Chapter 4

4

D joser | Alexandria, Egypt | 47 B.C

Steam tumbled out towards the open air while the servants poured hot water out of heavy clay basins. The large, personal bathing tub under the pillars of the palace balcony suite was one for romantics, as the stars shone through the ceiling opening above.

The servants—young boys and girls—were covered in gold bracelets and jewels themselves and were often playful with each other, even in the presence of the royalty that they served. There was a happiness here that Djoser had never seen with any of Cleopatra's predecessors.

The servants spoke about books and new languages as they walked out of the room, only to hastily return with refilled hot water in their clay basins. There was rarely death and decay in the streets that served the kingdom below them. It had only taken a woman to bring such joy both to court and to Alexandria.

Of course, the female ruler shared this title with her despicable brothers, but Djoser had a plan to remedy that. He had been behind the growth of this city and this great country since it was little more than a stream. That stream patiently waited for the Kinnari to come along and help it become the great Nile it was now and to Djoser, it was home.

Djoser sat on a decorated bench holding a chalice filled with a deep red wine. He found that his cup was rarely empty, and though he had been hiding in the background throughout human history, his treatment was that of a deity. Djoser had seen a few hieroglyphics in places of religious importance depicting a man with wings in his honor. He would always be a part of the history here, never erased, never ignored, never hated.

Soft hands with the overwhelming sweet yet savory smell of spices came from behind, coaxing and seducing Djoser by massaging the yearning spot underneath his square jawline. Those same hands then traveled down his neck and onto his shoulders, pulsing rhythmically. They stopped for a moment, coming to his shoulder blades and tracing the raised triangular marks on his dark olive skin, strong from ripping open and healing over and over again.

"If you let yourself out tonight," Cleopatra whispered into Djoser's ear, "then I have some new ideas we can . . . play . . . with."

"Fucking Duat," Djoser let his eyelids flutter. He gritted his teeth while her hands now moved down his front side, giving the servants an excuse to quickly disappear.

Cleopatra giggled, "Oh look, it's time for my bath." The mortal woman stepped out from behind Djoser and, in an attempt to put on a show, began undressing right at the edge of the luxurious tub.

Her robes, satin gold with long wide sleeves adorned with a black, blue, and red beaded collar, fell to her waist as she unfastened the fine garment, letting her breasts perk from the immediate exposure of air. Goosebumps decorated her skin while she finished disrobing, leaving the clump of fabric on the floor as she lifted her feet on pointed toes and stepped out of it.

This woman, soon to be the Queen of Kings if Djoser had it his way, stood powerfully before him. Her chin-length black hair shone with oil in the torch lights illuminating the room. Djoser saw the obsession that mortal men had with her beauty and on this night, she was his if he had wanted.

There was nothing more that he yearned for than the pleasure of releasing his wings while this woman stroked and caressed them in the hot water of this bath. Yet, that was not what he was there for.

Djoser was there to orchestrate a relationship, a marriage proposal between Egypt and Rome. As the political advisor of all Pharaohs since the pretense of his death as the first Pharaoh Menes, he knew he had something with this. It would benefit their people, and if there was anything Cleopatra cared about, it was her subjects. If he gave the recommendation, she would listen. She would serve.

Djoser stood up, leisurely stepping towards the naked woman who now had her back to him as she stepped into the water. The large, fourteen-foot-high double doors leading into the chamber groaned against each other as they opened just wide enough for a small, elderly man to shuffle in, his head bowing and eyes focused on the floor.

"My apologies for the interruption, but I have an urgent scroll for the gentleman," he said, pushing the gleaming tray in his hands forward towards Djoser. Cleopatra did nothing to cover herself or reveal any shame of her body, but continued on her way to enjoy the sultry water that awaited her while Djoser nodded towards the servant, grabbing the sealed scroll from his tray.

"You are dismissed," Djoser said as the old man shuffled out of the room, closing the doors behind him. The scroll was sealed with a wax emblem that Djoser hadn't seen in hundreds of, possibly even a thousand, years. It was a smooth, velvety red, imprinted with the sun and the moon.

"What is it?" Cleopatra asked while enjoying the deliciousness of the scented olive oil she began rubbing into her skin.

"We are about to find out," Djoser said as he unsealed the scroll. He read it, a single sentence in elegant black ink written out in Allienna's handwriting, before crumpling up the paper in his fist.

Instant irritation crept behind Djoser's eyes, though he did his best to not let it show.

This better be important.

Any message from Allienna would have been ordered by Djoser's opposite, Arryn. Though they hadn't seen each other since childhood, Djoser remembered Arryn being completely insufferable to be around. They might have become enemies had Djoser not chosen to leave.

