VIKING FUNERAL
Written by: HULL (Iron Orchestra)
Artwork by: Jorden Haley
War had lain waste to men for centuries upon centuries. And with one swift movement, death sent us word: our fathers had fallen! Carried over the heavens on swift messengers of the skies, it took some thirty moons. Over seas and barren wastelands. Over Yggdrasil’s mountainous spine, these words were sent out to find me. I wake to the sickening feeling after a dream filled with memories of my father. I wake to a new life of war. So with stones in our eyes, and with their words in our hearts, “This is another call to arms! We must stand, we must avenge our fathers! We must find these men and kill them!!” A dark task lay ahead as mothers, sisters, and lovers lament what fleeting things the heart must say. A small band of heroes is formed, recruiting the bravest youth and stout of heart; boarding ships of war, they set out to sea. Armed with blades that thirst for blood, they are now warriors who live a life of revenge; following maps drawn from their forefathers’ travels across ominous waters. Yet, they need no guidance to reveal the work of Hel’s minions; the way was not hidden from these men. When first my eyes caught glimpse of the dead shores of Amalgaraht, it was not hard to recognize the men strewn out in the soil. A proper burial must be held for our fathers. The dead placed upon wood and oil spread out while the fearless leader rose to speak: ”A curse upon the soul, this steel forged in the fires. Look down from above, behold as it bleeds. Do not hide thine eyes, for what clearly awaits…
…has tasted blood from the souls
of our fathers’ fallen blades!”
As the sun breaks upon the horizon, the oration ends and Amalgaraht quakes beneath them, for the giant sleepless worms of Hel have come to feast! Razor sharp teeth break the ground unerneath, swallowing a few unfortunate ones. Blades within work quickly, slicing stomach upon stomach open. Bursting free from the innards of their prisons,
these men cry out:
“Blood for blood has always been the way!”
“This hell and all that follow will kneel before our fury!
Blood for blood has always been the way!”
Those that remain kneel upon the rotting land, to summon the mighty Æsir. As blades are buried, they look into the boiling sky above and the sacred words are spoken in the name of Thor. Over hoards of screaming men and miles of grinding earth, they ask for the strength to smite these cursed beasts.
At last! Drawn by the goats Tanngrisnir and Tanngnjostr, Thor reaches out to fight with the young warriors. Parting through the fuming sky in his great chariot, he beckons lightning from his baleful mjölnir to strike fear in these creatures from below. With arrow, axe, and soil bonding and blood displaced from bone, the Viking heroes avenge their fathers valiantly. Tearing through worm and wind, their hatred cuts swiftly, leaving only death in their path. Severed heads and 5 rows of cross-sectioned hearts were their prize.
“We run them through, spear, axe and sword, past earth and bone lightning strikes-thor’s hammer falls! Can this be true? flesh tears away. a death so sweet? Reclaim our prize! Release this debt! Five rows of hearts. A grief undone. Sent back to Hell!”
And the warriors think to themselves: And now there is hope. But now there is hope! And then to their fathers: REST
One final blow from Thor’s hammer and the quake rings through the very heart of Amalgaraht and the spine of the island is broken by the might of the Vikings. Mountain ranges all around begin to crumble into the sea, swallowing what remains of the worms. Warriors flee to their ships and in the safety of the deep black ocean, the men witness Ægir’s bottomless wrath as Amalgaraht surrenders to its fate.
