voice trembling with restrained fury.
She nodded. "I had to know. I had to understand what I felt. He was part of it. I know it."
"You used the sacred altar for carnal pleasure."
"No." Her eyes flashed. "It was more than that. We remembered. In our bodies. In our minds. He said he dreamed of me. I dreamed of him long before. Something happened last night."
The priests stepped back in horror.
The High Priest turned to the idol and lifted both arms.
"Oh sacred Isis, mother of all, forgive the sins of your wayward daughter. She has broken her vow. Touched the profane. Invited darkness into your holy place."
"I am not corrupted!" Nafre-Aset shouted. "I am awakened!"
Then
The ground rumbled beneath them.
Dust fell from the ceiling. The great statue of Isis began to glow faintly around its crown.
All eyes widened.
The High Priest's arms fell.
"She has angered the goddess," he whispered.
Suddenly, a low voice not human rolled through the chamber.
"You defied the cycle. You disturbed the balance."
The voice echoed from everywhere and nowhere.
Nafre-Aset fell to her knees, head spinning.
"I did what I had to. He is part of me!" she cried.
A beam of light shot from the idol's chest, striking her heart.
She screamed, arching backward, writhing on the floor as visions ripped through her skull.
A war-torn field. A bleeding lover. A hanging. A drowning. A fire. A blade.
Death after death. Life after life.
In each one him.
In each one her, reaching, never touching long enough.
The priests could only watch, frozen.
Then
Silence.
She lay still.
Her body was unburnt, but her eyes were open wide with knowing.
The goddess had shown her the cycle.
And cursed her to live it.
"Take her to the chamber of stone," the High Priest ordered. "She is no longer of this realm."
Kessef ran.
He had woken in the desert dunes, naked, wind-bitten, and weak. No memory of how he got there only fragments.
Her voice in his ear.
Her nails on his back.
The moment of climax, then a crack in the sky.
Something ancient had broken.
And now the world was hunting him.
Guards chased him through the lower alleys of Thebes, their torches flickering behind him. His breath burned. His muscles ached.
He didn't know where he was going.
Only that he had to find her.
He made it to the edge of the temple garden hidden behind a fig tree when he saw them.
Four priests carrying her limp body on a wooden slab, shrouded in white cloth.
His chest exploded with panic.
"No…"
He stepped forward but someone caught his arm.
An old woman. A scribe. Her eyes milky, her grip stronger than it should be.
"You cannot touch her now," she said.
"I have to!"
"If you do, you will bind the cycle."
"I already have."
She looked at him with eyes full of sorrow. "Then may the gods have mercy on you both."
The priests vanished through the temple doors.
And Nafre-Aset was sealed in stone.
Three Days Later.
The chamber was dark.
Cold.
Nafre-Aset had not eaten. She had not slept.
But the visions would not stop.
She saw Kessef across every lifetime. A sailor. A scholar. A hunter. A prisoner. Sometimes poor. Sometimes noble. But always him.
Always reaching for her.
Always dying too soon.
And always in the moment after they made love.
It was not just passion they shared.
It was punishment.
Their desire triggered the curse.
Each climax an activation.
Each death a reset.
She wept, not from fear but from unbearable longing.
Then, as if pulled by a string, she rose.
Traced the ouroboros on her skin.
And whispered into the darkness.
"Let this be the last time I forget him."
Outside the chamber, the goddess Isis stood tall in stone.
But deep in her heart of gold, something pulsed.
A divine whisper stirred the sky:
"Let the Lust Cycle begin."