Green Sahara, Lake Moeris, 4900 B.C.
The grass grew to his waist, and the wind was very strong. It was hypnotic to watch the herbage sway to the rhythm of the breeze. Perseus allowed himself to close his eyes and stretch out his hands. His nose stung as he remembered Ishtar, long before he took her as his daughter; his throat tightened at the memory. He missed his firstborn so much it ached. He couldn't understand how the gods simply abandoned them.
"It's strange," he murmured in his raspy baritone.
"What is?" his companion asked him.
Perseus looked back at her. Sprite barely rose above the grass; she was frowning and almost seemed to be pouting. She wore her Eternal armor; the turquoise made her nearly invisible in this environment.
"This place being so… green," he replied.
"Why would that be weird?" Sprite pursed her lips at him.
"This should be a desert," he shrugged.
"Oh," she nodded.
Perseus was glad to have Sprite by his side. It was two centuries ago, when they were helping in the nascent city of Lagash. They had faced a Deviant incursion—nothing dangerous or challenging. He assumed that was why the creature had an opportunity to wound him: he had let himself be carried away by his 'hubris.' They both began to talk while he was still recovering.
"We're close," Sprite pulled him from his thoughts.
"I should be the one saying that," he complained to her. "I'm supposed to be the one who senses water sources."
The girl raised an eyebrow at him.
"And what do your senses tell you?" her voice sounded smug.
"We're close," he grumbled.
"That's what I thought," she nodded. She was smiling like a cat that had eaten a very fat canary.
"Smug," he muttered.
But he also had a small smile on his lips.
"How do you think Gil is doing?" Sprite hummed.
"How do you think it's going, watching Ikaris and Thena at the same time?" he returned the question.
"Yeah…" the girl drawled the word.
"I'd be surprised if the three of them arrive in one piece," Perseus commented.
"Don't jinx it," she whimpered.
"It's not like I'm Ajak."
"True… I swear that for the last few centuries she's had nothing but bad news," Sprite muttered darkly.
"It's not that big a deal," Perseus shrugged.
"Not that big a deal!" she shrieked at him. "Literally every meeting has been to show new hypotheses of Kro's whereabouts and his possible—unconfirmed—benefactor." She sighed. "We haven't even slept in six centuries."
"We don't need to sleep," Perseus pointed out.
"Sure, ignore the rest," the girl raised her hands in exasperation.
"I don't know what you want me to say," Perseus shook his head.
"'Don't worry'…"
"That's not advisable."
"'Everything is going to be fine'…"
"That's a lie."
"'I'll handle it'…"
"I don't even know if I can take him."
"Try to calm me down…"
"You seem very…"
"I get it," she growled, crossing her arms and rolling her eyes. "You're impossible."
She was quite adorable like that.
"I'd call myself a realist," he mused.
"Pessimist," the girl sang out.
"You're a—"
A loud splash interrupted him. Both fell silent, squaring their stances. They crouched in the grass and advanced. They had reached a slope; Perseus could feel the water on the other side, but nothing else. He tensed. In any water source, especially fresh water, there was life. He felt nothing.
He gestured to Sprite. She nodded; golden rings formed on her thumbs. Nothing happened, at least not to his sight, but his companion's affirmative nod told him it was done. A move they had both been practicing for the last two centuries: making themselves invisible. With Sprite's authorization, he launched into the skies, using the currents to support his weight. He wasn't as elegant or fast as Ikaris, but he was just as effective. The air hit his eyes, drying them.
Now from the heights, he took a look at the lake. In appearance, it was a perfect water source, but as he extended his senses… there were no fish in the place. He extended his hand to the sky, where storm clouds were gathering. The air filled with ozone and blue arcs crackled from above until they struck the surface of the lake. Perseus maintained the bolts, looking like a waterfall of light over the earth. His hair floated and a golden aura surrounded him.
The body of the Deviant broke the surface, shrieking bloody murder. The smell of burnt flesh overlapped with that of ozone. Perseus winced.
"Filthy puppet of Arishem!" the beast roared.
"An intelligent bug," Perseus smiled; that smile that only appeared from a prolonged stay in Tartarus. The beast bellowed in indignation. In reality, it looked more like a deformed serpent than an insect.
Perseus matched its onslaught with a barrage of lightning against the creature's head. A golden exoskeleton covered the beast's forehead, taking the attack head-on. It didn't flinch. The surprise at its resistance froze Perseus for a few seconds; the Deviant took advantage of his distraction to contort its body and lash its tail at the Eternal.
He went flying.
He struggled to stabilize himself inches from the ground. His head was spinning, and his right arm throbbed. He reoriented himself, spinning in the air to return to the fight. He saw the creature crawling along the ground, straight toward him. Perseus squared his shoulders, accumulating an earthquake in his fists.
"Get out of my territory!" the creature bellowed.
Perseus did not answer it. He connected his fist with the beast's face. The shockwave tore up the grass and kicked up dirt. The Deviant's jaw detached from its face; the resulting shriek damaged his eardrums. He charged another similar blow, impacting the center of its chest. The torso was opened with a hole that came out the beast's back with a viscous thud. The Deviant froze, convulsing with dry gags.
"This is no longer your planet," Perseus growled.
He extended his hands, taking the power of Demeter and his father within him. A white frost began to cover the beast's body.
"You're freezing it," Sprite materialized beside him, sounding fascinated.
"You followed me?" Perseus had a twitch in his eye.
'This woman is crazy,' he thought grumpily.
"No," Sprite denied with an innocent air.
She swayed on her feet. If he didn't know her age, Perseus would be sure he was dealing with a rebellious teenager.
