Attend! I tell you a tale of a feared child, a hated hero. I tell you a tale of power, of pain, of the strong, the weak, of life, and death. I tell you a tale of a soul led to darkness, in the service of a conquering power, led to light by an ancient force. Attend! This is his story…
Prologue: Soul
Sekhmet ran the cloth down the blade of the old sword, polishing until the metal shone to his satisfaction. He nodded almost imperceptibly and stood, returning the sword to its place on the wall, displayed among other weapons of many kinds. It briefly glowed, and he peered quizzically at it for a moment before shoving the thought out of his mind. Sekhmet knew that he’d had the sword since he was young, and that it had been his first weapon, but couldn’t remember just when or how he’d acquired it, or why it might glow.
The metal of his subarmor clanked against one of the spears in a nearby rack, ringing metallically through the utter silence of the dark, weapon-filled room. Sekhmet glanced down in irritation before sending the armor away, now dressed in a plain blue robe. He snatched a cloak from the nearby chair and fastened it around his shoulders, walking toward the huge door.
Suddenly he stopped and glanced down, hands unconsciously brushing the front of his robe. The familiar weight was missing from his neck, and he glanced around the room quickly.
Sekhmet finally spotted the mass of gold on a nearby table and picked it up, watching as it twisted out into a green orb on the end of a thick chain. The orb was the size of a large marble and was held in its place by two snakes made of gold. He smiled.
*Hello, Father, *he thought with amusement. *Are you awake today? Must be so boring in there, all alone.* Sekhmet chuckled and grasped the pendant’s chain with both hands to fasten it around his neck. The orb began to pulsate with a green glow.
Sekhmet lowered his hands slowly and peered at the small orb in the palm of his hand suspiciously. The golden snakes began to writhe, slithering out from around the orb and twining around Sekhmet’s fingers. He jerked back in surprise and tried to pull them away. He felt two sharp pains in his finger, and looked at his hand blankly, as if he was watching this happen to someone else.
The snakes’ fangs were completely buried in his skin, and a sudden burning spread throughout him, starting at those points. Sekhmet felt all the thoughts in his head dissipate, and sank to his knees as the glow of the orb grew brighter. He stared, unable to look away, and the light flared and blinded him, color swirling before his vision.
Sekhmet saw faces appear before him, people he knew he should recognize, and yet, did not; things he had hidden away for centuries, buried deep within him where he’d thought they could never return from. A black-haired woman with a sharp face and a sneering smile; the man with a dark orange beard and murder in his eyes; the girl who stirred such feelings in him… emotions he couldn’t remember ever having felt before. An aching began in Sekhmet’s heart, an aching that awakened the memories of all he had wanted to leave, of all he had suffered.
He tried to close his eyes, to block out the pain, the returning of the hatred he had endured, but found he could not. Sekhmet whispered softly, a sound that hardly broke through the blanket of silence in the room. “No! I don’t want this… Father, leave me in peace!”
He felt anew the lashing of the whip against his back; tried to fight against the angry fist and the biting word; listened to the screams as everything he had known for so long died; heard his own mocking laughter as he killed them all.
There, kneeling in the darkness of the Dynasty stronghold, Sekhmet remembered…