Nighttime in Sarnath was quiet, almost eerily so. The soft breeze carried the faint scent of dust and forgotten memories as Carter, in the body of Ahmoset, slipped through the winding streets, carrying the unconscious woman.
The glow from the moons cast a strange indigo hue across the city. His arms ached from the prolonged weight and arduous ordeal he'd just been through, made his muscles scream in protest, but he didn't stop.
His thoughts raced. The encounter with the beast, the mysterious crack in space, and now this woman with her strange powers.
None of it made sense. He had been a simple merchant's son, content to live his life far from the dangers of the wider world. And yet here he was, tangled in something far greater than he could comprehend.
"Just a little further," he muttered under his breath.
Ahead, the silhouette of his family's estate came into view, speckled with few points of light in the darkness. The abandoned wing of the house had long been forgotten, left untouched after his parents' deaths. It would serve as the perfect hiding place for now.
The iron gates creaked as Ahmoset pushed them open, slipping into the shadows of the overgrown garden. The moonlight barely penetrated the thick vines and crumbling stone walls, casting long shadows over the ground.
As he approached the back entrance, he couldn't shake the uneasy feeling that settled in his chest.
Once inside, he laid the woman down on an old bed in his parents' room. Dust rose in the air as he placed her carefully on the mattress, trying to ignore the strange sensation that washed over him.
The woman appeared to be around Ahmoset's age, 14, but her presence carried a weight far beyond her years. Her perfectly straight, jet-black hair fell smoothly over her shoulders, the strands so dark they seemed to absorb the dim light around her. Her tanned skin, rich and warm.
Her features were sharp and striking—high cheekbones, full lips, and a strong jawline.
Ahmoset knelt beside her, brushing a strand of dark hair away from her face. "Just who in the hell are you?" he whispered, though he knew there would be no answer. Her breathing was shallow but steady, her chest rising and falling slowly.
His eyes moved to the wound near her ribs. The blood had slowed to a stop by now, but the sight of it still unsettled him.
As he gently pulled the fabric away to examine the injury, his breath caught in his throat. Beneath the surface of her skin, hieroglyphic markings were glowing faintly, their light pulsing in rhythm with her heartbeat.
The markings weren't just around the wound; they covered her entire body, etched into her skin like ancient carvings brought to life. They swirled and shifted, almost as if they were alive, moving slowly across her arms, chest, and legs. The symbols were foreign, unlike anything Ahmoset had ever seen, and yet they felt… familiar; like he'd seen them back on Earth.
"What the hell are these? These remind me of the markings on Poseidon's body in God of War," he murmured, his fingers caressing her skin, not afraid to touch the markings.
As he watched, the hieroglyphs seemed to accelerate around the wound, moving faster and more frantically. The wound itself, which had been deep and jagged, was closing at an unnatural rate. In just a few days, it would likely be fully healed.
The sight filled him with a mixture of awe and dread. Whoever this woman—girl— was, she was no ordinary human. She may not even be human for all he knew.
Carter had never seen anything like this in all his years in Sarnath nor back on Earth. Not even the tales the city elders whispered about immortals could explain what was happening to her.
But no matter how much he wanted answers, she remained silent, unconscious, as the symbols danced across her skin.
The days passed in much the same way. Carter kept the woman hidden, tending to her wound and watching as the hieroglyphs continued their strange, shifting dance across her body.
He cleaned her skin with warm water and soap daily, making sure not to touch any sensitive areas. Often times, he felt as though a pair of eyes were always on him.
Each day, he would check on her, hoping she would wake up and explain everything.
But she never did.
Her silence was almost maddening. Every time Carter sat by her bedside, he couldn't help but wonder what kind of world she came from, what kind of powers she held, and most importantly what kind of dangers she brought with her.
As the days stretched on, Carter began to feel a strange connection to her. It wasn't just the act of caring for her that created this bond. It was something deeper, something… primal.
The strange symbols on her skin had a pull, a resonance, that he couldn't quite explain. It was as if some invisible thread connected them, though he couldn't pinpoint why or how.
Still, he continued to watch over her, waiting for the moment she would finally wake up.
And that, she did.
It was on the fifth day that she finally stirred. Carter was fast asleep by her side, lost in dreamland, when he heard the faintest shift of fabric. He blinked, startled, and looked down to see her eyes on him.But it was her eyes that held Carter almost captive: a cold, intense amethyst gaze, devoid of any warmth or recognition.
Despite the chill in her expression, there was an undeniable allure about her that made her dangerous and beautiful. This drew him in even though her coldness warned him to stay distant.