Comforted again by the ebb of the sea, I knew we had been victorious; our fathers had been avenged. To the shores of Midgard we shall go, returning to our village not as men or as sons, but now kings walking on in the path once tread by our fathers. Neither a man, nor the warrior can know he will live on. I can only rely on the gods for a safe return to my beautiful homeland…Shaken, into the wind they turn. Their sails headed for open waters they had so recently crossed. The strength of victory in their hearts and the weight of battle in their minds, they row fiercely through the ever-churning waves around them. These warriors could hardly believe the passing events and how, even when their fathers’ steps had been traced exactly, this young group of men return victorious… When the waves began to turn, and the wind began to blow, down fell a cold and bitter rain. Realizing now we were in the deepest, darkest channel of the ocean and home we soon shall be. Back to our women and children and twilight skies…all this awaiting on the other side of the channel…Then came a terrible creaking, rushing up through a deep yawn of the sea. Their vessel began to shake and an ear-piercing voice tore through the thunderous churn. The waters began to boil as a green fog slowly choked out the black skies and up through the water rose the three sirens of ILdacht…A siren’s cry seduced my wits and beckoned for me to come away from the channel. ‘O! brave soul!’ Gerdhr’s perfect face sang out to me. ‘Please heed our words and travel under our guidance. In the safety and beauty of the gods, travel in peace on this day of your victory!’…and as the faces of these angels shone down into my eyes, the many arms of the Jörmungandr slowly overtook our mighty hull…This creature from the bowels of the abyss split mast and limb alike, while plummeting our ship into his deadly vortex…The doubts of my men had been proven; a deeper treachery behind the murder of our great kings now becomes clear. “Our fathers’ ships must be here, beneath us! Men, these demons think they have us fooled!” The great Odin himself could not stop me from satisfying my vengeance!
“In the wake of the fire, we were born!”
“In the wake of the fire, we still burn!”
“We shall take our chance once again in battle, where a warrior is meant to fall!” They rowed forward into the heart of the vortex and met the beast head on. The ship’s hull stood as strong as the great walls of Midgard against the torment of the Tersus. Thrusting their blades into the sky, blind with revenge, they attacked with a strength still ripe from their first kill. They struck like lightning, without hesitation, and into the vortex they cast all eight of his wretched tentacles.
“To share our fathers’ watery grave!”
I watched the head of the sea beast sink as the storm continued to haul us further down into the sea. The vortex continued to widen until our iron hull struck against the floor of the ocean. The force of the shipwreck sent men, dead or alive, sprawling upon the foot of Midgard. Facing up to the sky, I fear I must be dead as a darkness tears it in two…
I saw the skies open up above me. I felt my eyes and my mind tear away with insanity. It is here that I see Jundær, brother of Hodr, descending through the heavens in a pitch black rage with wings spanning from mountain to mountain and talons bright with lightning bolts. While this great Jotun was still on high, he gathered the dragon’s flame inside his infinite palms and showered it upon our homeland. Like a plague from the lips of Hel, I felt it scorching out life all around me. My mind was frozen in the vast jaws of a giant as Yggdrasil’s foundations shook down to the great trunk in Jotunheim! I could hear him speaking inside each one of my thoughts, commanding me to relinquish our fight and to join the mighty Jotær in death. Just then a spark of light fell, unnoticed, through a small fissure in the boiling sky. My father reached out from the gates of Asgard to pull my mind out from under Jusær’s grasp.
“My Son, upon the foot of Midgard, you must fight beside your people and avenge me! You must slay the crimson hands of Jundær for the murder of your father, one of the noble Vanir!”
“Destroy him!”
The men continue to attack this Jotun with all the heart of the Viking mortals, but for every man, Jodær’s wrath would burn through bone and sinew, sending them to Hel. Then again they would advance- berserkers with their axes flying- yet Jundær merely cracked the soil of Midgard and swallowed them up. Now hoards of men charged again, mad with vengeance and summoning godly strength to smote this giant- only to be split down their centers by a deafening thunderclap from above. What men have their heads about them begin to retreat to the edge of their great citadel, hounded by the fury burning at their heels….
