Time Shifted Shadow (3rd Draft)

I was an ordinary Egyptian boy. That is until my father sent me back in time. Well, my body wasn’t sent back in time, my mind was shifted back in time. It was for the “glory of Egypt” Father always said.

My father was never a psychopath. Brilliant. And dedicated. But not crazy. He was the founder of the secret group of scientists known as the Egyptian Shift who without help from anyone created a time machine.

Father taught me everything. And then tested me. Test after test to make sure that I was ready. To make sure that I was the one to change the past. Apparently I passed because just yesterday Father brought me to the Egyptian Shift. They examined me again. Hooked me up to the time machine. And sent me back into the past. Into the mind of the young prince Tuthankhamen.

All for the “glory of Egypt.”

That’s what Father wanted. A new glorious and powerful Egyptian empire to rule the world. Me? I wanted a challenge.

Father’s tests were simple. I began giving myself disabilities while taking his tests. For test number five I deliberately poured soap in my left eye so I couldn’t use it in reading and answering the questions about King Tut’s history. I tied my hands behind my back in test eleven; personal combat. I spun in circles until my stomach retched and the ceiling danced on the floor in test nine to make my senses dull in trying to catch someone lying. That was a challenge.

To me this was just another test. Another challenge. One that I soon found out that I would not need to cripple myself to make it exhilarating. One that nearly took my life already. Twice.

“May Aten, our God, our sun in the sky, be with you as you shift the history of Egypt.” Father said, after connecting the machine to my head.

My stomach turned. The lights in the room flickered to a dim glow. The four supercomputers surrounding me began a low hum as thousands of lights and numbers shot across each of their screens. Diagrams on the monitors began to swirl. The headpiece began to vibrate.

“Goodbye Father,” I coughed and spit bile off to the side.

The humming began to pulse louder and louder. The lights blinking dimmer and dimmer.

“Aten is your father now!” father said with tears fully streaming down his eyes. “Make Him proud.”

My head pulsed with a headache. It felt as though my brain was being compressed on all sides by a ton of bricks. The room began to sway back and forth, until it began swirling around me while I began swirling around the room. The humming went up and down. My headache pulsed with it.

I felt a deep drum, shaking whole body. I wrapped my arms around my stomach. It didn’t help. The humming suddenly intensified becoming the only audible noise. I closed my eyes, hoping that it would all stop. But it didn’t.

For the first time in a long time I was scared.

The other men didn’t matter anymore. The fact that I was homeschooled by Father, didn’t matter anymore. Father’s tests didn’t matter anymore. None of them prepared me for this headache. I was terrified of this headpiece. Of the humming. Of the…

A sharp stab of pain erupted first at my heart. My body jolted with the energy that was surged through my body from the wires connected to the machine. I screamed in pain, but my mouth didn’t move. My body jolted again, followed by another wave a shearing pain coming from my spine.

I felt the cold floor on my face for a moment. It felt as though a sharp pain stabbed my heart and ripped it out of my chest. Another stabbed my shoulders and yanked my whole being. My spine buckled under another explosive fire of pain. I screamed again, but no audible noise was heard.

Despite my eyes being closed, a large bright light flooded my vision, instantly blinding me. The buzzing noise left me with an echo of fear in my mind. The pain finally subsided from my body.

Fear gripped me.

All I could sense was this blinding light that enveloped my entire being. It seemed to keep me warm at the same time keeping me cold. I could hear the light. It made a noise; one that I cannot explain. But at the same time I heard absolutely nothing.

I must be dead. There’s no other explanation. I thought. And, yet, I’m thinking. Can I be dead and still think? Or am I still alive?

In a way I could not believe that it was here. The day that all my tests had prepared me for, or rather the day my tests were supposed to prepare me for.

I seemed to be in this state of existing non-existence for hours, or years, or decades, or seconds. I remained engulfed by this bright whiteness. At some points I felt as though I was spinning, or swirling in circles. Other instances I was sure that I have never before been so still in my life.

After what felt like an eternity, the light began to subside and allow darkness to seep in. Swirling mists of darkness began to make patterns across my vision. Lines. Forms. Shadows. Something moved. I’m alive after all.

Darkness continued to flood my vision from the outside world. My eyes felt blinded by the darkness, or rather shocked. Shapes began to take form in front of me. I saw a wall. A table next to the wall. There were some pillars off to the right. There was a man who stood up from a seat next to the table on the wall.

