Over the years that passed, each of my siblings, as well as cousins, met with untimely accidents or wounds of battle. And each time, they were brought to me to save. And each time, I sought my death in the spell that my father had cast and died with. And each time, I woke to find myself in my rooms, still alive, still breathing, still physically whole. And each time I cursed it. I wanted to know why the spell that had killed my father would not kill me. I spent hours in temples of Gods, asking why. No answer ever came.

For ten years, I didn't age, while my older cousin, the Pharaoh, died and his son ascended the throne. My second cousin was not so trusting of my word as his father was. However it only took one instance of what I said would happen, to actually happen, for my young cousin to treat my word as if it came from the Gods themselves. He was even going to disband the council and take only my word, but I advised against it. If anything should happen, he would not wish to alienate those who could help him.

Every time I saved one of my relatives, I didn't see them thereafter. My brothers, who had hated me for most of my life, while stayed in their posts, would not even acknowledge my existence. My sister hated me, my brothers pretended I didn't exist. My cousins left the city. At one point, I honestly thought that perhaps all they had wanted was to be able to do what I could. Except for my sister, I had a strong inclination to believe that she had thrown herself from the walls. It was the only way I could justify her hate of me now, where she had feared me before then.

As years passed in relative monotony, I didn't notice that I grew colder and more distant, taking less and less notice of the actual people around me. I was the permanent head mage, being that I didn't age. I went out with companies of those abominable male warriors, where nearly no one would listen to me until something would happen, as it had the first time I had gone. By the end of a decade, there wasn't a person in the region who didn't know my name or the stories that came with my name. I was oblivious to the respect and fear that came with everything I had done.

I never wore the same clothing as other people. I wore the type of clothing that my mother had worn, always wore my mother's jewelry, even when I went out with the soldiers I wore no armor, partially due to the fact that there wasn't an armory anywhere would could even make armor for a woman. I occasionally got wounded, but I healed quicker than a human did, though not instantly.

At some point at the end of the first decade, the Indigo Guard disappeared, and someone new was assigned to be my shadow. He didn't last long. I think I may have gone through about a dozen personal guards before I simply told the cousin Pharaoh to not bother with it. No one was strong enough to do the job. Half the time when I got wounded, it was due to saving the sorry hide of the man who was supposed to save mine. It wasn't worth the hassle and finally I was entirely alone. I spoke only when needed, as there was no one to speak to, no one I wished to speak to.

Such went on. And on. And on. For centuries. I heard nothing from the people who were supposed to be family. I heard of them, but not from them. And by then it didn't even matter to me anymore. I cared not what anyone thought of me, I did my job, and that was all I did.

Somewhere along the lines, when I was not quite a thousand years old, a very distant cousin decided that he was smarter than me simply because of the fact that he was male, and he decided against my advice. He was egotistical and his head was swollen in his power of believing that he was in fact a God born in human form. He decided he would conquer another land. I warned against it, I said it would not bode well for the empire I had helped to build for around eight hundred years. But of course, this cousin would not listen to me, determined as he was to prove me wrong, swell his ego and let his greed get away with him.

Needless to say, this was finally a last straw for me, and I left the council chambers with harsh words hiding in a polite tone. I noticed that without my guidance, these men were senseless in their greed and this war to conquer another country stressed and strained and drained the country of money and people and resources. I could have stopped it, but as spiteful as I was, I would let my cousin destroy himself. And he did, as this senseless war began the decline of the people and the empire and left us open and vulnerable.

This text was taken from Royal Road. Help the author by reading the original version there.

* * *

It was only around two hundred years later that Egypt was conquered themselves, and I and my relatives were forced into hiding and out of the lives we had been accustomed to. For the first time, the strangers that I was related to were actually looking for me. One of my brothers had heard people talking about me and the rest of us. What we could do. My brother had come to me only minutes before it was found that the temples, my chambers and my usual spaces were searched for me.

I had hidden with my brother and when they'd gone I grabbed what I needed and what I wished to save. We all gathered in the dark, even the cousins that had left the city. Everyone had brought their horses laden with what they were taking with them and provisions for living on the run. And living on the run in that time meant you slept under the stars and hadn't any of the comforts of living with society. When I was sure that these invaders would not come upon us or hear us, I mounted my horse and the rest of the family that seemed to suddenly wish to follow my direction followed and we left the city under cover of night.

* * *

So began the long years in which we were hunted, mainly by Romans. I could never enter a town, nor could my sister, as we didn't look like ordinary Egyptians with our red hair and pale skin. So, for six hundred years my brothers would have to go into whatever town we were near to get things that I and my sister needed. I refused to wear the heavy chest jewelry that was so common for my sister, and I often had to modify a secondary skirt into something that I could wear as a shirt of sorts. They brought me thread though, so it wasn't too bad. My cousins both looked Egyptian, and so went into town themselves. We never stuck around or got too near to a town with our camps.

My sister had the hardest time of things, she had never slept on a bedroll, or slept outside, or much ridden a horse, and she often would cry at the state of our lives. Far be it from me though to try to help or comfort her as best I knew how. She would yank away from me and glare through her tears. I knew she blamed me for everything.

Being around these people so much brought a little bit of humanity back to me. My sister's hate I found hurt, though I didn't let her or anyone else see it. Everyone was stressed, worked up and afraid that we would be caught and killed, or worse, tortured or imprisoned.

There was one day where my sister's hate came into the words she spoke to me through her tears and I stood rooted to the spot while my sister stormed away. I suddenly spun on my heel and headed out of camp as well towards the river we were camped near. For the first time since I had been a child I was crying. I sat on the bank of the river, not caring if I was seen for once, though I had a spare swath of cloth to cover my head. I put my sore feet in the river and I just watched the water pass, silent tears falling down my face.

I felt a male hand on my shoulder and I twisted around, pulling a long dagger at the same time. It was my eldest brother. I turned away, hoping he hadn't seen my face, and tucked my dagger away once more and asked what he wanted. He asked me if I was alright. It was the first time in my life that he had really troubled himself about me. Needless to say I looked at him as if he had sprouted a second head for a moment before saying that I was fine. That I was always fine.

I turned away from him again and didn't look at him a third time. Finally he sighed and went away. And I hadn't noticed that my body was ramrod straight and more tense than I remembered being in a long time. I was the head of the family, I had to be fine and unbothered by the hate of my siblings.

I don't know if my brother had finally seen that they actually needed my direction to survive, or if he had seen finally that I was treated unfairly, or if maybe he had changed his mind and no longer hated me as he had my entire life. No matter the situation or opinion, it was my job to make sure that my family survived. That was it. I would do my job and no more. I didn't need them, though I had to remind myself of such things; to be as cold to them as they had always been to me and keep a clear head in order to do my job.

* * *

This kind of living, or surviving, went on in the same manner for six hundred years. My sister and cousins began disappearing at times, sometimes just for a few hours, at other times for several days to over a week. No one said anything about where they went or what they did. My brothers had been going into town now and then for new clothes and supplies. We had no money, so my brothers learned the art of theft. Horses, clothing, supplies, food, blankets. Whatever it was we needed. It wasn't an easy life by far, but we got by.

Those years went by mostly in a blur of monotony. Nothing stood out. Every now and then we had moments where we were almost caught, and we had to kill people, but for the most part, everything was bland, like Wonderbread I guess you could say. It wasn't until the end of those first six hundred years of running, that things changed so drastically that I've never been the same since.