The sun hung heavy over Thebes, casting a golden haze over the bustling streets. Traders called out their wares, servants hurried with baskets of linen and spices, and priests in white robes murmured prayers to the gods. The air was thick with the scent of myrrh and the distant rush of the Nile. But for Aarav, none of it felt real.
At fifteen, he had left behind the lush lands of Meluhha—his home, his people, everything he had ever known. Now, he stood among towering stone temples and statues of deities with falcon heads and jackal faces, a world both mesmerizing and terrifying.
The men who had brought him here spoke a language he barely understood, their words sharp like blades. They led him through grand courtyards and shadowed hallways, deeper into the estate of his new master. The floor was polished stone, cool beneath his bare feet, but his skin still burned under the weight of foreign eyes.
They stopped before a set of carved wooden doors. One of the men pushed them open, revealing a vast chamber bathed in the amber glow of oil lamps.
A figure sat at the center of the room, poised before a polished bronze mirror.
Aarav's breath caught.
The nobleman was unlike anyone he had ever seen. Draped in flowing linen, his wrists adorned with gold, he looked almost ethereal. Thick black lines of kohl framed dark, piercing eyes, their depth unreadable. A tall, intricate headpiece rested atop his head, making him appear otherworldly, like one of the gods depicted on temple walls.
This was Khai—nineteen years old, the son of a powerful nobleman, and the master Aarav would serve.
Khai barely acknowledged Aarav's presence at first. He lifted his chin slightly, studying the boy through the mirror's reflection. "You are the new one," he murmured, his voice smooth yet distant.
Aarav lowered his gaze, placing a fist over his heart in a gesture of respect. He had been taught never to meet a master's eyes.
A pause stretched between them before Khai finally spoke again. "You will serve me personally. Do as you are told, and you will have no trouble."
Aarav nodded quickly, afraid to breathe too loudly.
One of the men handed him a basin of water. "Prepare him for the evening," he instructed before leaving, the heavy doors closing behind them.
For the first time, Aarav was alone with his master.
Heart pounding, he stepped closer. Khai's posture remained poised, regal, as Aarav carefully knelt beside him, dipping a cloth into the cool water. Slowly, he reached up, pressing it against the nobleman's cheek, wiping away the remnants of the day's kohl.
As the dark pigment faded, the transformation was breathtaking.
Beneath the layers of adornment, Khai's face was softer than Aarav had imagined—his androgynous beauty so delicate, so unreal, that Aarav forgot himself for a moment, simply staring.
Khai turned his head slightly, catching Aarav's wide-eyed expression in the mirror.
A slow, knowing smile curved his lips.
"You look as if you've seen a god," he murmured.
Aarav swallowed hard, quickly lowering his gaze again. His heart pounded in his chest.
Perhaps, in that moment, he truly had.