He was wearing a white cloth, like a towel about his waist. His chest was bare. He had wide wristbands of a shiny gold color. He wore sandals with laces that wrapped around his entire leg up to the knee. He had dark hair and dark eyes that seemed to be outlined in black. His skin was a darker brown than that of my own and of Father.

His mouth moved. He was talking, but I couldn’t hear. Panicking, I tried to move but couldn’t. I felt trapped. Unable.

A high-pitched buzz seemed to come out of nowhere. My eardrums popped. I wanted to clasp my hands over my ears to stop the humming, but nothing happened. The man seemed unaffected by the loudness of this humming. It was the same humming that I heard before the light enveloped me being tethered to all those computers. The hum started high, then slowly faded out of the room, like a wave of the sea receding back into the ocean.

The man continued to walk towards me. I heard him mumble something. It wasn’t English, it was ancient Egyptian. But his accent was thicker than that of my father’s or even the men of the Egyptian Shift. I heard another voice, much more distinct and clear, possibly because I felt it more than I heard it;

“Thank you, my servant Funsani. I am well.” Thanks to test number one, I understood this authentic-sounding Egyptian perfectly.

“Good, my lord, my pharaoh, my god. I feared that I had failed to protect your leg.” he was bowing towards me.

Was he talking to me? I thought. I’m not pharaoh.

I managed to glance down to see my legs. One was bandaged in a clean white cloth embroidered with a gold pattern. I too had a white cloth wrapped around my waist.

“My leg feels better.” Once again it was the voice that I felt more than heard. My bandaged leg moved upwards as if it were lifted by some invisible string. I did nothing, but it moved. I felt it move. The muscles pulling it upwards, the slight breeze of the air around it. It was my leg, but I didn’t move it.

I noticed how my bare feet seemed different. My right foot never bent outwards that much. My toes, even, were smaller than I had remembered. This was strange.

The man bowed low to the ground, so low that his nose almost touched the stone floor. The man then quickly scurried out of the room through the low doorway to the right. My eyes were finally focused enough to see the two torches along the wall to the left. There were several hieroglyphs lining the walls here and there. Some looked unfinished, but all were dark and colorful. There was no faded symbol anywhere to be seen. Unlike test number two.

Father did it. They did it. I’m here in Ancient Egypt, during the reign of King Tutankhamen.

I felt a shiver run up my leg, followed by sharp pain above the knee. I looked down to see that I was standing now. How did this happen? I thought. I didn’t do anything. I was sitting just a moment before.

“Agh!” It was that voice again. My hands were now holding my leg. I could feel the bone under the skin. It didn’t feel right. It had swollen to an eerie purple color.

Cursed leg. Why must the gods punish me so, for what my father did.

I was confused. I heard those words, but I didn’t. I mean, my ears didn’t hear them. They echoed around in my mind. But they weren’t my thoughts. What is this? What’s going on? I thought.

“Who is there?” the voice was once again audible, but vibrated from my mouth. My body tensed and rose to a full standing height. My hands were brought up to my hips. Once again, I had done nothing.

Then it dawned on me. My father did explain that the machine was incapable of sending a human body back in time. Or rather that the body could not be sent back in time. The machine was designed for sending one’s memory, one’s mind, or some might call it one’s soul. The machine sent my essence into the past, but left my body. A shift from one body to another.

What I had not predicted was that my essence would be sent into a body that already had a consciousness inside. I had no clue it would feel like this. Then again, how could I have even tried to imagine what it would have been like to shift my soul into the past?

Two minds in one body. That’s what this was. I was now sharing someone else’s life, someone else’s body. This body isn’t mine. These thoughts aren’t mine.

“I, your pharaoh, demand that you answer me! Who is there?” my voice, no, it was his voice. I was inside the pharaoh’s body. King Tut’s body.

You will never see me, young Pharaoh. I formed the words, in Egyptian, as plainly as I could so that he could hear my thoughts. I acted on instinct more than anything else, perhaps Father’s tests had proven their worth. But now it was time to see if they were enough.

