He had not wished to be gone so long. First blizzards delayed their arrival to the Rise, and then — then! The world had torn itself asunder as the cosmos unravelled. Strange dreams, and stranger realities. Gaping maws in the earth, promising a return to ancient waters for all things.

And still! The gods urged them onward in efforts to restore Ma'at. So the envoys of Satriya had combined their efforts with the Druids, and sought the glowing runes, and braved the wrath of chaos.

Now the world was not quiet, but the gods ceased their speaking. He'd felt the urgency to return home. Did this affliction to Geb extend South? Pharaoh and Queen were well protected with Phoenix at priesthood... and yet Hotep knew their journey North had gone on overlong.

He yearned for the sands and familiar temples, to make his offerings and take solace in. He was gratified when, brought to the others, Mekh, Arcana, El'Zeath, and Ra were all in agreement — to risk the undertaking, and shore their strength beneath the obelisk.

Out of friendship, the Druids instructed them in the finding of a sacred tunnel, and this wondrous river of magic had set them out in drier, more familiar lands. The deshret was never safe, especially now. But it was more familiar and, at least, far less covered in snow.

Now, Hotep crested the rise of dunes to put the Skyspear in his sights again. His heart fluttered in relief to see it unsundered. His song pierced the cold dark, echoing off ancients sands and proclaiming optimistic return.