"In the beginning God created the heavens and the earth. And the earth was without form, and void; and darkness was upon the face of the deep. And the Spirit of God moved upon the face of the waters. And God said, Let there be light: and there was light."
Genesis 1:1-3
Chapter 1
"For everything there is a season, and a time for every matter under heaven:
a time to be born, and a time to die;
a time to plant, and a time to pluck up what is planted;
a time to kill, and a time to heal;
a time to break down, and a time to build up;
a time to weep, and a time to laugh;
a time to mourn, and a time to dance;
a time to cast away stones, and a time to gather stones together;
a time to embrace, and a time to refrain from embracing;
a time to seek, and a time to lose;
a time to keep, and a time to cast away;
Ecclesiastes 3:1–6 "
The preacher read aloud from the altar. He was an elderly man, his bronze skin weathered with time and his hair a crown of white. His name was Elder Elias—one of the most devout and steadfast servants of the Almighty. His life was wholly devoted to the Word of God; he lived it, breathed it, and proclaimed it wherever he journeyed. It consumed his every thought.
Normally, it was the Pharaoh—the pastor of the kingdom's church—who delivers the sermon. However, on this occasion, Elder Elias had implored the pharaoh to give the sermon. The Pharaoh offered only a mild protest, not from lack of desire to preach, but out of prudence. The people, as of late, have mixed opinions about him. Not because he has transgressed against them in any personal or moral failing, but rather due to a single decree that stirred unrest.
Three months prior, the Pharaoh declared that the borders of the Lafang Kingdom would be opened for the first time in two centuries. At the outset, the people received the news with jubilation. But that joy quickly soured, replaced by apprehension and bitterness.
Memories of the past—of shackles, whips, and foreign armies marching across sacred sands—refreshed our minds as if history had been repeated.
Now, Pharaoh Lafang is a target of ridicule and criticism. The backlash was swift and unforgiving. Even his family—none of them could step outside without bearing the weight of public scrutiny.
Today's church service made this evident. The sanctuary, which on most days is modestly filled with devout people, was now overflowing. So many had gathered that some were seated upon the floor. But they had not come to hear the word of God. No—they had come to confront the pharaoh . To voice their grievances. To accuse and condemn him and his family. Something they have grown weary of.
Thankfully, they were seated in the front row—their customary place—shielded in part from their glares. Pharaoh Lafang sat beside Amon, his eldest son, and next him sat his second oldest, Joseph. And at his left was his wife, and on her side sat his younger children, his youngest, Bastet, Rameses, and the rest, Heqet and Amunet. At my right side was my brother Joseph.
Bastet sat tensed, her hand clutching her mother's. Amunet, typically the most reserved in the family, had even taken hold of Heqet's hand.
Amon saw them from the corner of his eye. He could not fault them for the anxiety. Though they did not have eyes on the back of their heads, they could feel their judgment and glares—like a shadow upon our shoulders, taunting them.
Fortunately, they had arrived adorned in face scarves, the traditional veil of the royal family. It hid the unease that plagued their expressions.
"The Lord our God speaks clearly," Elder Elias said gently, his voice reverberating through the quiet sanctuary, "and in His wisdom, He reveals that all things unfold with divine purpose. It is not ours to command, but to trust. What seems unclear now shall, in time, be made evident, according to His perfect will."
He paused, allowing the stillness to carry his words into every heart, then continued with solemn conviction:
"We must not tear ourselves apart in pursuit of answers not yet given. Rather, we must surrender to His sovereignty. Recall the words from Philippians, chapter four, verses six and seven: 'Do not be anxious about anything, but in every situation, by prayer and petition, with thanksgiving, present your requests to God. And the peace of God, which transcends all understanding, will guard your hearts and minds in Christ Jesus.'"
A soft murmur of assent stirred within the congregation like a breeze among leaves.