“What!? How dare you …”

Silence. You are in the presence of Aten, your lord, your god, the sun from the sky. Test number seven, polytheism. I knew that impersonating any of their gods would be important enough for even the Pharaoh to listen. Aten, the sun-disc God of King Akhenaten, Tuthankhamen’s father. And my father. The god of our fathers.

“God! Ha!” he laughed. Somehow he found this very amusing. My hand, or his hand, reached behind his back and unsheathed a scimitar. “I am pharaoh and I will not be mocked.”

Fool. You truly think that you can harm a god? I myself laughed in my mind. I let go of the scimitar. But nothing happened, my grip or his grip was too strong. Perhaps I have minimal control if any over his body.

“Fool? Guards!” His yell echoed through the hallway.

Good, this was a challenge. I mustered my thoughts and attempted to control my hand. I could feel, almost see, a tension coming from somewhere else holding on to the scimitar. Like a mental cord or tendon controlling the hand. My thoughts overpowered the tension cutting it and I dropped the scimitar. It clattered as it hit the ground.

Surprise erupted into my, no his being. He was astonished.

Like I said, young pharaoh. I am Aten, your lord, your god, the sun from the sky! I formed these words with a mixture of anger. Perhaps I can scare the young lad. I thought.

“Demon!” He yelled. “You are no god!”

Silence! I mustered my thoughts again and sought to control his mouth. I felt the tension and cut it as though it were a strand of thread.

“You are nothing compared to me.” I laughed through his mouth.

Fear enveloped me, but it was his fear. Our feelings must be intertwined inseparably. His body was shaking now. He knelt down on the ground.

Footsteps were echoing loudly now from the hallway. The guards would be here momentarily. I had to take control of the situation.

You are a demon! My thoughts echoed. It was his thoughts. Let go of me!

“I am no demon. I had to show you my power, young pharaoh. And yet, you still do not believe in me.” I whispered.

No god would ever possess a pharaoh. He was angry, but felt helpless. Despite his helplessness, I was surprised at how he had been able to quickly formulate words in his mind knowing that I would hear. Maybe King Tutankhamen was smarter than what Father and I had thought.

His left arm clenched in a fist and brought itself up to my chin. I did not have control over his whole body and he knew that. He punched himself and in consequence, me. It hurt. I felt the pain as if it were my own. It was my own. But his as well.

Angry, I forced my thoughts to his arm and severed the tension behind it. I thought about hitting back, but then realized the counter productivity of it. I could not yet separate my connection to his pain.

Another wave of fear crashed over me, from him. He had never felt so helpless in his life. He was pharaoh. He had everything that he ever wanted. Now he couldn’t even control his own body.

Four guards came running into the room, each had a scimitar in hand. Their faces were battle-hardened. One ran to examine the window and balcony. The others bowed their heads before me.

“My lord, my god, my pharaoh.” One of them said, but the others mouthed the same solemn words. “What would you have us do?”

I felt the young pharaoh struggle to yell something, but I forced my thoughts to block his. Nothing escaped my mouth. This may be much more difficult than I had imagined. Notwithstanding I was ready for this. Was born ready for this challenge. For this test of mine.

I forced my head to look up. I concentrated and brought my legs under my control to stand. I could feel the pain from his injured leg. But if I could feel it, then so could he.

“Nothing.” I urged my mouth to utter. “It was a bad a dream.”

I felt the hatred and anger seep through his feelings. He was battling me. I could feel him trying to find a way to gain control again of his body. I twitched under the strain. He gained control of my right leg. He caused me to buckle down to my knee.

The guards were surprised. They stepped forward to offer me help. I waved them off. I had to get rid of them.

“Go. I am fine.” I managed to say. I was breathing heavily. They would not believe me, but if their devotion to the pharaoh was as strong as the books said they were…

They backed away from me hesitantly. One turned and began to walk out the room. The others quickly followed. I sighed.

Maybe now I could convince the young pharaoh to see my way. I thought quietly to myself.

Suddenly a wave of thoughts crashed through mine.

“Halt! I’m being possessed by a demon!” I tried to clamp my mouth shut, but was too late. Tutankhamen was strong indeed. This test just got interesting.

I released my control of his body. I knew that anything I said would only add to the idea his body was possessed. Perhaps if I silently backed away King Tut might forget about the ordeal and allow me to persuade him. I was wrong.

