---
He felt a chill run down his spine. Then he forced himself to breathe.
One step at a time.
He could not jump from a merchant's house to the Gods Hall in a day, no matter how much divine blood he absorbed. Null did not reward impatience. Null rewarded survival and persistence.
Sekhmet's gaze returned to the scroll.
He studied the Dawn House sigil burned into it again.
The mark was not placed there like a modern stamp.
It looked fused into the material itself.
Like the scroll had been born with Dawn House's name.
That made no sense.
And that was the problem.
A question rose in his mind like a sharp thorn.
Why would his father possess a scroll about gods?
Not a rumor.
Not a tavern story.
Not a fragment from a street priest.
A true scroll, old, detailed, and dangerous.
This knowledge was forbidden for common mortals.
If the wrong people knew Dawn House had this scroll, it could attract attention like blood in water.
Sekhmet swallowed.
