Deshret

1,240 years since initial death
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How do you stop a horse?

The closer he reached the pyramids, the more distorted they became. At several points, Maalik felt sick to his stomach and wanted to stop. The horse's movement was making him feel worse, suffering through every step and bump across the journey. 

By the time he reached the pyramids, disbelief had overwhelmed him. The horse stopped on its own, granting him his wish to dismount it. The new pyramid was like the other two, and they all appeared to be in terrible condition. The stones were cracked, looked ancient, and were worn out. He placed a hand over the crumbled layer, feeling a heavy discomfort in his palm.

It was as if nobody had touched them for hundreds of years. Instead of a smooth ascension and bright white colors with golden tips, the pyramids were entirely blocky and their colors were degraded. 

Just as he reached Khufu's Pyramid, Maalik could feel it. There was an agonizing pain resonating from the palm of his left hand. It was the same torment he experienced when the hieroglyphics appeared.

It returned. The glowing inscriptions reappeared, only something about it was different this time. Instead of Ira, there was only one sketch on his hand. It didn't spell out anything. Rather, it was the illustration of a solar barge. The Sun Boat.

The burning sensation and the panic from witnessing the supernatural sent him into a state of shock, forcing Maalik to retreat from the pyramid. He ran to the horse, throwing his body atop it and having it gallop away. As he increased his distance from the structures, the scorching feeling in his hand softened. 

He headed south, approaching where the marketplace should have been. Instead of tents and stands welcoming a lively community, he found hopelessness in the empty dunes accompanied by the quiet wind. His attention however was placed elsewhere, as he continued to search for his home.

When he travelled far enough, the horse rested, giving him the opportunity to drop down on his feet and explore the area. But what he saw only accelerated the beating of his heavy heart, weighing it down with immense grief and sorrow.

Further down where his house should have been was only a long abandoned, and semi-destroyed pile of rubble covered in sand. No words could describe the emotions he began to feel. "How long have I been gone?"

He questioned if this was the right location or not, but there was no doubt about it. Even when turning his head to view the pyramids, he remembered the correct angle and distance from his house. But if that's the case, where was his home? Surely it couldn't be the row of collapsed walls, half-buried in the sand right in front of him.

"What troubles you, good neb?" A voice startled him, forcing Maalik to turn around. A grey-bearded elder dressed in rags approached him, walking forward with a staff to aid him. Behind was a donkey, carrying satchels filled with random assortments of loot and supplies. The man was obviously a scavenger. 

Maalik hesitated. "Is this Kher Neter?" His question came out quietly, reflecting his fear and confusion by this environment.

The elder raised an eyebrow and responded. "This is Giza. What you speak of is the Old Kingdom."

This is the second time he's heard that phrase. "What is the Old Kingdom? I have lived here for so long within the community. Yet I've never heard of Giza, and there were only two pyramids; never three."

He could sense the elder must think of him insane, but the old man's response seemed neutral with a slight tone of curiosity. "You know, I've never seen your face around here. Tell me, stranger, what is your story? What has altered your sense of reality?"

Not wanting to indirectly blame himself, Maalik chose his words carefully. "I was attacked by bandits, next to Khufu's Pyramid. I killed a few, but I was injured and left to die by Anubis's hands. Then I awoke in the sea? Cities are built, a new pharaoh stands, mutated beasts resembling donkeys are running rampant and my home is reduced to rubble. Gods, and my hand! Why is there a boat inscribed on my hand?!"

Maalik held both his hands to prove his words. The boat, however, wasn't there anymore. It backfired on him, only making him seem even more like a deranged man. The elder slightly raised his voice back at him. "Easy, easy! You must breathe. If you wish for me to believe you, then let us both relax. Now, there are ancient stories of this place, shortly after Khufu's reign of an onslaught within the villages and markets here. It started after one man from the village found the strength to fight back against local bandits. But he was murdered, and the thieves reduced his home to rubble."

His words sounded familiar, and Maalik couldn't help but believe the elder spoke of him. He stood in silence, allowing the man to continue. "Whether or not you speak the truth or are simply suffering from mental madness, tell me; what has happened to you? How do you feel?"

