Chapter Text
The paper landed across the journalist’s desk promptly at 10 am.
Sara Westcott tossed aside the envelope it was mailed in and studied the map. At first glance, it appeared to be faded, made worse by photocopying, and oddly enough, a treasure map. She laid it flat on the desk and squinted at the edges of the map. It looked darkened, as if burned or discolored.
A knock at the door disturbed her temporary peace.
Her coworker entered, a bubbly intern with a knack for arriving at the right time. She admired Beckah Hanley’s relative success as an intern, especially in comparison to her own beginnings in journalism. “Am I disturbing you?” Beckah asked, a ready smile lighting up her cute face.
Sara rubbed her brow in frustration. “Of course not, Beks.” She sighed. “What’s on your mind?” She asked hesitantly.
The young intern brushed loose bangs from her eyes. “There’s a cute guy here to talk to you. He said his name is Tirak. Tirak Said. Very middle-eastern with dreamy brown eyes.”
Sara would have corrected Beckah’s reference to nationality except the coffee hadn’t kicked in yet. She sighed again. “Send in Mr. Said, Beks. And please don’t refer to him as middle-eastern. He could be from anywhere.” She struggled to rein in her rebellious mind eloping for adventures in the land of comfortable beds and fluffy blankets.
Beckah bobbed her obediently and closed the door behind her. Sara cleared the desk and slipped the photocopied map into her top desk drawer and closed it. She made herself another cup of coffee as a man of non-caucasian descent entered the corner office. He stood at stiff attention. She smiled in his direction. He nodded stiffly toward her.
“Mr. Said, please make yourself comfortable in the chair. If you want to. How can I help you?” She mixed in creamer and sugar with her coffee.
He gave the navy blue padded chair a quick look and made a show of sitting down.
She sat back down and faced him. “Coffee hasn’t kicked in yet.” She excused her exhaustion.
He tried to smile and failed. Oddly enough, she thought it cute. The light from the window reflected off his bald head. It amused her for a moment before she remembered she represented her boss and herself. “I apologize for not arranging an appointment, Ms. Westcott.”
The accent danced along her skin favorably. It pulled her in further…right to those dreamy brown eyes. She sipped her coffee to redirect her attention where it belonged.
“I don’t believe we’ve met but you work for my comrade, Mr. Adley Bruener.”
She blinked rapidly, the sleep deprivation creeping back into the shadows of her mind and muscles. “My boss, yes.” She said simply.
A yawn attacked her. She politely covered her mouth and indulged in another sip of the blessed energy.
“I am told you are his right hand for difficult assignments.”
“If by difficult, you mean spending weeks in field or traveling for the story, then yes.” Honestly, she didn’t know why Mr. Bruener insisted on paying her a salary. When she interned at the last paper, she fought tooth and nail for publication and rates upon properly entering the profession. She almost gave up on her dream until Mr. Bruener happened upon her blog and vlog about local events and offered her a job. “Mr. Bruener says jump, I say how high.” She half joked.
The stranger just smiled. “How soon are you able to pack for a short adventure?” He asked.
She checked her wrist watch, a relatively ‘cheap’ water proof watch that saved her on many an occasion. “How difficult is the assignment?” She asked seriously, the coffee finally kicking in.
He cocked his head slightly. “When I say the name Anubis-“
“Protector of Graves, Deity of cemeteries and embalming. Jackal.” She shot back smugly. “Depending on the time frame we’re speaking of, he supposedly had a brother at one point, Wepwawet. Wife was Anput. I think, if I remember correctly, she had something to do with embalming, and together they had a daughter…Kebet?”
“Kebechet.” Mr. Said supplied. “May I ask how it is that you know a cursory knowledge of Anubis? Passing interest or journalistic research?”
She shrugged. “I fell in love with the lore and myth of ancient Egypt as a teenager. I wrote a few articles on the history and evolution of beliefs from the old kingdom to the new kingdom. Nothing academically acceptable mind you, but it was a better hobby to sink money into than alcohol, drugs, and gambling.”
“I see.” He folded his hand on his lap.
Her eyes soaked up the way his clothes wore him, the clinging tan cotton tunic type shirt paired with blue jeans that hinted at – ahem – a fun time. She finished her coffee before her mind trapped her in the gutter. She really needed to take time for herself later that night if her mind couldn’t focus on business at customary daily starting time.
“You aren’t a scholar, however.” He said.