“Please, our great lord!” the warriors shout up into the halls of Valhalla. “Please end this great war with your vast strength and infinite wisdom! Bring the fury of your wild hunt upon the head of Judæn, until he’s left with only his legs to crawl back to the gates of Hel…”
Suddenly, Odin’s gungnir splits Judæn in half, sending his black soul plummeting to the ground. As Odin’s javelin struck mortal soil, Judæn’s soul took the son of his slain enemy… Over time, the remains of the son and the father are found together in a ship that will set sail for one final journey. Their wives and children gather round to release these souls out into the slowly rising and falling waves of Ægir’s tide. Eyes are lifted and sorrows are spilt, as a deep pride reverberates through their people. Arrows are engulfed in flame and raised up to the great spirits of Valhalla, held here while the wicked Skoll chases Sol over the ends of the horizon. These Vikings live on in the wake of the fire, enduring the madness of life while holding on to a glimpse of hope: to one day die in a battle for Midgard and to burn out into the sunset. To live the life of a Viking warrior is to live a life of death and glory. To walk upon the soil of Yggdrasil is to know the wide and endless circle of life. To let loose these arrows licked in flame is to free these souls from their mortal ways and send them to a new life above, in Asgard…
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SOLE LORD
Released on The End Records 05-26-2009
Written by: HULL (Iron Orchestra)
Artwork by: Josh Graham
Endless Obsidian Abyss
Movement I: Innocence
Chapter I: “The Negative Confession”
I peel my eyelids back as if ten thousand miles of boiling sand and four hundred days beneath the stare of Ra lay upon them. Before me, the distant echo of light plays in front of my vision, but fades into an emotionless landscape of nothing. My breath pounds hard in my ears as I cannot decide if my body still moves because I cannot look to see if that same body continues to exist. The cold, glassy feel of stone is pressed against my skin and a warm bead of sweat forms upon my invisible brow once I realize I may have passed on to the underworld. My heart beats faster at the thought of being placed on the very scales of Ma’at. Into the great bludgeoned belly of an endless obsidian abyss I stare, fearing my judgment to lay exactly behind it, and into that pit I take one giant breath and sing the truth to Ra! My Lord, please hear this ending voice!
Awaken to void, this black consumes
A creeping eclipse through eyes gone blind
I have not taken the life of any man
Angered I am not without just cause
Nor shut my ears to the words of truth
None have I wronged, nor evil been done
Ra!
As an answer, the mighty sun god bellows a sound to cease all sounds and white out this darkness before me, thus opening my vision to him. His wisdom speaks of great things that may come to pass and many things that may not. He speaks to me of a king of all pharaohs and how deep within the bowels of a sandstorm walks a man who could seize the skies. He mentions a second meeting beyond the field of reeds…and his voice, in the distance now softens so warmly into something much more familiar…
Movement II: Transition
Chapter II: “Prince of Redemption, Savior of Souls”
“Son!” The voice sounds like my father, but older. “Son, you must wake. The day has come before us and you are old enough now to embrace your responsibilities as a man. You shall never sit upon my throne unless you wake and listen to my guiding voice.”
Stumbling and rousing from such an unusually real dream, my father walks me between the walls of his fair kingdom, silently showing me the faces of his dying people who have almost all begun to slip into darkness. Even the steps of his royal home seem to bend and break in the wind.
Looking down on my father’s people moving slowly in the hot sun, I see that my kingdom lying in wait stands all but in ruin. The faces look up at us not in remembrance or recognition, but in desperation, only waiting to come upon the gentle hands of salvation, or the endless grasp of death.
“Son, you must save us. You must carry our name and our blood into the next life. You must seek the gods and give your soul if they so desire it, but before I perish from this world, you must go and save your people! You must do this in my stead, my son.”
I will go forth,
Naked fist in the air
Until I’ve seen an end
To the dark roads of time
Give my blood. Give my soul
And no longer stray from the path to…
AWE
And with one single eye, all in unison as if the heavens were calling each person by name, all heads move to look up through the sky while their young prince turns from his city to begin his journey.
Seas of sand, into blackness fade
Again Osiris has beckoned thee?
Upon two banks and two lands for forty days
This heart is much too young and pure
To be placed upon the scale and weighed
And these words that my father speak
These laws, the eight gods, presiding over me
Oh, so many days have passed and still my mind is clean
This home of cold obsidian, will you shelter me?
