Chapter 27: The Passing of Time and the Search for Immortality

Apocalypse soared high above the peaks of the Himalayas, his time-ship gliding through the clouds like a phantom, invisible to all but the most powerful sorcerers and gods. He had scoured the ancient landscapes of China and the mountains that led to the realms beyond, searching for the fabled dimension of K'un-Lun, the so-called Land of Immortals. It was here, according to ancient texts, that immortality could be granted through the tree of immortality—a prize that would allow him to extend his existence beyond his own impressive lifespan.

But no matter how many mountains he crossed, how many hidden valleys he explored, the gateways to K'un-Lun eluded him. Each time he felt as if he were on the verge of breaking through the veil between worlds, some powerful magic would block his perception, pushing him back into the realm of the mortal. The same had happened when he sought out Ta-Lo, the fabled dimension of the Chinese gods. He had hoped to discover the peaches of immortality, fruits that had transformed mere humans into gods with eternal life. But just as with K'un-Lun, Ta-Lo remained hidden from him, shielded by ancient forces that not even his formidable mental powers could penetrate.

Frustration gnawed at him as his search came to nothing. For all his power, for all the gifts the Celestials had bestowed upon him, he was unable to break through the ancient wards that protected these dimensions. His mind, fortified by the knowledge of Steven Haking and enhanced by the Life and Death Seeds, had grown vastly beyond its original capacity, yet even he could not manipulate the forces at play. It seemed, for the time being, he would have to relinquish his quest for immortality through these otherworldly means.

With a heavy heart, Apocalypse set the course back for Egypt, knowing that time was slipping through his fingers. Every moment he spent searching for immortality was time he could have been spending with his wives, the five women who had stood by his side, who had borne his children and helped him build his empire. They were now in their sixties and seventies, their bodies slowly succumbing to the inevitable decay of age, while he remained as ageless and powerful as the day he had taken the throne.

The return journey felt like a defeat, an emotion Apocalypse was not accustomed to. He had always believed in his own supremacy, in his ability to conquer any obstacle. But time, it seemed, was a foe that even he could not overcome—not for those he loved. The closer he came to the City of Kings, the more his thoughts turned to the inevitability of his wives' deaths. Their lives, once so vibrant and filled with purpose, were now flickering candles nearing their end.

When he arrived back in Egypt, the sunset painted the sky with hues of orange and purple, and the desert winds carried the scent of the Nile. He found his wives sitting outside their palace, watching the fading sun. Apocalypse had long since stopped allowing others to run his empire; he had passed the day-to-day responsibilities to his vizier, Ozymandias, whose life he had extended by transforming him into a being of living stone. Ozymandias had no ambitions, no desire to rule. He served Apocalypse faithfully, managing the affairs of the empire while Apocalypse focused on matters far beyond the mortal realm.

Apocalypse joined his wives, who now sat in rocking chairs—an invention he had introduced to them, a small comfort in their final years. They smiled when they saw him, though their smiles were tinged with sadness. They had known, from the moment they chose to be with him, that he would outlive them by many centuries, if not millennia. Yet they had stayed, loyal and devoted, raising his children and helping to shape the empire he had built.

The days passed in a gentle routine. Apocalypse spent every moment with his wives, knowing that their time together was growing short. He sat with them as they watched the sun rise and fall, holding their hands and listening to their stories. Though he could not reverse the march of time, he could at least make their final days peaceful and filled with love. One by one, like leaves falling from an ancient tree, they began to pass away.

The first to go was Isis, her once-beautiful face worn by the years but still full of grace. She died in her sleep, her hand resting in Apocalypse's. He felt her life force fade away, a quiet and dignified departure that left a void in his heart. Next was Neith, then Bastet, and then Sekhmet. Each death felt like a blow, even to a being as powerful as Apocalypse, for while he had always believed in the survival of the fittest, these women had been his companions, his partners in the quest to shape a better world. They had borne his children, shared his dreams, and now, they were gone.

The last to die was Hathor, the kindest and most compassionate of his wives. Her death was the hardest to bear, for she had been the one who had always tempered Apocalypse's ruthless drive with her wisdom and gentleness. As he sat with her during her final moments, she looked up at him with eyes that had seen the rise and fall of empires, and whispered, "Do not lose your heart, En Sabah Nur. The power you seek is nothing if it comes at the cost of love."

Her words echoed in his mind long after her passing. Apocalypse buried his wives in tombs of gold and stone, each one a monument to their strength and beauty. The people of Egypt mourned their passing, for the queens had been beloved by all. But for Apocalypse, their deaths only deepened his resolve. He could not bear to watch those he loved die again.

The search for immortality had now become more than just a desire—it was a necessity. He remembered the lessons from Steven Haking's mind, the calculations, the theoretical possibilities. He also remembered stories of other mutants—immortal beings like Selene Gallio, the ancient External who had walked the earth for twelve thousand years. Apocalypse, an External himself, could feel her presence in the world. She was out there, somewhere, and he would find her.

But before he left Egypt to seek her out, he would stay to honor his wives' memory. He would watch over the empire they had helped him build, ensuring that their legacy lived on through their children and through the world they had shaped together. Then, when the time was right, he would resume his quest—this time not for power alone, but for the eternal companionship of those like him, beings who could stand beside him through the endless march of time.

And thus, the God-Emperor of Egypt watched as the sun set on the life he had known, his eyes now turned toward the stars, and the immortality that awaited him.