Foundations of Sand and Glass Horush has a cup of coffee in one hand, the saucer in the other, and a rolled copy of this moon’s Thinis Saret under his arm. The crown of Upper and Lower Iteru is crooked on his head and his eyes are narrowed. If ever there was an image to be captured of a peeved god, today - right now - my cousin is it. “Horush, who’s clouding your dewa?” He turns to me with a sigh: “Anhubeth, is it that obvious?” I nod. “Bloody Akhenaten. He’s going to go through with it.” “Name change already? Ib-senef but that boy’s fixated. He’ll bring doom to anyone who allies with him.” A permanent doom, too. The kind that gets your name erased from history. “I’m more worried about what follows.” “Whyfor? He gets uppity for a while, the priesthood closes ranks and then sabotages him - when he’s sired a suitably amenable Pharoahling, of course - followed by h
Lord of Earth and Heaven's Heir Tear me from the heavens, cast me to the Earth. Burn my wings away and rebuild my skin to ignite in sunlight; I will find my way back into her arms. Sending her down to spend a life as a mortal peasant was cruel. What love I bore for you departed at that. I had naught but will and words. Then you gave me a cause. Next time, there shall be a reckoning: great pinions stroking the evernight above, a starfaring humanity forged by centuries of strife at my back; whatever allies we find spread to either side. We will rain dragon venom and nuclear hellfire upon your hallowed fields and blessed resurrection chambers. You did not punish me: I am your doom. And in that one thing, I have to wonder. Do I still serve your will? Are you a power so bright as to set in motion a terminal limit for yourself? Therefore, I am vengeance or I am evolution. The question of which one I truly am will be resolved by your end. I can live with that.