A group of the most powerful priests of Egypt gathered around me, or us. They stood in a semicircle with their hands folded in front of them. Each one wore bright bracelets of gold and silver. Two had multiple necklaces. All of them wore brilliantly white robes with intricate designs etched into the fabric.

You know this will not work. I thought in Egyptian. I doubted my own assurance. I had no clue what would happen if the priests succeeded. Maybe I would shift back to my real body back in the future. Maybe I would cease to exist.

I shuddered in fear. This feeling must have seeped over.

Ha! Even you fear. I thought you said you were a god. He was laughing in his mind, and out loud actually. The priests around me stared at me strangely. He was adding to the image of his insanity.

I could feel him smirking. He thought he was in complete control. But he didn’t know from when I came. This was the only thing that I had on him now.

“My lord, my pharaoh.” One of the priests took a step forward. He held himself with much more pride than the others. He must be the head priest, Ay. Test three; memorizing the names of important Egyptians.

He was an older man. He had a couple of wrinkles on his dark forehead. His thick eyebrows dwarfed the pupils under them. He was adorned with dozens of gold necklaces and arm bracelets. Overall he seemed to fit the picture of a bureaucratic priest.

“Do we have your permission to expel this demon?” he asked.

This was not a good idea. Thanks to test five, I quickly remembered all of the lectures and stories I memorized about King Tut. Every single story included or alluded to the fact that the young pharaoh’s advisor, Ay, was the cause of his death. Ay did in fact take Tutankhamen’s throne after the young pharaoh died; at least in the history according to my century.

Suspicious. He might have been waiting for a moment like this to end Tut’s life and blame it on something else. A demon, in this case. There wouldn’t be a better time to act than now. For both of us.

I forced my thoughts once again on the young pharaoh. I had to take control now, or possibly let the young boy, and myself die. I found the tension tied to his mouth and I forced all my thoughts to cut it.

“No. Not until you tell me how you murdered Pharaoh Akhenaten, my father.” I smirked inside. This would get their attention, especially the young pharaoh’s.

Ay flinched. I caught him off his guard. I could see his mind was desperately trying to find an answer. He was preparing to lie. Humans must have always had the same feelings towards lying, even thousands of years later or earlier.

I could feel Tutankhamen’s astonishment seep through. Even the priests were surprised at such a bold accusation, but if I was going to change the world I had to be bold. At the very least I needed to gain Tutankhamen's trust. Besides, this was the best way to take on a difficult challenge, head on.

“Nonsense. Your father died of natural causes.” Ay’s voice was firm and undeterred. He was good at lying. But I was able to clearly see the minor shift in his body weight, and the slight flutter in his left eye thanks to test nine. Actually thanks to my self-inflicted delirium during test nine. “I was by his side, helping him through his sickness.”

“Which sickness?” I asked.

“He too was possessed by a demon.” A dark shadow swept over his face. He was frowning. Compared to my test several years ago, this was easy. I knew he was lying, but I wasn’t sure if Tut knew.

Silence ensued for several minutes. Even Tutankhamen was silent and didn’t attempt to regain control.

“And he died under your care.” I wondered if sarcasm was also common in these Egyptian times as it was in the 21st century. “Am I to die under your hand too?”

I could sense how this conversation must have Ay wriggling inside himself. He must be used to getting his way. But now, I was in control.

“I did what I could, my lord, my pharaoh. Your father rejected most of my help, believing that his one true god, Aten, would cure him.”

I gathered my thoughts again and took control of my legs. I stood up and limped two steps towards Ay until our faces were inches apart. I stared blankly into his eyes. He gazed back into mine.

“Did you murder my father?” I said under my breath. I knew that this would be the moment of truth. Tutankhamen needs to know, and what better way than to have the one responsible confess?

He gazed back into my eyes. I could see his pupils dilate. He was scared, but confident. I was sure that he would not confess in front of so many colleagues, but…

No! What are you doing? The young pharaoh’s thoughts exploded into my mind. He was struggling to regain control. I couldn’t let that happen, not now.

He tried to control my mouth, but I blocked him with a barrier of my own thoughts. Thoughts about physics, mathematics, and history. I had to keep my concentration in order to make it difficult or impossible for the pharaoh to sever through my control.

I now could sense his essence flowing through my body, and the only thing keeping him from controlling it was my essence.

