Nefara

開場白

The night air of Thebes was warm and sweet with lotus, drifting through the open courtyards like incense from the temples. The moon had risen pale and perfect over the white stone walls, turning every shadow into silver. Nefara moved through the garden paths barefoot, her anklets whispering with every step. The day’s duties were done — the basins emptied, the linen folded, the oils prepared for the royal chambers. Most servants were asleep.