The Seeds of Corruption 008

She began her tale simply. Isis was born to a modest family in a quiet village far from the bustling cities of the kingdom. Her father was a farmer, her mother a healer known for her remedies and kindness. From a young age, Isis had watched her mother tend to the sick and wounded, her hands steady and her heart unwavering.

"Life was simple," Isis said, her gaze distant. "We had enough to eat, a roof over our heads, and a community that relied on one another. But simplicity does not mean fairness."

She described the stark divisions in the village. The landowners, rich and powerful, lived in sprawling homes, their granaries overflowing. Meanwhile, the laborers and servants toiled endlessly, barely scraping by. Racism and classism were ingrained in the fabric of society. Darker-skinned laborers were often treated as lesser beings, their contributions undervalued, their voices unheard.

Aimi listened, stunned. "So, even back then, people found ways to divide themselves?"

Isis nodded. "Humans have always found ways to create hierarchies, Aimi. But it is in challenging those divisions that true strength is found."

---

As a teenager, Isis began learning the art of healing from her mother. She became known for her compassion, often treating those who couldn't afford to pay. But this didn't sit well with the local overseer, who saw her actions as a threat to the established order.

"One day," Isis continued, "a young boy was brought to our home. He had been beaten by the overseer's men for stealing a piece of bread. He was barely clinging to life."

Aimi frowned. "And you helped him anyway, didn't you?"

"Of course," Isis said, a hint of fire in her voice. "His life mattered more than their rules."

But her decision had consequences. The overseer accused her family of insubordination. Her father was arrested, and her family was threatened with exile. It was during this time of crisis that Isis discovered her powers.

"One night, as I prayed for my father's release, I felt something awaken within me," she said. "It was as if the universe itself answered my plea. The next day, I healed the boy completely, his wounds vanishing as though they had never been."

Aimi leaned forward, captivated. "What happened next?"

"The villagers began to see me differently," Isis said. "Some called me a miracle worker. Others accused me of witchcraft. But one thing was clear: I couldn't remain in the village."

She left her home, wandering from place to place, using her powers to heal and protect. Along the way, she gained followers—people who believed in her vision of equality and compassion.

---

As Isis spoke, Aimi couldn't help but notice the parallels between her story and the struggles of people in his own time. Racism, inequality, and corruption were issues that had persisted for millennia.

"Doesn't it get exhausting?" he asked. "Fighting against a system that just doesn't want to change?"

"It is exhausting," Isis admitted. "But the alternative—doing nothing—is far worse. If we do not challenge the darkness, who will?"

Her words struck a chord in Aimi. He thought about his own writing, how he had avoided tackling serious issues because he was afraid of getting it wrong. Maybe there was more he could do.

---

Later that day, Isis took Aimi into the village to show him what life was like for the common people. They passed by farmers working in the fields, their backs bent under the scorching sun. Children played in the dirt, their laughter a stark contrast to the hardships their families faced.

A commotion drew their attention. A young girl lay on the ground, her face pale and her breaths shallow. Her mother knelt beside her, crying for help.

Without hesitation, Isis stepped forward, her presence commanding silence. She knelt beside the girl, placing her hands gently on her forehead. A soft golden light emanated from her palms, and within moments, the girl's color returned, her breathing steadying.

The crowd murmured in awe, some bowing in reverence. Aimi stood frozen, watching the scene unfold.

"That," he whispered to himself, "was incredible."

Isis stood, her expression calm but her voice firm. "This child will recover, but what about the others? How many more must suffer before we take action?"

The crowd fell silent, the weight of her words sinking in.

---

That evening, as they returned to the temple, Aimi couldn't stop thinking about what he had seen. Isis wasn't just a healer; she was a force of change, someone who refused to accept the world as it was.

"You're… kind of amazing," he admitted as they walked.

Isis chuckled softly. "I am only doing what I must. The question is, Aimi, what will you do?"

Aimi didn't have an answer, but for the first time in a long time, he felt inspired. Maybe he didn't need to be a hero or a god to make a difference. Maybe all it took was the willingness to try.

As they reached the temple, he glanced at his glowing watch, its light steady and warm.

"Alright," he muttered to himself. "Let's see where this journey takes me."

:::

Aimi walked through the grand halls of the Pharaoh's palace, trailing behind Isis. The walls gleamed with gold and polished stone, inscriptions of hieroglyphs recounting heroic conquests and divine blessings. Yet, despite the grandeur, an uneasy feeling prickled at the back of Aimi's mind.

"It's beautiful, isn't it?" Isis said, glancing over her shoulder.

"Beautiful, sure," Aimi muttered. "But it's hard to ignore how much of this wealth probably came from the people outside starving in the streets."

Isis smiled faintly, but her eyes were heavy with understanding. "That is why we are here. The truth behind this splendor will not be found in the gilded walls but in the hearts of those who wield power."

---

The royal assembly convened in a sprawling chamber filled with nobles draped in the finest linens and jewels. Their faces were painted with serene expressions, but their eyes gleamed with cunning and ambition. Aimi felt out of place, his simple tunic and slightly disheveled hair making him stand out among the polished elite.

"Remember," Isis whispered to him as they entered, "we are here to observe. Speak only if necessary."

Aimi nodded, swallowing hard. His heart raced as they took their seats near the edge of the gathering.