"It seems that I am urgently needed back at my childhood home."

He would have to leave his political scheming for another day.

"Pray tell, where does a god grow up?" Cleopatra asked, disappointment evident in her voice.

Djoser smiled, "In another world, blanketed by white."

He walked over to the lounging woman to say his goodbyes.

"I will be back in a few short days, a week at worst. You and I have work to do."

Cleopatra gave him a nodding, serious look of understanding. The promise of looming sex and seduction was no longer in the air.

Djoser informally turned his back on the woman, exiting not through the doors but the balcony. A smile tugged on his lips as he looked up to the moon, which reminded him that all the originals shared a curse in their gifts.

The whispers of ripping flesh and a tinge of copper laced the air. Cleopatra laid her head on the edge of the tub and watched the marvel before her. The white bone that instantly browned in the air protruded from his shoulder blades in swift, graceful moments until the full length of a fifteen-foot wingspan presented itself before her.

Almost as if adorned with grated gold, the light green wings danced in the torchlight. The wing's pigment darkened, turning into a deep leather brown down on the ends of each side.

"Beautiful," Cleopatra admired in a hushed voice.

Djoser, with the speed and sharpness of a falcon, stepped up into the sky before disappearing into the stars.

Fourteen hours had passed before the Kinnari landed, barefoot and shirtless, in a pile of previously undisturbed snow. This high peak settled into the Himalayan mountains had always remained absent of humans and wildlife, both preferring Everest and other less deadly journeys. Often as a child, Djoser was convinced that their peak was unreachable unless by wings. The sky was often gray, and the wind was harsh enough to topple any person off balance into a painful, long fall back down.

Djoser, immediately chilled by the icy air whipping at his chest and abs, began putting one foot in front of another. After several agonizing steps, his toes black from the cold, he placed his hand on the frozen wall of snow and ice before him. Already missing the Egyptian climate, he began to dig with his bare hands.

Djoser uncovered six or seven inches of the tightly packed cement-hard snow before finally scraping against the ancient stone that he was looking for. He pushed the remaining snow out of the way to reveal a door, a portal to the in-between of this world and the magical world, their own land where they were not invited, Mrilyosis . The door groaned, and more snow toppled down as Djoser yanked on its handle. The twenty-foot brick of stone opened and allowed access to the temple, a torch-lit hallway ahead of him.

Shadows danced in the hall, wide enough for full-grown wings to take flight. Djoser left wet footsteps behind him and walked through its length. The air grew warmer as he neared the great room. An irritation twitched through his wrists as he started to hear faint voices from ahead.

Several faces gathered around a large communal table turned to him, greeting Djoser with various expressions ranging from friendly, amused, to uninterested.

"The first collective meeting we've had in what, eight hundred years, and of course, this one strolls in a day late and shirtless," mused a Kinnari female with fiery red hair and crystal blue wings, sitting on the distant north side of the table.

"With that welcome, I can't imagine why I wouldn't want to spend more time here with you, Roksana."

Djoser slighted his head to address Arryn, who was frantically pacing the length of the table, likely waiting for his arrival.

"I came as soon as the scroll did," Djoser assured his equal. Arryn nodded and motioned for him to sit with his outstretched hand. The table, which could easily sit forty mortal men, seemed crowded between the six Kinnaris, all with wings lazily outstretched as if they were no more than a ponytail resting down their backs.

Allienna sat closest to the head of the table. If Arryn was the king, then she would be his queen. Reign sat to Allienna's left, feet propped up on the table, making sure that she took up the most space.

Opposite them were the twins, Roksana and Precession. They were identical in every way down to their eyes and corresponding wing color. These two were the most terrifying beings that Djoser had ever encountered, not from their power alone, but from Roksana's overwhelming need to protect her dear sister.

Precession, eyes the lightest blue, took in a breath and stood up while visibly shaking and struggling under the weight of her wings pulling down her frail frame. The expression that played across her eyes was that of disbelief. She lived with a power, a responsibility so great that it more closely resembled a curse. Her magic was solely responsible for the rotation of the planet Earth and its draw to the moon.

"There has been a decision made here," Precession whispered, "that changes this planet's momentum." Her eyes rolled back up to the ceiling as if she were about to faint, and Roksana quickly stood to support her back down to her chair.

Roksana's head snapped towards Reign as a wicked smile danced across her freckled lips.

"It's her," she pointed at Reign. "The reason we were all summoned here has to do with her. I can taste delicious regret melting off of her as if butter in a pan."

"Do not amplify those emotions, Roksana. We need to get through this discussion with as few dramatics present as possible," Reign responded, pulling her feet off the table, and moving into a posture a politician might have.

