This story is a work of fiction, all characters and plot lines are fictional. Any resemblance to persons living or dead is purely coincidental. Prelude to Destiny and its characters, remain the property of the author. This story and characters may not be reproduced, or republished elsewhere without the prior, strict written consent of the author.
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In the beginning, there was the Nun: the inky, vast waters of the un-manifest bleeding into the void of heavens above... Eight gods; four serpents and four frogs., Nun and Nunet; deities of the abyss, Heh and Hehet; gods of space, Kek and Keket; deities of darkness, and Amon and Amonet; deities of the invisible, swam within these waters, the same waters that held the great egg of the creator.
After millennia of this nothing, the great egg began to crack and hatch, splitting in two and separating the waters of the Nun, making a space in which the creator could make the world. Within this hallowed space a single, blue Lotus bloomed, gentle light floating forth from the Lotus’ womb, wherein lay a beautiful young god, curled with a finger pressed to His lips in silence.
The gentle glow grew ever more intense as the creator, Ra, opened His eyes, until light streamed from every pore of the divine child, banishing the blackness to the furthest reaches of the universe. Like a phoenix, He rose from the center of the Lotus.
“Thoth,” He cried, uttering the first sound, shattering the eternal silence, manifesting with that primary word, the god of wisdom and magic, known henceforth and forevermore as Thoth.
Appraising the nothing, the young god created for Himself an island in the Nun, ground upon which he could, in turn, tread and rest. Surveying the waters that surrounded Him, the young god knew He was alone. Finding He could not bear the solitude, the young god longed for others to share the light with Him.
Believing duality the law of the universe, the first created by Thoth was the great goddess Maat, ruler of truth and justice, the judge, and balance of duality. Thoth took her as his wife and the two sustain the universe until this day; the divine word and truth. More were created, in turn by the thoughts of the young god, and he empowered them with his word by the very act of naming them. There was Shu, the god of air, and Tefnuit, the goddess of moisture.
The young god was still alone; Shu and Tefnuit were lost in the endless waters of the abyss. Determined to find his companions, the young god took and eye from his face. Filling the eye with power, he called the eye Hathor, his daughter, and sent her out into the nothing in search of his progeny.
The light of Hathor pierced the darkness, enabling her to find Shu and Tefnuit quickly. The young god, in reward for Hathor’s diligence in returning his children, set the eye upon his forehead in the shape of a cobra, swearing that she would have power over all of his enemies. In ages to come, both gods, and men would fear her.
Shu and Tefnuit loved each other, and Tefnuit gave birth to twins; Geb, the god of the earth and Nuit, goddess of the heavens. The young god took Nuit for his wife. Nuit did not love the creator, Ra, like she loved Geb; it was Geb for which her heart yearned.
The earth and sky, intertwined in their passion, left the universe formless and chaotic, rebelling against the Creator’s order. Ra stumbled upon the mixing of heaven and earth, and in fury at his unfaithful wife, forced the lovers asunder. Ripping the sky away from the earth, Ra held them distant by force, setting Shu between them, determined to keep the betraying Geb and his unfaithful wife forever apart.
Discovering that her union with Nuit resulted in a seeded womb, Ra became further enraged and decreed that she should never give birth to her young in any month of any year. Instead, they were to be trapped forever within her, never to behold the light of day.
Nuit mourned for her losses, that of her lover, and her unborn children. Her cries even reached the ears of Thoth, the self created. He rushed to her side and dried her tears. Soothing her, and speaking with her, He discovered the pain Ra had inflicted on her as punishment for her transgression. Thoth, the lord of magic, knew Ra’s decree could not be undone, but he also knew that there was a way to relieve Nuit of her suffering.
Thoth created the game of Draughts and challenged the gods to many games. Being the lord of wisdom, as well as magic, Thoth easily won from the gods the stakes he sought; the seventh part of the light of each day in the year. Thoth pieced together these parts, creating five whole days, which he added to the end of the lunar year. With five new days not part of the original year over which Ra had made his decree, Nuit was able to give birth to her five children, one each day.
