Atem sighed as he entered his bedchamber after what had been a long and arduous day at court. For the better part of the evening, he'd been forced to mediate a truly frivolous dispute between two landowners — one of whom insisted that the other had been encroaching on the property line of his farm by inches for the last six months. On any other day, Atem might have dismissed them both without another thought, but in truth, he was glad for the distraction from the larger issues at hand — most notably, the culling of his father's Shrine, and, of course, the ever-looming search to unlock the secrets of the Great Pyramids.
Every other governing issue seemed miniscule compared to this pursuit — the one his father had given his very life to preserve. Though the directive to secure the Holy Ka had been handed down by the very gods themselves, Atem felt utterly lost about where to turn next. He'd considered many times returning to the chamber beneath Kul Elna to ask the gods for guidance, but his heart always felt heavy at the thought. Would he be brave enough to stand in the shadow of his father's sins — and strong enough to resist the temptation to repeat them?
With another deep exhale, Atem crossed the room to his table and sank down into the chair before it, looking down at the nearly-complete puzzle on the surface. Whenever he found himself plagued with troublesome thoughts, fiddling with the pieces and mechanisms always seemed to settle his mind a bit. He knew he was close to solving it, but the object's purpose was still a mystery to him. He'd managed to piece together all eight of the hexagonal blocks into a single, cylindrical tower, with each block spinning freely along a vertical axis running through it. Atem noticed that the hexagons each turned in precise intervals, and they could be aligned so that their sides were flush together all the way down. This led him to wonder if perhaps it was meant to be some kind of timekeeping device or stylized abacus; however, each outward-facing plane was completely blank, leaving him utterly bewildered as to what the device might measure or count.
Lost in his musings, Atem almost didn't notice a presence entering the chamber across from him. He turned, delighted to see Satiah standing just inside the door. The first thing he noticed was the way the sunsetting light flickered off the crown of her head, and as he looked closer, he realized she was wearing the headdress he'd given her on their wedding night. His heart warmed with pride as he traced his eyes along the threads of gold framing her smiling face. In that moment, she looked truly like a queen — her authority and grace magnified by the glowing, golden halo.
"What's this?" she lilted. "The Pharaoh in his bedchamber — doing something other than sleeping?"
Atem broke his gaze away from the headdress and cracked a smirk. "The Pharaoh ends the day when he wants to."
Satiah laughed wryly, meandering closer to him. As she did, Atem noticed she was carrying a large scroll beneath her arm. "Does that mean you've been trying to avoid me all these weeks?" She stopped before him and clicked her tongue. "I'm not sure how to feel about that."
Atem bit his lip to hide his growing smile. He knew better than to challenge Satiah to a banter of wits. "Well, you could always use your power as Queen to … overrule me." He began reaching his hand toward her waist, but Satiah grabbed the scroll from under her arm and slapped it into his open palm.
"If you insist," she said. "I'm afraid your day isn't quite done yet."
Atem took the document and gave her a questioning look.
"A scroll from Memphis," she answered, "courtesy of my father."
A flicker of anxiety returned to his stomach. "What does it say?"
"He didn't tell me," she said. "Come. Let's read it together."
With that, she reached across the table and pushed aside the puzzle, creating a void just barely large enough to fit the enormous scroll. She held one side while Atem unrolled the other, and they anchored it down to the surface of the table with various heavy objects. Sitting back, Atem traced his eyes all along the weathered surface of the papyrus. He caught sight of several emphasized words and phrases, chief among them being the cartouches of Ramesses and Amenhotep, but he also spied Khufu's name among the faded glyphs. As with the previous scroll, there were also images painted in among the symbols — small scenes of pharaonic figures sitting upon their thrones or invoking magic. But very clearly drawn across the top of the page, rising up out of a thrashing desert, were sprawling paintings of the three Great Pyramids.
After finding the first line of text and lowering his finger to it, Atem cleared his throat and read aloud:
"'For five long years, the Kingdom of Egypt suffered the tyranny of Amenhotep. Darkness reigned, with devil ka roaming the lands and plagues descending from the sky. But in the north, light would soon gather. Ramesses — born of the Nile's wild delta, cradled in the bosom of her plains, and nursed from her waters — rises up as challenger to Amenhotep's heresy.
