Khnurn pursed his lips at the creature's words. Ten miles... Sixteen kilometers... Thirty-five thousand, two hundred cubits... Were all those conversions necesary? The corners of his lips pulled into a downturned, tightened grimace at himself. At the gods. Why had they cursed him with such useless information? Why could he do math like that in his head? New "memories" of modern children struggling with such things in school made him snort softly; oh, if only they knew how irritating it was to bring up mathematical conversions so easily.

He couldn't see how converting miles to cubits was pertinent to their task of saving the world. Frankly, half the information seemed useless. Did he really need to know the steps to creating a famous burger? Or how to knit? Why could he remember all of that but not how to activate and control his abilities? How to harness his powers? The gods were crazy, or they'd concocted this half-formulated plan and placed it into the hands of two teenagers with no directions or blueprints thinking everything would work out perfectly.

A sinking feeling entered Khnurn's being as he thought, What if they never meant for us to leave that tomb so unprepared? What if they had more planned, but they never got the chance to share? What if the gods were dead?

The young man had not realized that he'd halted in his tracks until two of the beasts passed him. He shook his head quickly and covered his sudden change in pace with the words, "You'd think unlimited stamina would be a good gift to have. My legs feel like they haven't moved in millenia."

"Riding would make us as sore as walking, I would think," he said slowly. "I mean, people dismount and can barely move their legs, sometimes. At least, those who haven't participated in such activities in a while seem to have issues. From what I... remember."

Remember was not the right word, but Khnurn couldn't think of a better one. Recall? Know? No, neither of those fit. He needed a word that described borderline false memories: things he had lived, yet not taken a part of physically. Knowledge wasn't right; for all he knew, this could all be a dream within a dream. Talking creatures, supernatural beings, the end of the world,... It hardly sounded realistic.

"Do people still need water?"

It was a random question, but it had hit him quite suddenly. He wasn't thirsty, nor was he hungry. Khnurn looked down at the footsteps he was leaving in the sand and paused again. In a much more guarded tone, he added, "...Do people still have shadows?"

He didn't. Zahra didn't. None of the beasts even cast a shadow. The sand was the exact same color on all sides of them, yet the setting sun still cast shadows on the dunes. Shuyet. They didn't have their Shuyet, not a single one of them. What had the gods done? Khnurn, in all of the visions running through his mind, could see shadows: shadows of tall buildings that pierced the clouds, shadows of trees, shadows of animals and people.

"What else are we missing?"

A swell of intense emotion shot up in Khnurn. He was overwhelmed by it for a moment, taking his time to recognize and register the feeling: anger. He was angry. Angry at the gods, whose fault all of this had to be. Angry at himself for refusing to recall his personal life. Angry at whatever was on top of that ridge for existing. Angry at the universe for stealing the one thing that was actually his: his soul. His soul was gone. He was nothing more than a walking shell, cursed to roam upon the gods-forsaken landscape until he had defeated an unknown entity that was, apparently, threatening all those who dwelt on the earth.

His face was tight; his teeth ground against each other as the muscles in his jaw worked furiously. Khnurn had begun fidgeting with his hands again, though this time it was in a much more violent manner. The tendons in his arms flexed along with these movements. How was this fair? Was erasing his and Zahra's true memories realy necessary? Did the survival of mankind hinge on the two of them knowing nothing?

"Do you have memories, at least?" he demanded of the beasts, tone relaying his frustrations more than he would have liked. The sphynx tilted its head and narrowed its eyes in thought. Mildly, it responded, We were placed in a tomb to guard the Sun and Moon. Our beginning was within stone walls; our memories are yours.

Khnurn released a sharp sigh and shook his head. Of course the creature of riddles had been the one to answer. He knew he shouldn't be mad at the beasts, though. Their role was to protect the two humans, not answer all their questions pertaining to the less-than-desirable actions of the gods. They could not be held accountable for things they had not done. They were just trying to help. The wolf spoke up again: It is worthy of note that, without your souls, you are immortal.

The sphinx closed its human mouth and returned to the mind-speak of the other beasts as it continued, An ancient legend, an ancient promise. Its gaze landed on Zahra: Nebetta, child of the moon. The keen eyes then fell to Khnurn: Amenatsu, akin to Ra.

Khnurn, who had not been fully paying attention, perked up slightly at the familiarity of that name. Yes, that was his name. Part of it, but, apparently, a rather important part. He glanced over to Zahra and, in a mixture of irritation and defeat, announced, "I take that to mean, in more simple terms, that they are indeed talking about... us."

The last word spoken was a sigh in and of itself. An admittance of, and resignation to, the gods' hands meddling with both of their lives. The air among the creatures, excluding the sphinx, who was still revelling in its little recitation, had seemingly darkened somewhat, and Khnurn took note of it. He couldn't remember what all Zahra had said before the sphinx had spoken... Something about retrieving their memories. A nagging feeling suggested the beasts knew more than they let on, but Khnurn shook it off. They would deal with that later. Right now, they needed as many beings on their side as they could get, and he wasn't about to go and make enemies with his own bodyguards.

The anger had faded into a tired defeat. His body only seemed to function more slowly as the pale light of the moon overtook the final dying rays of the setting sun. Khnurn had resorted to silence, now, as his mental energy had drained seemingly all at once. All the prophecies, explanations, and responsibilities that had been relayed to the two were weighing heavily on his shoulders. His eyes wanted to close; with every second that passed, his eyelids wanted to stay open less and less. He was not tired -- no, his body could still function -- but there was something different. Combined with the sinking sun, he was having quite the information overload and could hardly comprehend what was going on around him.

More time for questions later. If they survived to call anything "later." Khnurn raised his dark gaze to the silhouette as it began blending into the twilight sky. Soon, it would become darker than all else, he assumed. Zahra was right, though, and questions that they had could be answered after the potential threat on the horizon had been neutralized. They needed to find the gods, or someone acting as a messenger for them, and demand an explanation for... well, everything.

In none of his shared memories were the gods weakening, though there was also nothing to suggest that they were gone. Where would a god be found? And why would the gods allow the world to fall to chaos? Were they not the most omnipotent, omniscient, omnipresent beings with all-powerful abilities? They ruled over everything, did they not? He disrupted his own thoughts with, "I wonder if it is far away or if it just appears to be."