The first was Osiris; a great voice was heard throughout the heavens as he was born proclaiming him the Lord of Creation. The second day brought the great elder, Horus, also known as Aureoris. His right eye is the sun, and his left eye, the moon. On the third night, Seth was born and was proclaimed lord of the ever darkening night. The fourth day brought Isis, goddess of love, magic, and wisdom, and Osiris took her as his wife. The last to be born was Isis’ beloved sister, Nephthys, the darker of the two girls, who was taken by Seth as his wife even though the two did not love at all.
This was the beginning, the birth of the great shining one, the company of the gods Annu, the nine Gods of Ra, his children, and grandchildren. Ra also created many other gods and he filled the heavens above with them. He filled the abyss below with spirits, demons, and lesser deities.
Last of all, Man was created. Khnum fashioned man upon his potter’s wheel and Ra breathed the breath of life into his new creatures. Ra also created a land for his new creation to dwell and named this land Egypt. He protected the land with vast barriers of scorched earth. Along with the land, he created the Nile so that its waters would flood the land and give rise to rich and abundant crops. He created all matter of animal, bird, fish, and plant, breathing life into the lesser creatures as well. Finally, Ra mirrored this new land of Egypt in the sky above, creating a Nile in the heavens that would rain down waters to sustain their life.
Each day the creator, Ra, walks through the kingdom he has made, or sails across the sky in his eternal barge. To restrain the forces of darkness lurking in his new land, Ra crated the Kingship; He, himself, was the first and the greatest king of all Egypt and ruled for centuries filled with joy and peace.
Alas, every night the lotus closes its petals and sinks once more into the dark waters of the abyss, whence darkness returns to reign throughout the night, until the young god within the lotus is reborn. The great forces of chaos and darkness were not defeated in the beginning of time by the young god. They surround his creation in the form of serpents, stalking the creator, the sun god, poised to attack. This war between darkness and light sustains the world; and when this eternal struggle does come to a final resolution, so, too, will the world and all creation.
-Egyptian Creation Mythos
Papyrus Ani
Egyptian Book of the Dead
He shuddered, tossing and turning from the odd, haunting dreams plaguing his sleep; the same dream every night for the last several years, ever since the old gods had been deposed in favor of a singular god, Aten. Always, a silent youth standing nude astride the banks of the Nile, a finger pressed against his lips in silence as he held a blue lotus flower in his other hand. At the youth’s back was the sun, high in the mid-day sky, blanketing him in an aura of golden light, though none of the surrounding people paid any heed to him. Instead, they went on toiling in their daily business of living.
He awoke with a start, as he had every time this troubling dream has visited him in the vulnerability of the night. The aged priest felt the dream an omen, a warning that had gone unheeded for too long. He didn’t know how to placate the incessant deity, especially when the deity was one vanquished by the state in favor of another, less complex, god. The old priest felt as if a war was being waged on his soul by a dead god for a crime, some injustice he had done, though whatever his sin was, the old man had no idea. Alone in the darkness of the night, he begged his God for relief from the troubling dreams, as he always did, but the relief he sought never came.
The afternoon sun breathed heavy on the banks of the ancient river, but the oppressive heat had no effect on the lives of the people settled here. Boats still sailed upon the waters of the Nile, farmers still tilled the soil, and merchants still flaunted their wares to prospective customers. The great empire could not retreat indoors due to heat.
The Nile did offer solace from the heat, and many of the children were quick to take advantage of it when released from their duties or even as an escape from those duties. The waters were quick to wash away any troubles the residents of Egypt faced in their daily struggle to survive.
It was from this highway of commerce, and occasional respite, that He came, sprang forth from the very waters that flooded the banks of the Nile every year, ensuring life for the Egyptians. Those mystical waters had just bequeathed them something else. He staggered nude from the waters through Papyrus, finding his stride as he moved.
The youth was bending in the shallows and reeds, washing mud from his arms and lower legs when the bark of a guard caught his attention.
“Halt,” the older of the two guards commanded as they rushed towards this golden-haired youth, their weapons drawn. The youth spared them a glance before looking back at the water where he crouched. “What’s your purpose,” the guard shouted as the young man raised off his haunches.
