Andrew Schafer - The Secret Journal

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Egypt, deep under the sand

L ight entering through a small fracture in the wall cast a single beam upon the stone slab where his head had rested through time. Tiny particles moved densely within the beam, swirling through it, weightless as if the laws of gravity held no command inside the shaft of light.

Apep gasped, coughed violently, and then gagged on the heavy air thick with dust. The blanket of sediment put into motion by the sudden lurching of his shaky hands trembled around him. Yanked from a violent nightmare, he blinked in confusion, squinting hard to see through the surrounding cloud of dirt. He tried wiggling his toes. He could feel them, and they seemed to respond, a good indication that he was alive and functioning. How long have I slept? he wondered, realizing it must have been a long time too long, in fact, but there was no way he could have known that he had slept through millennia.

How did I get here?

He carefully rolled himself onto his side and pulled himself into a sitting position. The stone slab felt cold and hard against his bare blue-grey skin. He surveyed the small chamber as he stretched his neck from one side to the other. Could this light be the catalyst that woke me?

Slowly, memories began to spark in his mind like the brief flashes of two flint stones striking in the dark. He was imprisoned on this world, cast into this eternal sleep by the six sages at the order of the pharaoh. How much time had been snatched away as he slept? Oh their audacity! Humans, he croaked, tasting the word on his dust-covered tongue. They called themselves sages! Sages only by a power he brought to this world. Sages only by the power of the Sentheye. They dared use it against him!

The memories came in a prodigious flood; anger exploded inside him like a sick virus, wrong and unholy, deep in his chest. The feeling materialized into something physical, twisting his guts and blinding his mind. Oh, how he had been wronged. Bile surged up his throat, stinging the back of his tongue as he fought the urge to vomit.

He eased himself off the slab and collapsed to his knees, his legs unable to hold his weight. He turned his wrath inward, allowing it to pool and consume every drop of his being. Using his hate as fuel, he willed his legs upward until he stood, legs quavering. This would never happen again. Never would he allow himself to be brought to his knees again.

Apep rolled his bony fingers inwards, clenching them into tight fists. My own father. My own flesh and blood stealing the crown from underneath me. Robbing me of my future. And why? Why? To give it to my undeserving brother. His stomach lurched. Syldan,my own brother, if only Id been successful when I tried to kill you in your sleep.

But he had not been successful in killing his brother, and his failure had cost him greatly. Not only had he been publicly denounced from his family, but the attempt on his brothers life had cost him banishment from the kingdom. So they thought!

His plan had been brilliant simple. Come to this world, create an army, return to Karelia, and overthrow his father. Take back what is his! But it had gone so terribly wrong. Humans! Humans had ruined his plans. He spat thick into the sand at his feet. This was of no matter now. These were simple mistakes of a time long past. He was awake, and no amount of time had softened his hunger for his birthright, his hate for his family, or his desire for revenge. This world once made the perfect place to build an army outside the watchful eye of his father, and it would do so again.

No matter how long it takes, I will find a way. As sure as the silt-laden air I breathe, the day will come when all inhabitants of Karelia will fall to their knees and worship me not only as their king, but as their god!

Despite the protesting cracks and pops of dormant cartilage and bone, Apep stretched his arms wide and smiled. This is what it must be like when a sleeping god wakes. To be resurrected. He felt close to the gods now, knowing they must share his vision. The gods must have wanted for him what he wanted for himself. In time, he would reap their reward and take his place among them, but first he had worlds to conquer. He looked again to the single ray of light. The gods had pulled him from darkness and set loose a creature of fury. A being of anger. The time had come for all to bow down before him and pay the debt owed.

Apep stepped forward. His legs trembled, but his words spilled forth, ringing with his absolute conviction. I am the wrath of the gods. If my enemies had not committed great sins against me, the gods would not have set a wrath like me upon them!

Apep strode toward the shaft of light. Muffled voices beyond the fractured wall penetrated the sandstone. The voices became louder as their excitement peaked. Stone chipped as the sound of swinging picks bit deeper into the wall with each swing. Scraping stone, shovels sliding through sand, the last stone fell away, and a broader shaft of light poured into the room.

Apep smiled. It was time to begin.