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    Summary

    He remembered odd things from this dream. Soft grass beneath his palm. Sweetly spoken words in Coptic that he had not been meant to hear. A glint of gold in the pale sunlight. Ashy and empty eyes that had been full of life just moments ago. The scent of wildflowers and sand and brine. Pain deep, deep in his bones. Teeth sinking into delicate skin and coiled muscles as meaty fingers dug into his throat. Copper and zinc and sweet things exploding across his tongue. A voice, strange and familiar in ways that Steven didn’t understand as he had spit out skin and blood and teeth.

     

    Do not interfere, Spector–

     

    --

    Or, Steven manages to get out of the Alps on his own, and Khonshu is curious as to what else Steven is capable of.

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