“Meswett, know yourself and you shall know the gods.
Meswett, trust yourself and you shall trust the gods.
So it ends, from start to finish,
as found in writing.”
—taken from the Prophecy of Nuin, Old Kingdom, c. 2180 BCE
I thought I knew people. I didn’t.
I thought I could trust my family and my friends. I couldn’t.
I thought I at least had some idea of who I am. Wrong.
But here’s the real kicker: I never thought I’d be in the heart of an ancient temple, driven by desperation and hatred, ready to kill my own father.
Screaming, I launch myself at him. My rage and sorrow are so great that I no longer have room for any other emotions. Coherent thought is foreign to me. I have one purpose—to destroy him.
He doesn’t see me coming. He can’t see me coming. I’m moving too quickly, bending time to my will. It’s impossible, but that doesn’t make it any less real.
My father doesn’t have time to finish the question. I’ve already torn the gun from his grasp and pressed the muzzle against the side of his head.
I flex my index finger.