“BIRTH OF PHARAOH” CHAPTER 1

“WHITTNE FAX BEGINS”

COPYRIGHT 2025. CORINNE DEVIN SULLIVAN. ALL RIGHTS RESERVED.

THE SCROLL

In the beginning of this world, all of the names of the Houses were set upon a wheel, and upon that wheel, the sequence of ascension of Houses was strung along.

The original person of whom Grace says his (or her, as the case may be) name out loud to us, and to them who live beyond our time, as Whittne Fax, was set upon a line to rule the House of Heroic White, one which permits only women to succession.

But before the time of reveal, when another age should have emerged, the wheel was altered forever.

Then, before us all—and before all of them who dwell inside or out our sweet skies—the lots of royal children were flung inward and then, with a gust of divine intervention from a hidden place none know came from where. Thus, the lots were cast against the skies to fall and blow every which way.

It has been written in many tomes that suddenly inside this chaos of future and bliss, did a bright red line become seen by many. This red blaze did stretch from the universe to the ends of eonic sky.

Upon the line was strung a trail of blood, first, from one and all, across every night sky, and less, to be sure.

Next, all did see the rise of the first Na’ Halien, the wind, and this was open through The Training.

The grail of this Na’ Halien has been spoken and it says, “A perfect trust,” etched into the very grains of the galaxies far and wide, but none see nothing yet, it is also said. Once, a long time ago, the Training perished. Anything might happen with the Na Halien vilified. 

So, we all shall learn from one another, it is said, until we see, and, then, until we know.

The Wheel of House had been destroyed. Succession became election, became betrayal, and eventually was declaring revolution across eternity. The Derelicts, as well as the Not-wanteds, continued to falter but this time they were unchecked, roaming everywhere, to engage their times in betrayals and slaughter as a show of their defiance to a cast system that held each evermore in a place of rejection.

Only fragments of the Great Sky reveal the possibility of once, a time long ago, when separate universes were connected for all to strengthen their fathers under. 

CHAPTER ONE

Once upon a time, there was a hopeful world because there were laws of order.

For too many years and suns to remember, I lead The Training for all Na’ Halien, who are the dedicated guards of law. And with all I had done to train the myriads who had sought me out inside my domain—enough for these to next keep well- preserved the many who are dwelling inside outer space, across the galaxies—I was The Esteemed.

I often was the only one who could teach new men or ladies a skill to hold back the pushing by The Holy Black, and The Holy Black are the pristine. They are manufactured ghosts from another long-gone era, made by a source no one has ever found. When they came into the Corner Star Eg Territory, one day, they never left. They spread. Now, they blend seamlessly. The threat from The Holy Black is like nothing you have here.

The Holy Black are in this Northern Sky Territory now, standing like any other person, but they are employed by the righteous few who, I am told, developed further the limbs and minds of The Holy Black to such perfection that, for endless time, those demigods have been regarded unkillable—unstoppable against war machines, to be sure.

But The Holy Black have no concept of time. Thus, things fall any which way inside their minds. For that, they must be destroyed by all Na Halien, at once, forevermore, or shall we always worry constantly about them and which way they are going next? Won’t we, brother? Or, is it “sister” these days?

There are too many men and great women whose stories I am not privy to. Lessons of secrecy are ones I taught all students to uphold amongst themselves and between those they were sent off to save. Secrecy must be the single lesson I myself follow in all my days. My future dealings amongst friends and my love are shaped and swayed against knowledge and in favor of my diplomacy, for certain. In regards to this lesson of secrecy, once in a while, The Great Leader of All called upon us to deliver to him a feast. Next, the heroes and champions shook the stage to retell the stories of their conquests. And, with their endless stories on that stage, why, then, next, secrecy was amazingly gone forever in favor of an hour of fancy songs and shows, but not gone at all from inside MY mind.

Outside of the kind of people attending our parties is another kind of space-dweller who cherishes stature. Yes, that’s the kind that listened well to all the lessons I taught with Secrecy at its hull.

I wish I could belong fairly to every world’s societies, but people find their private ways and secrecy far more meaningful to themselves than Love. For I, Love is never far away, never far from my fingers to hold onto, but was never easy for me to give for my lessons are very strict.

You shift! Boredom or your safety crosses your mind?

Alas, where was I at inside this story-telling?  

Of course: The Great Leader of All, one day, arrived to that place they say the White Queen herself had fostered. I speak of the Hidden Garden, and I do not know why this happened, but when my lord set one single step upon the very first of those three restless, oscillating planets—out there, inside the enclave that still shelters him today—the entire order of the Na Halien was forsaken by him and everyone fell. That was when the Great Sky was broken and was simply no more. This was when The Wheel of House fell away.

