“BIRTH OF PHARAOH” CHAPTER 1

“The Newest police chief, shamus”

COPYRIGHT 2023. CORINNE DEVIN SULLIVAN. ALL RIGHTS RESERVED.

FOREWORD:

THE SCROLL

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

Next, all did see the rise of the first Na’ Halien, a word which means the wind, either in space or upon any world, for the Na’ Halien were the first mortal things who seemed meant to travel everywhere. The grail of this Na’ Halien has been spoken, and it says, “a perfect trust,” etched into the very grains and talons of all the endless galaxies, far and wide, but none see nothing yet, it is also said.

Time means nothing to the Great Houses who are summarized in poetry such as, “One day immortal, the next day dead,” or, “Come not with us for we use thee for our deeds.”

Time exists for immortality bliss: once more, once beyond time, and once before.

The original person of whom Grace says his name (or her name, as the case may be) out loud to us and to them who shall live beyond our time as “Whittne Fax” was a poor man’s widow’s son, born inside the House of the Heroic White, one which yet only permitted women to succession. However, it is written, that this stranger’s son, “Whittne Fax”, was somehow set upon a line to rule Heroic White, which posture would begin a new day.

Before this day, a doorway opens for all the many putrid peoples everywhere in this sky, and with the door was an opening through The Training to join into Na’ Halien., to serve alone a great White Queen but she was yet a future legend that the many Great Houses hoped to write, and most failed The Training and were, next, killed without remorse.

Everything blossomed. Wealth was born. The Rainbow, next, shined. Some said The Rainbow foretells a Reveal.

Before the time of Reveal, when another age should have emerged, the wheel of ascension was altered.

Then, before us all—and before all of them who dwell inside or outside of all the universe’s sweet skies—the lots of royal children were flung inward, and, then, with a gust of divine intervention from a hidden place none know where came from, the lots were cast outwards to fall and blow every which way. Future and bliss did turn to chaos in one minute’s time only. Fractured spirits were done all around us and across galaxies.

It has been written in many tomes that, suddenly, inside this chaos did a bright red line become visible.

This red blaze did stretch from universe to the ends of eonic sky.

Red scorches in a divine path from one end of every galaxy to the next was simply called The Line. Upon The Line was strung a trail of blood, first, from one and all, across every night sky, but also it touched lesser trappings as asteroids and comets, to be sure.

Once, a long time ago, the Training perished. Anything, then, 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 has been destroyed. Succession has become election, become betrayal, and eventually, to today, is once again a revolution across eternity as it must be.

The putrid Derelicts, as well as the despotic Not-Wanteds, continue to falter but this time they are unchecked, roaming everywhere, to engage their times in betrayals and slaughter, their work a show of their defiance to a cast system that held each one evermore inside a permanent place of rejection.

Only fragments of the Great Sky sometimes give off The Rainbow and, with The Rainbow, comes a pure state of bliss that shall reveal the possibility of once, a time long ago, or, yet, a long time soon to be, when separate universes were connected for all to strengthen their fathers under. This, yet, vanishes, as well.

CHAPTER ONE

I am Whittne Fax, for I am only me.

At the moment I make this recording, I stand upon a space station’s platform, out here close to the edge of Northern Sky Territory. The comets and stars call me to depart, but the tragedy of a space shuttle I captained and arrived in last night has somehow been disengaged. Perhaps it was maligned by the fifteen people who are suddenly, out of the blue, in my presence.

Lingering over a drink one more hour than I had intended is the reason these fiends caught me here. You see, an hour earlier I made a quick trip here and my vessel was still good. Then, I returned back to my temporary spot inside a bygone cathedral where I meant to relax, so to speak.

Looking at the shuttle, it’s sad because it won’t move again.

It’s like a game of chess, with me in the center, because I am surrounded by disappointing people who call themselves a police.

Not far from me, I spy a nice thing to get off and away in. It’s small. They call them pods. It has a tiny crew, and they each scurry with preparatory actions to go away from this place. I know the pod’s crew can see me here, surrounded, but they don’t want to be noticed.

There wasn’t any police here, in these parts of the Major Universe, before, and so I don’t think these fifteen individuals know all that much about me. They’re new to this work.

The main one’s name is Shamus, I gather. He told me quick he doesn’t like how I talk to him. He looks like a fighter type, and for that I do respect him.

I am a momentary figure in his life. I am hoping to be on my way, already.

Everyone in the party on this platform now wants me arrested for vagrancy in outer space. This sounds like a show or a play, not reality, to me, at least.

