It is the hour before dawn, the darkest hour, the hour when the dying most often slip away into that final night from which there is, for most, no awakening.
A soft breeze from the Nile River stirs the curtains, and Thutmose, Pharaoh of all Egypt, restless with pain, tosses fitfully on his bed.
His servant, Merritet comes forward, bearing the magical poison that will allow him and his king to journey to the Underworld and one day, perhaps, back to the land of the living.