Movement III: Immortal
Chapter III: “Confrontation In the Field of Reeds”
Through time and space I have traveled. Bending bone, rock, and flesh to what echoes through the silence beyond sight, beyond land, and beyond the walls of my mind…
Past the sands
Upon fields of reeds
A golden sun reflects visions from the mount
As the Pharaoh awaits…
A golden field engulfs the landscape before me, the edge of which is bordered with a great mountain range. I sense the presence of the Sun God. Osiris reluctantly grants my passage across the field and into a small opening in the towering granite. Ra awaits my entrance to speak of one final test to end this journey. In an ear-cracking rage, the mighty god brings the mountaintops down upon our heads in a thunderous bone-crushing yawn!
A desert wisp of air rustles a lifetime of silence from my ears with the soft sound of reeds creating a papery tone, thin and crisp. I see that pleasant glow from the god of life seeping through the distant blanket of closed eyelids.
My eyes snap open as I feel my body jerk and realize I stand in the field just outside the cave that once splintered this mount before me. I have passed the test of the Sun God and have lived to see the light again! Turning, I run toward the forty days of desert, back into the hands of my father. I must tell him I have pleased the mighty Ra. As I near the edge of the field I’ve never felt so eager to step foot in white-hot sand as a terrible blow from a faceless giant forces me down…
Left without life
As the soul makes its way to the sun
You are to be held here
Under my will
Osiris finally shows his face to me as his body moves to strike me down again. Inside an instinctual deflection of this god’s mighty and unforgiving fist I see bits of sand mimicking my movements. At once I question how this god has not yet ended my existence, though try as he might. I wonder to Ra, “have you bestowed divine power upon thee?”
Born from stone, a man stands ground against a great god transcending the world of the living and his blood has become immortal. He has summoned the wrath of the sands
I rise to my feet and watch an earth-shattering amount of sand blacken the sky in an instant and rain down a wicked assault upon the head of Osiris. In the same motion my body and soul merge with the sand and winds forming a vicious sandstorm. Inside this great expanse, I ride like wind upon the desert. Across miles and miles we fly as one, and after what only feels like a passing moment, I see home on the horizon…
Movement IV: Deliverance
Chapter IV: “Amongst the Wandering Souls”
A great despair lingers in the village. Death sets the tone as the desperate cries of the people resonate even beyond its borders. No one notices the ascending tempest as it begins to fill the seams of the citadel’s gate. Then with great vehemence, the gate comes alive, bending and bursting at the presence of a man.
Looking into the eyes of the dead, I watch as their souls pour like wine from their bodies and elevate into the sky upon some holy chariot.
Father, I’ve traveled so far bringing wisdom from the Sole Lord
I cry out for my father. The canopy is cold, dark, and seemingly empty. Finally, I happen upon his frail yet breathing figure, lying with his head to the north, facing east. Overwhelmed with excitement, I do not realize that he is very ill and emaciated. Upon word of my journey, he seems to rise with ease as I inform him that beyond the horizon hunts a terrible sand storm that will surely decimate the remains of the village.
Raise your heads, I’ve finally returned
Upon the fingertips of the storm
Raise your heads, I’ve finally returned
The secrets of the gods I hold
Raise your heads and hear our day has finally come
As we head into the desert, my father halts at the edge of the village. The King realizes that he must stay with his people, regardless of the ensuing storm, as this is his obligation as ruler. With great dismay and uncertainty, I decide that it is my duty to stand by his side until the very end. My father and I fail to realize that he is actually a wandering soul and that mine is now immortal and will carry on evermore, until the day has come again to meet the eye of Ra.