He shifted towards the legs and the arms. I quickly guarded those with my thoughts as well. Chemistry, biology, astronomy. We struggled back and forth. The only reason why I kept control of my body was that I had studied more than he did and therefore I knew how my mind worked. I knew how my thoughts were processed, evaluated, and recorded. I had a wider expanse of available ideas and I used them to block his.

“No.” Ay’s countenance had changed. He took a step back and placed his right hand upon my head. “He is possessed by a demon!” My face must have become slightly distorted due to our mental battle. “That was not our pharaoh speaking but the demon inside him!”

Panic ensued. Some of the priests were terrified. One even ran out of the room.

“Hurry, let us cure the Pharaoh!”

“By the power of the gods!”

“Rid him of this evil!”

The room broke out into a strange array of chaos. Priests began chanting to their respective gods. Raw, Amun, Hotep, Anubis, and many others that I do not recall. Several different sticks of incense were lit, filling the air with a musky, dry, and dead scent.

“No! Stop at once!” I yelled at the top of my lungs. The priests ignored me. I panicked. I had complete control of the situation, and it all slipped away in the blink of an eye.

The whole scene was disorienting. The motion, the smells, the chanting. My body was in shock. I could feel my nostrils begin to burn on the inside. My ears stung with a sharp pain. My mouth quickly became dry.

I could see now why exorcism could possibly work. All of their methods combined were causing me to shake. Not my body, though it probably was. My essence felt weak. My thoughts began to wander.

I was home. Father was setting up another test in the back room. One that would prepare me for my destiny. For the day that I would fulfil my destiny. I could smell the fresh paint on the walls. I felt the slight breeze from the air conditioning. I was ready.

No. I thought, pulling my mind back. The day of my destiny is here and now!

I was kneeling on the ground, with my head cradled in my hands. I was breathing quickly. Or perhaps it was King Tut.

The chanting grew faster. I heard them mention things such as birds and light versus bats and darkness. The light in the room swiftly dissipated. The shadows of the priests grew until they surrounded me in darkness. I felt cold.

The cold white tile on the ground was pressing against my face. Something was pulling at my head. It was the headpiece I had on earlier Somehow I had managed to put it on.

I heard voices. They were speaking in Egyptian, not the ancient Egyptian of King Tut and the priests, but the Egyptian that Father spoke in. I recognized it, but I didn’t understand a word they said. It was as if they were mumbling, or perhaps my ears were muffled. I couldn’t feel my arms. I was afraid.

Just then I felt the tension I had on my mouth dissipate. In a blink I was back on the floor of the pharaoh’s chamber surrounded by chanting priests.

“In the name of Amun, I pharaoh Tutankhamen command thee to stop.” King Tut had severed the control of my mouth with ease. “Priests of the gods of Egypt, be still!”

To my surprise they stopped. All of them. Though, their incessant chanting echoed in my mind.

The priests turned around to look at me. Their faces were dreary and skeptical. I couldn’t tell if they believed King Tut or not.

I was fearful now. The young pharaoh was in control. Anything I said or did would be ignored or be a cause to further their rampage against the demon inside pharaoh’s body. Somehow, I knew that there would be nowhere for my mind to go had the priests continued. Nothingness. A white abyss, perhaps.

“I am myself.” The young pharaoh said. He, or I, was shaking.

I felt helpless. I felt my demise was imminent. My existence now laid in the hands of this young pharaoh.

I could feel Father’s disappointed glare envelope me once again. The disappointment that came when I failed a test, which only happened twice. But this time, it wasn’t a test. Guilt swept over me. I had let Father down. His vision. His goal in life. The only reason why he did what he did was now failing. I had the chance to change Egypt forever. I had the chance to make his vision a reality. I had a chance to make Father proud for the first time. Never had I seen him smile. Never had I lived up to his expectations. He was always disappointed in me. He was always hoping that I would have excelled at his tests. He wanted me to be better than he was.

I was failing him. I had to make it a challenge for sport, instead of focusing on how to change the past. Instead of winning King Tut’s trust I had to go and challenge his authority and control.

“I, pharaoh Tutankhamen, oppose with all my might against this demon as I have opposed the belief in one god established by my father.” He paused, “I too believe that my father was possessed.”

Is he talking to me? I thought, because I was sure that these priests probably knew this already.

