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Disclaimer: I don't own TMNT or Ancient Egypt. Written for fun not profit. While a lot of research went into making this period accurate many creative liberties were take to fit the genre. Please enjoy!


The bulrushes swayed fiercely in the strong wind as the water crept higher up their thin stems. They moved as one, giving the impression of being a single monstrous entity as they undulated. Their scratchy stalks rubbed against one another and the fluffy tops were helplessly tossed together making a roar that drowned all the other soft sounds that could usually be heard along the holy bank. It was the height of foolishness to be caught on the flooded plane on a night such as this. It was obvious that the gods were angry and he should have known better. He was a priest after all, it was his business to know the moods of the gods. He knew the reason for their anger was his very actions and now his only choice was to flee and pray that there would be at least one deity left with whom he still found favor.

Hazarding a look back Hamakto saw that, at last, he could no longer make out the angry glint of torch-light that had been pursuing him through the city to the outskirts of flooded plains. Collapsing with exhaustion amongst the tall river grass, he tried to drag air into his depleted body. Everything ached and his legs began to twitch in protest from the flight he had just endured. Silently he praised the gods for his youth spent as a messenger and temple runner. If not for that learned endurance, he never would have gotten away.

It was hard for the experienced priest to fully accept just how a day that had started much like any other could end like this. Instead of slumbering communion, his spirit delving into the realm of deity while his body was resting to be ready for a new day of performing the rituals and sacrifices to past kings and gods, he was crouched in the shallow waters at the bank of the sacred Nile, sinking slightly into the softening earth, a fugitive from Pharaoh. The magnitude of his fall from grace was more than he could really comprehend, though as his heart slowed and his breathing calmed, he realized that he should have known, after all he had seen the signs in his dreams.


The rays of the dawning sun fell upon the altar as the disk rose from The Nile, the sharp shadows of the pyramids cast everything but the temple where Hamakto was offering heqet and bread, into semi-darkness. It was a good omen. The pharaoh had been diligent in his trials of the night and successfully guided the sun on its journey through the Underworld. The priest basked in the glory of Ra as he chanted the spells to help the guide the gods course across the sky.

Soon though, the golden light began to be eclipsed by something different. A pink, angry rolling mass began to consume the healthy yellow-gold of Ra's disk until an undulating shimmering magenta mass filled the sky in a sick mockery of the day deity. A sicking cold fear seeped into Hamakto's bones as his god was consumed before him, then when he thought that his horror was complete the rays shot forth from the sky disk, their speed frightening and accompanied by a high pitched screech harsher than the cry of a falcon on the hunt. The beams became solid tendrils with grasping spades reaching out only to plunge themselves deep into the soft earth of the ripening fields of grain that painted the flat delta golden. A heartbeat of silence filled the plain, as before his very eyes, Hamakto saw the Aten, so commonly carved and painted on the temple walls, brought to life in the sky above Giza. A part of his soul almost wanted to cry at its majesty, all his life he had served the gods and now, to see one in its full magnificence before him, pierced him to his core. Yet, somehow an inner voice told him that all was not well. Ra and Aten should be one, they were but two forms of the same being, so why had the transition seem so violent, forced, and invasive?

His musings were interrupted as he noticed a black shadow starting to spread from the horizon. His vision became sharp and Hamakto was able to tell that it was not a shadow at all, but the full golden grain had begun to shrivel and wilt. A wave of pestilence coursed through the fields, radiating out from each place where Aten's pink limb was sunk into the earth.

As if the decimation of the crops was not enough, the Nile, holy river, the life blood of Egypt, was also slowly being changed and corrupted. It became thick and the same pattern of shifting and shining that defined the disk of Aten spread through its waters, only now in shades of green and blue. The world became painted in colors he had never seen before but quickly came to hate, all at once too bright but lacking any warmth, the darker shades of sickness a cruel outline to the now alien scenery.

Then upon these new waters, a vessel came into view. It was the Pharaoh's barge, upon it was an altar where priests offered worship to the false sun, Pharaoh himself dipping a vessel into the sick waters and raising it high above his head in oblation as the sound of chanted spells filled the air. As Hamakto looked on, the thick waters began to roll and boil, soon after the pantheon of gods began to break the surface; Thoth, Horus, Bast, Taweret, Khnum, Sobek and Wadjet amongst them. Curious by their very absence, Osiris and Isis were not in attendance, nor were any of their kin who took on the guise of man. In fact all those he could see were in the likeness or form of animals, a powerful, if incomplete, gathering of the other-worldly. Regardless a spark of hope flickered in his being, surely with so many gods in attendance the balance would be restored and Aten's wrath would be satiated, the land would be blessed again. But apparently the ire of the king of gods would not be soothed. The tendrils now pulled together, tearing up the land and decimating the pyramids and temples in their path. In the cradle of those arms all was gathered in, offerings, Pharaoh and animal gods and a cruel jagged smile split the disk in half. Before his eyes, they were crushed, their essence spilling to the tainted earth and staining it blood red. Then a tentacle dripping with gore shot in his direction, destroying the altar he had been rooted before as the had horror unfolded, throwing him violently aside as all became darkness.

