Nefertari sighed as she looked over the hieroglyphs one last time. She had recorded many tomb inscriptions over her numerous years for various family members. Tomorrow the artists would begin to sketch and paint these into her room in the Luxarra, next to where her younger brother rested. She scanned through the section laying out her heritage; she was the youngest of her parents’ 3 daughters, fifth oldest overall. Being last on the line of inheritance meant that her mother and father cared little what she did with her life, so long as she married who they wanted. Nefertari remembered the day she realized that when her second eldest sister was married off a second time to an elderly ally.
When she was just old enough at 14, she became an apprentice in the royal alchemist guild, not that my parents cared, she remembered. She was married off the next year to her husband Ahmose, an official who frequented court and sought to rise above his place. Able to stay at court, she continued her study of alchemy, which saved her from the tedium at court, and later would save her from marrying a second time after Ahmose became deathly ill and passed away, but not before giving Nefertari her beloved son Menna, who is doing a fine job of governing Khem.
At the guild, she mastered the art of mixing compounds, and quickly rose through the ranks thanks to her royal heritage. Nefertari became the master of guilds in time, representing all the guilds in council for the pharaoh, who by this time was her eldest brother, Pimay. After Pimay’s death, she served her next elder brother Sabu after a less than peaceful change of power. Now Sabu’s grandson Memmon started ruling just last year. Her life close to court gained her a considerable amount of influence within the kingdom, and a healthy amount of respect. Not much happened without my knowledge and consent, she thought as she read through several treaties and policies written down that were her doing. Living to 90 was something not often seen, and fewer seen who could maintain the look of youth as she had. No one cares about the thoughts of ugly women, the princess thought as she remembered the hours she spent perfecting her youth elixir. It didn’t exactly give her youth, but regular consumption kept her skin moisturized and wrinkle free. But the elixir didn’t stop time, and her age had begun to catch up with her. It is time to move on. Memmon had appointed a new master of guilds.
It was dark when she woke up, and the princess couldn’t move at all. It took hours for her to get out of her sarcophagus, once she realized that’s where she was. She could have sworn she had died. She remembers the cocktail she drank her last night living. I cannot be alive in my own tomb! When she finally rose she was, however, inside the Luxarra surrounded by the glyphs she had ordered scribed on the walls of her burial tomb. Her skin was dry, and her organs all but gone she unpleasantly discovered. Her burial wrappings were dry, and functioned well enough as skin.
She waited a day in her room, not believing she was alive. The princess cautiously ventured out of the Luxarra and found her beloved kingdom in ruins. Others like her were attacking people, and there was complete chaos. Asking her like conditioned what they were doing was met with the response “the witch commands it.” This must be the work of the Djinn, she thought, remembering the hours of study all of the royal family received in order for a wish to do anything BUT this.
Over the next few months she discovered what the Djinn did, and tried to do what she could to not die. Mostly this meant figuring out how to move about, and Nefertari found an old alchemist’s shop to brew some basic potions. When Memmon assumed control after the war, Nefertari knew she did not have a place in her own homeland and sought elsewhere to call home. In her travels she found the Enochian Order of the Penitent, and decided it was a place where she might belong for a time.