“But.” He paused. The priests were now eagerly waiting to hear the finished statement. I too could not bear the suspense.

“But,” He continued, “I do desire to know how my father died. We all know that you, Ay, have been most adamant against Akhenaten’s beliefs. Your worship was abolished under his rule. You must have felt grief, fear, and anger. Your worship was and still is your life.”

I was astonished. Somehow I convinced Tutankhamen that Ay really did kill his father. Or at least that Ay might have had a hand in his father’s death.

Tutankhamen struggled to stand, on my shaking limbs and broken leg. Yet he began to limp towards Ay. I could feel the tension on the young pharaoh’s face. He was frowning. “You out of all of the priests have the biggest reason to hate my father. To loathe his vision. To deter him away from his god, Aten.

“You became the vizier of Egypt after my father’s death and before I was mature enough to take the throne myself.” He paused. I could feel a sense of accomplishment crash into my feelings. “The demon may be right.”

“Nonsense, my pharaoh. Demons never tell the truth, they are children of lies.” Ay was defensive. I could sense a hint of fear in the tone of his voice.

“Does being a demon automatically make all his words lies?” He questioned. “Even some of our gods have told us lies, but do we condemn them for it? No. Solely because he is a demon does not infer that only lies have escaped his mouth.”

“The demon has poisoned your mind, my pharaoh.” He took a step backwards. Fear was obviously upon his face now. At least to me it was obvious. “He has pitted you against me, your advisor, your servant, your priest.”

“Save your excuses, Ay.” The young pharaoh paused. He blinked and then twitched his neck. “If you tell us how you killed my father I will let you live.”

The look on Ay’s face grew dark as death. “And what is to become of me if I tell you I did not kill your father?”

“We have all witnessed your lies, Ay. You cannot deceive us any longer.”

He stood there motionless. I saw what I had felt years ago when Father caught me lying for the first time. Guilt. Ay was trapped. He had nowhere to go except the truth.

“Poison.” He said after a minute. “His drink, I poisoned it in order to stop his maniacal control of worship. The people cannot handle worshiping a single god.” he kept his gaze focused on the young pharaoh. “I did it for the better of Egypt.”

The pharaoh smiled. So did I. Somehow I had gained at least a little bit of the pharaoh’s trust. And in turn I began to trust him.

The pharaoh turned around slowly and began to limp towards the bench.

“Take him away, to the Nile, and kill him.”

“What?! My lord, my pharaoh. You promised me my life. You cannot …”

He turned quickly to face the priest again. “I was possessed by the demon while saying that promise. As you yourself have said, demons lie.”

Astonished. I was astonished. Never had I thought that this young man was so brilliant. I despised reading about him when I was a boy. I thought he was a boring young man controlled by those around him. Then I knew only stories, theories and history. Now I admired him, moreso than my father admired him. I knew then why The Egyptian Shift had chosen him to be the vessel for change in Egypt. He can. He has the power to do so, the background to force change if needed, and the brilliance to keep the change active here in Egypt.

I might still be able to fulfill Father’s vision. I thought, smiling. Hope embraced me.

After the guards, dragging Ay, had left down the hall, King Tut turned to his priests. He smiled. I smiled.

“Continue.”

No! I screamed with my thoughts.

The chanting resumed. They started to move their arms and bodies in wavy contortions. Fluid and sharp motions attracted my gaze. The separate chanting began to mix and blend together forming a single fluid wave of sound. Up and down. Up and down. Left and right. Up and down.

Stop them! I yelled in my mind. Stop! I could feel my thoughts being pulled away from me. Again.

What was a consciousness anyway? The mind did what it was meant to. It creates, reads, sends, and interprets chemical signals from one nerve to another. But the consciousness is what drives the brain. It’s what makes use of the mind and its vast stores of memory. It’s what makes the mind important. Without it, the mind would have nowhere to think and no reason to send thoughts. The mind would be useless. Unimportant. Expendable. Yet without the mind the consciousness would be unable to control the body. Unable to formulate its feelings and emotions. Unable to do anything productive.

Ha! God, indeed. I heard it. Somewhere it spoke to me. No, it was a thought. A memory. You have no true power. You are not even a spirit. I recognized that thought. I knew it, once. I am god. I am pharaoh.