She nodded. “Correct, Mr. Said. I am not a scholar. Just an enthusiast who fell in love with the…mystique of it.” She forced a smile. “Maybe we can speed this up. Where are we going and do I need my passport?”
He laughed, his voice full of life and a hint of edge she found herself wanting to explore. “I have transport handled, but it’s best you pack lightly.”
She relaxed. “Backpack light or suitcase light?”
“Satchel light. Dress for warm weather, wear a hat, and bring sun block unless you want sunburn.” He advised.
She checked her wrist watch out of habit. “I – I need to get back to the apartment first, to change, and then –“
“Of course.” He continued to smile.
Gods, he really did have dreamy brown eyes. She hastily collected herself. She tossed her cell phone into her purse, double checked to confirm her ID, credit and debit card were safe in the main pocket, and then pulled on her light jacket. She slipped into the black wind breaker, vaguely aware of his eyes watching her, and slung the purse strap across her chest. She finally looked him directly in the eye. “Yes, Mr. Said?”
He barely blinked. “The sunlight bathing your skin gives it a glow.” He answered.
She blushed.
“It suits you.”
She swore her cheeks burned crimson. “I accept all forms of flattery, sir, but I do need to call Mr. Bruener. Are we sharing a ride to my apartment?” She reached into the purse to pull out her cell phone. She called her boss, the homestuck individual that preferred his luxurious apartment to the world outside it. Some days she doubted he existed except for a name if it wasn’t for their first meeting on her first day as an intern.
Mr. Said walked her out of the building and to a white SUV. He held the door open for her. She recognized Mr. Bruener’s driver in the front seat.
“Mr. Bruener?” She asked upon the phone line picking up.
Her boss’s voice rang clear across the connection. “Ms. Westcott. I assume you have made the acquaintance of Mr. Said.” He guessed in between coughs.
She glanced over at the stranger joining her in the white vehicle. “Yes, sir.”
“Please assist him in his travels. Your expenses are provided for. Use the company credit card without fear.” He assured her.
Her brow crept up her forehead. She worried about both the job and the limit he permitted. She preferred solid numbers, a per diem. “As you wish, Sir. If you’re sick, you could try chamomile tea.” She offered meagerly.
He coughed again, thanked her for her continued loyalty, and ended the call.
She quietly tucked the phone back in her purse. “To my apartment, Mr. Ryler. I have to change clothes and pack for a new adventure.” Her stomach twisted in knots. She didn’t know what to expect, nor did she trust her new traveling companion. Mr. Said’s quiet presence demanded her attention, called out to her like a siren to a sailor, and inevitably her gaze drifted in his direction. He stared straight ahead at the back of the driver seat head rest.
Abruptly his head turned toward her.
He said nothing.
She swallowed hard. Something didn’t feel right.
The clean apartment greeted the wary soon-to-be traveler. Mr. Said joined her after a hasty invitation. He stood by the door, a statue of a man who always held himself stiffly. It made her wonder how a man developed that sort of habit, if not the military. She tossed junk mail in a trash can on the way to the bedroom.
Soft footfalls pulled her attention back to the front door.
She turned into Mr. Said. Except he wore a black priestly robe and his entire chest exposed to her hungry eyes. She swallowed hard and backed into the end of her bed.
His hand reached out and stroked a knuckle down her cheek. He swooped in for a kiss light as the wind itself. She blinked, afraid to move, and in that moment, the vision disappeared.
She stared right at Mr. Said standing patiently by the door. He nodded stiffly back at her. Deciding her mind played tricks on her, she grabbed the most comfortable packpack in her tiny closet and packed out of experience and instinct. She grabbed a pink ball cap, added the sunscreen at the last second, and snagged her hydration backpack. She filled it up in the kitchen under the intense scrutiny of Mr. Said. The vision haunted her.
She snagged a banana as a to-go treat.
He held out his hand to her. “Shall we, Ms. Westcott?”
She accepted his hand out of politeness. The smoothness of his skin surprised her, although on closer inspection it should not. All of him looked as if he followed an expensive skin care regiment, including his shiny, bald head.
“Of course, Mr. Said.” She answered and slung the backpack over her shoulder.
He seemed to lean forward before the the apartment splintered away in disorienting warmth and darkness. Her feet found purchase again on stone. A darkness overwhelmed her and made her feel small and helpless.
“And then there was light.” Mr. Said’s control of the Egyptian tongue caught her off guard.
