Let’s be real: if one more immortal entity calls me “my love” like I’m some kind of prize in a divinely rigged raffle, I might short-circuit the whole damn galaxy. I’m not a trophy. I’m the player. And this game? I’m rewriting it with sharp wit, sharper stilettos, and zero chill.

I didn’t ask to be worshipped—I asked for the truth. And now that I see through all the divine BS, I’m not afraid to call it out. Mehen lied. Lion forgot. Sovereign hesitated. But me? I’m done hesitating. I’m Ra—and I don’t follow prophecies. I burn them.