He leveled the guards with a curious look, as they dared not leave the sure footing of the riverbank to pursue him.
“Where’d you come from?” the guard shouted as he advanced on the youth.
“The water,” the young man replied, sweeping his arm out at the river.
“This place is forbidden, be on your way,” the guard shouted, sheathing his weapon, finding no danger in a nude youth.
“I can’t,” the young man said, his voice becoming demanding and catching the attention of the guard who had dismissed him by turning his back on him. “I need to see the priest of Aten.”
“Oh,” the guard said while slowly turning around, his meaty build looking more impressive. “How about I just run you through and throw you back where you came?” he asked, the glint in his squinting eyes telling the young man that the guard intended to make good on the threat.
“I need to see the priest,” the youth repeated, demanding audience. Tired of the stranger and his demanding tone the guard moved forward into the water, quickly pouncing on the stranger and seizing him by the throat as he lifted the youth off the ground.
“What you need to do,” the guard snarled as his hand captured the young man’s throat. His diatribe was silenced as the young man’s hand grasped at the wrist of the arm that held him aloft. Stunned by the burning sensation ripping its way up his forearm to his elbow, the guard locked eyes with the stranger.
The guard’s body trembled as he stared into the lapis-colored eyes of the stranger, seeing things he was never meant to see, his creation and rearing, topped most pointedly with his own demise at the hands of the stranger whom he held aloft. Stunned by what he saw tears slipped from his eyes, tears the guard had not even shed over the body of his dead child.
“I need to see the priest,” the young man repeated in a gasp as his grip tightened on the guard’s sweaty wrist. The guard relented with a slight nod of his head as he lowered his captor to the water.
“He’s in the temple,” the guard stated, bowing his head slightly so as to not look this youth in the eye. “We will take you there.”
“Bes,” the second, younger guard shouted in surprise. Bes, the guard, shot his young and inexperienced counterpart a look, compelling him to silence with the fear-laced determination that glazed his eyes.
Bes stepped away from the young man and turned to retreat up the river bank onto the hewn stone platform that served as a patrol route. As he did, the young man took a moment to study his impressive build, watching him walk up to the other guard. The two held an animated, hushed argument as the youth watched, before the younger guard finally relented to the command of Bes.
“Come,” the younger said, holding his arm out for the stranger. The stranger moved to accept the proffered limb, even though its bearer looked begrudged.
“I do think I will need a garment though,” the stranger said, taking hold of the younger’s hand causing a warm sensation to spread up his forearm and race to his shoulder.
The younger pulled his hand free of the stranger’s and blushed as he turned away. “We will fetch you some,” he whispered, not needing to look into the stranger’s eyes to see the visage of him sharing his bed willingly with the stranger. Leading the way, Bes, and the younger walked up the river with the stranger following them at a close pace, thinking about what needed to be done.
“How long have you been in service to the Pharaoh?” the young stranger asked.
“This one,” Bes answered looking over his shoulder at the nude youth, “almost twelve years, but he is not the only Pharaoh I have served. In all, I’ve been serving for close on twenty years.”
The stranger nodded, turning his attentions to the lean back of the younger. “And you?”
“Three years,” the younger answered, refusing the urge to look back and gaze upon the stranger. “I enlisted after my father died in the lower war. I joined to keep his good name.”
“Kind of foolish, joining to save your father’s name isn’t it?” the stranger asked.
“Not when I have a mother and three younger brothers to care for,” the younger answered. “When I joined in his name, I inherited his office and all the service he put forth for Pharaoh before me.” The stranger thought about the answer, and the more he thought about it the more he liked the sense of duty that was woven into it.
With little more conversation, Bes, and the younger led the stranger into the temple complex. Following a labyrinth of corridors and passages, the stranger took careful note of their route, outwardly showing only minimal interest as they crossed a grand room supported with a forest of titanic stone columns, making careful note of where all the guards were positioned.
“Here,” Bes said handing the stranger a linen loin wrap as they entered the barracks. “Are you hungry?” he asked as the stranger dressed.
“In time,” the stranger answered, feeling confined in the wrap. “I wish to see the priest now.”
