“Since I am a god, my stores are vast enough to sustain the three sons of Egypt in the interim without detriment to myself.”
He leaned over Amon’s form and touched his shoulders. I could actually see the energy in the form of light begin at Anubis’s shoulders and roll down his arms and into Amon’s body in waves. When he was finished, he stepped back.
“There. And now the last thing.” He walked to the head of the sarcophagus and impatiently waved his arm, gesturing me over. “Come. You may join me in this final act.”
“What do I do?” I whispered.
“We must recite a spell from the Book of the Dead and commemorate his name as we do so. In naming him, we connect his body, his ka, or soul, his ba, which is his character, and his shuwt, or shadow. The name is the fifth piece that binds the other four together.”
Wardens of the sky, the earth, and beyond,
The sacred barque has begun its journey,
Taking with it this cherished son of Egypt.
His name was given by the great god Amun-Ra.
It will be reclaimed. It will be recovered.
Bestow a wreath of vindication upon his neck,
For he has overcome his earthly travails.
Give his soul peace, and when the time comes,
Let him find his way back to his body.
The Eye of Horus will be his guide.
We are they who remember his name after death.
We are they who carved his name on this sarcophagus.
We are they who engraved his name upon our hearts.
He is, AMON, henceforth and forever.
We call his power, his soul, his body, and his shadow, and give this name to each.
May this body be protected,
So that he can rise in glory once more.
Go forth now, Amon, to a place of rest,
Until such time as we shall meet again.
When his spell was complete, Anubis raised his hands, palms up, and a swirling cloud of sand solidified until it fashioned into an ornately carved lid. It lowered with a definitive thump, settling in place, and I felt as if my heart was locked in the sarcophagus with Amon.
A grave heaviness settled over me and I couldn’t breathe. I was suffocating. I placed a trembling hand on the polished wooden face as darkness crept in at the edges of my vision and the last thing I remembered was collapsing.
When I regained my senses, the heat of the pyramids was gone. I found myself surrounded by Egyptian relics, but something was different. I placed my hand on a cold white tile floor and pushed myself up to a sitting position.
A noise nearby made me turn. In the shadows stood a large, handsome man leaning against the wall, a statue of a pointy-eared dog sat at his heels.
“Anubis?” I gasped. He was dressed like a businessman in a suit and tie.
He stepped forward. “I will leave you where you first discovered Amon. Goodbye, Lilliana.”
With a wink, Anubis and the dog statue disappeared. “Wait!” I called, but there was no answer.
Scrambling to my feet, I noted irritably that I was once again wearing my designer shirt, cropped trousers, and Italian leather sandals. My bag, notebook peeking out, was propped against a wall, and the college brochures were arranged in an efficient semicircle. “Amon?” I cried, and dashed toward the sealed-off section in the Egyptian exhibit.
Beyond the plastic I found the same copper mirror, the same tools, the same boxes and sawdust, but there were no telltale footprints. No sarcophagus. No large box with a sign that said UNKNOWN MUMMY FROM THE VALLEY OF THE KINGS. Amon was gone. It was as if he had never been a part of my life. Never existed.
A golden gleam caught my eye and, hopeful, I made my way over to it, only to find the golden statue of a falcon—Horus the Gold. I pressed my hands against the glass, tears sliding down my face. I tricked my mind for a brief, indulgent moment into thinking he was here, with me. But he wasn’t. Amon was gone.