Hamakto awoke with a start, his thin linens soaked through to dampen the straw underneath. It took a while for his heart to stop pounding and for him to realize that he was safe within his own bed. He was not on that horrific plain but in the small alcove that served as his room off the common space he shared with his fellow priests. He wiped the sweat from his brow and sat up, mentally cataloging and committing every possible thing he could about his vision to memory. It was a practice he had been taught early in his apprenticeship, after it was shown that his dreams had an uncanny penchant for coming true. This dream however was not new to him. For several months now he had seen this strange vision at least once a week, but its recurrence had been more frequent as of late, this being the fourth night in a row. At last though, he felt as if the message was finally complete, because the figure offering sacrifice had shifted from the high priest to the Pharaoh himself. The time for patience and interpretation was over, now was the time to act and with that thought in mind, the prophetic priest dedicated himself to planning.


He entered the hall tall and proud. He had waited outside the gilded doors for the better part of the day, knowing that there was a chance that he may not be given an audience with Pharaoh Orakusakmet at all. He was not alone in his dalliance outside the chambers, a small throng of minor priests, advisers and dignitaries kept him company. Today the throne room was appointed as open to the court, where ranking residence of the royal complex could lay their petitions before His Lordship. The high-priest's continual dismissal of his recurring vision had brought him to this venture and he would not waste the opportunity. The gods had a message to send and would not leave him in peace until he delivered it.

The room was vast and confining all at once as he strode between the sculptured columns before they became scarce in front of the dais, where Pharaoh stood, in full headdress, hook and ankh in clenched fists crossed over his arms. In traditional oblation, Hamakto stooped to one knee before his king, lowering his eyes to the floor as the symbols of power and authority were brought to rest on his shoulders.

"Ye are before Egypt, let not falsehood escape thy lips." The king then placed his staves down on a gold platter held by an attendant and took up a goblet. From the fruity smell that wafted towards to Hamakto, it must have contained wine of the highest quality. "May the blood of Isis keep ye from reproach." Then Pharaoh passed him the cup and the priest took an obligatory sip before passing it back. Beneath the fine taste, Hamakto was able to detect the hint of strong herb and bitter seeds, it was a potion that was often given to those being interrogated. The mix was known to give the desired result, it did make the recipient's tongue loser, but only if they were unaware what they had been given. A strong will could easily overcome the effects. It did not bother the priest, for he had nothing to hide, but it did speak somewhat to the king's state of mind, giving credence to his own suspicion that all was not well within the palace walls.

Finishing the formalities, the king had retired to his seat, calm but straight backed and attentive, indicating that Hamakto should lay out his case. "Mighty Pharaoh Orakusakmet, ruler of the two lands and god over all Ra touches, I plead that you heed my words." With a nod to the scribes to be sure they were ready, Hamakto launched into a dramatic recital of his vision, making sure to emphasize the danger with well placed pauses and dramatic reveals, trying elicit the same dread and urgency he had felt. He was careful not to be too enthusiastic though, priestcraft was a fine balance of preaching and entertainment, calculated skill and natural talent, and Hamakto had been honing his craft for years.

The recitation complete, the dream weaver looked up to see how his revelation had been received. Pharaoh was seated on his golden couch, in a splayed and contemplative pose, elbow on a knee and chin propped on cocked fist. The chamber fell quiet except the soft sounds of wood scraping against papyri as the scribes continued in their efforts to transcribe the flowery imagery in quick coptic, later to be converted into full gylphs for the official record should the meeting be deemed worthy of such attention. It was only after several minutes, once the scratching had stopped and the scribes were once again still, patiently waiting, that Orakusakmet stirred himself. Standing, then pacing the width of his dias, almost predatory as he stalked, waiting to pounce at some unknown threat. His voice growled with an equal measure of curiosity and annoyance.

"Is this the first time you have had this… vision?"

"No my lord, for several months now the gods have sent these dreams to me. In pieces at first, until night after night they fill my slumber."

