Transcending

Chapter 1

I was born at midnight on the longest night of the year. Many would celebrate a birth during such an auspicious moment, as my parents very well did. But looking back on this now, with new knowledge of old times, I consider it to be an omen. Midnight is a time when the pathway between this world and the next is the thinnest, when evil crawls through using barely a whisper of power. What luck is there to be found when your child is born in the midst of a sprawling evil darkness?

But my parents would not be swayed from their overwhelming joy. They took the light of the full moon's rays to be a blessing from Khonsu, the clarity of the stars to be the protective arms of Nut, the still-swollen banks of the Nile to be Hapi's gift. I was the heir to the throne of the entire Egyptian Empire, and I had been blessed by the gods. No, not blessed. I was a gift from the gods, I was a god in the form of a babe.

I was cursed.

The earliest memory I have is of myself and Kahmunrah, my elder by only three years, swimming in the shallow banks of the Nile during summer. We were not alone, but we might as well have been. We were the pharaoh's sons, not common children. I didn't understand this at the time. I remember asking Kah why we couldn't play why the other children as we climbed out of the river, the hot sand burning our feet.

"They aren't like us, brother," he said. "They are common. Father says they must respect us, not play with us."

"But why?"

"Aw, I don't know, Ahkmen. Whenever we're pharaohs we can play with whoever we want! It'll be great."

"Really?"

"Of course! It'll be the best, because then I won't be stuck with you all the time, Moon Eyes." He laughed and began running back towards our home. "Come on, Ahkmen! I'll teach you to play Senet, like Father's been showing me!" We ran back to the house, letting the wind and the sun dry us off.

My brother was my idol. Kah seemed to know so much more than I did, his extra years giving him the advantage to my meager three years of life. To me he shone like the sun. Kahmunrah was my best friend. My happiest memories are of my brother, and nothing that happened will ever change that. We were friends and brothers, but we wouldn't stay that way.

Half way through his sixth year, Kah began following my father, learning the ways of a pharaoh. He may have been the son of my father's second wife, but he was still the son of a pharaoh. The longer he stayed with my father, learning how to be a king, the less time he had for me. All of a sudden I was alone, well and truly this time. It was something I adapted to over the years.

Kahmunrah, while barely sparing any time to play anymore, still treated me the way about older brother would. He would send empty taunts and teasings in passing, a smile in his voice and eyes despite his blank face. At nights, when he was not expected to be regal and when we were both expected to be sleeping, he regail me with tales; some he created, some were the legends of the gods, some were humorous, and some were sad. The one that is most prominent in my mind is one that he had told me ever since he could talk.

"Do you know the story of your eyes, Ahkmen?" he would ask, late in the night with silver light pouring through the open window into our room

"No." I did.

"There was too much silver in the land when you were born," he started. "All the stars were out, the moon was at its brightest. The Nile looked like liquid silver, and the desert too. It wasn't right." He shook his head gravely. "Nay, it wasn't. And Khonsu, well you know how vain he is. He is the moon, and the moon must always be the brightest thing in the night. Well with all this silver around, the moon was just a bland disk. So Khonsu, being jealous as he is, gathered up all the extra silver from the river and the land."