They were cold—like two bottomless wells of ice, devoid of emotion. There was no warmth in her gaze, no gratitude for having been saved. She merely stared at him, her expression blank and unreadable.
Carter, despite the chill in her eyes, managed a small, genuine smile. "You're awake," he said softly. "You've been out for days. I wasn't sure when you'd come around."
Her only response was silence. Her gaze remained locked on him, her expression unchanged. There was no flicker of recognition, no sign of relief. She was awake, but it was as though she was a thousand miles away.
Carter cleared his throat, a little taken aback by her coldness, but he didn't let it show. He wasn't the type to be easily discouraged. "I'm Ahmoset," he continued, his voice still warm.
At this point, he would not reveal his earthly name. For did not know if that would stick out like a sore thumb and get him captured.
"I found you in the forest after you crashed through that tear in space. You were badly injured. I didn't know what else to do, so I brought you here."
Still, she said nothing. The silence between them stretched on, the air thick with tension. Carter wasn't sure if she was even listening to him or if she simply didn't care. Her eyes, cold and piercing, never wavered from his face. Then, a sight frown appeared on her face.
He sighed, rubbing the back of his neck. "Look, I don't know who you are, or where you came from, but… you're safe here. I don't know what happened, but I want to help. If you could just—"
He stopped mid-sentence as something caught his attention. Her wound—the deep gash near her ribs—was completely healed after she simply removed the bandage. There wasn't even a scar. The skin was smooth and unblemished, as if the injury had never existed.
Carter blinked in disbelief, his fingers hovering over the area where the wound had been. "What…?" he muttered, his voice trailing off.
The hieroglyphs, which had been glowing faintly, pulsed one last time before fading away. The strange markings on her skin remained, but their movement slowed, becoming almost imperceptible.
He looked up at her, his eyes filled with questions. "How… how did you heal so fast? What are these markings? Who—"
Before he could finish, the woman turned her head, her gaze shifting away from him for the first time since she had woken up. It was as if she had decided, in that moment, that he was no longer worth her attention.
Carter sighed, frustrated but not surprised. She had given him nothing—no answers, no explanations, not even a simple thank you.
And yet, despite her coldness, he couldn't bring himself to be angry. There was something about her, something that told him this was just the beginning of something much larger.
'A person who could survive an impact like that certainly isn't simple. It's like I was destined…'
Carter sped right there. Shocked. This was it. This was his chance. The mediocrity of his line would end here. She was the start of his rise in power. She is his…
Canon Event.
The thought of that made him tremble in excitement. All the novels he read about such things made him almost bellow to the heavens saying: "B*TCH, DADDY IS COMING!"
After sitting in silence for a few more moments, Carter stood up, his joints aching from days of restless sleep. "I'll… I'll make you something to eat. After all, it's been five days, not even someone as durable as you can't possibly live without food," he said, more to himself than to her. He didn't get a response but a look of mockery instead?
The woman didn't move, didn't even acknowledge his words. She simply lay there, her cold eyes staring off into the distance.
Carter left the room, making his way to the small kitchen in the estate. The house was old, filled with dust and the memories of his parents, but it still held the comforts of home. He prepared a simple meal—nothing fancy, just enough to keep her strength up.
When he returned hours later, food in hand, the bed was empty.
Carter froze in the doorway, his heart sinking. The woman was gone. There was no sign of her—no trace that she had ever been there at all. For a moment, he stood there in silence, the food growing cold in his hands.
"Gone…" he muttered under his breath. He didn't know why, but the realization stung. He had hoped, foolishly perhaps, that she might stay—long enough for him to learn more about her, or at least for her to say something.
But she had left. Without a word. Without even a glance.
Carter sighed and placed the food down on his parents' old nightstand. He stood there for a while, staring at the empty bed, a strange sense of loss settling over him.
As he turned to leave the room, something caught his eye. The bed where the woman had been lying was faintly glowing.
Hieroglyphic markings—similar to the ones on her skin—were etched into the fabric of the bed. They pulsed with light for a moment before slowly fading into nothingness.
Carter stepped closer, his heart pounding. The markings were gone, but the memory of them lingered in his mind.
Whoever she was, wherever she had come from, she was unlike anything he had ever encountered.
And though she was gone, Carter knew, deep down, that their crossed paths were far from finished, forever intertwined. Something had changed in his world, and he was now a part of it.
With one last glance at the empty bed, Carter turned and left the room, leaving the silence behind.