"I don't know." It was the only answer he could give before his inevitable breakdown. "Have I been asleep all this time by some miracle from the Gods? Have I died but defied my own destiny? I swear to you, I am no madman."

The elder paced slowly with his staff. "You're very much alive, and we live in a strange world. I've seen the power Amun-Ra holds. Miracles occur, such as my old age, and throughout my life I've heard many impossible encounters. I've seen the hauntings after roaming the desert alone, the whispers and voices and the hallucinations you experience as a result."

"This is no hallucination." Maalik looked away in distrust, clenching his fists and staring at the remnants of destruction in the sand. "I grew immune to the heat long ago, no mirage can fool me. What I'm experiencing is real."

Both men stood in temporary silence, until the elder broke it. "I must admit that your story, as bizarre as it sounds; it has left me curious enough to want to help."

"How could you possibly help?" Maalik wanted to laugh at that statement, but he held it in.

"Come with me. If what you tell me is true and you come from an ancient time, you must be starving." The elder smiled and walked towards his donkey. Maalik had no choice but to follow him with caution.

The sun had already begun to set. With sunlight slowly diminishing, they traveled to the old man's hut. The elder revealed his name to simply be Darwish. Soon, they arrived at his home, located just east of Giza, the region's new name.

Inside Darwish's hut, a small rug was placed over the sand and hay was piled in a corner. Tables made of stone laid in the center as he started a fire with some wood right behind. A pot filled with stew began to cook. Just outside, his donkey was strapped to a broken, ancient pillar.

After a long night of chatting, Maalik learned so much about what he had missed. Kemet is now known as Deshret. Another name given was Hwt-ka-Ptah, but it now belonged to one city, rather than the whole country. The third pyramid was named Pyramid of Menkaure. Three more smaller pyramids were built directly beside it. They were called the Pyramids of Queens.

Darwish explained everything to him, giving him a lesson in history based on what he knew. The number of pharaohs and dynasties that came after his disappearance was astonishing. It was all too much for Maalik to process, as he also came to the realization that if this was all true; his family would be long gone by now.

It pained him to imagine it, but after hearing all these stories, he could only fear for the worst.

By the time the sun had risen again on the following day, they were ready to head back outside. However, instead of returning to his ruined home, Darwish had a different idea. There was a cave nearby, one he wanted Maalik to visit. The journey was short, but when they arrived, the cave was obviously on the verge of collapsing. It was terribly old, and had been here even before Maalik was born. The years haven't been kind to the cave, but it was still in good enough condition for them to enter.

They grabbed their torches and lit them as they walked inside. It was completely dark but the torches helped them illuminate the area. There were mummies and pottery left scattered inside. Flowers had withered away and died by now, as melted candles laid beside them.

"You've taken me to meet the dead?" Maalik looked around in confusion.

"This cave houses an ancient civilization, one that thrived during Khufu's reign." Darwish responded, keeping his head low to avoid eye contact. "Many of the mummies here belong to the victims of the previous raids I mentioned. The survivors brought their loved ones here, poorly mummifying them as best they could. After the fall of the Old Kingdom, many sites were looted and mummies were taken from their graves. But this cave remains untouched."

None of the bodies were recognizable, and it would be a crime to unravel a mummy. There were no names engraved on the rocks, nothing but a few personal belongings to distinguish them from the others. But Darwish began to talk, as he looked at some of the mummies.

"Many of these people were normal villagers, peasants and ordinary workers doing the pharaoh's biddings. Some were apparently special, such as one being a warrior, another being the first female markswoman, and one being-"

Maalik stopped him mid-sentence. "First female markswoman?"

Darwish turned and pointed towards a large open display near the corner of the cave. A spacious platform was carved out from the wall, providing enough room for three mummies to lay inside of it. 

The center mummy had a familiar bow placed over its chest. Two other mummies lay on either side of it, one of which looked to be in worse condition than the rest. 

Upon approaching them, he could make out the pattern on the bow. It was unmistakable, as he had crafted the bow himself for his daughter. He held it in his hands, blowing off the dust and sand that had accumulated over it. Many of its shiny colors had deteriorated and lost their touch. Then he looked at the center mummy underneath it. It did resemble a female, and judging by the size of her, she was obviously an adult in her former life.