'Together with the warlords of the north, Ramesses marched upon Thebes, winning battle after battle and taking back land in the name of the Order of Light. At the battle of Kul Elna, Ramesses slew the servant priests of Amenhotep, claiming for his spoils the legendary Tome of Coming Forth By Day.
'In treating with his holy patrons, Ramesses came to know of the defiling of the great Tome, whereby words of darkness were immortalized alongside the grace of Light. When first Ramesses tried to destroy the Tome, the King of Darkness struck back — and in a single night, ninety-nine of Ramesses' strongest priests were taken in their sleep by a ravenous fever.'"
Atem paused and let slip a long sigh.
"Horrible," Satiah agreed. She reclined against the armrest of his chair and laid a hand on his shoulder, urging him to continue.
"'Crippled and fearful, Ramesses retreated to the safety of his homeland. For two seasons, the warlords of the north kept the heretic king at bay while Ramesses rallied from his losses. Knowing he would stand no chance against his foe without divine intervention, Ramesses resigned himself to the deep wisdom contained within the Tome. There, he found the blessed words needed to unleash the ka of the three Holy Gods, bequeathed long ago by the Order of Light to Khufu and his lineage.
'Khufu the Father was gifted with the ka of Ra, whose fiery Blaze spreads truth and grace across the lands of Egypt.
'Khafra the Son was then graced by the virtue and wisdom of Osiris' ka, whose Thunder cleaves the heavens above.
'As the last of this line, Menkaura the Grandson was blessed with the ka of Horus, whose mighty Hand judges evil and delivers righteous justice.'"
Satiah reached out and traced her fingers along the names of the Pharaohs and their patrons. "Three Holy Gods…" she whispered. "Just as Ma'at told us."
Atem nodded, though his eyes had long since floated back up to the words naming the Millennium Tome. After another clear of his throat, he read on: "'With reverence, Ramesses descended into the tomb of Menkaura to beg the grace of Horus. After a great trial beneath the pyramid, he conquered the mighty Ka and emerged as Chosen Sovereign — the blood of a new royal dynasty. Ramesses rallied his armies and descended upon Thebes, where he slew the heretic and took up his throne as Egypt's new and rightful God-King.'"
Atem paused, drawing his hand up under his chin in thought.
"So this confirms it," Satiah said. "The Holy Ka are sealed beneath the pyramids. But how do we seek an audience with them?"
Atem shook his head and continued: "'With his first act as king, Ramesses sought to purge the heresy of Amenhotep from the land. He executed the heretic priests of darkness, destroyed all written records of their spells, and forever forbade the teaching of such magic. And though he could not truly rid the world of the tainted Tome, he would soon offer it back to the protection of his patrons, swearing never to let its words touch the tongue of another except through the blessing of the Gods of Light.'"
Atem sat back and sighed deeply as the last sentence of the scroll left his tongue. His thoughts wheeled like stars, trying to find meaning amongst this immense, harrowing legend.
Suddenly, Satiah stretched her arm out toward the last column of text. "What's this?" Her fingers circled around a drawing toward the bottom of the page — a painting of Ramesses, holding a strange, cylindrical object against his breast.
Atem furrowed his brows and leaned back over the scroll, squinting closer at the small painting. Satiah followed, until her nose was almost touching his as they sought to decipher the image.
"Is that—?" Satiah drew back sharply, her eyes snapping over her shoulder. "Is that what I think it is?"
Atem's eyes went wide as he followed her gaze, directly to the puzzle that lay on the other end of the table. Swiftly, Satiah reached out and grabbed it, holding it over the drawing on the scroll.
"Gods," she whispered. "It's nearly identical!"
Atem could feel his heart begin to thrum, but he couldn't tell if it was excitement or anxiety which clawed at his chest.
"But… What is it?" Satiah went on, turning the puzzle over in her hands.
Atem shook his head again. "I don't know," he admitted. "I never did finish it."
Satiah hummed her curiosity. "It looks complete to me," she said. "You're sure there are no other pieces left?"
Atem nodded, pulling the ceramic box forward and removing the cover to reveal its empty interior. "Though—" he put the box down and folded his hands over hers, tilting the puzzle up on one end. "There does appear to be a void where a piece should fit." He pointed to the very top of the object, where a small rectangular slot took shape between the bronze pieces, barely visible even in the bright midmorning light.
