Prologue

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The air in the cramped, stifling corner of the ship was thick with the smell of fear and desperation. The three hundred Utuans huddled together, their golden faces pale and drawn, their amethyst eyes wide with terror. Inaya, a girl of eight with large, curious eyes, felt a hot rush of shame as her bladder betrayed her. Her mother, her face etched with worry, held her tight, her embrace a fragile shield against the encroaching chaos.

The ship lurched violently, throwing them against the cold metal wall. The sound of heavy blaster fire, echoing through the ship, was a constant, terrifying rhythm. Inaya had never heard anything like it, and the fear, potent and visceral, gripped her heart like an icy claw. She hadn’t dared to move since the ship left Utu, her bladder aching with the need to relieve itself. But the fear had been too intense, too consuming.

“Mother,” she whispered, her voice small and trembling, “I…”

“It’s alright, my little one,” her mother whispered back, her voice soothing despite the fear that mirrored her own. “It’s alright.”

Inaya, despite the chaos and the fear that threatened to swallow her whole, felt a surge of guilt. She wanted to apologize again, to explain, but the words caught in her throat. To distract herself from the dampness in her private area, she spoke up.

“Why are they attacking us?” she asked, her voice cracking. Tears, hot and stinging, streamed down her cheeks. “Why did we have to leave home?”

Inaya’s mother drew her closer, her own eyes filled with despair. “The Priests … they say it’s Utu’s will.”

The ship shook again. Inaya’s father, a tall, imposing figure with a strong jawline and piercing eyes, snapped. His words, laced with anger and disgust, startled the other children nearby. 

“The Priests are mad, insane!” he roared, his voice booming from the corner. “The corruption of our ancient ways would never be Utu’s will!”

The pilot, a weathered Utuan with a face lined with etched anxiety, pointed towards the front of the ship. “We’re entering Earth’s atmosphere!” 

Inaya’s father, his voice regaining its composure, spoke calmly. “There are weapons on this ship. We can fight back.”

The pilot’s face contorted in anguish. “No,” he said, his voice strained. “We can’t use them. We have to reach the Earth’s surface.”

“Why?” Inaya’s father asked, his voice barely audible over the roar of the blasters echoing the frustration of the others.

“We lost our cloaking function,” the pilot said, his “Both ships, our attackers and us, have lost it. Earth’s atmosphere … it…” He trailed off, his eyes widening at the sight before him.

Inaya, eyes wide with confusion and fear, looked out the small window. She saw streaks of fire, like giant, angry serpents, passing them. They were so close, so real. In her young mind, she couldn’t help, but be mesmerized by the beauty of the destruction.

“Nuclear weapons?” her father asked.

“Yes,” the pilot confirmed, his voice a mere whisper. “The planet Earth is using nuclear weapons only on the Priests’ ship to aid us.”

Darkness engulfed her sight, her mother covering her eyes and laying her head in her lap. “Go to sleep, beloved. It’ll all be over soon.”

Obeying her mother, Inaya got comfortable. It didn’t stop her ears from hearing though. The ship shuddered violently as the last thing Inaya heard was the screams of her people that were coming from the Priests’ ship before silence suddenly engulfed the entire atmosphere.

​

Years Later…

Chapter One

 

The golden rays of dawn sliced through the intricate stained glass windows of Djehuti Graves’ bedroom, casting kaleidoscopic patterns across the plush, hand-woven rugs. His room, a testament to his family’s wealth and his own artistic flair, pulsed with a vibrant energy. Each piece of furniture, each sculpture, each carefully curated objet d'art, spoke of his father's presidential power and his mother's love for African aesthetics.

Yet, Djehuti, the President’s son, was not awake. He lay in a state of slumber, his face half-buried in a silk pillow. The heavy silence was shattered by a soft knock on the door.

“Djehuti,” The First Lady Sharon Graves’ voice, melodic and soothing, echoed through the room. “It’s time to get up.”

Djehuti groaned, his voice heavy with sleep. “I can hear you, Mom. And I can see you, too. You know, I have super-hearing, enhanced vision, flight, inhuman strength, inhuman speed…”

A chuckle escaped Sharon’s lips. “You can move at incredible speed, Djehuti,” she said, her voice laced with amusement. “But you’re not faster than a speedster.”

She knew he was merely trying to avoid his responsibilities. He was a gifted young man, the President’s son, but he was also nineteen, prone to teenage anxieties. Sharon, a woman with a sharp wit and a penchant for the extraordinary, had her own abilities. She could phase through objects, a talent that came in handy when it came to dealing with her son’s antics.