A tear formed in his eye, realizing exactly who he was looking at. But to the side of the mummy, he was given confirmation. A miniature pyramid rested beside her waist. It was cracked, and the yellow-tip's color deteriorated.

"Do you know her name?" Darwish asked. "Some have named her Neith to commemorate the Goddess. Others call her Seti, as a secret daughter of the god, Set. But aside from her unknown name, we know her to be an assassin that protected the lives of many families around Deshret. One story speaks of her father being murdered by thieves, thus awakening her inner wrath and avenging him with that bow of hers."

Maalik had trouble containing his emotions. His eyes blinked rapidly to cover the impending tears, and his breath came to a halt as he answered. "You're wise to call her Seti, for that is her name. Aisha Seti, my-" he cracked from the sudden pressure momentarily, forcing him to place a hand over his lips as his eyes closed. Finally, he finished his sentence. "My daughter."

Understandably, Darwish stepped back and gave Maalik the space he needed. "May Amun grant her a happy eternal life in the Field of Reeds."

Maalik placed the bow underneath her, tucking it below the left side of her body. He didn't leave it out in the open in fear of potential grave robbers. At least this way, she could use the bow as protection in the afterlife without fear of someone stealing it away from her. It was the most he could do for his daughter given the circumstances.

One last thing he could do was to set the miniature pyramid down beside her. He had held on to it earlier before leaving his home, originally wanting to keep it with him. But upon seeing his daughter, he knew it was hers. It always has been, and always will be.

However, Maalik's eyes had already darted elsewhere. Staring at the corpse to the right, he could tell it was also feminine. Given how close it was beside Aisha, he knew exactly who this person was.

"Ada." He leaned in closer, resting a hand over her wrapped head. A few more tears were about to escape, when his emotions were interrupted. His eyes had caught onto the third mummy, resting to the far left of them.

This one was disfigured. Its skeleton was clearly visible, and the dark cracked skull gave him a haunted look. Maalik only looked back in confusion, attempting to inspect it for a closer look.

Darwish caught on to him, providing any information he had. "Many have assumed this is her father's remains. But at the time of discovering this man, he had not decomposed and was still recognizable. Even the girl, Aisha as you have called her, states her father was buried in Faiyum. Yet she was found with this skeleton during her suicide. Whether he was a close friend, husband, or stranger; we may never know."

"Wait." Maalik stopped him, raising a hand in the process. "What suicide?"

"I'm so sorry, it's what I've been told." He could notice Darwish's tone had slightly changed, causing him to speak in defense as if he was terrified of what might happen. "She was killed by a singular arrow, and we believe it was self-inflicted. I have no means of confirming the truth, these stories could very well be fiction. Only the gods may know what directed her down such a harsh path. But her suffering has ended, and she rests peacefully now in A'aru."

"I don't believe this, no, I refuse!" Maalik erupted, unwilling to listen anymore. "Nobody knows this girl better than her own father, and that is not something she would ever resort to. I will not believe the story of stragglers with wild imaginations."

He didn't want to accept it. No matter how he tried to approach it in his head, it didn't make sense. It must be a story lost in translation, altered throughout the years. 

Darwish took a step back, responding with a sense of caution. "You know how people are. They love their stories. They're just legends meant to teach and inspire or even entertain. I'm sure your daughter lived a wonderful life thanks to you, that's what I believe."

Rather than continuing, Maalik had enough. His terrifying glare was lowered as he walked past the elderly man. He was done here. He didn't even care enough to learn more about the third disfigured mummy.

His time in Giza was over. 

By the time they returned to Darwish's hut, he had time to reflect on his actions and the upcoming future. He cannot stay in a long-forgotten land scattered with the remnants of his previous life.

However, before leaving the following morning, Maalik felt Darwish's presence stalking him as he stood outside the hut. Turning to face him, he felt inclined to speak his mind. "I should apologize for raising my voice in that cave."

"You've had your whole world altered right before your eyes, I believe you reacted appropriately." The kind elder reassured him, but it may not be enough.

