She brushed her fingers over the mother-of-pearl feathers of Isis’s wings. Patterns of stars, ankhs, and eyes graced the borders, the mother-of-pearl incasing them in fine lines of shimmering white. Straightening her position on the floor, she leaned her back against the bed frame and studied the figures and images.
As she tipped the box just a bit more, something shifted and clinked against the wood inside. Natti froze. She glanced at her cat, who had stuck her nose over the rim of her fort; her eyes like saucers. Returning her attention back to the cedar box, Natti opened the lid. The maroon, velvet lining greeted her, but nothing more. Natti cocked her head and closed the box again as she thought. She examined the exterior, giving it a small shake. A metallic object scraped and rattled against the wood. A thought hit her, and she looked back inside, this time comparing the interior depth to the height of the exterior.
“Oh shit!” Natti rechecked to make sure her eyes hadn’t failed her. “No, bloody way!”
The interior’s base was raised a good inch from the base of the exterior walls. Natti fingered the lining. In the crease, she felt a tiny piece of fabric sticking out along the edge. Using her nails, she pulled out a maroon colored ribbon which raised a false bottom from the thicker inner walls. Natti stared into the secret compartment. A small, white envelope bearing her name rested under a necklace.
Rushing to her desk, Natti turned on the little lamp and lowered the music volume to a whisper. She carefully placed the letter and necklace before her and let the false bottom slide back into place. She first took hold of the envelope, recognizing her grandmother’s handwriting. She flipped it over to find a mysterious seal on the back. Pressed into shimmering purple wax was an image of an ankh with its arms folded along its split stem. On either side of the symbol were feathered wings outstretched like Isis’s.
Not wishing to destroy the seal, she grabbed her letter opener and sliced the top of the envelope. She peeled the edges open and slipped out a folded piece of paper. The natural lighting illuminated a watermark, the same image that appeared in the wax seal. Natti opened the letter, seeing her grandmother’s familiar script.
My darling Natara,
I fear by the time you read this I may already be dead. If this is the case then I have only one regret. All your life, I was forced to hide this from you, hide who you truly are, hoping to protect you. And it seems unfair that I now must pass on this burden.
Natti, what is contained in this box is one of the most ancient secrets ever kept. A secret that has been handed down from mother to daughter for centuries.
Natti picked up the necklace, the long, thick rope chain dragging behind it. She brushed her thumb over the round, bronze pendant that was about an inch in diameter and a fourth of an inch thick. The Eye of Horus was etched in the center, its pupil made of a smooth reflective piece of silver. She noticed the small latch along the side and pulled it. The pendant swung open, much like a large locket except it contained engraved columns of hieroglyphs inside.
She continued to read.
It is who we are and what we are. It is our heritage, our bloodline, our destiny. I wish I could explain more, my dear, sweet Natara. This is now your burden to bear. Keep it close to your heart, and do not tell anyone of what I have revealed, not even to your father. This must remain between you and me if you are to remain safe. I do truly wish I could explain more, but it is for the best, my dear.
May the Eye of Horus protect you, Zofia.
Natti lowered the letter and leaned back in her chair. She closed the pendant and rubbed her finger over the eye. It stared back at her; the whole thing a complete puzzle to her.
‘I may already be dead.’ she recited the line over and over again. The thought chilled her to the bone. ‘A secret that has been handed down from mother to daughter for centuries.’ What kind of secret? One worth murdering over? Was this necklace the reason her grandmother had been killed? ‘It is who we are and what we are.’ What had her grandmother meant? Did the secret have something to do with her family? With her?
Her instinct told her to run and tell her father about everything she just found, yet when she was just rising from her chair, she realized she couldn’t. Not only would she freak him out, her grandmother had asked in her letter not to share this with anyone. Apparently, her own life depended on it. She settled back, opening up the locket and staring at the hieroglyphs. The words almost seem to speak to her, taunting her. It wanted to be solved. It wanted to give up its secret.
‘Our heritage, our bloodline, our destiny. . . .’