Time of day became difficult to track. What did routine mean when Ra did not sail the sky? Clouds gathered, ever more intently as the days passed. No spell, no prayer, not ritual had abated it. Something had gone very wrong indeed.
But as near as Hotep could guess, it was now midday. When Ra's disk should burn fiercest. Hem came to the red flame and stood where the light cast dark fur into a bloody tinge. An altar should be built here, in stone, to honour and defend the great god's gift.
Again, he petitioned the sun to rise, prostrating himself before the flame. There were no incantations for this thing, this encroaching dark. But Hotep had engraved many into his heart, and as Greatest of Seers, might add chapters to the book of spells. If only he could find the proper combination!
He rises in Akhet, and sets in Duat. The opening of his eye brings light, the closing brings darkness. This inundation is in accordance with his sacred decree.
"I am he who illumines the Sacred Land, he who drives away darkness, he who rises by day and by night. I am the bull of the Eastern horizon, the lion of the Western horizon, who crosses the above day and night without being repulsed!
"I have come at the voice of my son, Geb, who says, 'Look! The land withers!' The chained wolf is bound: Retreat from this world, you rot! You are torn down from the sky. Retreat from all lands and all skies.
Hotep finished his melodic intonation, and lifted his eyes again. In darkness. His ears flattened, and he tried again, circling the flame as his shadow followed in undulation across the sand.
Your darkness gives way beneath the benevolent Ra. Hear the cries of mourning of each god and goddess at the destruction you wreak! Behold, the sun storms with rage at your filth! He demands you be cut up and scattered. Back!
Cold wind. Some urgency of the gods, or resistance of demons. Hotep raised his howl to the heavens,
Behold, Set comes with his sky-metal fangs, to rend you, and restore the barque into the sky! The flame rises! Up, into the sky! It will burn you. You will be made ash! Go, you! Begone, filth!
I welcome organic IC interactions and any twists, conflict, or drama that comes out of it!
My characters are unreliable narrators.
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