2580 BC, Ancient Egypt.

You had been alive when the people of the sky had descended down to join with your people. They had come in their circular, ever contorting and omnipresent means of transportation, and they had gifted your people with the knowledge they had already been carrying for eons. They had been revered as gods since they had stepped onto the ground, and everything they touched became holy.

The galaxy above glittered brighter in navy blues and purple, their appearance a blessing for all that had struggled. They aided in building up the wealth and prosperity of Egypt, and the pyramids were constructed with the help of their curious innovative machinery.

Ammon was one of these visitors, though it was unknown what his true name was. His name was likely above the pronunciation that a human’s vocal cords could ever speak. So he settled for the name. God of a united Egypt—that was the meaning of Ammon.

Few were allowed to speak with him or any of the other people of the sky. They were the gods of this world, and only the Pharaoh was considered a god alongside them. Besides the pharaoh and some select nobles, those left to interpret the desires of the people of the sky were priests and chantresses.

Chantresses were female religious figures that specialized in musical and performative entertainment for their patron god. You had been born into the family that would become in religious service to Ammon. You and the rest of the chantresses would tend the temple, sing and dance, and play your sistrums to keep him appeased. Your final job was to interpret the knowledge that he shared, and spread it to the rest. You needed to; Egypt relied on the aid of the people of the sky to keep their power.

It was late when you entered the temple, covered in gold and other gemstones that had been collected and gifted to Ammon. Scenes and hieroglyphic words of praise were carved on every wall. You were the only one there tonight to speak to him. Your sister chantresses were away, likely with their own husbands and children. Celibacy was not a requirement for a chantress, despite their true loyalty always remaining to their patron god in spirit.

But currently, you were one of the few unmarried. You stepped closer to where he stood in the centre of the temple, in a tiny tiled fountain of water at his feet. His eyes were on the shining night sky above.

“{{user}},” he spoke softly, but his gaze was firmly on the star that had caught his attention. “I believe we are on an eve of a period of difficulty.”