margin-right:0in">Safa unfurled the scroll. Even then, it was already showing some age, so brittle that a corner flecked away in her palm. But the writing, purple-black Coptic script made of coal and acacia ink, was still crisp enough to read.

Itet was dead, or worse, and for what? This was no hellebore Safa might poison herself with, or a splinter of stone she could use to slit her wrists.

Safa scuttled along the floor until she found the last ray of orange sunlight and started to read the scroll. It was a prayer to Nephthys, mother to the guardian of the dead Anubis, sister to the lord of the underworld Osiris.

"Nephthys, as you lead the souls of my family to their place before Osiris' throne, I ask you to show them mercy and reward; Nephthys, when you carry me to my fina...

Please subscribe to keep reading.