"I cannot stay here any longer. I don't know what's happening to me or why I'm even here, but it feels wrong." His frown was hidden by the grey cloak he was given, covering a majority of his face and shrouding it in darkness

"As impossible as your story may sound, the gods have granted you a new life." Darwish responded. "Live your life well, young Seti."

Maalik let out a brief sigh as he shrugged and looked away. Looking back at the elderly man, he was finally able to display an apparent smile. "Most would have considered me a mad man. I would have been beaten or cursed. Yet you believe me. Even if you are skeptical, you still choose to believe me. I cannot tell if you are mad yourself, wise, or a mixture of both."

Darwish simply chuckled back. "Give a man enough time, he will grow mad with wisdom."

A temporary moment of silence was shared between them, until Maalik broke it again. "Before I go, there's a question I've been meaning to ask. Was it right to teach my daughter archery?"

"What sort of nonsense do you inquire? Of course it was. She saved lives because of your actions." Although Darwish reassured him, there was still a sense of uneasiness in Maalik.  

"So I didn't teach her how to kill?"

The old man shook his head, helping him settle down briefly. "You did what every father aspires to do. You gave her a purpose, and you helped her survive. Even if her path was a violent one, she fought to immortalize your legacy, and I believe she succeeded."

Keeping his head lowered, Maalik wanted to believe him. Those former ancient words continued to haunt him, but he had to overcome it. So he raised his chin and nodded back.

They finally said their goodbyes, having one last look at each other before Maalik began walking off. He headed further east to the great ancient city of Memphis. This was also the last time he ever spoke to Darwish. He can only imagine the elder lived his remaining years in Giza, wandering the vast ocean of sand before his old, natural death at the hands of time.

As for Maalik; he continued to live.

How long would he live for? He doesn't know himself, but one fact is guaranteed.

He hasn't lived enough.

Time passed him by, cruising through the ages. He would witness all of it. Through it all, he saw the impossible many times in this strange world.

King Ramesses II was believed to have perished after chasing down a group of escaped workers, Jewish civilians and a rebel man across a departed sea. However, a colossal wave crushed Ramesses and his soldiers as the sea itself reformed. When Maalik heard the story, he couldn't believe it. Further notes on the story claimed that the man the pharaoh chased after carried a staff that could turn into a snake as he led his people to safety.

He would have disregarded the story altogether and claim that it's fiction. However, he couldn't deny the mystery that plagued his life, and how he continued to defy death. A departing sea and a staff that could turn into a sentient snake were somehow more believable than his own fate.

Although, he could have sworn he saw a frog fall from the sky at one point. If that wasn't confusing enough, the Nile River turned red seemingly for no reason before the sun disappeared for three days straight, leaving the country in a temporary state of eternal darkness.

This was a confusing world he lived in. But why was it happening to him? Outside of those oddities, something was occurring within him that prolonged his life far beyond human limitations.

Days turned to weeks, to months, and to years. But it wouldn't end there. Years turned to decades, and decades ultimately turned into centuries. This was only the start of the madness that plagued him. Still managing to live onwards, he became a witness to more of what time and history had in store.

Strange new foreigners arrived claiming to be Hellenic. They started a new Ptolemaic Dynasty.

The nation's name changed to Egypt.

Camels were finally introduced to the region.

And finally, when a ship arrived from sea further north in Egypt, a new opportunity presented itself. With a handful of these strange new people naming themselves 'Hellenes', they would sail across the Mediterranean and voyage across a world that Maalik had never even imagined in his wildest dreams.

Ever since his rebirth, he's been given a new life. So when he stepped aboard the wooden ship with the foreigners, he took one final look at Egypt and remembered his loved ones. As much as it pained him, he was ready to depart. 

This is his chance to live this new life in a new world. 

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Historical Notes:

Deshret was a more "recent" name given to Egypt by the people during that time.

Many mummies belonging to ordinary civilians were buried in various locations across the desert or placed in caves on display.

The biblical story of Moses is often believed by many even today for thousands of years. But at the time, it was quite the opposite as it was difficult to fathom the fact that a pharaoh such as Ramsesses II would fail to stop one man. Any miracles performed were often seen as magic from the Gods.

However, many Egyptians would soon believe the story as they experienced the unexplainable and mysterious plagues that changed the country altogether.

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