Unearthed in the Egyptian desert, 'The First Journal' delves deep into the origins of the very first immortal; weaving a tale of unending heartache and enduring romance. This spellbinding journal takes us from the sands of ancient Egypt through the...
The passing year unfolded with an unexpected gift of laughter and joy, illuminating the dark corridors of my existence. I continued to frequent the temple, visiting young Amon nearly every eve at the sight of the moon's first light. He became my anchor to humanity, a bridge between the mortal world and my cursed one. Through his eyes, I discovered that even without the sun's light to remind me of my mortal life, my cold heart could warm.
In the solitude of the temple's dirt floors, we spent the nights playing various games. We played Mancala*, a game of strategy and Amon's laughter echoed through the hallowed halls as he repeatedly outwitted me, capturing my last pieces. The dust stirred around us as we engaged in spirited games of Hounds and Jackals*, and our cries of joy mingled with the temple's ancient echoes.
Yet, my happiness was tinged with guilt as Amon unraveled his life. He mourned the loss of his father, a realization that weighed heavily on my conscience when he'd given the priest a name: Imoteph. I had stolen his father from him, an act of self-preservation that had cost the boy his last remaining family. In a moment of despair, I confessed my role in his father's death, and Amon's screams cut through the night's silence.
He wouldn't stop screaming. I tried to shush him, to offer a motherly embrace but my arms were cold as death; a heavy reminder of the monster I was.
He kept screaming. The fear in his eyes for the first time reflected the true abomination I was.
Fearing discovery, I silenced him, snapping his fragile neck to halt his cries. Tears, long absent from my immortal eyes, stained my cheeks and as I reached out to touch the warmth that welled within my frigid skin, my fingertips bore the mark of darkness, mirroring the essence coursing through my veins. I had become a creature more beast than woman - my tears now as black as my blood.
I cradled Amon's small lifeless body, slowly lowering him to the temple's floor. I drained his life force and fed him mine in an attempt to fix my mistakes - he was reborn an immortal - my first childe.
I had never known such a birth was possible—to create another like me. Rather than destroy him, I chose to guide him.
& in time, Amon would learn to love me.
He would learn to forgive me for his father's death.
I could only hope.
*Mancala: Mancala is still played in many parts of Africa and the Middle East today. It's a game of capturing opponent's pieces by strategically moving your own.
*Hounds and Jackals: This was a board game played on a grid with two different pieces, one representing hounds and the other representing jackals. The goal was to move one's pieces around the board and capture the opponent's pieces.
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