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As the person appointed to become the next Pharaoh’s Vizier, Imhotep had seen his fair share of nonsensical scribbles. Whether it be from a young child writing hieroglyphics in the sand with an unsure hand, or the doodles of a madman whose existence was withering away like crops without rain, it was important to record the land and the lives of people he would soon be responsible for.
And yet, as he stared at the drying ink on what used to be a blank scroll, the self-proclaimed expert on languages could not recognize what he had written.
It was unlike any script he’d ever encountered – the symbols ranging from complex to ones he could copy with just a single stroke, lines following a rhythm that would fill Imhotep with a sense of wrongness if he went against the intrinsic tune.
He brought the papyrus scroll closer to himself, eyes running over the illogical words like they held the key to immortality, and desperately wracked his brain for an answer on what they could mean.
And then, from the deep recesses of his brilliant mind, there was a soft glow. Untouchable, but warm and familiar nonetheless. Its presence caressing his soul with flames which were capable of unimaginable destruction, but burned with the intent to protect.
With each breath he was greeted by the wafting scent of flowers. The dichotomy was not lost on him, the cold chambers where he stored his records lacking the fragrance reserved only for the Royal gardens. But if he let his mind drift he could see vibrant colors and water droplets glinting like precious stones. Plants which could not survive a day against the Egyptian sun being carefully tended to in their miniature containers.
His gaze lingered on the edges of that vision, on the pale hands reaching out to cup a fallen leaf before it touched the ground. A guardian who wished for a world with no pain, whose passionate voice carried far beyond the abandoned thrones above, whose compassion could dispel the darkness inside people’s hearts.
Seeing her tears was almost too much for him to bear, for he knew they could no longer stay by each other’s side. Her name, one he’d told himself to never forget, now eluded him. The memories they created together belonging to a time erased long ago, life beginning anew with her day of birth as the starting point.
He wished for her happiness and yet could do nothing more than watch as her soul wept a mournful melody.
Don’t cry, please.
As if hearing his plea, her sobs quieted and she lifted her head, revealing the tear-stained face of someone who’d witnessed lifetimes’ worth of suffering—
—and she smiled directly at him, not shying away from his wide-eyed stare even when an embarrassed red began coloring her cheeks. There was life dancing behind those bright eyes, a drive to fight for a better future for strangers and friends alike. An unmatched determination that he’d drawn strength from numerous times before.
It wasn’t until he was on the receiving end of such a look that his heart raced for a reason other than life-or-death. Only for her.
“Soon it'll be my turn to live in this new world,” she mumbled softly, looking off into the empty expanse which was snaking its way towards her, chipping away at the ground underneath them with insatiable hunger. “It’s a scary thought. I want to hold onto this.”
She clutched her chest, where the spark of a borrowed soul flickered. Soon there would be nothing there, or maybe not. There was no one around to ask whether her existence would be snuffed out before she’d taken her first breath, without the divine grip of destiny leading her life.
“But it was you who taught me how to let go.” And with that, the light vanished.
One last farewell, this time without the forced smiles, the tearful goodbyes and the uncertain promises.
“I can't wait to hear all about you, the ‘normal kid’ Imhotep.”
He opened his eyes and the words that had long since dried now held a new meaning. Her innermost feelings immortalized even as his memories of her began to blur once again.
Thank you for being my friend number one.
And…
I love you too, Im.