“I’ll fetch him,” Bes answered his head bowed, still trying to avoid any eye contact with the stranger. “Who shall I tell him demands his audience?”
“He knows who I am,” the stranger said with a curious smile as he took a regal seat on a common stool. “He’s been expecting me.” Backing away, his head still low, Bes turned and hurried from the barracks, off to fetch the Pharaoh’s chief vizier.
“Who are you?” the younger questioned, only having ever seen Bes act the way he was, in the presence of Pharaoh.
“I have many names,” the stranger commented, his head rocking to the side, studying the chest and torso countless hours spent drilling in the Pharaoh’s service had provided. “What would you call me?” Unable to ignore the blue of the stranger’s eyes any longer, the younger dropped to his knees, abandoning his poise of strength and readiness.
“Beautiful,” the word escaped the younger’s lips in a yielding rush of air. The stranger smiled, and dropped from the stool onto his bare knees. He shuffled across the rough stone floor, watching as the younger shuffled towards him with a look of fear and excitement in his eyes.
“Your thoughts,” the stranger whispered tracing the back of his hand down the younger’s face, “they are forbidden.” The younger nodded, feeling shame for such thoughts, yet a prickling excitement and rapture raced up his spine at the stranger’s light touch.
“I’m not so bad,” the stranger whispered, leaning in and placing a series of gentle kisses at the corners of the younger’s mouth. “I’m willing to meet you half way,” he whispered before giving the younger the passion he yearned for, kissing him on the mouth as he tugged the younger’s flesh into his.
Bes hurried in a daze through the corridors of the temple complex. Stopping only once he had reached the Vizier’s quarters. Taking a deep breath, Bes burst through the door startling the old priest who sat inside staring into a polished gold mirror.
“He’s here,” the vizier said looking faint as he turned to look at Bes. “I dreamt of him last night, he said he was coming. I begged him not to. I pleaded with the Aten to save us from him. Now he has come anyway.”
“Who is he?” Bes asked, fearing the answer.
“He is our death,” the aged vizier squeaked, “He’s come to take back what is rightfully his and kill Pharaoh’s false god in the process,” the learned vizier broke down and wept in front of the lowly guard, abandoning the dignity his station demanded. Clutching at Bes’ flesh, the vizier rambled, “Will he show us mercy, or does he only want Pharaoh?” he wailed. “What will happen? I can’t see anymore,” he cried, pulling himself away from Bes in his deepest shame.
“I know nothing of what you speak,” Bes said, feeling pity for the priest. “I only know what he has shown me, and that he demands to see you.”
“Be away with him,” the vizier panicked, shaking his head in refusal as he scurried away from Bes.
“Do you think that wise, Vizier?”
“Why’d you say that?” the vizier turned abruptly, screaming at the guard. “He said that!”
Bes didn’t know what to make of the Vizier or his rash actions, the way he scuttled across the room dropping painted alabaster cups and chanting incoherently to himself.
“He said it to me last night,” the Vizier said scooting up to Bes and staring wide eyed at the guard. “He said the storm was coming, and its rain will wash Pharaoh from the land of Egypt,” as he spoke the heavens cackled, causing the old man to flinch involuntarily with the clap of thunder. “We must protect Pharaoh.” The vizier looked crazed as something flitted past his eyes. “Take me to him, I’ll placate him, and when he suspects not, kill him.”
The Vizier’s words, no matter how crazed, lapped at Bes’ sense of duty as they walked slowly through the temple complex. He had already seen his fate in the stranger’s eyes, the stranger the Vizier refused to name. Perhaps the path to that destiny lay in the Vizier’s suggestion, but it happened in the throne room and not the guard’s barracks where the stranger currently held residence.
“You have no reason to fear me,” the stranger said, petting the younger’s head who knelt at his feet as Bes and Vizier entered the room. “I will only take as many as I need before Pharaoh realizes his misguided path. Then I will take him as punishment.” Bes drew his weapon and lunged at the stranger, stopping at the last moment, held entranced in the stranger’s lapis eyes. “Not yet son of Egypt,” he smiled, turning his attention back to the vizier as Bes sheathed his weapon.