Torches lined the corridor that stretched onward. The sudden feeling of claustrophobia ran Sara over. She recognized the blue faience tile and limestone after her eyes adjusted. She tried to read the hieroglyphics, except she never properly learned how. She regret that now as she moved to touch the walls and run her fingertips over the grooves in shock and awe.
Mr. Said’s eyes pinned on her. “I apologize for the subterfuge.” He said.
She turned toward him. “Pardon?”
“For this.” He gestured to the tunnel that lead further down. “We are not far from the first level. We must traverse it together.”
Her mind caught up with the reality. She tapped the wall, solid stone, and then stomped the floor, also solid stone. Oh, this was real. But how?
“Allow me to properly introduce myself. I am Imhotep. Priest of Ra. Will you join me as we enter the first test to enter the Oasis?” He held out his hand politely.
She stepped back, the hairs on her neck raised. “Impossible.”
“And yet we were a moment ago in your humble abode. Is that not impossible?” He presented a clear cut case she couldn’t argue against. Years of working the job and covering more than one gruesome story left her with images and accounts she did not want to recall and inevitably recalled at the worst times – second hand trauma as she liked to call it – and yet this did not qualify for that classification. This was something else entirely.
“Imhotep.” She repeated cautiously. “As in the Chancellor to the Pharaoh – Not Tutenkhamen. Pharaoh Djoser?” It clicked in her head and she immediately felt stupid for not connecting the name to the pyramid and vice versa. “Architect Imhotep?”
He smiled and nodded.
“I feel like I’m being pranked. I must be-“
He walked toward her. She rooted to the spot. Impossibly her feet lifted off the ground until only her toes touched stone and dust. “I am Lord Imhotep, High Priest of Ra, Chancellor of Pharaoh Djoser, a being cursed by the Hom-Dai, and once more resurrected for the power struggles of the foolish. Do you believe me now?”
Sara didn’t know what to believe except she floated without strings and he spoke with complete confidence. She smiled uneasily. “Okay, okay…Can I stand on my feet again?” She asked.
He lowered his hand in perfect lowering to match her feet touching ground. “You look disturbed, Ms. Westcott.” He remarked.
She wanted to kiss him. She wanted more coffee to properly wake up. This had to be a dream. Had to be. Nothing else properly explained this.
“That’s probably because I am.” She mumbled.
“Speak louder, Ms. Westcott.” He ordered.
She cleared her throat nervously. “That’s because I am.”
His hand caressed her cheek playfully and he smiled in that charming smug fashion that irritated and made him more attractive. “Good.” He whispered and withdrew his hand. “Come. We have a journey ahead of us.”
She jogged after him. “Why me?” She demanded. “You could choose anyone else. Why me?”
He never looked back. She noticed the torch light died out as they walked further away from it and relocated to continue to light their path ahead and downward at a gentle slope. “Mr. Bruener serves me. His wealth is mine to command. You are a servant of his.”
“Technically I’m an employee and I can quit at any time.” She informed him.
“Are you certain about that?” He challenged and stopped. She walked right into his outstretched arm. His eyes judged her in ways that made her skin crawl uncomfortably. “You dare defy Imhotep?”
“Referring to yourself in third person is poor taste, Chancellor.” She countered equally serious. “I can’t take you seriously if you do that. When does the first level start? What does the Oasis look like? Is it like the Underworld? Is the Nile full of souls? Where are the scales located? Will Anubis escort us there? What’s Anubis like? Will Anput be there?”
He raised his hand to touch her reddish brown hair. He played it along his fingers in what could only be described as idle interest. “You may soon find out.” He promised her.
She pulled away from him but not before the ancient whispers lingered in the corridor. The hairs on her arm stood up. With nothing better to do than suckle water from the hydration backpack, she marched onward determined to not look behind her. Just in case. They couldn’t jumpscare her if she didn’t turn around. Right?
His approval shook hands with her self-preservation. They walked downward into the earth. She smelled the moisture before she felt it on her skin. The bedrock gave way to an underground river that stretched into the darkness and the cavernous ceiling above that dripped down in contradicting spikes and expansive smoothed areas. The eery calm prickled along her skin.
The water rippled. The more her eyes strained the more she spotted vague people shaped shadows. The image of a solar boat parted the congested shadows and advanced towards them pushed by unseen winds. A jackal head atop a man’s form stood in the center of the boat, it’s gaze fixated on them.
She tapped Imhotep’s arms excitedly. “It’s Anubis.” She whispered. “Oh my god. It’s really him.”
