The king protected the people,
and the people protected their king.
Three thousand years ago, the day before the battle against the Evil God, the princess who had stayed behind in Heliopolis received an order from the pharaoh.
"Live, Nephthys."
"The pharaoh may die, but the people must not be left without one."
"Mistress of the Red Crown, take up my authority."
The girl wearing a golden crown lowered her eyes slightly and said,
"...All right."
Time passed, and all the clamor was buried beneath the flowing Nile.
Three thousand years later.
Facing the darkness that engulfed the entire planet,
a man crossed paths with the nameless Pharaoh.
It was Nephthys.
The girl who seemed both familiar and strange to him first smiled faintly. Then her expression turned solemn as she reached out, and the lotus-shaped scepter burst into light.
The last pharaoh in the world spread her arms. Her billowing cloak made her look as tall and imposing as a mountain.
"Stand behind me."
She spoke with authority: "I am the Pharaoh. No one may stand before me."
The nameless Pharaoh was cowed by the girl's matter-of-fact tone and instinctively took a step back.
But then he reached over and grasped the scepter beside her hand.
He said, "Without her people, a king does not exist."
Nephthys looked at the two hands clasped around the scepter, a faint smile appearing on her face.
From the days of old, the final glimmer of glory from an empire that had named an entire era after itself emerged from the pages of its weighty history, along with her voice and image, and reappeared from the river of time.
Theme: I insist on bringing the dead back to life
