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The wounded God of the day bled across the sky,leaving a trail of orange, red and amethyst that even spilled into the Hap. It was the literal Sun Disk the Aten, and with a prayer of thanks to both the Great God of Waset, Amun, and Set, Sekhmet Meritamen let fall the fringed edge of her garment from her hand. Seventy-Two Days had passed twice and she as of this moment, herr official mourning for her husband, Sensenet had ended.

The peace of her garden was only disturbed by a slight breeze, and it was empty. The shadows under the sycamores and pomegranate trees now became darkly mottled. The blue faience garden pool was nearly as still as glass. Somewhere, though, she could hear the faint hypnotic rush of water splashing from one basin into the other before soundlessly trickling into the larger pool. When Sensenet was alive, she mused, the two of them would savour the still-warm waters of their private garden pool and take their evening meal as the water lazily evaporated in the remaining heat of the day.

This house had been given to her father by the Wasir-Empress Tiye for loyal service. And when her father went to the West and her mother followed soon after, the Empress, mother of the Heretic, saw that she had a proper upbringing and care alongside her own daughters and Djehutymose, who should have followed his Father-the God had tragedy not struck. Everything was ill-luck form that day forward. The Great God Himself was never the same, and in spite of the co-regency with the sickly Amunhotep, who declared himself to be renamed as Akhenaten, things got worse. First the removal of passing of Amunhotep, then the ascension of the heretic.

It was only the remembered kindness of Empress Tiye that made Sekhmet smile with regard to those days. How powerful and wise she had been! The world had come to deal with Tiye rather than her addled and fever-brained son. And it had been she who had cast Sensenet in Sekhmet's path. Those days were filled with joy, even in spite of the upheavals and madness. First the city was moved to Akhetaten. The Empress went to her son's new city and Sekhmet mourned. Only when the elder Queen had returned did Sekhmet's mood return to any sort of joy. But it was short lived.

With her husband stationed in a Desert Nome for a number of months trying to stave off the attacks by the Bedawi. Sensenet had written repeatedly to the Wasir-Akhenaten, receiving only promises of prayers to the Aten rather than the desperately needed troops. Even Tiye's pleas had been ignored by her son, and when Tiye also passed to the Beautiful West, no more was ever heard or mentioned about defending the borders.

It was no surprise to any of the nearby local villages that the fortress fell. And when Senesnet's bloated and mangled body arrived in the City of the Dead just outside of Waset, Sekhmet knew the rage of the Netjert for Whom she had been named. She not only shaved her head and her eyebrows in the Kemetic tradition of mourning, she drew a dagger across her hand, and with her own blood and smeared it upon the base of the statue of the Great Goddess, Sekhmet, the Eye of Ra, in her own shrine and swore revenge. Sekhmet hated the Heretic, and she rejoiced at the news of his death by throwing handfuls of incense on her personal brazier in thanks. Isfet had finally been overthrown. Now only one other was left to pay as far as Sekhmet was concerned.

The madness was not quite over, not yet. Not as long as the Other was alive. But with the help of the Netjeru and the blessings of Amun, perhaps she could set Ma'at to rights.


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November 2009

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