❝you know, you're pretty cute, considering you're 4,000 years old.❞
❝thank you?❞
luna clair loves museums. she loves history, mythology, all that old shit. so when her best friend's dad gets a new job as the night guard of the new york national hist...
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A child, born in absence of light
Holds the key to reborn life
An infant king, loved by all
Immortalized in words of gold
But words of gold will fade in time
And so the king will forever shut his eyes
Unless the daughter of the moon
Chooses one to save and one to lose
The prophet sweats nervously. This is the first real prophecy he's ever made. He could be killed for it.
But Merenkahre is a benevolent pharaoh. He exhales and nods. "That...wasn't what I was expecting."
"My apologies, my lord, I--"
"No." Merenkahre holds up a hand, silencing the young prophet. "I am not angry. This prophecy, it refers to the tablet I have made for my son, yes?"
The young prophet shifts from foot to foot slowly. "Yes, my lord."
"And the tablet, do you know how long it will last without Khonsu's light?"
The prophet hesitates, thinking back to his dream. The breeze ruffles the hem of his robe. He shivers. "No, my lord."
"It's up to the gods, then." Merenkahre looks up at the sky above him, where the moon is bright, outshining every star around it. He has just heard the prophecy about his son's fall from immortality; he's surprisingly calm.
"Up to the gods," the young prophet echoes, relieved that he won't be killed.
Behind them, inside the palace, the infant prince coos.
✦✧✦
Four thousand years later, during a lunar eclipse, a baby girl cries for the first time.