Born from Flesh and Stone
Movement V: WANDERER
Chapter V: “Elucidation of a Nomadic God”
As another sun is born from the shadows of a sleepless night, dense fog from the great river rolls over mountainous dunes and lazily swallows a village lying in a bed of sand. A struggling community on the brink of collapse from the destruction of a massive sandstorm tries to make peace with the gods, as its people cry for pity upon the souls of the remaining few. Gathering in the solitude of the harsh desert winds that bring forth a bitter solidarity of broken promises and unbridled heartache, a creeping demise lies in wait as the inevitable future for these ravaged villagers. Their last thread of hope is spread from desperate, cracked lips to be dryly laid upon what ears remain as word of an immortal godsend who shall one day emerge from darkness to save their withering souls.
“He who comes by way of fog stands in place of our gods own hands… his soul has been touched by Ra. May his presence in our village be our granted blessing from each of the gods. May it bring forth the great flood to end the starving of our people and give our children the strength they need to uphold the weight of our name. May it bring forth a new king. Blind eyes will see light once again by a single touch from the fingertips of this divine deity.”
Upon word of this great fable, the villagers find hope in the unlikely chance that this illustrious god may step upon their bruised soil. Reluctantly in the dense calm of a silencing haze, they begin to toll their losses as the echo of prayers for their fallen softly fade into the endless breath of the desert.
Chapter VI: “Divinity Upon the Crown of Mist”
To the east toward the river, just before the horizon, the silhouette of a man is spotted walking in the direction of the village beneath the blanket of fog. The citizens begin to chant and pray that he is the immortal soul from the tale that had long ago rekindled their hope. As the man steps foot upon their soil, the villagers are instantly drawn to him.
“Consider us, our great lord of the mist, for our village has been stifled by the dark winds of the north. Please, oh holy master, humble our being and save us from the clutches of devastation. Your story has reached even our broken land and we look to your step for guidance.”
“My fellow searchers of truth, I am but a mortal man on a pilgrimage to find nothing more than a home to claim as my own. I am not this god you speak of, but simply a lost soul seeking my own path to enlightenment.” And with this said, he continues on.
But the villagers, drawn by what divinity they see within him, instinctually follow in his path. Beyond the boundaries of their home and across the great sands they trail him, only to happen upon the ruins of another village destroyed in the wake of a violent storm. Upon that final crest of sand, their leader notices an immaculate tomb…
Movement VI: Healer
Chapter VII: “He Who Walks Upon the Heels of the Storm”
A sea of sand as far as the horizon seems to be swallowed by the gods. Devastation fills the air while the pleading of the ravaged is finally heard. Amongst the backdrop of an obscured sun, the shadow of a man moves toward the people as if he has arrived on the heels of the storm.
From this gust, strides a divinity
“Great lord of the storm, please help us, for our people have been decimated. There is nothing left. My life is yours. Please send me back to the dead”, a devastated widower cries to the healer.
While the heart of the chosen beats, more people fall
“My lost souls”, the stranger whispers, “for it is my destiny to find you. My task is to comfort you and help lay your passed loved ones to rest. We will rejoice once again, I promise, but now we will work. The gods shall ease our souls soon enough, but our blood still flows and our hearts still beat to the drum of perseverance. Come, for I will teach you my methods.”
Chapter VIII: “Vast Horizons Upon Seas of Mineral and Wind”
Miles upon miles of endless rolling dunes, the wanderer leads his believers toward the tail of the serpent sand storm. The savior who walks upon its heels they search for. Of all the wonderful gifts from the gods spoken of in fable, there would be none greater than the gift of life…
“Behold the immortal soul and bring us wisdom from a grand journey. Stand with me, my mortal followers, and walk forth to this home of enlightenment. I hope to embark within you the tale of the All Knower. This man, or demigod I speak of has been known to ride the footprint of these plaguing sandstorms, yet heal the devastated villages and disappear into the distance, without trace. Join with me in my divine search to track this wise being. We shall once again search the desert sands”
Find no shelter from under the sun. For the beast that is restless and feeding the sky has seized control, a falling plague, we must concede to the serpent storm. Tame the winds from the blinding of eyes, for the dunes that breathe, have shed their skins, exposing the demons that reside below
Release the mortal flesh
And this deed will carry him home. Discern his scroll
The Endless sand over golden hills
Vast horizons upon the seas of mineral and wind engulf the horde and swallow them whole
Movement VII: Aesthetic
Chapter IX: “Out of Death Breeds New Life, from Life Spawns the Beauty of Death”
The villagers hold their faith in the charismatic wanderer, yet months of travel bearing no reward would weigh heavy upon their shoulders.
