Chapter 4 Blood and Chaos

The water shimmered under the flickering torchlight, steam curling into the air as Neferet stepped into the sacred bath. The scent of lotus and sandalwood filled the chamber, but it did little to ease the tension coiling inside her.

Her hands ran over her arms, washing away the sweat of the night before, but she knew she could never wash away the weight pressing on her chest. The ritual was today, everything would change after today.

Sitra stood by the bath's edge, silent as she poured another jar of perfumed water over Neferet's skin. The servant's gaze lingered, but she said nothing-perhaps sensing her mistress's unease.

Neferet exhaled slowly, tilting her head back, allowing the water to cascade over her shoulders. The temple elders, generals, and nobles would be watching her today, ogling her under the guise of reverence. The ritual dress left nothing to the imagination-a sheer linen garment that clung to the body, exposing more than it concealed. A symbol of purity, they claimed. A display of divine favor.

A lie.

She hated it.

But she would endure it, just as she endured everything else.

When she emerged from the bath, Sitra draped the garment over her shoulders, securing it with golden fastenings at her waist and collarbone. Thick cuffs of lapis and gold encircled her wrists, heavy with tradition. A golden belt, adorned with symbols of Ma'at and Amun-Ra, rested against her hips. The final piece was the headdress-a delicate golden circlet that framed her dark braids, drawing attention to the kohl-lined sharpness of her eyes.

She was a vision of divine power. A mortal made goddess.

A prisoner in silk.

Sitra stepped back. "It is done, Princess."

Neferet turned toward the mirror, staring at the woman reflected there.

She did not recognize her.

____

The moment she took a step, a sharp pain lanced through her chest.

Neferet gasped, clutching at the golden collar around her neck. Her vision blurred, the chamber spinning in a whirl of color and shadow.

Then-

The world turned white.

She wasn't in the bathing chamber anymore. She was somewhere else.

The great hall of the palace loomed before her, draped in unnatural darkness. The air smelled of blood. The golden throne-her father's throne-was drenched in crimson. The Pharaoh was nowhere to be seen.

A figure sat upon it instead.

The High Priest.

His face was calm, unreadable, as he rested one hand on the throne's armrest. Beside him stood Rahotep, watching with a smirk as the nobles and warriors around them laughed-a manic, echoing sound that filled the vast hall.

Neferet's breath caught. No. This cannot be.

The laughter grew louder, the shadows creeping toward her, swallowing the pillars, the walls, the ceiling-until all that remained was the blood-soaked throne.

Then, just as suddenly as it began-

It was gone.

Neferet collapsed, the strength in her legs vanishing. Her vision returned in a rush, the familiar sight of her chamber replacing the nightmare.

Sitra's frantic voice broke through the haze. "Princess! What is happening? I will call for help!"

Neferet barely registered the movement as her maid rushed out. She pressed a trembling hand against her chest, her breath ragged.

What was that?

The gods had never spoken to her before.

Why now?

Footsteps echoed down the hall-heavy, commanding.

Her father.

The Pharaoh stepped into the room, his sharp gaze scanning her face. For the first time in her life, she saw something almost like fear in his expression.

"You are unwell," he said. "The ritual can wait."

Neferet straightened, forcing her hands to steady. "No."

Her father's frown deepened. "Neferet-"

"I must do this," she cut in, her voice firm. If the gods had sent her a warning, then she had to go through with the ritual, she had to understand what they were trying to tell her.

The Pharaoh studied her for a long moment before exhaling through his nose. "Very well."

____

The waters rippled as Neferet stepped into the sacred pool of Ma'at, the first step in her purification. The water was cool against her skin, but it did little to calm the storm within her.

Sitra and the temple priestesses stood at the edges of the pool, chanting in low, rhythmic voices. The purification of Ma'at was the cleansing of the body-the washing away of earthly burdens to prepare oneself for divine judgment.

Sitra poured fragrant oils over Neferet's shoulders, massaging them into her skin. "The balance must be upheld, my Princess," she murmured, her voice barely above a whisper. "You must enter the temple unshackled by doubt."

Neferet's fingers curled into fists beneath the water. How could she rid herself of doubt when everything felt uncertain?

She let her body sink deeper into the water, the weight of her thick hair fanning out around her. Her father's throne, the ritual's true purpose, and Rahotep's growing ambitions swirled in her mind, refusing to be washed away.

She closed her eyes, inhaling deeply as the priestesses lifted her from the water, droplets moving down her bare skin like liquid gold under the torchlight.

The second bath was within a grand chamber, where the High Priest himself stood beside an obsidian basin filled with water blessed in Amun-Ra's name. Neferet stood at the edge, stripped of all but the golden collar and cuffs that signified her royal blood.

"Amun-Ra is the unseen," the High Priest intoned, dipping his hand into the water, "the hidden one who watches all. To stand before him is to bear the weight of kings. To be found unworthy is to be forsaken."

Neferet's stomach folded with unease, but she gave no sign of fear.

The priestesses stepped forward, pouring pitch-black kohl onto her arms and legs, painting divine markings of the sun and falcon upon her skin.

Then, the High Priest placed his hand on her forehead. "By the hidden one's gaze, we cleanse your spirit. Enter."

Neferet stepped into the water. It was warmer than Ma'at's-thick with oils and resins, the scent of myrrh and cedarwood heavy in the air. As she lowered herself, the dark markings melted into the water, swirling like ink dissolving into nothing.

A deep pressure settled over her chest, almost as if the gods themselves were pressing their hands upon her. Testing her.

I will not break.

She emerged, breath steady, the oil clinging to her skin like a second layer of armor.

The final bath was unlike the others.

Set, the god of storms, demanded more than water-he required struggle. Pain. A warrior's worth.

The priestesses bound her wrists with red linen, leading her toward the temple's stone altar, where a bronze bowl filled with sand and ash awaited.

"The desert god takes strength, not purity," the High Priest murmured, lifting the bowl. "To receive his blessing, you must withstand him."

Sitra hesitated beside Neferet. "Princess, you do not have to-"

"I will."

Neferet knelt before the altar, unflinching as the priest poured the scorching-hot ash over her hands. The burning sensation clawed at her skin, but she gritted her teeth, refusing to pull away.

Set tested those who sought power, and Neferet would not be found wanting.

The moment the heat became unbearable, the priest wiped her hands clean. "You have endured," he declared. "Now you may step before the gods."

The temple doors opened, and the scent of incense and burning oils filled the air. Neferet walked forward, the golden collar resting heavily against her collarbone.

The chamber was packed with nobles, warriors, and temple priests. At the front, the statues of Ma'at, Amun-Ra, and Set stood tall, watching in silence.

The High Priest raised his arms. "We call upon the gods to grant us sight. Let the daughter of Kemet prove herself worthy before them."

"Amun-Ra, great hidden one, grant us your sight. Show us the warrior worthy of this offering."

The temple fell silent.

Then-

A gust of wind rushed through the chamber, snuffing out half the torches. The flames of the braziers burned violently, twisting unnaturally.

A sudden, searing heat bloomed in Neferet's chest.

She gasped, her body stiffening as an unseen force took hold of her.

Her eyes rolled back-turning completely white.

A hushed murmur spread through the temple. Some gasped, others whispered prayers.

The gods had answered.

Her limbs moved of their own accord as she stepped forward, guided by a force greater than herself. Rahotep straightened, stepping toward her, confidence gleaming in his eyes.

Neferet raised a hand.

He froze.