Roksana let out a slight hiss, not able to carry out the game that flashed through her mind now that Reign had voiced the command.

"What do we all drink these days?" Arryn tried his best to diffuse the tension.

"Something fucking strong." Djoser laughed sadistically, slamming his hand down on the surface before him.

Arryn walked over to the opposite end of the Hinoki table, pausing in front of Djoser before closing his hand around the air. A beautiful clear drinking glass appeared, filled with a dark liquid served neat. Arryn placed the glass down in front of Djoser before waving his hand casually, filling the twenty-five feet of the surface with plates of olives, nuts, roasted boar, casseroles, and lentil pies. The other Kinnari all grabbed the various glasses now sitting before them, enjoying wine or other variety of spirits that suited their preferences.

"Now it's a party," Djoser said, knocking his drink back with a single gulp and then watching as it magically refilled in front of his eyes.

"A fire would do," Allienna requested, and Arryn immediately obliged as a wood-burning fireplace appeared in the center of the otherwise large and empty room. Windows appeared on the walls, letting in what Djoser could only assume to be artificial natural light, considering the temple was constantly buried in snow.

Another hallway, also lit by torchlight, mirrored the one Djoser entered on the opposite side of the room. It led to Mrilyosis , where magic and gods roamed free, a place where hate for their kind had been fostered, mostly at Arryn's hand alone.

This is where they all grew up, in this very room.

"Now, to address our dear Roksana," Arryn said, shooting an apprehensive look toward her. "Yes, this is about Reign. The Life Gifter has sentenced her to an immortal death."

All eyes around the room widened, taking in the shock of this news and what it truly meant.

Djoser stopped breathing. White rage and anxiety filled his body as if Arryn were simply refilling him with more liquor.

Sentenced to death would mean he would personally be given the order for the execution. No one else here could kill the immortal, especially against her will, except for possibly a Vrae.

"We will all fight. That's the change in rotation," Precession said, now strong as if she had gotten a full night's sleep within a matter of seconds.

"No." Roksana slammed her gin down, putting her hand firmly in front of her sister as if to hold her back. "We will not all die for one of Arryn's little pets."

"Enough," Djoser said with a dangerous calm.

"Do not bother to invite us to the next reunion," Roksana sneered, letting a moment of silence sit with all present.

"Why were you given this sentence?" Allienna asked through bared yet gentle teeth. She stood and moved closer to Reign, taking her hand. Tears sat in the corners of her eyes, waiting for permission to fall.

"I need to know why, Reign," she repeated in a half-whisper.

"I plan to tell you why, and that's the problem," she admitted as the meaning of this sunk in. All eyes stared at her, eyebrows raised and lips too thin.

"What did you see?" Precession asked, her voice high like a doll.

Djoser picked up his head, eying his drink in hopes of drowning in the swirling fluid.

"Allienna was dead," Reign choked out.

The tears had gotten their permission as they streamed down Allienna's face.

"But there's more," Allienna said.

"The Vrae were also released back into this world. Where I was in time, all of this was already in the past. I couldn't get more information without being discovered."

"You are sacrificing your life to tell us this, just to possibly save mine," Allienna sobbed, throwing her arms around Reign as her wings knocked over several dishes sitting on the table.

"We will all fight. There will be a great battle," Precession said, her eyes rolling back in her skull again.

"I said no already, dear sister," Roksana stood with a vengeance. "This fight has nothing to do with you or I."

"It is already written in history. The stars have begun to whisper. This fight will not be the reason the earth stops spinning. I am not afraid," Precession said, gently grabbing Roksana's hand and tugging her back down to her seat.

Djoser felt his rage pulsing, growing, because of a Kinnari who did not have a grip on her magic when she was unfocused. He was dangerous when he felt like this, when he felt cornered.

"I fucking said stop," he growled. No one in the room dared to take a breath.

"I'm sorry," Roksana said, avoiding Djoser's eyes. "I was not in control."

She is never in control.

Allienna ran over to Djoser and wrapped her hands around his head. She locked eyes with him, absorbing the rage that Roksana amplified in him before the entire temple was accidentally destroyed. Allienna's calm hands turned to fists, and she began trembling, eventually backing off once Djoser's shoulders began to drop.

"I will not carry out orders to kill you, Reign. That I can promise you," he said, looking up at her with calmer eyes.

"What makes the Earth stop spinning, sister?" Roksana asked, a sadness falling over her brow. If the Earth stopped rotating, it could only mean that her twin sister was dead.

"I would not carry out orders to kill you either, Precession," Djoser added.

"Oh," Precession gasped in surprise, "It's not you who would kill me. What I can see is that I will be screaming. A death by your hands would likely be a much gentler option."