Dazzling light. Reflexively, Horus blinked but then realized there was no need. The light didn't hurt his eyes. Rather, it seemed to bathe them. His pain, too, was gone, and he could breathe easily. He twitched a finger. It was sound. His bones were mended. Cautiously, he flexed his muscles. He sat and looked around.
There was only light. Wherever he was, it wasn't the marsh. And it wasn't the island.
A form, tall and slender, appeared, hazily, and moved toward him.
An enemy? If so, why did he have no fear? Horus stood and wonderingly asked, "Who are you?"
"The child doesn't know his mother?"
Horus' breath caught. Could it be? Elated, he hurried forward. Wait. Nalia had warned about the possibility of enticements leading to traps. He stopped. "Let me see you."
Isis shifted into focus, her long black hair swaying, parting over her shoulders, and sweeping back into place. She glided nearer, the fluid lines of her luminous white linen gown unaltered.
Eyes adjusting to the intense light, Horus saw they were in a room, at least ten times the size of the clearing on the island. Columns, like enormous white stone papyri, and wide doors gleaming with gold lined its edges. Across its white stone floors was a wash of gold, reflecting the light, continuing to stream. He inhaled. The scents of sandalwood, myrrh, rose, and gardenia merged and separated into layers with the music's wafting melody, each note its own fragrance.
Horus gazed into Isis' eyes, their color shifting from grey to darkest blue to pale lavender, entrancing against the black of her eyelashes, the alabaster of her skin.
"Come," Isis said and took Horus' hand.
A jolt surged up Horus' arm and through his body.
"Do you know where we are?" Isis asked and motioned toward a bench of finely chiseled, iridescent white stone, gold seeming to spill from its seat.
It was as though it had simply materialized with the flick of her hand. The floor seemed to slide and spin beneath him. He sat where she indicated.
She joined him, resting her hands lightly in her lap, her back straight, chin high. Light bounced off the layers of silver-encrusted sapphires and emeralds around her neck.
Was it coincidence the columns wavered in and out of view and minutely shifted position with each breath she took?
"You're in the House of Ra, my beloved son."
Horus turned his attention from the columns to look again into Isis' eyes. He couldn't see to their end, couldn't fathom deeper than the silver flecks in her irises. "Am I...?"
"Dead?" Isis smiled, the smile he remembered, loving and unknowable. "No, dear one." Her gown moved, seemingly of its own accord, to pool around her feet.
"How did I get here?"
The room's light grew in intensity, the doors fading then the columns, and finally even the bench on which they sat, and she seemed to float on light. "You were ready."