Long ago, on the sacred banks of the Nile, lay a mystical village named Iset. It was a place where the morning sun shimmered on the water like gold, and the wind carried whispers of ancient chants. On a rare day when both the sun and moon shared the sky, a child was born. The village priest Hotep looked into her eyes and said, “This soul has returned. She carries divine purpose.”
They named her Anhora — “the radiant one.” From an early age, she showed signs of an old soul. While other children played, Anhora sat in silence, her gaze fixed on the horizon, as though listening to something others couldn’t hear. At age seven, she found a bird with a broken wing. She cradled it, whispered a few words, and to everyone's shock, the bird flew again. Word spread quickly — "A healer walks among us."
The temple’s chief priestess, Senara, recognized Anhora’s gift and brought her into the sacred fold. She was taught ancient chants, healing through herbs, meditation, and the mysteries of the Divine. Strangely, she seemed to know many of these already, as if remembering, not learning.
By sixteen, Anhora had become the youngest high priestess the temple had ever known. Each day, before sunrise, she would bathe in the Nile and walk barefoot to the altar, where she lit the sacred lamp and offered prayers that echoed through stone halls. Her voice in chant was so pure that many claimed to feel their pain dissolve just by listening.
Sick villagers, grieving mothers, lost travelers — all came to her. She did not discriminate. Her touch healed, her words comforted, and her eyes revealed truths people didn’t know they carried. Her fame spread far beyond Iset, reaching the ears of royalty.
One day, a royal chariot arrived. From it stepped Prince Kaheferre, brother to the Pharaoh. Arrogant and commanding, he said, “Your powers belong to the kingdom. You must serve the royal court as priestess.”
Anhora replied calmly, “My soul serves only the Divine. I do not belong to any throne.”
Insulted, Kaheferre left in fury. Weeks later, the temple was raided. Soldiers destroyed statues, burned scrolls, and captured Anhora. She was locked away in a ruined stone chamber deep in the desert. Days passed with no food, no water. But she did not cry out. She sat in deep meditation, her spirit anchored in something beyond this world.
One night, a soft light filled the chamber. Anhora felt warmth around her, and in the silence, she heard a voice radiant and eternal:
“Your purpose in this life is complete. Your soul must now journey onward.”
A gentle smile graced her lips as her breath slowed and finally stopped. When the guards found her the next morning, her body was lifeless, but the air was filled with the scent of sandalwood and sacred herbs.
Thus ended the first journey of your soul — not in death, but in liberation.
(To be continued: Part 2 – Seeker of Wisdom in Flames, 800 CE, India) Comment for next part