"Are you freezing it?" she asked again. Perseus could almost see the fascination shining in her brown eyes.
"Yes," he groaned.
'This woman,' he hit his head mentally.
"I guess we've already found where Ajak's new city will be," he grumbled, watching her study the dead Deviant.
"Yes," Sprite nodded. "I turned on the beacon as soon as the bug talked."
Perseus rolled his eyes. His companion's voice was absent, focused on pawing at the corpse's flesh. It was disgusting; not even freezing the bug could stop the foul mark of death on this being.
"Fine," he snapped dryly. "Let's go to the lake before we get scolded for 'misuse of our time'."
He made air quotes to emphasize Ajak's most common reprimand. Sprite looked at him with amusement.
"The wicked Perseus avoiding a scolding?" she arched an eyebrow, drawling her words.
"Yes, if I can avoid hearing Ajak's voice," he growled. He charged another earthquake in his hand and slammed it against the corpse's skull. The body shattered like glass.
"That was mine!" Sprite pouted.
Perseus's temples were already starting to throb.
"I killed it," he complained.
"But I claimed it," she swaggered.
Perseus was not going to have this discussion again. He grabbed Sprite by the arms and threw her over his shoulder like a sack of flour. She shrieked, writhing and hitting him to get free.
"Put me down, you brute!" she kicked. "You're a savage, a vile villain, and a disgusting male!"
'Déjà vu,' Perseus sighed. He could almost remove Sprite's image and put an Artemis in its place without any trouble.
He shuddered. 'On second thought, I'll stick with Sprite.'
The hairs on his neck stood up, and a knot formed in his abdomen. Sprite noticed the change; she stopped moving. Perseus set her down, or rather, let her fall.
"What's wrong?" she asked, crouched like a cat on the prowl.
"We're not alone," Perseus growled.
Sprite nodded, activating her power to make them invisible.
Green Sahara, Lake Moeris, 4900 B.C. (minutes before)
He limped through the tall grass. The blood on his forehead had dried into a horrible scab that covered one eye. He had been wandering for days, eating whatever scorpions he could catch. He didn't understand why he fought for life; he should be letting himself die to find rest alongside his children and his beloved.
He tripped; he fell face-first. A nasty crack came from his wrist. He bit down hard, preventing the scream that wanted to burst from his throat. His limbs were trembling and the muscles in his back were twitching. Undignified tears leaked from his eyes.
He cursed the demons, the ones who killed his tribe. He cursed 'Apep' for guiding them to his settlement. They weren't hurting anyone. Compared to other tribes, they didn't enslave. He didn't understand why the 'Shamayw' punished them so.
The wind suddenly worsened and 'seshed' descended from the sky.
He struggled to get up, ignoring the pain in his muscles. He was grateful for that pinch in his lower back that gave him energy. He came to see the lake of Apep, where a 'Netjer' had his hands extended and a golden glow covered his gray armor.
He fell to his knees, prostrating his forehead to the ground.
"Dua-ek en nejet per-i," he whispered with a choked voice.
They paid him no attention; not when Apep emerged with a roar of fury. He cringed at the sight of it. It spoke to the Netjer in a strange tongue and he responded in kind.
'The language of the gods,' he thought. His eyes widened hearing the delicacy of the words.
The serpent Apep struck the Netjer with its tail. He had seen that move before, when they killed his brother, but the god only flew away before stabilizing with elegance, like a heron at sunset. The demon charged the Netjer. The deity did not go to meet it; he waited, floating, until he connected his hand with the beast.
He saw a piece of the jaw fly off. The resulting gurgle was revitalizing to his soul as he watched the one responsible for his tribe's death. He stumbled to where the Netjer stood over the corpse of Apep. He ignored everything, seeking to reach the deity. There was another: a woman, or girl; she was much shorter and had infant-like cheeks.
She was a goddess, he was sure of it. She wore turquoise armor and promised great beauty in her adult form. He admired them until the man tensed and soon both disappeared.
"Don't go," he stammered. "Great Ra… Lady Isis…"
He took a step forward with his arm outstretched. He hit something solid; it was cold, like the bronze of the people from the east. The Netjer materialized in front of him.
He fell to his knees, babbling thanks.
Isis rolled her eyes and growled something in her divine tongue. But Ra—he looked at him with knowing eyes.
"Tell me your name, child," he demanded.
He did not respond immediately, searching for his words. He could respond with the name given to him in his second summer, but that name had lost all meaning in life.
"Serq," he whispered.
"I see," he told him. Ra turned to Isis and spoke to her. They discussed for a while; Serq listened to their words with a tranquil soul. Finally, they paid attention to him again. "Where is your tribe?"
Serq broke down. He babbled an explanation of how Apep and his demons murdered his people; of the death of his children and wife; how his brother was pulverized by the serpent and how he has lived off scorpions.
"Fitting," Ra whispered upon hearing the source of his sustenance.
Pride swelled within his chest.
'Ra approves of my new name,' he thought.
"You want to treat your new stray dog," Isis interrupted in her language, pointing to the sky. "Ajak is arriving."
Serq looked to where her fingers pointed. And there, in the sky, a giant monolith was descending. The legendary 'Mesektet' Barque; he never thought he would live to see it. A pang hit his heart. What he would give for his little girl to see it; the great Ra's transport was her fascination.
"Inform her that I have the king of this new city," he heard Ra say.
He turned around, giving him his back, and Isis followed suit. Serq stood there, not knowing what to do with himself. Ra stopped, turning back to see him.
"Follow me, Your Majesty," he called him. That title seemed strange to Serq; he did not know it. "We have work to do."
And he followed his path.