“Tell me Vizier, have you yet told your Pharaoh that the storm is coming?” the stranger asked with a lecherous grin. “Have you told him there will be no afterlife, no grand banquet with the Gods? He has disgraced all of Egypt, he and his Aten, and we have come, come to take back what is ours.”
The Vizier shook his head, vehemently denying the words the stranger spoke.
“Your god, Aten,” the stranger spat with disgust, “cannot save him now, nor can your god save you, Vizier,” the stranger said, leaning forward in his seat. “Choose your allegiance Vizier; a false god that has not headed your cries of mercy, or the gods that show themselves to you, giving you chance to redeem yourself.”
The vizier dropped to his knees, bowing deeply and resting his forehead at the stranger’s feet. “I beg for mercy, my lord,” he cried, lying prostrate in front of the stranger. “You will succeed in your duty; Egypt and her people shall herald you for all of time.”
“Have you seen it, oh great vizier?” the stranger sneered, mocking the man lying prone at his feet.
“No, my lord, I have not seen this, but I have great faith in your power,” the old man said, cowering at the feet of the stranger.
“Why haven’t you seen it Vizier, or should you even hold that title any longer,” the stranger purred with a perverse sense of satisfaction.
“No, my lord, I have seen nothing but you stalking my dreams,” the Vizier answered, shaken with fear.
“You’ll see again Vizier, provided you are more faithful,” the stranger promised, standing, as his hand curled along the younger’s chin who smiled up at him before he stepped over the Vizier’s prone body. “Come, Vizier, it’s time to see your Pharaoh and his Aten,” the stranger said with a growl as he approached the door, “and dispatch them both.” The younger stood, following the stranger without hesitation, even stepping on the aged Viziers back in an effort to catch up with his master.
The old man rushed down the hallways of the palace, desperate to keep up with the quickening pace set by the stranger, wondering the whole way what he was about to witness. The younger worried about the future of his three little brothers, while Bes questioned why he was following this stranger to the throne room. He didn’t particularly care for this Pharaoh over his predecessor, but he was still Pharaoh and order demanded his people follow him.
Entering the throne room, the Vizier again started his prayers, speaking them louder as the approached Egypt’s seat of power. Pharaoh, the sickly looking man who sat on the seat, stood abruptly as the small group neared, his eyes widening as they wandered over them, from his High Priest, to his own bodyguards, and the person they escorted into his sanctum.
The stranger broke away from the huddle, tasting the metallic tang of blood on his lips, blood he could smell coursing through the Pharaoh’s veins with a heartbeat he could hear that drowned out the pathetic prayers behind him.
“Halt,” Bes shouted, drawing his weapon. “Move away, or pay with your life.”
The stranger gave Bes a small, knowing smile as he maneuvered to move past him.
“Step away or you will die,” Bes barked, firming his grip on his weapon.
“No, Son of Egypt,” the stranger retorted looking remorseful, “it is you, that must die.” His words echoed off the carved stone walls coming back to assault him, and Bes, from every angle as, with ease, he seized the arm that held Bes’ weapon. Twisting the wrist and overpowering the guard who was twice his size, buckling Bes to the hard stone floor, the stranger leaned over Bes who was now cowering on the ground in front of him. Leaning in to his neck the stranger whispered, “May glory be yours, friend,” before biting down on his neck and puncturing the jugular.
Bes’ blood flowed with ease into the stranger’s mouth and down his throat. Bes did not struggle as he bled out, accepting the fate the stranger had shown him, watching as his children came running down the palace corridors, greeting him after their long separation. Their smiles where the last thing he saw, a smile playing across his pale lips as his eyes clouded over, becoming as black as the nothing from which this world was created.
The stranger dropped the lifeless body to the cold floor as he pulled away from Bes’ body. Panting for air in gulps, the stranger smeared the blood trailing his chin, fixing his steely gaze on Pharaoh. “Denounce your god,” he demanded, gasping as he took a step forward, flexing the muscles of his lean physique.
