The moon had traveled with Qen from the hollow but now it sank behind the horizon, as a gradual upward movement of the clowds served notice that the world would soon be beginning its daily chores. He quickened his pace. Below him, a temple roof came into view. He looked up and reflected that, sooner or later, his spirit would join the clouds in their skyward flight. To the universe, the death of one man could hardly have any more significance than that of a butterfly, but in the realm of humanity, a single death could affect everything, for better or worse. Qen's only concern was dying with dignity, when the time came.



He found himself before the statues of the gods. These were not the gods, but they were sacred objects, vessels containing holy spirits. The priests in their fine robes gave their blessings as scholars, merchants, and the homeless congregated together, their backgrounds and natures unique, but united in a shared culture, a common religion. Inside the temple were ornate frescoes and complex mosaics shining with every color of the rainbow. They reflected onto still waters that filled the pools within the inner halls.



A woman--a priestess perhaps, or just a common maiden--handed him sacred herbs. He sniffed them and recognized them as herbs he had taken before. He began to chew them as he bent his knees before the statues, joining others in worship. Some of them spoke, saying prayers, a chorus of mumbling. Qen said nothing as he closed his eyes. He felt his body becoming, a flood of euphoria blossoming behind his eyes. His whole body began to feel warm, even though the temperature had not changed.



Suddenly, a pathway opened up in front of him. It was narrow and circular, a passage flanked by green and twisting vines. On either side were creatures with the bodies of men but the heads of animals. They stood as silent sentinels and watched Qen stride by them. The road was curving and strewn with rocks, sharp and jagged ones that made his feet bleed. He propelled himself onward, but the tunnel seemed to on forever, only becoming smaller, tighter, more claustrophobic.



His breathing ragged, Qen closed his eyes again and stopped. When he opened them again, he was standing in a field at nighttime, and it was autumn, with a cool breeze blowing in from the sea. He was in Cairo, but the city was empty, a haunted ruin. He had the sense that humanity was dead, gone, but the buildings were left standing, to be reclaimed by nature and her alone. Each building, even the lowly hut, was now a testament to the human race that no longer was. Everything else kept on being, having never sought human permission to begin with, and they would go on being until the end of time. He was alone in this static world, or so he thought.



The shadows came in waves, silhouettes in human shape, from the walls, the corners, the hidden places. They came into further focus, gaining eyes, noses, mouths, the features of the men and women he had killed in his many years. There was no future, but there was a past, and a reckoning to be had. They pursued him, these hungry ghosts, through the empty streets and alleys of Cairo. He ran beneath the temples and the monuments and the palaces. Even as he outran them, he knew there was no escaping them, that he had already lost. He had always known there would be a price to pay for all this blood, for all these souls he had reaped. It was never far from his mind, but other times, he suppressed it. But now, when he took the herbs, the walls came tumbling down. He felt the pain and the guilt come rolling over him. He did not know what to do or say. He felt helpless.



Then came the elephants. Herds and herds of them, crashing into the city of Cairo, rampaging through stone and straw and brick. He thought that he would be trampled underneath them, but they ran around him, giving him just enough space so as to let him stand perfectly still and no more. He heard muffled cheering and screams as the enormous beasts ran by. The screaming grew louder. "Look at me! Look at me!" He heard the voice of his son. Mahu stood in front of him, offering a hand. Qen took it and ran.



The elephants were running toward pyramids whose tops rose up to the clouds. Rays of sunlight were glowing down on them, piercing through heavy grey clouds. Qen and Mahu raced towards them, as swift as the elephants. When they reached the feet of the structures, the gods were emerging from them, their hands raised, their presence a beauty to behold. They were the most fearsome yet entrancing figures that Qen had ever seen; words could never describe their awesomeness. At the end of the procession came the lord of the gods, Ra, the Sun God, whose light consumed everything and everyone everywhere.



Qen's eyes opened. He still knelt inside the temple. He was gasping. His mouth felt dry, his head feverish. He had come here expecting answers, but so far, none was coming. In fact, he had felt worse than any of his recent visits to the temples. Before the gods, he had found only the usual comforts of the faith, the belief in powers higher than himself. He knew that he was beyond saving. But he still had duties in this world. He had to return to Mahu, who had left at the tavern where they were staying.