"Therefore, beloved brothers and sisters," Elias said, his tone gentling to something tender and pastoral, "let not your spirits be consumed by fear, nor your hearts embittered by despair. Place your trust in the Lord. He has ordained a plan… even when we cannot forsee it."
A hush fell over the church. Elder Elias closed the worn leather-bound Bible with quiet reverence.
"Let us now come before the Lord in prayer. I ask you all—please, bow your heads."
At once, The Pharaoh and his family bowed their heads in unison. Around them, the rustling of fabric and the soft creaking of ancient wood signaled the congregation's obedience.
"Heavenly Father," Elias began, his voice steady, steeped in humility and awe, "we thank Thee for the breath within our lungs, for this sacred moment, and for Thy boundless mercy. Though we are frail and faithless, still Thou remainest ever faithful—unchanging from age to age. Though we are unworthy, Thou gavest us Thy Son, who bore the punishment of our sins, that we might walk in Thy grace. Strengthen our feeble faith, O Lord…"
And beneath his words, Amon whispered a prayer of its own from the bottom of his heart:
Father, I thank You—for the life You've given us, for the bread on our table, and the garments upon our backs.
Amon tighten his clasped hands.
Teach me patience, O God, in this season of unrest. The people's fear has turned to wrath, and we, their leaders, bear the weight of their distrust. Grant me the strength to show compassion even when it is not returned. Forgive our trespasses, as we seek to walk in Your light. Let Your Spirit guide me—for alone, I cannot stand. Holy are You, almighty and eternal. All glory belongs to You.
"Thank You, Father. Thank You, Lord Christ. In Thy most holy name we pray…"
"Amen," the church responded in one accord.
Amon opened his eyes, blinking softly. The world beyond the stained-glass windows seemed brighter—lighter..
"May the Lord bless you and keep you, dear brethren," Elder Elias said with warmth as he stepped down from the altar. "Go forth in peace."
The congregation began to stir—rising, greeting one another in hushed tones, exchanging looks of consolation and respect.
The royal family alone remained seated.
"That was a deeply stirring message," Pharaoh Lafang said quietly.
"Indeed," Rameses added. The fourth-born, he was veiled in his white headscarf, with only his sharp golden eyes visible beneath it. A dark strand of hair escaped near his brow. "It was the wisdom the people needed to hear."
"I believe it was wise that Elder Elias delivered the sermon today, Father," said Heqet, leaning forward with poise and clarity in her voice.
The third-born. Elegant, keen-witted, and forthright. Her ivory scarf framed her emerald eyes, lashes long and dark. She was often referred to as the beauty of the family—her features were all well balanced and striking, everyone who meets Heqet claims she is the most beautiful woman they have laid eyes on.
She was not only popular for her good looks but also for being a proficient dancer throughout the kingdom, her dancing skills are so elegant and clean she left spectators amazed and mesmerized by her beauty and body. However recently she fell out of favor when her Father issued his most recent and controversial decree, it was she, as his daughter, who bore the weight of public scorn each time she stepped onto the stage. So fierce was the opposition, she has since withdrawn from performance altogether.
"Let me be clear," she said, her voice calm yet firm. "The people are restless. Had you been the one to deliver the sermon today, I fear many would have walked out in protest—and the church would have been left in ruins."
Ramses and Bastet's eyes widened at the boldness of her words.
Amon's left eye twitched.
She held Father's gaze with unwavering resolve.
Amon did not agree with her tone—nor entirely with her assessment—he truly empathized for his sister. He felt her ache, and yet he wished she would weigh more carefully the burden Father bore. He is Pharaoh. The weight he carries is not his alone, but that of an entire kingdom.
"That is quite enough, Heqet," Mother said gently, yet with unmistakable firmness. Her voice was low, measured—ever mindful of watching ears. "You are not the only one who suffers."
Heqet sighed and leaned back.
"And how fare you all this day?" A familiar voice said.
It was Elder Elias, he approached, his robes trailing behind him.
