In the aftermath of nine devastating plagues that ravaged ancient Egypt, a high priestess desperately seeks to prevent the impending tenth plague. Still, her efforts fail, leaving her at the mercy of an enraged pharaoh. Meanwhile, the pharaoh's son...
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"Sometimes, it seems the shadow from that night is coming after me. It watches me, hoping to catch me off guard and kill me," Re'hotpe shivered as flashes of a nightmare he had the previous night returned to him. Fear was a constant companion, fused to him like a second head that whispered horrible possibilities. He couldn't get himself to relax.
"Why would you think that?" The breeze snagged at Michal's shawl and whipped her dark hair across her face when she glanced at him.
The multitude had stopped to rest, and the long shadow of the pillar of cloud protected them from the fierce heat of the sun. Re'hotpe recalled he nearly lost bladder control when the cloud first appeared. The thick dark mass poured from the sky in slow swirls and blocked out the heat of the punishing sun.
"I don't know...it's just something I feel. I think the shadow wants me." Re'hotpe swept a hand over his shaven head and dragged his tunic forward. It was a reflex action he had developed in an attempt to further hide his tattoo. His tunic covered it well, but one couldn't be too careful. He turned away and focused on Japheth. He was playing with some children about their age, a luxury Re'hotpe could never enjoy.
"Don't think like that,"—Michal sighed heavily and scooted closer to his side—"you made it this far. I believe if I AM wanted you dead, you would have been long gone."
"But what type of life would I live among those who see me as the enemy? What if they find out who I am?" Re'hotpe whispered. Why couldn't he relax as Michal and Japheth urged him to? Maybe it was the suspicious glances he kept getting. Re'hotpe wasn't even sure if the glances were suspicious or if his paranoid mind made him think so.
"Listen to me. 'Son of Pharaoh' is not written on your forehead. They don't know who you are. Their world doesn't revolve around you, Re'hotpe. They are not focused on you. Look, they are minding their lives." Michal rested her hand on his shoulder and squeezed lightly.
"I keep having this dream where a shadow comes after me and it surrounds me. I see my father chasing me with a whip and my mother being dragged by his chariot. What if he comes after us? What if—"
Michal hugged him to her side. "Shhhhh. He wouldn't come after us. No sane man would after what happened in Egypt."
Re'hotpe would have believed her words if he didn't know his father. He couldn't shake off the feeling of being a marked target.
He looked at the pillar of cloud and gulped. What if it was the God of the Israelites that sought to kill him? He shook his head before pulling his tunic forward again. He shouldn't be scared of the pillar of cloud, at least not as much as the pillar of fire that appeared at night.
And mother. Re'hotpe was worried. Father was not the type of man to forgive defiance.
Re'hotpe shut his eyes in prayer. "Mother, please be well."
***
Yes, Ramesses. Don't stop.
The hypnotic voice urged Ramesses to keep strangulating Addisu. This voice. It was hard to resist... so compelling. He obeyed, squeezing and grinning all the while.
