Egyptians had six words for what you are.

The Egyptians thought you were made of six things. Only one of them was you.

Ask most people what happens after death and they say soul or nothing. The Egyptians would find that lazy. They had six parts, and they knew which ones broke first.

Your ka is the double. The life force, the thing that eats. That is why food went into the tomb, and why the offerings kept coming for generations. Stop feeding the ka and it starves.

Your ba is the part with your personality. It looks like a bird with your face, and at night it leaves and flies around, then comes back. It has to find the body again, which is the whole point of mummification. Not preservation. Navigation.

Your ib, the heart, is where thinking happened. It gets weighed against a feather. Fail and a crocodile-headed thing eats it, and you simply stop.

Your sheut is your shadow. Always with you, counted as real.

Then akh, which is not a part you have. It is what you become if the ka and the ba successfully merge after death. The only version of you that lasts.

And the sixth is ren. Your name.

The ren is the strange one. As long as somebody speaks your name, you exist. Nothing else required, not the body, not the tomb, not the offerings. And the reverse: chisel a name off a wall and the person is gone, properly gone, in a way that killing them was not. Pharaohs did this to each other. It was not vandalism, it was execution after the fact.

Which means they built the entire system on the one part they could not control. Five of the six are yours. The last one lives in other people's mouths.

You are speaking Tutankhamun's ren right now. He is doing better than the pharaohs who erased him.