Dream or not, this was…amazing. Absolutely hands down the best mind-vacation ever. Of all of the adventures to day dream, this topped the charts.
Anubis. The absurdity of it heightened her appreciation. Imhotep. Anubis. Who was next? Ra? Isis? Osiris? Bastet?
Imhotep put his hands on her hips and held her from behind. She stilled at the touch of his body brushing against hers ever so teasingly. “Hush, young one. You are in the presence of a god.”
“Two, technically.” She quipped in pure excitement. “Do we meet Ra too? Are our souls going to be weighed?”
He placed his hand over her mouth and shushed her. She shifted her backpack so she could lean back on him, giving into her cravings for his touch.
The solar boat stopped short of the shore and Anubis motioned them forward wordlessly.
Imhotep sighed heavily, as one would dealing with a child they wanted to discard and were unable to. Once again, she wondered why he wanted her to tag along if he could manage this task alone. Best value of her hours, hands down! He hovered them onto the solar boat. Her eyes went wide. She reached out toward Anubis, Imhotep pulling her arm down quickly.
She didn’t know what she expected, the deep authoritative voice touching her ears certainly wasn’t it.
“The young one is not ready to cross over. You have no place among us, Lord Imhotep.”
“We seek the Oasis of Life.” Imhotep said.
Sara stared at Anubis and Anubis at her. Imhotep closed her mouth for her.
She completely forgot about their location, the fact she couldn’t seriously believe this to be reality, that she couldn’t swim, and how much she didn’t want to forget this fever dream of a reality either.
“And the young one?” Anubis demanded.
Her mouth gaped open. Her voice found its feet and she sputtered to a start. “Yes. Absolutely. What’s the Oasis? It’s sounds lovely. Can we go?” She speed talked.
Imhotep’s heavy sigh against her neck amused and aroused her. She hoped Anubis didn’t notice. Oh gods! She should ask!
“Excuse me, Anubis, sir. Is it true you have a brother? Wepwawet, a war deity? Are we on a river of the dead? Are all gods valid? Or is it just applicable to those who believe-“
Imhotep pulled her firmly against him and tossed her backpack roughly to their feet.
“-in you? Does your power stem from the amount of believers or simply because you exist? Do you mind if I ask questions? I can be quiet if it offends you.” She barely allowed herself to breath.
If a jackal could smile, it smiled. One hand touched her head and in that briefest moment, raw power washed over her. A jumble of imagery attacked her and left her bewildered and silent. Imhotep audibly sighed in relief. Her mind tried to sort the mess of knowledge passed onto her. “The first steps are afoot. May your ka stay strong.”
Ka? Oh! Her soul. Right, right.
Anubis raised his hand and the solar boat reversed its course across the dark water. The quiet rippling pulled her to the edge. She peered over into the water, a shadow morphing and playing out in a strange, captivating play that made no sense to her. She happened to look up and locked eyes with Anubis. She gestured to the water and the shifting people shadows in question. Anubis stood in silent witness to her muted concern.
She turned toward Imhotep. “Where exactly are we?” She demanded of him.
His hard stare drilled through her. “We are physically leaving the underground complex of the Pyramid of Djoser and entering the Underworld to enter the Oasis of Life.” He answered.
A shadow hand clasped hers in the void.
She yanked her hand back instinctively and positioned herself closer to Imhotep. She tried to hide her discomfort. “How does one access the Underworld if 1. You’re not allowed there and 2. I’m ready to pass through yet?”
“Lord Imhotep is permitted among those passing into their next life, when it is his time.” Anubis corrected her. “The first test is the weighing of your souls. If you are unworthy, you will not be permitted to pass. If you are worthy, you will proceed to the second test.”
She smiled at Imhotep. “I have the time of my life. Thank you for dragging me along, Lord Imhotep.” The look of exasperation amused her. “And thank you for escorting us, Lord Anubis.” She hoped he didn’t take offense to the awkward phrasing. She didn’t know how to properly address him outside of his deitified name.
The solar boat bumped against a dock. Other solar boats scattered among the random docks along the shoreline. Anubis motioned for them to dsembark.
She swore Anubis smiled after them.
Imhotep lifted her over his shoulder and fireman carried her. “Time is of the essence.”
From her awkward angle, she took in the other wayward souls making the journey to the scales. The shoreline and its dark waters disappeared in short order. She tapped Imhotep’s back for him to let her walk. He placed her on her feet and looped his arm through hers and forcibly guided her along at his pace.
