Chasing The Israelites
In the dim stillness of his chamber, Pharaoh sat alone, shoulders hunched and eyes hollow as he stared into the flickering shadows cast by the dying embers of a torch. His face was lined with grief, lips pressed into a tight, bloodless line as if to contain the fury and sorrow churning within him. The weight of his loss sat like a stone in his chest, heavy and cold, pulling him deeper into despair with each moment of silence. His hands clenched on the armrests of his throne, the knuckles white, fingers trembling.