The starlit night bled on, and a powerful crescent moon was enough to illuminate the rocky escarpments that rose up around the sprawling villa. Ptahmose had intentionally chosen this area for his primary home knowing that it would benefit from ample daytime shade, but a riverbank location was among his primary desires. As a child he'd lived by the Nile and he often thought about the variety of ducks and geese, doves, swifts, moorhens, herons, and egrets.

Ptahmose liked to think that he saw his mother in these animals, and had thus situated his home here to remind himself of the sacrifices she, and his father, had made for him. Pharaoh, and other nobility, had been tasked with the protection of Egypt and its people, but in reality they were utterly ignorant of the lives of the everyday people. This troubled Ptahmose deeply.

With the main business of the night done, Ptahmose and Meryptah retired inside the villa to a private audience chamber, its walls covered with beautifully vivid murals of the Nile. The other priests were either still outside drinking near the artificial oasis, or retired to their bedrooms to enjoy the pleasure slaves that had been brought from around the country.

A patchy grey cat twined its way around Ptahmose's legs, and he reciprocated with a few tender strokes.

"Siamun cannot leave the estate after tonight," he said quietly to Meryptah, who nodded briefly in agreement.

"I suspect he is too close to the royal family. We can't have him running off to Malkata at first light. Not when we're this close," Ptahmose said.

"I can see it handled, First Prophet."

"If you do, his position is yours. Your work with the Book of the Dead has been nothing short of brilliant. You will make an exceptional High Priest one day, Meryptah."

"We have much work to do," was all Meryptah said, bowing his head obsequiously.

The cat jumped up onto Ptahmose's lap and was purring delightedly. "And what about the girl?"
Meryptah pursed his lips before replying. "She won't be a problem. I intend to have them relocated to the temple where they will be under my direct supervision. Her father has been a loyal priest for many years, but he is a liability. I expect we can put him to good use, one way or another."

Ptahmose looked Meryptah directly in the eyes and scratched the cat's ears generously. "I trust you to handle it properly. I won't tolerate interference."

Meryptah bowed his head once more but remained silent, the only sounds in the room were the purring cat and the swishing of Ptahmose's wine in his goblet.

"Is everything prepared at the palace?" Ptahmose queried in what seemed like more of a formality than an actual question.

"Our priests have been pouring over the Book day and night, First Prophet. I believe we will be ready." Meryptah sounded sure of himself.

"Good. Then let us hope the summit goes well tomorrow. The future of Amun in Egypt depends on it."

***

There was a knock on the door, and Siamun woke with a startle. He wasn't expecting anyone this late at night. Hadn't business concluded already?

"Who is it?" he said shakily, propping himself up on an elbow.

"It's me. Meryptah. I must speak with you urgently." The voice came dull behind the thick wooden door.

Siamun's brow furrowed with leathery creases, but he wiped his face using a bare hand and eased himself to his feet with a groan. He wasn't young anymore, and years of travel up and down the country had taken their toll.

"Why are you bothering me so late? It's an early start tomorrow," he grumbled on his way to the door.

He unlatched the wooden hook and it swung inwards so quickly that it caught his jaw with a loud crack. He was instantly stunned and confused.

He hit the floor with a thud and he clutched his jaw which throbbed intensely. As he opened his mouth to protest, Meryptah was already sending a stone-heeled staff into his throat.

It immobilised Siamun completely who was now choking and gasping for breath on the floor.

Meryptah stepped over him and closed the door, then fastened the latch. The villa was sprawling enough that no noise would be heard, but he wanted some privacy for what he was about to do.

"It's a shame you're so stubborn! You might've had a place in the High Priest's vision for Egypt," Meryptah said, finding his way to the bed and lowering himself to the edge. There was a razor-thin smirk etched onto his lips.

Despite the pain, Siamun was able to respond with a small, tired smile of his own. "Listen to you, Meryptah. You sound just like Ptahmose. Are you truly going through with this nonsense? You'll all be dragged in for treason before the sun goes down tomorrow.

"Oh, is that right?" Meryptah laughed, feigning curiosity.

He folded one knee over the other calmly, then laid the staff next to him on the bed.
It was carved from silver birch, and along its surface were hundreds of expertly etched hieroglyphs. It was braced with a mesh of animal bone, bleached white, for decoration, and it had been wrapped with a fine brown leather at the mid-point for grip. The crowning feature of the staff was the heavy bronze head of a ram, its eyes set with huge red garnets and polished to a fine finish.

Siamun's smile faded as the realisation of what was happening dawned on him.

Ptahmose told him about the staff, and its purpose, a few days earlier. The magic it held was beyond anything the Cult had possessed in the past, and he immediately questioned its purpose. It was given to Meryptah, he guessed, as a way of tempting the young priest with new powers, but there was likely a darker meaning behind it.

Despite that, the fact the staff was here, now, left Siamun in no doubt as to what lay in store for him.

"Pharaoh won't know anything if you don't spill your guts, Siamun." Meryptah smirked again at his own words then took up the staff by its leather grip and levelled the ram's head at Siamun's recumbent figure on the floor.

The older priest grimaced, then lifted himself up on an elbow.

"Is this really the answer, Meryptah? You've taken it upon yourself to take lives, now? Is that the Egypt we want for our children?" he trembled.

"You wouldn't understand," Meryptah shrugged calmly. "Change requires sacrifice, and there can't be more meaningful change than this."

"These souls won't reach the afterlife, Meryptah! Are you prepared to deal with that guilt?"

"Oh I'm quite aware," Meryptah smiled knowingly. "These souls are bringing about a major revolution in Egypt, you see. A revolution which we desperately need. The Pharaohs have held too much power for too long. It's Amun's time, now."

Siamun choked again and rubbed his throat. He calmed himself now, resigned to his fate.
"Anyway, you're too late. My man left hours ago for the palace. Pharaoh will know everything," he said.

Meryptah heaved a sigh and shook his head, then slowly pressed up from the bed, staff in hand.
"That was very stupid of you," he said.

Meryptah lifted the staff and pointed the ram's head at Siamun. The hieroglyphs on the staff thrummed to life, and his voice lifted up to fill the room as he chanted a verse:

"Homage to thee, mighty Amun! Thou risest; thou shinest. Thy foe has been cast down and his head removed. His soul has not been found worthy to cross with the sacred boat. May thou take it and use it instead!"

There was a sudden stillness in the room, and the air within it seemed to contract, building an immense pocket of pressure. A black fog slowly crept in from all the crevices — under the door, through the windows, from the thatched roof — and slowly extinguished the torchlight. It was a thick, oppressive darkness that made Siamun tremble in fear.

In a snap of light, the pressure was sucked from the room and the fog was absorbed by into the head of the ram. Siamun collapsed in a heap to the floor, his head cracking into the wooden floorboards.

Somewhere deep in the earth, far away, a veil of shadow pulsed as another soul was greedily consumed. Siamun's soul wouldn't travel to the afterlife, but Meryptah knew it would be put to good use in the days ahead, wielded as the darkest magic the Cult of Amun could conjure.