Satiah tilted her head in thought, then turned her attention back to the puzzle. Meanwhile, Atem lowered his gaze to the box again, his eyes drawn to the glyphs etched on the surface. The words formed nothing particularly revealing — just a random collection of Ramesses' various titles and epithets, all surrounding his cartouche in the center of the cover.
Then, with a gasp, Satiah pointed at the painting again.
Atem looked at the scroll, peering over her finger to see Ramesses' cartouche drawn just above the image of the puzzle.
It hit Atem like a collapsing dune — he snapped his eyes back to the surface of the box, where he ran his fingers along the curved edges of the nameplate in its center. As he reached the spot where the tangent line met the bottom curve of the cartouche, he saw that part of the ceramic had been chipped away from the etching. But as he looked closer, it seemed less like the etching had been carved from the ceramic and more like it had been laid into it. He slipped his little finger into the chipped void, and his heart suddenly lurched to life as the etching popped out of alignment.
Hurriedly, Satiah dropped the puzzle to hold the edge of the cover instead, angling it toward the light. Meanwhile, Atem pushed his finger deeper, causing the cartouche etching to lift further away from the ceramic. Carefully, using just the pads of his fingers, he continued to work the etching free, until it completely separated from the ceramic, leaving just the delicate shape of Ramesses' cartouche in his hands.
Atem felt his breath holding tight in his throat as he cradled the cool ceramic. It wasn't big — perhaps two inches tall by an inch wide. But as he weighed the object in his hand, a thought suddenly struck him: the etching, when held sideways, was almost the exact size of the void in the top of the puzzle. He glanced at Satiah, and the look in her eyes told him she'd already had the same thought. She took up the puzzle and held it end-side up, allowing Atem to angle the etching into the slot in the top. Carefully, holding it by the straight side, he slid it into place, hearing a small but noticeable click as it stopped perfectly flush with the top of the puzzle.
Light suddenly engulfed their bedchamber, and Atem flinched back, letting the puzzle slip out of his grasp and clatter loudly to the table. He surged out of his chair and caught Satiah in his arms, wheeling around to put his body between her and the scintillating puzzle. With his head craned over his shoulder, he squinted as the light slowly subsided, leaving just a warm and distinctly magical glow around the object.
Slowly, Atem slackened his grip on Satiah, allowing them both to turn toward the table. But they both winced again as a loud voice suddenly cracked across the chamber — warm and regal, almost godly:
"Atem, son of Aknamkanon — god-king chosen by the Order of Light, and flesh of my flesh. I, Pharaoh Ramesses the Second, speak to you from across the plains of time to deliver news most urgent — and grave.
"If you are hearing this, you have been deemed worthy to inherit the gods' divine knowledge. When once such words were entrusted to every Pharaoh, Amenhotep's heretical meddling forced the end of this honorable tradition. Upon my ascension, I forever forbade the teaching of the Holy Language across the land of Egypt, so that the sinister will of my predecessor would never be allowed to infect future generations. Instead, I forged this Codex — an object of my own design — by which only the Chosen Sovereign may interpret the words of our divine masters. Through your completion of this puzzle, and by virtue of your anointed blood, you have earned the right to the knowledge bound within the Tome of Coming Forth By Day.
"However, I must advise extreme caution when translating the spells therein. The pages have been tainted by the King of Darkness, and should you choose to wield his words with an unholy heart, you will bring untold suffering upon the soil of Egypt. Tread carefully, flesh of my flesh — may you walk only along the path of Light, and through your trials may you find the strength to resist the temptation of evil unleashed by our forebears."
The voice trailed off into a thin echo, and a moment later, the glow winnowed away along with it, leaving them in a deep and diverging silence.
Atem swept his eyes across the stunned faces of his advisors, their expressions of shock and contemplation showing stark in the light pouring from the great hall's windows. They'd just witnessed the Codex puzzle in action, and while the Guardians were not graced by the words of the Great King as he and Satiah had been, their awe over the artifact was no less apparent.
Along with the Millennium Tome and Metjen's scroll, the Codex now sat on the table between the group of them. The artifact was surrounded by a faint halo of golden light, which seemed to be emanating from inside the object itself. The light projected strange, scratchy symbols all around the artifact's otherwise blank rings — symbols which matched perfectly to the language inscribed within the Millennium Tome.