“No,” Pharaoh raged, standing abruptly, performing a stumbling twist around the back of his small golden chair, thinking the relic, and its inlay of a golden disk with hundreds of hands raining down gifts unto he and his bride, would protect him. “Aten loves me!” Pharaoh cried looking outraged and panicked as his eyes darted about the empty room. “His protection, rains down upon me,” he continued to howl from beyond the throne, so much more a petulant child then the demigod he was.
“Don’t be a fool, Pharaoh,” the stranger commanded, smearing Bes’ blood into his chest as he paced in a semicircular path around the Pharaoh cowering behind his chair. “Tell me, Pharaoh, is it his love and protection you feel showering down onto you now?”
“Guards,” Pharaoh called frantically from his hiding place. “Guards,” he called again.
The stranger’s laugh reverberated through the room. “Where are your guards, Pharaoh? Rushing to your aid, or have they forgotten you like some bad memory they would rather not contemplate?” the stranger quipped, stopping in front of the throne. As fun as playing this game was, he wanted the matter resolved. “Denounce... your... god,” he repeated with determined patience.
“Aten help me,” Pharaoh whimpered from his hiding place, wiping away tears of fear.
“Denounce him!” the stranger raged in a thunderous roar as he appeared crouched beside Pharaoh, seizing the ruler by the throat. “Denounce him or I will dispatch the both of you.”
“I…” Pharaoh sputtered in a garbled choke, the strangers grip, tightening on the front of his throat. “I…” Pharaoh gasped giving in to the hand which seized him, “denounce Aten,” Pharaoh said in a garbled wheeze of defeat as he stared into the stranger’s eyes.
“That wasn’t so bad, now was it?” the stranger questioned, releasing his grip on Pharaoh’s throat, and pulling Pharaoh’s head to rest against his chest. The stranger stroked Pharaoh’s head as he eased into a sitting position on the floor feeling Pharaoh’s tears and slobber wet his chest as the sickly man openly wept for his loss.
“You played with fire,” the stranger commented after several moments of silence on his part. “Now you must pay for your transgression.”
“I’ve given you my god. What else could you want?” Pharaoh asked in a wheeze as he looked up into the mournful eyes of the stranger. The stranger gently looked on, his compassionate eyes masking the vengeance brewing in his chest.
“A sacrifice,” the stranger answered, as he continued his soft treatment of the fallen Pharaoh.
“A thousand red calves” Pharaoh committed, shaking his head in earnest agreement.
The stranger disagreed as he pulled Pharaoh’s head away from his chest, gazing at him with a look of displeasure. “Twelve thousand red calves would not do.”
“Tell me, lord,” Pharaoh pleaded gripping at the stranger’s shoulders,.“What is the number and form to assuage your anger? Tell me and it shall be yours.” The stranger cupped Pharaoh’s gaunt face, tilting his regal neck to the side and surveying the slight flutter of the flesh, testament to the blood coursing just below the surface.
“Your soul,” the stranger answered with a frail whisper before leaning into Pharaoh’s neck and biting down.
Pharaoh clung to the stranger, his eyes fixed on a point that transcended the immortality he, and all his forbearers, fancied. At the end of his gaze he saw himself, surrounded by Anubis and Maat, on tribunal before Osiris. He watched, helpless and unflinching, as Anubis approached him and ripped the heart out of his chest, placing it on the scales, opposite the feather of truth. Pharaoh knew his heart was heavy with sin, and sighed with regret as the scales tipped out of his favor. The last thing Pharaoh saw were the cold, hungry eyes of Ammut, the devourer, as she lunged for him. Back in the stranger’s huddled embrace, Pharaoh’s eyes widened before blacking over, ending his pursuit of eternity.
The stranger slid out from his seat beneath Pharaoh’s body, easing it gently to the ground beside the throne. His chest heaving with the exertion of his conquest, the stranger stood and sat himself on the empty throne. Taking the seat ceremoniously, the stranger placed his hands on the rests and peered out at the two remaining witnesses to his vengeance.
The younger scurried over the body of Bes, taking a knee at the stranger’s right side, producing a dagger as he knelt and holding the weapon as a threat to any who dare challenge his master.
“Vizier,” the stranger commanded with a content smile of satisfaction, his smoothing the younger’s face. “You need to find a new Pharaoh.”