From the Eyes of An Avatar
By 18
Chapter One
My name was Hareya. Or, at least it was, about 3,000 years ago. Now my name is Omega, and I was the last Avatar ever to be converted until 2004, A.D.
My hair was real, unlike many women who wore wigs, and it was the color black, and my skin was very tan, which had an odd contrast on all of my white clothing.
My father was a great Pharaoh of Ancient Egypt, and I was the daughter of hundreds of children he had bred. My mother was a healer in the Temple of Re, and although I had hundreds of brothers and sisters, only 10 of them were pure. I was the 3rd youngest, and easily forgotten. My mother, Reya, had been one of Father's many concubines, but also spent some time in the Temple after he had taken a favoring to her. I do not know why, but Mother had always worked with me in the Temple, teaching me which herbs can mix, and which remedies can do what. I was her assistant, and although I wasn't supposed to learn, I throughly enjoyed it, especially under the guiding roof of Re's Temple.
Sometimes, my mother would let me experiment, and make my own potions, and one time I had made a list of ingredients and put them all together in a bowl which had held offerings to the Gods, and which a I was not supposed to touch.
"What is this, Hareya?" Mother had said angrily, as I held out the the potion in the bowl, the black contents swirling on it's own.
"A potion. We must fill small, holy viles with the potion, to protect us all," I had said, my eyebrows pressed together in confusion, for my words were not my own. My head ached, the paint so excruciating that I would have dropped the potion and held my head, but there were so many voices in my head, and the loudest one was saying, Ignore the pain. Pain is not real. Keep the potion safe. The potion will protect us all someday.
"Hareya, this is in a bowl of the Gods," Mother said, "And what is in this potion?"
I placed the potion on the table, and handed the ingredients to Mother, which she read off the parchment.
"None of these ingredients are supposed to mix well at all! How many times did this explode?" Mother exclaimed, not taking her eyes off of the paper.
"Only three or four times," I said, shrugging my shoulders.
"How is it even settled now?" Mother asked.
"The Gods said it would be. It is the will of the Gods," I said, as if the answer was very obvious.
Mother's eye's widened. Since I was only 4 feet tall, she got down on one knee to look me in my eyes, "How do you know this?"
"I hear their voices in my head. They say that the potion will protect us from the Oncoming Storm, which has only struck once before. We need it, for it will come back in thousands of years," I said, and the loudest voice commended me for being well spoken.
"Hareya, I must tell your father! If you are a messenger of the Gods, well, he must know!" Mother said, and yanked my arm out of the Temple without another word.
"I beg audience with the Pharaoh," Reya said to a guard in front of Father's throne room. The doors were open, but the spear of the guards would stop you from entering without permission.
The guard laughed, and looked us up and down, "A concubine and a child beg audience with the Pharaoh? Ha! He has better things to do than listen to whining from females! Go!"
"Do not leave, Reya," Father called out, which did not surprise me, or Mother. Father had always had a great respect for Mother, had referred to her by her name, like he would a man, "Come inside." The guard looked at Father in surprise, "Well, don't look at me like that! I have taken a liking to this one, and this is my child! You will do your job! What is it, Reya?"
"My lord, I think that Hareya has a gift," mother said. She still needed to call him, "My lord," or, "Pharaoh," to be respectful.
"A gift of what sort?"
"Well, I do believe that she has been hearing the voices of the Gods," Mother said, and Father's eyebrows, which were raised in amusement, were lowered into seriousness.
"Reya, you cannot expect me to leave a female as heir, nor can you expect me to forfeit my power to a small child!" Father said, laughing, even though I knew he was not entertained.
"Then what will you do?" Mother asked, almost angrily.
Father paused, "I will have her executed. She is a danger to my rule, and you, Reya, will speak of her gift to no one." Father hit his staff to the ground. And the guard, who was listening, walked away to find an executioner, while the other remained guard.
"Father, please do not do this!" I begged, bowing down to him, like I frequently had to. Mother did it as well.
"I'm so sorry, Hareya. You could have been great," Father said.
You must not forget the potion! Speak to him about the potion! You must protect us!
"Father! I know you will kill me, but please, I have brewed a potion that will save us from the Oncoming Storm! We will know when it comes, but you must not throw it away! Hide it away until it is needed! It will save us! It is the God's will!" I begged so desperately, and I knew that Father may kill me, but I am entitled to a last wish. Tears were pouring down my cheeks, for I did not want to die, but I knew that I would be embalmed, and hopefully, they would but a Book of the Dead in my tomb. I sobbed as I saw sympathy in Father's eyes, as he nodded. He summoned a slave, and I ordered them to fetch to potion and fill many viles with it's contents.
A new voice appeared in my head, and I realized the other one had finished speaking.
This one is different. She made the potion. We must find her, and convert her to our cause.
I assumed, now, that death would come on swift wings, and my tears didn't seem like enough to ease the pain.