"By the grace of God, we are well," Pharaoh Lafang replied, standing up to greet him.
"Easily spoken by one in your position," Amunet muttered under her breath as we all stood up.
There she was—the Pharaoh's fifth-born . Amunet. Bold as flame. No filter. No fear. Her bluntness often drew attention for negative reasons, but Elias knew her well enough to not take offense.
He merely turned to her and asked with gentle patience, "And you, my dear—how do you fare?"
"I am well," she said flatly, eyes still lowered. Her mismatched gaze—one golden, one green—remained fixed on anywhere but them.
The air grew heavy with awkwardness.
"These days have tested us all, Elder. Yet with God's help, we endure." Amon stepped in swiftly.
Elias gave a slow, approving nod, his expression softening.
The Pharaoh's children all held deep affection for Elias. They all regarded him as an uncle. In truth, he behaved far more like family than their actual uncles—always warm-hearted, wise, and unfailingly loyal to our father. When our father boldly declared his intent to open the borders of the Lafang Kingdom, he stood alone in his vision. The court murmured, the nobles scoffed—but Elias remained steadfast. Not once did he mock or oppose our father.
"I must have words with Elder Elias," Their father said, his voice calm and resolute. "My dears, go and join your brothers and sisters of the congregation for the midday meal."
Without delay, their parents drew Elias aside.
"Are they truly serious?!" Heqet burst out once they left, her emerald eyes flashing with indignation. "They want us to sit and dine with people who barely concealed their contempt during prayer?—fully aware of the animosity that awaits us?"
Amunet exhaled sharply, her expression venomous. "It is utterly insufferable. I knew I should have remained home. But no, you all insisted."
She cast a wary glance toward the church, where everyone sat. "By the heavens—there are far too many. It is apparent they await our approach, perhaps to gawk, or worse, to judge. If they detest us, then I shall return the sentiment tenfold."
"What matters is the judgment of our heavenly Father," Amon replied quietly.
Amunet and Heqet gave him a glare.
Amon felt his cheeks grow warm.
Probably not the right time to say that.
"Yea! God's opinions matter more than mere humans." Ramses swooped, vehemently agreeing with Amon.
Amunet rolled her mismatched eyes. "There you go acting all prophet-like. Well, I shan't go. The air is so thick with contempt, I should become ill."
"I agree," Heqet added, folding her arms. "Amunet and I shall remain here. You may proceed without us."
She made a shooing gesture with her hands. Ramses felt anger start to bubble.
"Do you think we desire this?" Ramses said in a low voice, suppressing his anger. "Do you imagine I'd be eager to linger in a room brimming with disdain? You think I want to go sit among those vipers? Yet Father was clear—we are all to attend—"
"No!" Heqet's voice cut like a blade, her hand shooting out in warning. "I have given more than enough of myself. They ask too much."
"Indeed," Amunet agreed, looping her arm through Heqet's. "Come, let us go."
The two of them swept away toward the back of the church, their posture regal and unapologetic.
Their tone, their choice of words, their attitude came off arrogant and entitled so much so—it was enough to shatter Ramses patience.
Ramses shut his eyes, exhaling slowly. When he opened them, his eyes were sharp—clearly irritated. "If this is what awaits me in marriage, I may very well pledge myself to lifelong celibacy in the service of God."
Joseph stifled a laugh.
"You best not take after them, Bastet," Rameses added, narrowing his eyes in playful warning.
Bastet, eyes shifted towards her sisters' retreating figures.
A wishful glint flashed her eyes.
I also wish to go
Joseph noticed the wishful glint in his youngest sister's eyes and gently placed an arm around her shoulders.
"Let us go," he said softly.
Amon and Joseph's eyes met briefly. Joseph's emerald-green gaze looked hesitant.
As soon as Joseph was born he had clung to Amon, as if by instinct. Some mistook them for twins—not by appearance, but by strong connection between them. Everyone knew: where Amon went, Joseph followed. And where he stood, Amon would never be far behind.