Djehuti, however, was not deterred. “You’re not even upset, Momma. Your aura is green, calm. You know I can see that with my aura vision.”

Sharon chuckled. “Don’t make me phase through the door, Djehuti.”

He rolled his eyes, remembering the time she had walked in on him getting intimate with a girl a few weeks ago. “If you don't phase through the door and tell me what time it is,” he bargained with her, “I’ll just get up.”

“It's nine-thirty, Djehuti.” Sharon's voice dipped in concern. “You have class in half an hour.”

With a jolt, Djehuti bolted out of bed. He couldn’t be late. He had to get to Amenhotep Academy, the most prestigious university in the world, where he was pursuing a degree in Philosophy and Sociology. 

He felt a surge of energy coursing through him. He focused on his super speed, his body flashing in a blur. He was gone in a blink, leaving a trail of swirling dust in his wake.

“Thank you, Djehuti.” Sharon murmured, having phased her head through the door, watching him and knew he would get there on time. He always does. Sharon thought, walking away.

Three minutes later, Djehuti, now fully dressed, was back in his room. The AI programmed into his bedroom was answering a call on his phone. He blushed as he heard Inaya laughing on the other end.

“You’re using your super speed, aren’t you?” Inaya’s voice was both playful and teasing.

“How do you always know?” he asked, a hint of frustration in his tone.

Inaya’s laughter echoed. “Because I know you’re running late for class.”

Suddenly, a new voice pierced through the call. “Inaya, you’re full of shit. You’re making us late.”

It was Tiffany, Inaya's roommate. Djehuti listened, his enhanced hearing catching every nuance of their conversation. He learned that Inaya was having trouble finding tights and Tiffany refused to lend her any.

“Just let me wear them, Tiffany!” Inaya whined.

“Your booty is big, Inaya.” Tiffany said, her voice a mix of teasing and seriousness. “Bigger than mine. How can you shape-shift, but still need to buy clothes?”

“Bitch, my powers don’t include textile manufacturing.”

“Inaya,” Djehuti called out, trying his hardest not to snicker. “Should we meet on  the ground or in the sky?”

“Sky,” Inaya replied, her voice a gentle whisper.

Djehuti took flight, soaring through the air with a grace that seemed to defy physics. Inaya and Tiffany followed close behind, Inaya now sporting a pair of tights, undoubtedly borrowed from Tiffany.

“Thanks for the tights, Tiffany,” Inaya said, her voice laced with sarcasm.

“If you had told me that were for Djehuti, you would have gotten them easier,” Tiffany said, her voice tinged with slight annoyance. “But you’re going to have to be honest about things with him at some point. If you want things to work then the last thing you need to do is not tell Djehuti what you told me, right?”

Before Inaya could respond, Djehuti landed beside them, his eyes filled with curiosity. “What do you need to tell me, Inaya?”

Inaya, her face flushed, deflected his question. “You have crumbs all over your face, Djehuti.”

Djehuti, oblivious to the tension in the air, bit into the last piece of a Pop-Tart he'd been holding the entire time. Ahead, the grand buildings of Amenhotep Academy, a beacon of West African design, shimmered in the morning sun. The luxurious university campus was a testament to the country’s cultural pride.

“We should land,” Djehuti said. “The press has been on me, trying to catch me flying.”

“Okay,” Inaya nodded, her descent slow and graceful. 

As Djehuti and Tiffany landed in front of her, she turned to him, her eyes searching Djehuti’s. “Why don’t you want the press to catch you flying?”

Djehuti’s expression softened. “The sky is my safe space,” he confessed. “Whenever I’m troubled, whenever I feel like I have nowhere to turn, I have the sky.”

There was a silence, a moment of unexpected vulnerability. Tiffany, like Djehuti was earlier, was oblivious to the unspoken tension, and broke the silence. 

“Philosophy class is on Wednesday. It’s Monday.”

Djehuti and Tiffany began walking towards the building where their class was held. Inaya, her mind swirling with questions, followed behind.

“Are you ready for that quiz?” Inaya asked, trying to lighten the mood.

“Barely studied,” Djehuti admitted.

Tiffany, her arm wrapped around Djehuti’s shoulder, said with a smile, “Not everyone can be a certified genius, Djehuti.”

Inaya, her eyes fixed on Djehuti, wondered if everything was truly okay with him. The sky might have been his safe space, but her heart ached for him — for the burdens he carried beneath his confident facade. The son of the President. The genius. The prodigy. He was all that to everyone else. 

…To Inaya, he was a young man, trying to navigate the complexities of life and his own extraordinary powers.