"Hmm…" The king descended the steps to stand directly in front of Hamakto, holding his gaze. "Who else have you spoken to about them?"

Hamakto swallowed and felt the overwhelming urge to answer the question fully, the potion taking effect, yet there was a dangerous glint in the ruler's eye that seemed to ensure that anyone else privy to the information would soon be standing in the priests' place. There was one whom he could not allow such to befall, so with only a moment's hesitation he allowed only the most necessary of truth's to flow past his lips.

"I was much concerned and so brought the matter before the High Priest of Ra, His eminence Faihoruko." Hamakto was more than happy to let the name drop. He had never really gotten along well with the leader of his sect, finding his penchant for being more interested in wealth than worship, distasteful. A flash of resentment was quickly suppressed but not before Hamakto had seen if flit across Pharaoh's face, maybe he was not the only one who found fault with one of the more powerful priests in the land.

"And was he able to tell you its meaning?"

"He does not care about dreams except for the gold of those who wish to pay for them to have meaning," the priest remarked dryly.

This elicited a hearty chuckle and the king moved back from his posture of scrutiny to resettle himself upon the throne. "And what of you, my sleeping prophet? Surely you would not come before the son of Horus without some insight. What would you have me do about this vision of yours?"

Bowing slightly to hide a grin. "I would never presume to tell the great Pharaoh what action he should or should not take. But I would be a poor servant indeed if I did not offer my expertise." The only response being a noncommittal sound he conjectured that he should continue. "The Aten appears to be unhappy with our land and there is the possibility that the crops may fail and the waters befouled come the time of harvest. It would be wise for Pharaoh to do what he can to preserve the people of the Nile lands. I see two options. Conserve, stop all building and campaigns in foreign lands. Focus on helping the people to survive the coming trouble. Fill the granaries, make reservoirs to store water, increase the production of heqet so that the people may survive when all else fails. The other option, most honored Pharaoh, is to appease. Offer greater sacrifices, never let the prayers cease, appeal to the gods for protection, strengthen the power of Ra that he might overcome Aten and balance be restored between them."

"I see…" It was a simple phrase but the syllables sent a shiver down the priest's spine. He felt the air shift and an awful sense of dread filled him. Immediately he knew that something he had said was a miscalculation, perhaps he had indeed overstepped his bounds. When the king continued, his displeasure was apparent. "Are you claiming that my reign is not pleasing to your god? That I should run from our enemies, debase myself before the realms of the living and dead, only to bow to the whims of peasants and gods alike?" Orakusakmet was standing now, arms gesturing broadly and voice booming with a practiced tone meant to use the echos of the room to instill fear. "What of my glory? Is not Pharaoh Egypt? Is it not I who guides the gods? For in me, Egypt rises or falls!"

"Of.. of course… of course my lord! I meant no disrespect!" Hamakto practically tripped over his words to divorce himself from his previous boldness. "My only wish is to see the land prosper. A healthy tribute to thy glory, that all the world might praise thee." The priest bowed even lower, hoping to placate the bruised ego before him. "For indeed, thy kingdom is the jewel of all civilizations. Others are but barbarians and children compared to the never ending glory that is Egypt and thou art greatest of all its Kings."

"Hmph. You priests have such flattering words, save them for your granite gods, for I have no need of them. All I need is for my subjects to know that they live or die by my will alone. Be sure that you remember your place better in the future, priest." He spat out the title as if it were a piece of rotten fruit. "And you, and all your kind, would do well to remember mine as well." Orakusakmet turned away from him then, dismissing Hamakto from his presence.

Counting himself lucky, but not really understanding exactly when the audience had taken such a turn for the worse, the dreamer backed slowly away, grateful for the opportunity to just leave.

"Hamakto." He paused and his eyes snapped to the dais where the Pharaoh stood, back still to him, but head turned to the side. "Never let it be said that Pharaoh does not listen to his citizens. Your words have been heard and should they prove prophetic, we shall remember thy name, and at that time you will reap the rewards or ramifications of this day. So shall it be written, so shall it be done."

Hamakto bowed once more in acknowledgement of the decree before turning and striding out the hall with as much dignity he could pull around him. Not until he returned to the temple complex and reached the seclusion of his own alcove did he allow himself to collapse and try to release the sense of dread that consumed him. He did not, however, seek the solace of sleep for two full days, he had enough of dreams for the time being.


The rhythm of the river moved the seasons along as Shemu began to draw to a close and the harvests were gathered in. The waters of the Nile receded enough to allow for the repair of the all important canals to prepare for the next flood. The ground began to dry and winds swept the desert dust into every building. Still, there was no indication that the horrors Hamato continued to see in his sleep were any closer to coming about. However, to say that the intervening months were uneventful would have been false.

