Lion Head Mesa everybody loves you, baby [m]

is he ready?

he is, Divine One.

kohled eyes, the first beheld. a honeyed laugh with a serpent’s bite behind it. a golden voice. how splendid he is, this spirit of many bloods.

Osiris. You will let him go?

i will let him go. amusement filled the tones of the Dead King.

the laughter again, the adder’s humour. good!

send him to Ra.

***

the light was blinding! golden!

look well, o Akashingo! look well!

***

Ra’s glow was a blinding anguish which burnt the boy into existence and enveloped him with the bustling chaos of his mother’s bedchamber.

and his scream was pure rage, wrath incarnate, the sickle-sword which promised to raze a thousand enemies. he struck at his brother, at the curving tongue of his mother which cleaned birth from his starless pelt.

khaemwaset roared. he would not be comforted by milk nor by soothing, nor by the voice of divine pharaoh. only the taste of blood in his mouth quieted this prince, who curled only in sullen silence when the copper tang had dissolved.

the Lord of Illusions breathed life at pharaoh’s side.