The Story of Hathor & Dayo:
Hathor's Story: 2
I felt him before I saw him. Seated at the bar, starring into the black mirror across from me, a sensation ripple through me.
I liked this presence.
A connection is a connection. I’ve learned not to waste time in discovering anything about my partners. If I feel them before I see them, I know we are one.
I didn’t have to look. Whoever it was was coming my way. They were drawn, despite themselves. It was best, if I didn’t look. Although I was curious to see what he looked like. Surly, one of my many protectors sat beside me. He on occasion accompanied me on these getaways. Not that I needed him ever. I nodded for Surely to move on, and he obeyed reluctantly. As soon as Surley stood, he arrived.
I like time hopping. As a ruler, it’s the only real escape, the only true vacation from the politics, war and strategy I’m always mired in. People in my world either worship me, fear me, or loath my existence and the extremes of it all are exhausting. People pray to my statues and bow when I enter the room or they plot to kill me.
My mortal enemy, the one sworn to my demise was born with me in my mother’s womb. I rule jointly with my brother, AK, an egomaniac of an imp who’s dedicated the better part of his life to seeing my end. We’ve out strategized one another to the point of relative boredom. He tried to murder me a few rotations ago, before that he tried to hijack my caravan across the Sahara, and blame it on bandits. I murdered them all. Last week he tried to poison me and my taster lost his life. And now he’s taken to recruiting bounty hunters from other worlds.
It’s bothersome, but I enjoy the rush of outmaneuvering my brother. It gives me so much joy – an ecstatic thrill that’s so exhilarating, just thinking about it sends me to the stars – which is why I’m here.
Time travel is my refresher. Not that AK, my hated brother can’t time travel. He’s as adept at resetting the Sun as I am. All of us wise ones my way can do it. But he’s not much of a trekker so it’s near impossible for him to find me as I zip through dimensions…and that’s the fun part.
He can’t catch me.
I’ve learned many things in these celestial tours. Kemet, it seems, at some point falls and a host of other worlds and places rise and crumble in its long shadow. I, my dynasty was not remembered. No one in these future worlds even speaks our tongue, so I’ve learned others. These future worlds have decoders that translate everything, but I don’t rely on them. I like a challenge.
I come to these strange worlds, hang out in these nondescript drinking halls, sometimes I’ll have my own adventure, take on a persona, meet other people. It’s exciting, intriguing really…like a never-ending ball of masked people. But the moment someone asks too many questions or got too close, I vanished, returning to my world and the glorious stress of ruling with a known enemy.
No one was worthy of even knowing my true identity in these future worlds. But this stranger, with the bronzed skin in the black light with his brown eyes and godlike frame has a different energy. He’s not like the rest. He’s neither ordinary nor is he power drunk. He feels like he should be in my time, a leader of nations, and yet he’s not. He has the instinct of a soldier yet he’s not a warrior. He can’t speak. He doesn’t know what to say. He feels me reading him. He’s curious. I’m curious. And he speaks a language I learned along the way.
When I saw the ankh hanging from his neck I knew he was connected to my ways, my world, to me. No one in this future world seems to understand its power. They don’t seem to understand much of anything. This chiseled stranger seemed to know. He didn’t know consciously, but his soul memory linked to my world. I wonder if he even knew the name, the true name, not the fake name these future worlds seam to dress the ancient world in. There’s so little power in the way these future worlds use words. They use words to describe, to destroy, but never to convey true meaning. Their words are never nimble enough to capture everything and yet I’m transfixed by the sounds they use to communicate. This Dayo guy wasn’t intimidated. He was neither bathed in lust, lapping in conquest or frightened with envy.
Can’t say I’ve experienced that before.
Maybe it’s because he doesn’t know who I am.
He was one of the many looking for the portals, but he was sent by some official group. I don’t think any of them knew about me just yet, but that guy with Dayo had seen me once before. He, I think, was on to me.
I need a friend. I have no friends in my world. Yes, I have a legion of followers, and eager staff. I have admirers and I know the royal ones around my world, but they aren’t friends. I can’t trust these people. I can trust no one. But this shiver I felt is a sign that this Dayo is one I can trust. I want him, a friend, with no attachment to the politics of our way. I want someone who wants to know me for me. Dayo, I believe is that one.
We can escape in our own passions.
There is no reason for me to be this trusting. But I live for risk. I’ve learned that intuition is more reliant than logic and this Dayo is one with me.
Let us discover our oneness.
“Why me?” I asked.