The Trespasser knows nothing of eternity. He was born, and one day will he die.
But I, I who have always existed since the beginning of time, am far more knowledgeable than he.
And yet, how is it that such a mortal can command such power that strikes down even the mightiest of my creations? My lovely Oketra, fashioned from light and sand to be a guiding arrow of hope. My proud Kefnet, born of wind currents and clouds and meant as the greatest teacher. My darling Rhonas, who blossomed from flowers and vines to act as the loyal protector of mortals. My poor Bontu, who rose above her station from the dark earth and water of the Luxa to help mortals strive for greatness, and in her own striving fell. And my dearest Hazoret, the only survivor, born from the flames of the sun and meant to be the mother to all mortals.
How dare the Trespasser convert them into blasphemies of themselves, how dare he slay my children and my children's children, the innocent, passionate mortals who live and die so quickly. He thinks he has undone me, but it is not so. I will not let it be.
I will take his mockery of my creations, and mock him in return. I will shape a new guardian, in the image of the dragon who sought to take everything from me and leave me bleeding in the dust.
The light of the Second Sun will be his horns. Basilisk fangs will be his fangs. I will stretch the clouds into his wings and his body and blood will be made from the mud and waters of the sullied Luxa. Deep in his heart I will put a spark so much like those of the Trespasser and the interlopers who sought to defeat him, so that he may go where he pleases, but on his wrists he will always carry bracers made of mummy's linen, to remind him that wherever he may go, this is his home and this is his protectorate.
My little one, your name is Nicol, in the image of the beast who you are made to resemble. I am Amonkhet, your mother.
Now go. Become a champion, a defender for those who cannot defend themselves.
"I hear and obey... mother."