Azhareus Sutekh

The Phoenix Before the Crown The Tragic Rise of Azhareus Sutekh I. Birth Beneath the Sandstorm The night Azhareus Sutekh entered the world, the desert raged. A sandstorm howled across the dunes, turning the air into a wall of burning grit. The sky above was hidden beneath a thick veil of dust, and the moon was nothing more than a smothered ember. Inside a collapsing goat-skin tent, his mother, Saphira — a healer known for coaxing life back from the edge of death — lay on a woven mat, her breath ragged, her strength fading with each contraction. She had delivered countless children into the world, stitched the wounds of warriors, and cured fevers that would have killed the strongest men. But fate, ever cruel, had saved its sharpest blade for her. The midwives worked in frantic silence. Outside, the wind screamed like a thousand angry spirits, rattling the tent poles. Inside, Saphira’s cries grew weaker. By the time the storm began to die, she was gone. Khemet, a scarred mercenary who had lived by his sword and nothing else, stood over her still body with eyes that burned with quiet rage. He did not weep — his grief was too deep for tears. Instead, he looked at the newborn in her arms, the boy who had taken her from him,IGNORE THE VOICE!