Amon gave Joseph a reassuring single nod before saying. "We shall carry ourselves with grace before those who judge us. Let us follow the example of Christ, who bore all hatred with mercy and lived a sinless life."
They all nodded solemnly.
"Come then," Rameses said, waving his hand with a mock flourish. "Let us enter the den of lions."
Without hesitation, Amon stepped forward to lead.
If condemnation must come, let it fall upon me—never upon my siblings.
…
"Your Royal Highness! May I speak with you in private?" asked a man with shoulder-length black hair and a messy, untrimmed beard
They hadn't even arrived at the luncheon before the people began to flock to them.
He bowed deeply.
They returned a slight bow.
"I would also like a chance to converse with our royal highnesses!" an elderly woman pushed forward.
"Me too!" said a middle-aged man.
"Your Highnesses, please forgive my rudeness, but you mustn't open the borders! We'll be eaten alive by those greedy, sinful witches," another woman exclaimed, pushing her way forward.
She looked haunted, as if the royals personally traumatized her.
One by one, more voices rose. A multitude of people began pushing their way in.
Joseph tensed. He protectively pulled Bastet into his arms, her back against his chest. Ramses stepped closer to Amon, his eyes fierce, his right hand twitching.
Amon raised his hands, keeping his voice steady despite the swell of unrest. "Please, I beseech you—let us remain calm. I will hear all that you wish to say-"
But his words were sliced apart by an angry voice from the crowd.
"-Your Highness! the Pharaoh has lost his mind! How can he open the borders—after everything they did to our ancestors? After the blood, the chains, the centuries of silence?"
The people were getting real close—only inches apart from them.
Before Amon could respond, a violent blast of wind erupted between us and the crowd.
The force hurled the front line of citizens backward.
People screamed, stumbled—some collapsed onto the cobblestones, clutching their garments and gasping for breath. Panic rippled like wildfire.
Amon's heart slammed against his ribs. He shot an accusational glance at Ramses.
Ramses wasn't even moving—frozen, wide-eyed.
Their gazes locked.
Amon tilted his head slightly.
Was that you?
Ramses shook his head, the faintest tremor in his golden eyes.
It wasn't me.
"HAVE YOU ANY DECENCY IN YOU!" someone thundered.
Everyone turned toward the voice.
Silence.
A young woman stood at a distance, furious. She had long, dark hair and brown skin. Her jade-green eyes blazed, and her features were twisted with anger. Her arm was stretched out.
It was Saphira.
Amon recognized her. A faithful, devout believer in the congregation. He often saw her at church, volunteering often as a cook or usher.
She marched forward with purpose.
"Everyone move back! Move, move, move!" she yelled, making her way between the princes and the people
The people immediately began stepping away.
Ahh. So it was her—an air user.
Amon's gaze followed her, but he wasn't looking at her with his eyes anymore.
He tapped into his inner sense.
The world dimmed. Everything faded to shadow—everything except Saphira's aura.
It shimmered faintly, a soft white glow pulsing with the signature rhythm of wind energy. It ripple outward in slow, labored waves—delayed, uneven. A clear sign of expending too much power.
Despite her fatigue, it was clear she wasn't a powerful user—her aura lacked the vibrancy, density, and scale typically seen in high-level air users.
Did that simple blast took enough of her energy to leave her like this? Does she lack proper technique to control her energy?
Amon eyes narrowed.
…Or perhaps she exhausted her energy earlier today? That would make more sense.
Four others joined her, forming a wall between them and the crowd.
"Your Royal Highnesses, we apologize for this unwanted situation. Please allow us to escort you to the luncheon," Saphira said respectfully.
"No apology needed, rather we're grateful for your intervention," Amon replied gratefully, as he quickly exited out of his inner sense
Amon and his siblings quickly followed her. The four others surrounded them, arms stretched out, forming a human barricade that prevented anyone from squeezing in.