Their pace slowed dramatically when an inevitable line to the Hall of Truth intercepted them. Several individuals walked up and down the line. Her heart clenched and her gaze strayed to Anubis standing at one of his many posts showing people to their weigh-in. In the far distance, barely glimpsed, Sara counted a handful of individuals gathered around two individuals – one she assumed to be Osiris and the other Thoth?
She reached for her backpack and realized it was gone. She cursed.
A gorgeous woman stopped next to her.
Sara’s gaze shyly lifted upward until she looked Nephthys in the eyes. “Hi…” She waved shyly. “Sorry about that…crude language. Might I ask a question?” She whispered.
The woman smiled. “Imhotep. You once again return. Why?”
“I am ready to confess my negative sins and enter the Oasis, as is my duty foretold by Ma’at.” Imhotep replied.
“And this stranger, this one who is of blood but not of ancient blood?” The goddess criticized. “Was she made aware of her destiny as well? Or are you hoping to enter through her trial of the heart?”
Imhotep just smiled.
Sara glanced between the tense Imhotep and the smooth woman. She extricated her arm from Imhotep’s grasp. “Excuse me…”
“Nephthys.” The woman supplied. “I am to offer comfort, but you are not here to be judged. No. It is not your time. Ma’at does not wish it.”
Sara snapped her fingers in growing excitement as the remembered information trickled back. “Ma’at, goddess of truth, justice, harmony and balance. And Nephthys, protector of souls. Hawks. As Ma’at is akin to ostrich. And – and…Osiris usurped the position of older gods Andjeti and Khentiamenti by the people. But if the gods are really real, and the mythos changes from Old to Middle to New Kingdom, what is true? What is false?”
“All and none, young one, all and none.” Nephthys assured her sweetly. “Come. We need not subject you to Osiris, Thoth, and the forty-two judges. Ma’at has declared you not ready.”
Sara accepted the extended hand. Imhotep fell in step behind her.
One moment Sara touched the hand of the gorgeous Nephthys and the next she stood on a golden scale. Imhotep placed the palm of his hand on the small of her back. She dared to look to the right and eyed the floating ostrich feather.
“We must make forty-two negative sin confessions.” Imhotep instructed her in a whisper.
She started to wish that this really were a bad nightmare. The dream quality wore off the moment it started to feel all too real. This reality felt more akin to her soul than the reality as a journalist.
“We or me?” She asked. “You’re not exactly topping the charts with innocence.”
“One must not be covetous. To be covetous is to sin in our culture.” He explained in a rush.
She laughed. “Do you not covet the Oasis of Life?”
“I do not.” He replied gravely serious. “I wish to restore it.”
“The Oasis of Life needs restoring?” She joked. “It’s called the Oasis of Life. It should be full of…life.”
“It is not. There is a legend. Would you like to here it?” Imhotep leaned in close enough for her to smell the delicate cologne. “A legend of Anubis, Anput, and Kebechet. The Oasis if Life, home of the Ankh, the sacred Ankh.”
She rolled her eyes. “The ankh is heavily associated with life. It’s one of the most popular designs in mythology and religion. The tear drop top is actually genius if you think about it, because water is the giver of life. Although it is an upside down tear drop.” She fake smiled.
Imhotep bowed his head and began the negative confessions. “I have not coveted the mistress of another man.”
Sara was sorely tempted to joke around, because in the smallest cavities of her consciousness she doubted this was real. It made for one hell of a story, but it didn’t feel real. He took it seriously, and she wanted his general approval.
“I have not forsaken my co-workers in time of duties.” Sara matched his seriousness.
“I have not forsaken my god.” Imhotep met her half way and nodded respectfully.
She almost smiled. “While we’re here, why were you allowed to join me for this weighing of the soul?” She whispered.
“Before the Hom-Dai, I too had a destiny.”
“Which was?”
“To restore the Oasis of Life. I was given a vision of who to seek out. Then I fell in love, made mistakes, and earned the curse of the Hom-Dai. I decided to cast aside the evil dictating my every move and in doing so, it has freed me. To truly be free, I must see this through.”
The weight of his sincerity anchored her to the metal scale they stood on in.
“So why me?” She demanded.
He cleared his throat, head still bowed. “You were in my visions.”
“Sara Westcott was in some ancient egyptian’s visions?” She asked skeptically.