After Ramesses' voice had left them, Satiah and Atem had spent the better part of an hour deciding what to do next. Eventually, Atem convinced her to come with him beneath the palace, where the Millennium Tome had been protected under lock and key for nearly a decade. Carefully, he had opened the Tome to its first page, and Satiah, using the Codex, began mimicking the arrangement of the symbols within. Once she'd run out of space on the Codex, it flashed a bright light, replacing the foreign symbols with recognizable hieroglyphs spelling out a single phrase: "The Gods of Light came forth by day."
Now, after Atem had finished demonstrating the artifact's power before his court, words still escaped them several moments later. Atem, too, could find nothing to say — his own mind still filled to the brim with the wondrous, terrifying words spoken to him by Ramesses.
Finally, Aknadin looked up from the Codex, but Atem was surprised to see the priest's eyes drawn first to Satiah.
"Where did you say you found this object?" he asked in a dark tone.
Satiah blinked, her posture stiffening. "In the Memphis bazaar," she said simply. "A traveling trader. He sold mostly worthless trinkets and silks from the north. There was nothing remarkable about him or his stock."
Karim made a low, disapproving noise. "He could have been a spy," the priest said. "This item may be hiding danger, my king. I advise we break it back down and have it thoroughly searched."
Atem flexed his jaw. "I'm afraid we don't have the luxury of such caution," he said. "We have no choice but to trust its authenticity for the time being. Even now, our enemies gather in the shadows—"
"Enemies?" Seto cut in, his face etched with skepticism. "You mean the cowardly thief Bakura? Your highness sent him scurrying back to his den, licking his wounds. Let us waste no more time on the cur."
"I would advise against such heedlessness, Guardian Seto," Mahad said. As always, his voice was measured and precise. "Bakura has proven time and again that he is not to be taken lightly."
Atem gave a firm nod of agreement.
"But what would you have us do, Pharaoh?" Atem looked to Isis, whose eyes were filled with peculiar unknowing.
Suddenly, Aknadin reached for the Codex. "It's obvious — we must begin translating the spells within—"
Atem surged forward and laid his hand over the artifact. "No," he said firmly. "I alone must be the one to shoulder this task."
Aknadin looked dismayed. "But, my king—"
"My father once entrusted his priests with this seminal work," Atem shot back, "to his own ruin." His fingers quivered as he held to the Codex. "I will not make the same mistake."
Even without looking, Atem could feel his wife's gaze searing into his head from where she stood beside him. He fought the urge to turn to her, instead continuing to scan the faces of his court.
"Our Pharaoh has spoken," Shimon finally said, and Atem was as glad as ever to have the wise vizier's support. "Let no man touch this artifact but our king — and our queen."
Finally, Atem swept his eyes to Satiah, surprised to see her looking not worried or angry, but determined. She took a step forward, her headdress flashing brightly as the evening sun crawled up her body.
"I have another topic for consideration, if it please the court," she said, her voice steady. Atem watched, fascinated, as she reached across the table and straightened the scroll given to her by her father. "This scroll could not be more clear — the Holy Ka are almost certainly entombed alongside their former masters at Giza. I propose that we make a voyage north, and garrison at Memphis while we prepare to infiltrate the pyramids — once the Pharaoh and I translate the spells needed to unlock them."
The court was again drawn to silence in the wake of Satiah's words.
Finally, Shimon cracked a small smile. "An astute plan, my queen," he said. "Memphis is well-positioned near the Giza plateau, and the holy city will surely offer many resources to aid in our efforts."
Again, the skeptical Seto stepped forward. "But we don't know how long this quest will take," he said. "Is it wise for the king to be away from the capital for so long?"
"A good Pharaoh is capable of ruling his kingdom from anywhere," Satiah retorted. Atem felt his heart glowing with confidence. "Should we expect our king to stay forever in his palace?"
Seto seemed to have nothing to say to this, though his eyes remained veiled and skeptical. Atem could see hesitance seeping from Aknadin as well, perhaps because it had once been his own duty to rule over Memphis and its surrounding nome. Atem spoke quickly to quell his advisors' reservations. "It's settled then," he said. "Karim, send a message to the Memphis Conclave to expect a visit from their king." Atem turned again to face his wife, finding her face alight with a proud smile. "We will leave in two weeks' time."