“Come, my people… it won’t be long now. The might of the storm is but the distance off the fallen horizon. To the sands we must march onward. My fair servants appease your frail leader. I beg your service to the gods and you will reap the glory of knowledge and power. Amongst all, you will achieve the strength to resuscitate your fragile families. The sickness you speak of is but a plague of the mind. Bear with me the fruits of our struggle. This healer that I have spoken of in stories must be found, for the future of our civilization depends on it, I am sure. Please trust in me and let us stride through this river of hardship in unison.”
But the journey would prove to be fatal to the group’s integrity, as one by one, Osiris claims victim after victim. As the sun sets beyond the great desert walls to the west, what is left of the party prepares for a harsh reality of the desert night.
As morning breaks and a new dawn sets forth another seemingly impossible mission, the great nomad realizes he is left with but a sole accomplice for his journey. The night had taken the lives of his remaining followers. With all their might, the two men struggle onward down the storms path, gripping and crawling the Earth, but by the Sun’s zenith, a final gasping breath would be the last noise the wanderer would hear from his dying companion, amongst his deafening dementia.
Chapter X: “Rebirth”
“Arise to a new day, oh famished drifter, for the gods will take you home when you are to be judged, but there is no time for death now…”
Trailing hallucinations from slits of blood shot, sunburned eyes, reveal an image of godliness, and with one divine touch from the hand of the eminent healer, finally a gasp of blissful air seeps through his bleached and cracked lips, inflating his lungs once again, and reviving the dying wanderer.
“It is you, the great savoir…he who walks upon the heels of sandstorms. An offering of peace”, he whispers to his deliverer as he tries desperately to lift himself off the ground.
The new companions struggle onward over the desert floor. Above, the skies wear a faint storm, as the chase for the demon that devours the harmless, swiftly ensues.
Over time, each learns more from the other and advances their favors within the Heavens, all the while enlightening one another in the shared belief of a holy transcendence that is coming to light. Working in varied fashions of brick and mud, tombs begin to dot the landscape as the wise men traverse the unforgiving slopes. New life fills those they were able to heal, and hope begins to refill their eyes. The strong magnetism that develops between the two nomads draws the recovering into a procession that will follow them to no bounds. Over endless rolling dunes, the followers are drawn into the trust of their saviors and shall soon devote themselves to their every will. In the eyes of the following the two stand as gods, as if their very existence grants them the supervision over the blue skies and the radiant sun.
The two men develop their skills as well as an individual deification from their followers. As time passes, their intuition and determination develops into an alliance that will guide them home. The healer is compelled to help the living send their lost souls to the great council in the sky. His role as prophet, physician, poet, philosopher, mathematician and architect will prove to save the lives and ease the minds of many in the passing moons. The wanderer has taken the role of the people’s Pharaoh, as he will build a new culture and eventually lead his people to eternal salvation.
Movement VIII: Architect
Chapter XI: “Design worthy of a devouring god”
As the sun god slowly sails through the sky, the vigilant Ibis stands watch over the golden shores, its banks teeming with new life. Days on end, the beloved Pharaoh and wise Healer lead their followers through the blinding darkness and into the plot of land they will soon call home.
Days on end winding through the turbulent spine of the desert. Follow their beloved pharaoh into a fertile valley and lay the stones to build our home again
Quickly the settlement grows and the two wise men, along with their loyal followers, enjoy the rebirth of their faith in the gods. Devoted men and women build a kingdom for the new pharaoh and claim eternal servitude to his glory. Methodically, the followers’ praise the monuments built in honor of the great god Osiris and the rising floods. All the while the wise Healer works diligently on what will be the greatest dedication to the gods. A mighty burial structure of mastaba built upon mastaba, reaching higher than the other, toward the skies. Learning of the Healer’s design, the pharaoh commissions him as architect and proceeds to campaign for the construction of his immortal home.