“I saw a face but I knew nothing more. Until I met Mr. Bruener. And then as it was predestined, I knew who would restore the Oasis of Life.”
She cleared her throat. “I’m sorry to inform you that we may not make it to the Oasis of Life. I’m not as prolific as you are…or were. And I have no idea what the Hom-Dai is, but I’ll give it my best effort.”
He motioned for her to continue listing the negative sins. She reached within herself to self-reflect. She noticed around number thirty-something, Imhotep scraped the bottom of his barrel too. The feather lowered to the golden scale. Imhotep gripped her arm. She stilled her breath and glanced around the black void that surrounded the scale.
“Do we keep going?” She whispered.
“What number were you on?”
“I forgot.” She admitted ashamed.
He prayed under his breath.
She leaned on him. If this were the end, it was an interesting adventure.
“I’m sorry for not informing you the true purpose of this trip.”
“It’s fine. I wouldn’t have believed you anyway. I mean, who would really believe you were a deity and that you could travel at the..whatever it is you do. It’s all fantastical. Like a movie.” She shrugged off her earlier misgivings. “Plus I met Anubis. Maybe my favorite part so far. And then I got to meet Nephthys. And you. Maybe Ma’at? Does a feather count?”
Imhotep thought about it too. “It may.”
“I mean, I wanted to meet Isis and Ra, and it would have been an honor to meet Nebet, the first female vizier, but all things considered –“
They rose by several inches without noticing.
“What pulled you toward Egyptian mythology in the beginning?” Imhotep asked gently.
She laughed. “I’m third generation Egyptian-American. My half-blooded mom married a white man, so I’m quarter Egyptian? I wanted to touch roots. Coptic Christians don’t have a large base in the US, and mom is not a muslim. She rejected the religion early on. Dad was her…escape from my grandparents. I um don’t talk to them much. They like to lecture me about things like marriage, pre-marital sex, topics of the such. They like to tray and contact me during the holidays, but…”
“You escaped in the ancient past.” He assumed.
She nodded. “It started with Isis. I thought about how insulting it was for a terroristic organization to assume her name. The insult, the horror of those…people attached to her name. Then I just fell down the hole further. Everyone loves Anubis. He’s legendary. And you can’t forget Ra. Of course I obsessed over Pharoah Tutenkhamen and I read up on Akhenaten, and it’s not hard to learn about the Ramseses and Thutmoses. Old, Middle, New Kingdom. How were the pyramids built, was slave labor involved, was the reason the pyramids’ placement because that’s where the Nile was at the time and it shifted over time. Not to mention the incredible detail to astronomy and how the pyramids line up with the stars.” She rolled her hands in the air.
He nodded along in good humor.
“Obviously slave labor isn’t exclusive to Egypt and naturally Egypt’s expansion absorbed the gods of nearby neighbors. Plus the mythology shifted and changed, and the worship of it all is just so sincere. It wasn’t fake or lip service. The monuments survived the test of time. I mean there’s so much of ancient Egypt to love and admire – maybe not idolize, but it’s so – so iconic. And it was one of the more progressive areas for women back then too. Next to Japan, maybe. Because a woman in ancient Egypt and older times of Japan hand more rights than she did anywhere else.”
The scale continued to rise on their side. They finally looked over to see the sinking feather.
“Are we-“ Imhotep asked in confusion.
She nodded soberly. “But how?”
A stone corridor lined with Hieroglyphs from the Spells for Going Forth by Day. Imhotep helped her off the scale leveled with the corridor’s floor. She looked over her shoulder. The scale leveled out again, the floating ostrich feather a reminder of Ma’at’s presence.
“I’m not asking.” Sara decided. “Better that we push forward with this insane mission.”
“Onto the Field of Reeds.” Imhotep motioned for her to go first.
She walked toward the light without further coaxing. Imhotep admired her shapely ass. “I can feel your stare. I hope you’re enjoying the view.” She called over her shoulder.
He almost laughed.
Exiting the darkness and entering blinding light, they took a moment to recognize the Pyramid of Djoser. They walked away from the Pyramid, past the building complex, toward the place their gut instincts pulled them. They walked and walked until the desert offered a hidden cave set against the setting sun. Her gut pulled her deeper into the depths, the darkness urging them to take one step after the other. Much like the corridor under the pyramid of Djoser, they followed the downward slope until the air thickened with an energy that gave pause to the most curious mind.
