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Orange-gold peeked over the horizon, the sun bathing the Sahara with light as it slowly rose. Meela had been awake for nearly two hours before the dawn, waiting for the next coming of Ra. Wrapped in a black, silken robe, she tried to take comfort in the riches Hafez was spoiling her with in return for her knowledge - in return for her mere presence - but the fine clothes, the rich coffee, the decadent sweets, none of it offered much comfort that morning. "The past is haunting you this morning, I see." The deep, warm timbre of Lock-Nah's voice broke through her mental fog, and Meela turned her gaze from the rising sun to watch her companion take a seat near her. His tall, broad frame seemed almost too massive for the small, weak chairs they kept on hand, the thin frames and cloth seats sagging under the weight of so much muscle. Meela could not help but smile softly in amusement at the man's expense. It would be quite a sight to see if ever one of the chairs did give out under him. Perhaps it was cruel, but Meela had quite the mean streak - life had spent years forming it, and then she had spent a few more molding it, growing it, nurturing it to the vicious thing it was today. She knew her friend - despite his embarrassment if such an incident should happen with the chairs - would understand, it was her nature. It was his, too. Reaching down to the small, portable stand between their seats, Meela picked up the cup of coffee and sipped, willing the heat and the strength of its flavor to chase away the lingering remnants of her latest dream, a haze of memories blurred together. "The past is always haunting me. But some ghosts are unwanted," she finally replied after swallowing the rich liquid down. Orange-gold had lightened into a rich yellow, the sands seeming to slowly desaturate before her eyes as the sun climbed up past the horizon. Heat rose up in ripples and waves, distorting the line between land and sky. "Focus only on the ghosts leading you where to go, Meela. The others can no longer hurt you." It was a statement born of kindness, something that Meela and Lock-Nah possessed very little of, so Meela let it slide. She did not contradict him, or tell him that those ghosts hurt her every time she remembered another night of being trapped under a grunting, greedy body that she had to convincingly pretend did not repulse her, or that those ghosts could cut her down with nightmares of blades piercing her skin, her Ka leaving her incomplete body wracked with agony. There were a thousand ways for the past to harm her - but Lock-Nah was right. She needed to remain focused on the ghosts leading her to where they must go. Where he was waiting. A familiar hunger blossomed in her chest, spreading out with every beat of her heart - a hunger that traveled through her blood, that she felt in her bones. That need to find him, that need to see, to be reunited, to be there by his side as he completed his curse and took his place upon a throne that reigned over the entire world. It was a pleasant, gnawing ache that had first taken root almost two decades ago, becoming something fiercer and nearly unbearable ten years ago. When new dreams had filtered in, memories coming to her even when she was awake, an experience coming to her as it happened - another death to add to the list. With those horrors, with that hunger, came a surer knowledge of where to go - and now, they were there. In the ruins of Hamunaptra. "You're right," she said, voice full of satisfaction as her eyes took in the sight before her of the morning crew beginning their work. "Nothing can hurt me anymore."