The Lost Egyptian Queen

My Maker's name was Mursilis, a Hittite more than three hundred years old, before the truce between my country and his own had been broken. Though he could have stolen me and used me as lateral for his own country's needs, he had no interest in the affairs of humans any longer and instead wished me for his own. Through our years together, he taught me how to hunt without killing, how to hypnotize my dinner and heal their wounds so as not to draw suspicion. All things not commonly practiced among other vampire of the time.

Though I had resented him for as long as I could for turning me into what I was, for keeping me from what I thought to be my destiny, Mursilis proved to be a caring maker, and at my request we stayed close to my ruling city of Thebes. During the day, we slept in the light tight chambers of my tomb, and by night we surveyed the palace. It was then that I watched the night time funeral processions meant for me, the body of another hapless soul wrapped and crammed into a sarcophagus meant for my own body so the people of Egypt had something to mourn, for the higher ups of the land dare not admit that their Queen, their Pharoh had not simply gone missing without a trace. No, I was to be remembered being embraced by the arms of Osiris.

It was also this way that, in the absence of any children of my own, I watched the crowning of my only brother, Tutankhamen, who would now be known as Tutankhamun, erasing the God our parents and myself worked so hard to establish in the hearts of the people.

"He will only incite wrath," I remember speaking aloud as Mursilis and I watched the nightly festivities from a distance. Mursilis only clicked his tongue and took my hand in his own.

"It is no longer your worry," he reminded me, giving me a challenging stare. "For we leave for new land next moon fall."