The Gold Mask Man flinched.
‘Yes, I know who you are, Dominus Ashlar,’ said Kunai through a crooked old smirk. ‘For over three thousands of our human years you have called yourself “Ashlar” and not for once wondered how your name came to be? Look what surrounds you, O Ashlar! Look what was erected in your glorious name!’ he pointed at the freshly-built mastaba and the glorious-looking temple. ‘Stone on stone and ashlar onto ashlar. Opus isodomum and stonemasonry at its finest!’
Ashlar’s eyes narrowed.
‘But you are no god at all, are you Ashlar? You were punished by one, by the looks of your face. Such a fearful expression. Tsk, tsk, no wonder you hide it under dense layers of gold.’
Ashlar lifted the Tear of the Goddess and adopted what he hoped to be a threatening stance. Kunai aloofly waved his hand.
‘Oh please. I know a broken relic when I see one. Besides, you don’t need it. You never needed it at all.’
‘The Tear of the Goddess opens doorways into Subexistence!’ Ashlar fought back. ‘It can take me to the place where time is infinite in all directions. I can revisit choices that were never made; paths that were never taken—’
‘—the path that leads to all paths,’ finished Kunai. ‘Yes, yes, I know all about your attempts to rewrite history.’
To be continued...