The Most Beautiful Woman in All of Egypt - Chapter #5 - Free To Read

Laila expected chaos.

A mob, wild with rage. A riot, fueled by hunger and fear. Another crisis, some new terror waiting to unfold in the streets of Memphis.

She did not expect this.

Thousands of people had gathered before the palace, stretching as far as the eye could see. The city's pulse beat slow and heavy, the air thick with incense and heat.

Some held golden charms, bracelets and amulets offered with trembling hands. Others brought lotus flowers, delicate petals wilting in their palms.

But most had fallen to their knees.

Their foreheads pressed to the ground.

Their lips moving in whispers, not to the gods—but to her.

A chill ran through Laila's spine, though the night was warm.

The priests stood at the temple steps, robes billowing, arms raised to the heavens, their voices carrying over the murmurs of the people.

"Laila, Daughter of the Sun, protect us."

"Laila, Divine of Blood and Fire, hear us."

"Laila, our goddess, save us."

She had been worshipped before. Poets had written of her grace, sculptors had carved her beauty into the walls of temples, priests had spoken of her as Hathor's own daughter.

But this was different.

This was desperation.

The ground beneath her feet felt unsteady, as if the very stones of the palace trembled with the weight of the moment.

And then—

The air shifted.

The world blurred at the edges, as if the sky itself had grown too heavy. Her vision tilted. Suddenly, she saw it. Bodies. Piled in the streets, limbs tangled, eyes lifeless. The stench of decay, thick as fog, rising in the heat. The Nile running black, no longer the giver of life but a river of death. The land cracked and dry, a kingdom dying beneath a sun that had turned against them.

The capital burning.

Memphis—a city of ash and ruin.

A vision. A warning.

This was what awaited them.

This was what would happen if she refused.

Laila's fingers tightened around the balcony railing, her breath short, ragged.

The world returned in a rush—the chanting, the torchlight, the thousands of eyes looking to her as their salvation.

The truth settled into her chest, heavy as stone.

The gods had spoken.

Laila did not bow. She did not weep.

She turned to the people, to the father who had sent her to be sacrificed, to the queen who watched her with a serpent's patience, waiting for her to kneel.

Instead, she lifted her chin.

And she declared her fate.

"I will go to them," Laila said, her voice cutting through the night like a blade.

The crowd stilled. Her father exhaled as if he had been holding his breath for lifetimes. Nefirah smiled. But Laila was not looking at them.

Her gaze remained on the thousands below.

"I will save Egypt."