The Egyptian Princess
Copyright© 2025 by Drcock666
Chapter 24: The Prophecy of the Dead Child: Shadows of Hatshepsut
Erotica Sex Story: Chapter 24: The Prophecy of the Dead Child: Shadows of Hatshepsut - This is the story of my life. I am Mutnodjmet, and when this tale begins, I am fifteen years old, on the very day of my wedding. I am to marry Pharaoh himself: my father. The year is 1350 BC, in the ancient city of Luxor, Egypt.
Caution: This Erotica Sex Story contains strong sexual content, including Teenagers Consensual Lesbian Heterosexual Fiction High Fantasy Incest Brother Sister Father Daughter
Isis was my sister, but to me, she was a shadow creeping through the golden halls of our father’s palace, a silent storm gathering behind her delicate smile. Her eyes gleamed like obsidian, reflecting secrets darker than the night that blanketed Kemet. Where I sought light and purity, Isis moved in twilight and shadow, her every step weaving threads of cunning and danger.
Dark voices still whispered to me in the stillness, ancient, haunting murmurs that seemed to slither from the walls themselves. They spoke of a secret pact between Isis and my brother, Horemheb, a twisted alliance forged not in blood but in ambition and sorcery. The voices hissed of unseen hands guiding their plans, of curses and offerings made in the dead of night beneath the blackened skies. They warned me that Isis did not just desire the crown; she hungered for it with a ferocity that would consume anything in her path.
I could feel the weight of their whispers pressing against my mind, chilling and relentless. The palace, once a sanctuary of light and order, had become a labyrinth of shadows, where trust withered and every smile concealed a blade. Isis’s laughter echoed in my dreams, sweet and venomous, promising power, yet threatening ruin.
She was my sister by blood, yet a stranger in spirit. A dark queen in waiting, cloaked not in jewels, but in secrets and dread. And as the whispers grew louder, I knew I could no longer ignore the truth: Isis was coming for my crown, and the ancient gods themselves might tremble before the storm she was about to unleash.
----
In the restless shadows of night, I was pulled into a vision, an ominous dream that clung to my soul like the heavy desert mist. The air was thick with the scent of myrrh and burning resin, the flickering torchlight casting monstrous shapes across the temple walls.
There, standing tall and regal, was Hatshepsut, her eyes cold as obsidian, her lips sealed tight with a secret only the gods dared speak aloud. Draped in the fine linens of a queen, she bore the double crown, but beneath her royal poise simmered something far darker.
The dream whispered of an ancient prophecy, spoken in hushed tones by the temple seers and passed down through generations:
“The daughter of the Nile’s rising sun shall see the dead child, whose silent scream will shatter the river’s peace. In her shadow lies the fate of kings, and in her tears, the kingdom’s doom.”
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