19
Sekhmet reeled on her hilltop, gasping and
shaking. The quiver of Slaughterers hummed with confusion. Only six
were left, and one had gone into the dark, where she could not see
it. Where she could not feel it. Where she could not find it.
Her youngest child had been taken from her, by the
human she had made into a god.
Night fell, and still she was broken. Ra did not
come to comfort her. He traveled senselessly, silently, his boat
traversing the Duat. He cared nothing for his daughter. He’d
abandoned her, and she was alone.
The wind spun about her head, blowing and singing,
and Sekhmet shook with sudden cold.
The earth rattled with the grief and fury of the
sun god’s forgotten daughter, but she could not smite Cleopatra
without smiting herself.