An impossible site existed before them. Sara’s mind knew that they were underground. Imhotep knew they were underground. A barren wasteland with sandy dunes dominated the limited view.
They approached the barren wasteland. Sandy dunes shifted with the breeze. Sara’s attention pulled toward the center of it, this subterranean crater cave that defied laws of physics and logic. She looked upward to the ceiling. The mid day sun illuminated the crater in blinding brightness. Her eye sight adjusted to the natural brightness.
She stepped forward a second too late for Imhotep to grab her arm.
The dunes compressed into the desert-like ground. Sandy soil exposed itself. Her head swiveled left to right. She turned toward Imhotep who steadfastly refused to cross the threshold of the crater. He eyed the ground intensely.
“You alright?” She called out.
His gaze lifted from the ground to her face, fear in his eyes.
Her brow lifted. “It’s fine. It’s not quicksand.”
“This place is different.”
“You called it the Oasis of Life. Of course, it’s different. The name implies it.” She said sarcastically. “If you want to stand there, stand there.”
The ground rumbled and shifted. A rocky hill erupted in the middle of it. Both of them tracked it to an impressive, impossible height for the crater’s original height. A shallow pool rounded out at the base of the hill.
She stepped back and threw her arms out to balance herself.
A hissing sound added to the landscape of madness. Water seeped in the pool. A weak stream of water dripped down the hill’s crest and into the shallow pool. The volume increased rapidly. She blinked and the weak stream turned into a steady downpour drilling into the now filled shallow pool. Reeds poked out of the water around the edges.
Imhotep crossed the threshold of the crater.
His soul and body recognized the touch of divinity long before his eyes recognized the trance that pulled Sara to the water. She walked forward into the water and stopped abruptly.
He advanced toward her and the water with purpose.
Sara spread her arms out and closed her eyes.
Water cascaded down the rock face into the large shallow pool. Strange smells hit Sara ’s nose at once in an oddly comforting medley she never smelled before. She closed her eyes, a sense of belonging wrapping her in a warm breeze that rustled the reeds around her calves.
A hand touched her shoulder. She looked over and up the brown hand and arm into the mask of a jackal.
Father. Her father.
“Kebechet.” A deep voice emanated from behind the painted mask.
“Papa.” She spoke fluent ancient Egyptian, in awe of the surreal experience.
“You have returned.” He removed his mask. An ordinary man’s visage hid beneath the jackal mask, forgettable face that filled her soul and heart with joy, love, and hope. “Come. Your mother is waiting.”
Sara opened her eyes. The Oasis of Life continued to grow around her, grass sprouting from sandy soil. Desert trees reached for the sunlight and sank their roots deep into the desert’s wellspring within. She looked in the direction she previously witnessed the human Anubis and saw nothing.
“Imhotep?” She called out. “Can you hear me?”
Silence answered her.
“Imhotep?” She stepped out of the water. Bare feet padded across soft grass. She paused at the edge of the grass and turned in a circle. No Imhotep in sight. “Lord Imhotep?”
The breeze called out Kebechet’s name. Her soul twinged.
She closed her eyes and followed the feminine voice.
“Mama?” She called out.
A woman underneath the waterfall’s flow motioned her forward. She returned to the waters, the mud beneath her feet a minor annoyance. She waded into the highest depth, her waist, and reached for the brown skinned woman. “Kebechet. You are home.”
Home. She was home.
“I am home, Mama.” She replied sincerely.
Imhotep kneeled in the pool of water. Sara ’s feminine form transformed before his eyes, taking the form of a serpent from waist down before entirely disappearing from view. The thriving Oasis spread across the sand and stopped at the edge of the rockbeds in a now visible distance. The imperfect circle attracted the attention of a bird listlessly drifting by overhead. It swooped down with purpose.
He felt rather than saw the forces beyond his material form.
A reflection on the water caught his attention. A father, mother, and daughter grouped together by the edge of the splash zone. The daughter waved in Sara -like manner. The light bounced off the flowing water, the image disappearing.
He bowed his head once more, the water rippling in the middle. A brown skinned young woman with flowing dark brown hair rose from the water. Her eyes fixated on him. She offered him an earthen ware bowl of water.
“Will you meet your end, Lord Imhotep?” The woman whispered, her lips unmoving.
He allowed himself to accept the bowl of water and welcomed the eternal rest.
The curse of the Hom-Dai lifted from his soul until all that remained was the man. In his last breath, he remembered the best of times and nothing more.