Within the confines of the walls of Ra's temple, things were far from routine. Rumor was heard that the High Priest Faihoruko was called to attend the palace on multiple occasions, each time returning looking as pleased with himself as a freshly preened ibis. Soon there was an influx of new allocates, all young, fresh and eager to please. Those who should have risen in rank were passed over and given mundane duties or sent on assignment to other parts of the kingdom. Those who only served in the temple on a part-time basis were soon dismissed with the explanation that Ra required only those dedicated wholly to the craft.

Hamakto was kept busy with the daily business of prayers and offerings. The days he would have normally had to himself, at least two within every ten, were spent in the public forums, interpreting the dreams of patrons, for a price, and offering up prayers on their behalf. Normally he would have been pleased to have been kept engaged in his work, but this was excessive, and he could only feel that he was so occupied solely for the purpose of being keep out of the way.

Shemu passed quickly and gave way to Ahket, the river started to rise till it spilled its banks and he found he could take it no longer. All those whom he had once counted friends were sent away while his own travel plans were in danger of being waylaid, leaving him lonely and despondent. The priest was frustrated with the internal politics and also still troubled that he continued to have dreams about the turmoil that may befall the land. Hamakto was determined to see High Priest and get some answers.

It was late by the time he made his way to the fine apartments that were the residence of Faihoruko, nearly the second watch into Ra's journey into the underworld, a time that should guarantee some privacy for what was unlikely to be a pleasant conversation. He was about to sift aside the cloth that hung in the stone archway and granted privacy, ready to announce himself, when the hum of voices from the other side of the entryway made him pause. Shifting quietly he flattened himself on the side of the lintel, quickly extinguishing his oil lamp so that shadows would not be thrown across the fabric divider, he strained to hear the conversation.

"I assure you, my lord, all is safe."

"I have been warned that this course is dangerous."

"Is not the arrow a threat to those not drawing the bow? One can fear the weapon or use it to their advantage. Already, the children of Aten have proven their power. We have seen them create the forms of the gods from mere men."

"Yes, but can they be trusted?"

"It is not our place to question the whims of the gods, only to serve."

There was a growl of displeasure, and Hamakto crept into the room, needing to confirm with his eyes what his ears already told him. There standing in conference with Faihoruko was Pharaoh, standing close to a braiser where a small fire shined.

"Do not patronize me, priest. You serve whatever interest brings coin to your coffers, whether it be mine, the gods, or your own. For that alone, I should send you adrift on the Nile as an offering to Amut."

To his credit, the high priest did not cower at nor deny the accusation. He simply walked to a nearby table and started to prepare a concoction that Hamakto could not see, and continued the conversation with his back to Orakusakmet as if his life had not just been threatened. "Pharaoh is wise with eyes that see all. However I am not a threat to thy power. What better way to display the magnitude of thy greatness than to gain dominion over Aten's children. With this brew, they will be at your command." He turned to face Pharaoh again, a fluted vessel in one hand and a brass goblet in the other. "But if your grace is unwilling, I will be more than happy to become thy emissary." Hamakto could practically feel the slither of the priest's blatant manipulation and it elicited a shutter that traveled down his neck and back.

Pharoah Orakusakmet paused only briefly to consider the ramifications before grabbing the goblet and holding it out straight armed to the priest. "I agreed to leave my guards outside the temple and meet you alone but do not be fooled. Should anything befall me they know to whom I have gone to see this night. Now, if you still remain brave enough, pour."

Only the barest of grimaces creased the conniving brow, before bowing in supplication but with both arms still raised above his head, pouring a thick glowing mixture into the king's cup. "May the might of Pharaoh overcome all."

Hamakto's heart froze in fear, he knew that bluish-green liquid, that pulsating glow as well as the back of his own hand. This could not be happening. He had warned the king. He already ruled Egypt, but from what he could understand of their conversation it appeared that he also sought dominion over the gods. Could one person's lust for power be so great? Looking at the grim determined set of the ruler's face he saw the answer. He could not let this happen. He must save Orakusakmet from himself.

There was little time to act as a second hand came up to cradle the cup and pull it towards parted lip. A form leapt from the shadows and a small clay object was hurled with precision. The cup was ripped from noble hands and it contents splashed towards the shocked priest. The little lamp shattered on the nearby fire, the oil within causing it to roar to life and flames licked at an unprotected face. The sound of feet pounding on stones as they retreated from the temple was punctuated by the dual screams they left in their wake.