I was on the ground. Sitting. My legs were crossed. My hands were clasped together neatly. There was chanting and stomping circling around me; no, spiraling around me. The incense mixture was strong, bringing water to my eyes, no, his eyes.

Tell me why I shouldn’t banish you this instant, demon? It was the young pharaoh’s thoughts.

I felt fear. I wasn’t sure if it was his or mine.

I saved you. I thought.

You did nothing of the sort. Hate permeated from the thoughts. Like heat. Then cold. It was cold. There was a slight breeze with several snowflakes floating in the wind. It was white. Everything around me was white.

No. I mumbled in my mind. Ay killed you.

My thoughts were swimming. They followed the spiral of chanting and incense. I was swaying to and fro. But my body stayed motionless. No, his body.

I am still alive, you fool. It is you who will not be. I felt him smile. He was in control. He was pharaoh, he had to be in control.

Father was in control. He always had to be. But he knew what was right. He knew what was good for me. That’s why he went to such great lengths to make sure my tests were perfect. Educational even. He had to. It was his way to remind himself he was in control. He had to be in control, ever since Mom left.

No, you’re the fool, I coughed. to believe me to be no more than a demon!

Ha! His laugh echoed in my mind. The deep echoes of the mountain ranges in …

I am not from this era, I tried to blink, attempting to muster my thoughts, but they were drifting through my hands like wisps of smoke. I come from a time that will come to pass. A time that even your great descendants will never see.

Silence. There was silence. Somehow I could no longer hear the chanting, though I knew it continued. I could see a darkness begin to creep into my vision. A darkness blacker than black, at the very edges of my peripheral. Just beyond comprehension.

I couldn’t believe it. I was failing. I vowed to never fail another test after my second failure. After test two. But here I was. The challenge was too much.

I have s-s-seen much that you cann-n-not comprehend. My mind was stuttering. Strange. I had no idea that my thoughts could stutter. M-m-machines, vehicles that fly, l-l-l-light without a flame, m-m-messages that fly through the air...

I never knew my mother. She left when I was two. Or at least that was what Father told me.

...speak of? The pharaoh’s thoughts silently came in mid sentence.

Your leg... I had to concentrate. I had to think. Think. ...has a d-d-disease called Malaria...

“Concentrate, Terem. You can do this, you can pass this test” It was Father. Another test. This was just another test. Test number six? Or was it number seven?

And? King Tut’s thoughts were soothing. Silent. Distant.

... I can cure your leg. Test number six. Memorize all known cures for malaria and other diseases. That was one of the easier tests. I had to force myself to also memorize the cures for ten other diseases to make it difficult to recall which cure was for which disease. ... I will b-b-bring you glory, knowledge, wisdom, …

Again silence. Though, I could feel the young pharaoh thinking. Strange. It was strange to think that one could feel thoughts. Feelings sometimes are more powerful than ideas. Ideas are more powerful than words. But words and ideas without action is naught but theory.

The stars were down. The moon was down. Life was upside down. Perhaps when I grow up, I’ll understand.

My mouth moved. I didn’t move it. I didn’t say anything. But my voice echoed. The silence erupted into chaotic noise. Sharp pitched screeches shot all around me. Hot smells broke off of the scentless air and surrounded me. The spiraling motions, suddenly stopped. My mind, though, continued in a spiral or dizzy motion. The world faded out of the darkness and spiraled around my head. It was slowing down. Up felt down and down felt left.

The screeches were silence. The priests around me had stopped, once again. Their bodies bowed towards me. The smell was of incense. The several scents of incense were now separate, each hitting me with a new wave of emotions.

“Priests of Egypt.” I said. No, it was the pharaoh. “The day of our destiny has come.” I stood up on shaking feet. My hands were shaking. My shoulders were shaking. My body was shaking. But I felt a strength. I felt my body again. I felt the muscles underneath pulling and pushing. It was power. The body, under control of the mind, is power. “The demon is banished.”

The demon was not banished. I was still there. I could still feel him.

You will cure my leg, demon. There was a forcefulness behind the thought. A mental and spiritual strength that I could not muster. A strength that solely ideas could not imitate. Then we shall talk.

This was no test. It was real. There were no more tests. I had never thought there was a life without tests. Without challenges. But I guess that is life.

You are under my command, demon.

Or perhaps life is the test. The challenge is whether or not we continue.