This platform took much to build it. It must be the new regime taking hold across this portion of the Major Universe because who other than a demigod could afford this? It has one of those things that traps everything, like air, inside of it until the moment the ship is just about to sail on through at which time a special code locks in a travel route intended only for one.

It’s a smaller version of the Hidden Wall. The Hidden Wall is so vast we all can’t remember where the thing ties down. It spans universe after universe—at least the parts that all the Great Houses might have wanted so badly to be theirs, way back in the beginning of time.

There are so many galaxies and little hovels inside that Hidden Wall that no one really knows the outer thing buttoning it all together is still there unless they frighten themselves with adventure. Then, they all die when their ship touches the thing and lightning strikes, so to say.

The Hidden Wall is built in a similar way to this space platform’s magical, invisible bubble in that, with the right code, it is possible to leave and enter empty space. Again, no one really knows that’s what you do if you want to go far away from here which is, incidentally, where I’m headed right after I cut through the new police.

I’m headed to the Planet Po tonight.

I have been speaking into my recording device installed like a watch around my wrist. I keep this thing on. Now, I switch to my shoulder recording installation. I want to make sure I record it all for, of course, posterity. I like my get-up because I can talk telepathically into the thing, too, but then it just comes out in numbers, not talking in my natural style.

Tonight’s voice recording is going to start with a little story I will tell these men who surround me like ants gnawing to take apart a mole.

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

I must tell you, I like how you hear what I am telling you. In your natural stance, you remember me whole. For, as I said before, I am Whittne Fax.

For too many years and suns to remember, I led 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.

My story continues. It is built up by the time when The Holy Black came into the Corner Star Eg Territory, one day, which is so far away from here that you wouldn’t survive the journey. Then, they never left. From that corner, they spread. Now, they blend seamlessly.

The threat from The Holy Black is like nothing you have far over here, removed from my old home worlds, and far from the destroyed encampment of the White Queen.

Oh, don’t shiver, for she is gone, and you did not kill her.

The Holy Black are in this Northern Sky Territory now, standing like any other person. That ought to scare you, 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.

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?

I see some of you are standing strange. Now, is it “sister” these days?

You ought to know your enemy.

The Holy Black have no concept of time. Thus, things fall any which way inside their minds. Now, you stand there as police when the Na’ Halien would stand much better for we always understood The Holy Black entirely. Yet, you decry all that is Na’ Halien.

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—and the entire order of the Na’ Halien was forsaken by him and everyone fell.

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.

Earlier, I entered from the same direction as once held the first Holy Black: yon Corner Star Eg Territory!

And you don’t seem to know the terrible consequences of messing with me. That’s because you are too young to know how terrible life can be.

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). All the while, The Holy Black seemed to know there way about town. 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 still keep.

Look at this outfit closely, if you dare to do it. 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. Pushing it in, I am able to get away quickly. I dare you to discover how this works.

And, now I find you all look at me completely absorbed. It’s because I can talk not only through this voice box but also through my mind.

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 things I do in front of a foe, taunting whoever I am facing to steal my life from me quickly, but only just before the moment I use my skill to end their own life completely. That’s the way it goes, I guess.

Alas, my lost wit, my sadness, my feelings of regret, overpower me so I can’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, to arise my own desire again.

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 contestation on his end, you ask me now through your minds: he claims 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. For me, I am forsaken for him, only once before. In other words, he’s been unkind to me, personally.

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 an old space garden, located 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 relinquished to me many eternities before now to protect the reassembly of the Na’ Halien in the present day. He can’t sense this yet, at all. Tonight, he sleeps alone in his grave-like home.

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.

Ah, but this is far too long of a conversation. It’s beginning to sink in that I can play your mind and, through it, your body’s response to me is completely under my control.

All of this is to relay how I fell into doing what I do as a “sky-pirate”, as you deem me.

Say, don’t say that to me again. How I hate it!

I made a promise to consume my old self with any new purpose as green as the White Queen’s gardens, long-since forgotten inside their Orbs, now tended by The Great Leader Of All who abandoned me, simply put. I think he enchants his mind with a self-developed vision of the White Queen, who is long-since deceased, strolling aimlessly to him one more time.

Nay, she is, indeed, gone. She isn’t hidden. She is deceased.

My mind’s embers were hidden to you, though, when you arrested me here without provocation. Now, as I stare into your space suit’s orb, that hidden ember bursts with flames of a passionate demon at play against the police-at-arms who have dared to hunt me: you.

TO CONTINUE THE ADVENTURE CLICK ON CHAPTER TWO: “MY LADY” FROM THE RENEYT HOMEPAGE!