Free Shadow Fall by Seressia Glass Page B

distinct pre-dynastic Naqada cultures, it was a fleeting thought.
    The power staff was beautiful, about five feet long, wood sheathed and banded in gold. Two forked prongs served as the foot of the scepter, with the head of the Set-animal carved as the top. The was scepter was often depicted in carvings and tomb paintings in the hands of pharaohs and the gods as a symbol of their power and their ability to keep chaos at bay.
    “Amazing,” Comstock said, eyes dancing with the joy of discovery. His excitement erased years from his features. “Absolutely stunning. Go on, then.”
    “Go on and what?”
    “It’s your dig, so you should be the one to bring it back into the world,” Comstock said, nodding with emphasis. “Go ahead, pick up the scepter and bring it to light.”
    Trembling with excitement, Kira wrapped her gloved hands around the wooden rod. She ran her hands along the length, separating the staff from the hard ground. When she was certain it was free, she straightened, holding the staff at arm’s length in front of her.
    Warmth sank into her fingers, and she realized that her gloves had vanished. The warmth became a hum that vibrated along the entire length of the power scepter, causing her hands to tingle. Tiny hairs along her arms stood on end as power thrummed through the staff, causing it to glow.
    The workers, the excavation site, Comstock—everything fell away. Everything except the ruins of the temple. Stone by stone it rebuilt itself, rising out of the desert to dominate the skyline, reclaiming its former glory. The Temple of Set, with two granite statues of the Typhonic beast-god flanking the entrance, towering replicas of the power scepter gripped in massive hands.
    For a moment she wasn’t sure where she was. The temple looked the same as it had when she’d slipped through a portal into the alternate-Cairo, when she’d traveled completely behind Logic’s Veil and met Solis, Lady of Between. But this wasn’t Between. This was her dream. Set could have no power here.
    As soon as she thought the god’s name, the ground rumbled. The sands shifted in front of her as a massive stele pushed up into the air.
    She recognized its image, having seen it on a tablet at the Manchester Museum. Set, wearing the dual crown of Upper and Lower Egypt, a was scepter in his left hand, an ankh in his right. To his right stood an altar adorned with lotus blossoms. At the top of the stele hieroglyphs proclaimed: S ET OF N EBTI, L ORD OF PROVISIONS, GREAT OF STRENGTH, POWERFUL OF ARM .
    Set had never lost his good press in his hometown. The proclamations continued on the limestone and granite of the temple walls, colorfully etched and painted glyphs extolling the majesty and grandeur of the lord of the desert for all to read. S ET, THE M AJESTIC O NE, SLAYER OF A PEP, PROTECTOR OF R A, RULER OF N UBT, LORD OF THE DESERT .
    The heavy rumbling of stone moving against stone assaulted her ears. One of the Set statues moved, the trunk-like snout looming as he looked down at her. Except that it didn’t seem like a statue, but something caught between stone and flesh. A voice sounded in her head, more an impression of words than sound. Welcome, daughter.
    No, no, no. “I am not your daughter!”
    Laughter like stone grinding against stone hit her like a percussive blast, almost pushing her to her knees. You are a child of chaos, born of thunder and lightning. You cling to Ma’at and turn your back on Isfret for nothing. You belong with us.
    “Never!” She gripped the scepter like a fighting staff, prepared to defend herself. “I am the Hand of Ma’at. I am a Shadowchaser. I walk in the Light. Always.”
    The god’s eyes flashed golden. Think you to destroy me with my own power?
    The power scepter ripped free of her grasp, flew to the statue. The desert floor rose up about her, hot sand trapping her from the waist down. She struggled to move, frantic as the god slowly turned the staff so that the spiked prongs