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...
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
Addisu was lying under the white tree again and watching petals softly fall to the ground. She liked it here. It was calm and beautiful. There was no pain, no terror and, chief of all, no Ramesses. She sighed in satisfaction, lifting a palm to catch petals. She could do this forever, to remain here without a care in the world...just floating.
A hazy thought tugged at the back of her mind, trying to remind her of something important, but she resisted the pull. She was selfish of her new languid state, choosing to drift in her timeless haven.
"To sleep and sleep and sleep." She chuckled and threw the petals she had caught.
"Sleeping is boring; I would rather be awake."
Addisu frowned and sat up. A white-haired boy was leaning against the trunk of the tree with arms casually folded across his chest. When she took in his dark skin and grey eyes, her frown deepened. "You look familiar."
"You think?" The boy laughed and cocked a brow. "It's me, the father."
"I don't understand. You are supposed to look like a child." Addisu stood to her feet and approached him with careful steps. He looked around thirteen or fourteen.
"I didn't know there was a way we were to look."
Addisu turned just in time to see who she guessed was the word approach. She shook her head, trying to understand what was going on. "What's happening?"
"I assumed our unusual presence in your life would make you more open to the peculiar," the word said.
Addisu observed them for a while before letting a tentative smile replace her frown. Their presence still felt the same but the fact that they looked older played with her mind. "Where is the spirit?"
"Above you."
She looked up to see the spirit sitting on a branch. He waved at her and smiled. His white features nearly blended with the colour of the leaves. He wasn't ghostly white but he also wasn't ruddy. She returned his wave and shifted her gaze.
"Remember your son?" The father asked as he pushed himself off the tree and drew nearer.
Addisu covered her lips with the tip of her fingers as she remembered. Now she realised why her mind felt like it was being tugged. She had a son. Was he dead?
"I-is he dead?"
"No, he isn't," the father answered immediately.
"Where is he? Oh no. Ramesses!" She gasped and began to pace. "We must do something. He has to be stopped. He is going to hurt Re'hotpe."
"Ramesses is dead and you need to wake up now. Your son is waiting for you."
Hearing the news, Addisu halted her frenzied movement. Ramesses was dead? The thought was impossible to believe. The pharaoh had seemed so large, so untouchable. Even the plagues of Moses never directly affected his life. But from the serious look on the face of the father, Addisu guessed it was no joke.
