CHAPTER TWO: The Serpent Upon the Throne.
637 Words
Cleopatra.
Being Pharaoh has never been easy.
Being a woman wearing the Double Crown?
That was a war the gods expected me to lose before it began.
The day I claimed Egypt's throne, men smiled to my face and sharpened their knives behind my back. They called me too young. Too beautiful. Too soft.
As though beauty could not command armies.
As though intelligence belonged only to kings.
They learned otherwise.
Some I defeated with diplomacy.
Others with gold.
The rest...
Never lived long enough to regret underestimating me.
I had mastered nine languages before most rulers learned how to listen. I could negotiate with Romans, debate with Greek philosophers, and pray with Egyptian priests without an interpreter standing between us.
Knowledge was my greatest weapon.
The crown was merely its ornament.
Yet tonight...
Knowledge offered me no answers.
I stood upon the eastern balcony of my palace in Alexandria as the sea breeze curled through my braids, carrying the scent of salt, lotus blossoms, and distant rain.
Below me, the city shimmered beneath thousands of lanterns.
The Great Lighthouse blazed against the darkness like a second moon.
Ships drifted across the harbor.
Merchants laughed.
Musicians played.
Children chased one another through marble streets.
They believed Egypt slept peacefully.
They were wrong.
Something beneath the sands had awakened.
I felt it.
Not with my eyes.
Not even with my heart.
With something older.
The same instinct that had kept my ancestors alive long before crowns existed.
Footsteps echoed behind me.
"My Pharaoh."
I didn't turn.
"What is it?"
"The High Priests request your presence."
"They never request," I replied.
"They summon."
The servant hesitated.
"They appear... frightened."
Now that earned my attention.
I faced him.
The color had drained from his face.
"The sacred relics beneath Giza have begun to hum."
"Humming relics do not frighten priests."
"No."
His voice shook.
"But the oldest temple has begun to sing."
Silence settled between us.
Temples did not sing.
Not unless the gods wished to be heard.
"When did it begin?"
"At sunset."
"And the Oracle?"
"He refuses to leave the sanctuary."
"Why?"
The servant swallowed hard.
"He says someone has answered a call that was never meant to be heard again."
A chill slid down my spine.
I refused to let it show.
"Prepare my escort."
"Tonight?"
"Immediately."
He bowed so low his forehead nearly touched the marble before disappearing into the palace.
I remained where I was.
The weight of the golden crown pressed against my temples.
Slowly...
I lifted it from my head.
The cool night air kissed the faint red marks it had left behind.
For a single heartbeat...
I allowed myself to be tired.
Not Pharaoh.
Not Queen.
Simply Cleopatra.
A woman carrying the burden of an entire kingdom upon shoulders no heavier than anyone else's.
The moment passed.
I placed the crown back where it belonged.
Power did not wait for grief.
It demanded endurance.
The wind shifted.
A strange scent reached me.
Not the Nile.
Not the sea.
Steel.
Dust.
Smoke.
War.
My pulse faltered.
Someone...
Somewhere...
Had looked toward Egypt.
And Egypt had looked back.
The Temple of Isis stood silent beneath the stars.
Priests lined the entrance, every torch extinguished despite the windless night.
Only one flame remained.
An old man waited beside it.
His eyes were clouded with age.
Blind.
Yet the moment I stepped into the sanctuary...
He turned directly toward me.
"My Queen..."
His voice barely rose above a whisper.
"The prophecy has begun."
I frowned.
"What prophecy?"
His trembling hands tightened around an ancient staff.
"The one our ancestors prayed would never awaken."
The lone flame flickered.
Then died.
Darkness swallowed the temple.
And in that darkness...
The old priest spoke four words that froze every soul within those sacred walls.
"The Ash King has returned."
- Writer