Our leaders will guide us. Fall to our knees to abide
Rise up for they have chosen where the stones will lie for this immortal home
It is not long before the location is chosen and work begins. Rituals and sacrifice commence to take place to please the gods and ask for a quick and safe creation. Day after day the sun beats down upon the workers, as each stone is precisely cut from the quarry walls and hauled to the site. Each new procedure is presented with an equally challenging outcome. The architect, in his grand design, oversees the progress and finds solutions to ensure that each block finds its final placement within the structure. For many suns, the workers lumber forward under the command of the architect and dissent slowly follows from the exhaustion. As much as they want to complete the monument for their beloved pharaoh, their labor under the constant heat wears upon their souls.
“Now, upon the first mastaba, more stone will be stacked to form yet another step. And upon the next two, two more shall follow. From atop the final step a great benbenet will complete our Pharaoh’s immortal home and set his sails for the divine voyage amongst the stars.”
Raise this foundation
With stones cut from the spine of the earth
Upon this mastaba
Forming the steps to the sun
His light shines as the weight bends our backs and our minds
Still we search for the crown of this grave
Miles away Osiris creates a beastly tempest so massive it would inundate the golden shores with a flood greater than any witnessed. A black endless sky turns in the distance and swiftly moves closer to the new settlement and its determined workers. Still the architect presses on as if his creation had taken over all his senses, entombed in the power of its completion, as if finally, the Earth and stone were his last true faith.
Miles away, the trailing storm, the endless sky devours us all
Crushing granite and bone. Pound into nothing
Movement IX: Vessel
Chapter XII: “Insemination of the Sky”
From the straining shoulders of mortal men, the capstone lifts from the ground. The winds blow furiously upon the architect and his remaining workers as the mighty gods battle for supremacy. From the soil, all that can be seen of the pyramid is the final mastaba with a wind-swept ramp leading to where the capstone must be placed. One foot after another, the group of beleaguered workers, the architect, and the pharaoh trudge up to the massive stone with one divine purpose. From both sides, the weary minions are pushed away from their destination and pulled forward from the devouring sandstorm, toward the pyramids base. By sheer force the men keep the stone above the ground and slowly moving forward. After hours of desperate feats of heroism, the men incredibly haul the massive rock to the final mastabas base.
Enraged, the gods whip the land with fervor and might until the battled builders lose control of the enormous stone that will crown the palace of eternal life. With great resistance, the men attempt to save the precious trophy from its inescapable fate, as the great architect runs underneath, for this is his grand design and will not be deterred by the gods. With one last hoist, the men challenge the storm in a final game of rivalry, but lose to fate, as the capstone slips from their hands and crushes the prominent architect; the All Knower.
From the sandstorm comes Ra’s thunderous clap behind the twisting sands, and slowly the hurricane winds begin to die down, as if for now, Osiris would kneel once again to Ra.
The devastated pharaoh and his mourning people take this opportunity of serenity to pay homage to the great architect by completing the task he paid for with his life. Lifting and struggling with immense strength, the men heave the enormous capstone, as if an inhuman force was helping to guide their arms into its position in the sun.
Whilst the great god begins his march through the day bark filling the eternal blue heavens with his warm fingertips, the restless soul within the Pyramidion shudders as the weight of the stone is relieved. From the ground the pharaoh and his people watch as the silhouette within the sun rises and the great arms of Ra gently lift the Vessel along a golden path into the sky. Floating in the enclosure the words the great healer recite are what will ensure him a place within the grand council. As the stars begin to draw near, gods that inhabit the massive bursts await his arrival and look to evaluate wisely and without prejudice, for this immortal that has returned amongst them is one they must respect, for he has passed them in another time and has already been judged by the Sole Lord.