Order was broken. Chaos ensued. I lost my fight. The new one, some say, is called an “endless fight for survival”. It draws blood in every galaxy. New houses have arisen, blossomed like those trees in the window of your portal there, only to lose everything. It goes on, I believe, until now.

I was close to the heart and almost averted the pain entirely if I had only seen what now I remember was the key to it all. I didn’t, however. It was and is my greatest failure. So, I watched in pain when my lord, the Great Leader Of All, simply took a step in freedom that somehow utterly destroyed every man and lady I cherish, and still I had no cause for him to do so in my mind.

Spending a time in constriction, I lost my own mind for a very long time. I cried forever, it seemed. I was a shell.

For I had lost my friends and connections. It was the hardest thing ever borne by anyone.

No one could put back together The Great Sky. No one seemed to care that the Wheel Of Houses was destroyed. And, yet, no one traveled galaxy to galaxy anymore so without beings doing something such as that, who will hear trillions of cities out there, in the night’s skies, ever complain?

Only me because they are in my head eternally, I am guessing.

No one understood the Locked Hall as I, or how it might have been entered from the same direction as once held the first Holy Black: yon Corner Star Eg Territory!

Oh, those were terrible times when today’s age was born. Black decay stretching from the fall of the wheel, passing through the eons that the White Queen had ruled (and rest her soul, please). Arriving to today, now, I see you before me as though some sort of police is formed.

You want me.

I recently re-awoke from my pain of silence. I “came to” once I realized that by picking up the pieces I held kept in my possession the solution to the reset all these eternities of war and silence I hold here. There is a portal, a small button shaped like a penny, that I wear as a hidden piece inside my necklace. It’s so painfully obvious.

I find myself scheming every day to fix the universe even though I must say I am only joking whenever I forget secrecy and twirl the thing in front of a foe, taunting whoever I am facing to steal it from me quickly, but only just before the moment I use my skill to end their life completely.

Alas, my lost wit, my sadness, my feelings of regret, overpowered me so I couldn’t do anything very worthy, even now. For a while more (unless everyone agrees to join in), I’m staying put. And this has become my quest.

Meanwhile, my lord, the Great Leader of All, resets himself, and we all know that he is again walking amongst the stars. I am immoral with stupidity and, so, I make it my duty to find him where I can. I must help him with anything I can. I aim to set him again upon the throne. The point of contest on his end: duty made him sick once before, didn’t it?

There is a strange relationship between my lord and I. He is still wonderful. I, on the other hand, work for every drop. I am permanently his forsaken Na’ Halien –once such a trusted one, his erstwhile “Keeper of the Training”. Those were the days, it’s true!

Dismally, these days, I wander and am caught by space tramps like you. What’s a police force doing in the Northern Sky Territory, if you please?

Far from this scene, three green and blue planets inside that old garden, close to the White Queen’s destroyed and moss-ridden home, shelters my lord as the quietest of his hiding points, without him knowing that I use the powers he has to protect the reassembly of the Na’ Halien.

I could be at fault for being too timid, waiting too long, or redirecting the desires of my peers without any need to do it. But, they cannot understand the delicate balance which built the Order to begin with.

Though slow in appearance, really I am hurrying back to the prime position.

The only issue is that my boys and ladies don’t care at all. They do not care anymore. They fail to love once again, and again, and again, and which is the other let-down.

Somehow, I have to get things reset.

For years it was me alone who trained how Nature restores herself into our world once again if we only mind a certain pattern. And the pattern is still dancing in my wrists and finger-tips, ready to show off if, on the off-chance, that somehow my mind becomes, again, balanced.

I hope this isn’t too long of a conversation.

All of this is to relay how I fell into doing what I do as a sky-pirate.

I made a promise to consume my old self with any new purpose as green as the gardens now tended by The Great Leader Of All. I think he enchants his mind with a self-developed vision of the White Queen strolling aimlessly to him one more time. She is gone. She isn’t hidden. She is deceased.

My mind’s embers were hidden to you, when you arrested me needlessly. Now, as I stare into your orb, my embers burst with flames of a passionate demon at play against the police-at-arms who hunt me these days: you.

TO CONTINUE THE ADVENTURE CLICK ON CHAPTER TWO: “WHITTNE FAX CONTINUES” FROM THE RENEYT HOMEPAGE!