"None of us are ever meant to behold the world in its entirety, not even the Creator Himself."
Those were the words A-in's father had uttered before departing for yet another day of grueling labour.
The man toiled from the moment his eyes opened to the instant they closed once more. Each day bled into the next without respite, until his body could no longer bear the strain. Now, A-in is certain that his father's soul journeys through the realm of Duat.
He worries, too, for his mother, who drives herself past the brink of exhaustion. The thought of being left alone in this unkind world terrifies him. Thus, when the landowner summoned his mother to harvest wheat in the fields behind his estate, A-in volunteered to accompany her. It was well known that the master seldom allowed his workers even a moment's rest.
As they laboured beneath the merciless sun, A-in noticed his mother's body begin to sway, her eyelids fluttering half-shut. Sweat trickled down her brow and trailed along her neck. The air was still, offering no breeze to ease the searing heat.
Alarmed, A-in caught her by the shoulders.
"Mother," he pleaded, "you must rest, if only for a moment. The master has gone to the city, surely, he will not mind."
His mother shook her head weakly. "We may rest only when the work is done. We cannot know for certain whether he has truly left for business."
"But I saw him myself," A-in insisted. "He departed with his child not an hour ago. There is no reason for you to continue when you are unwell. You might worsen your condition."
He guided her gently to a small shed nearby and helped her sit. He then resumed harvesting in her stead, until a shrill voice tore through the silence. It was the landowner's wife.
"How dare you rest at a time such as this?" she cried, her finger stabbing the air in accusation. "Do you imagine that my husband's absence grants a slave like you the liberty to sit idle? Have you grown so insolent as to rest when there is work to be done?"
A-in rushed to his mother's side, hastening to explain, but the mistress silenced him with a glare as sharp as a blade.
"Unacceptable!" she hissed. "Dizziness is no excuse for sloth. Are you rehearsing idleness for the days to come? How disgraceful!" Her hand seized a long, sturdy cane from beside her. "On your knees! Both of you! Such defiance must be punished."
There was nothing they could do. A-in and his mother knelt upon the dry earth, their backs turned toward the mistress.
The first strike landed with a sound that split the air followed by gasps and muffled cries. Old wounds reopened as new ones blossomed upon their skin.
"Have we not granted you food and shelter?" the mistress continued, her voice swelling with venom. "Has comfort made you proud? Such privilege is a rare gift for slaves like you, yet you squander it with insolence! To rest while your master is away, how utterly shameless!"
The blows continued as her tirade echoed across the field, each lash punctuating her fury.
"Oh, you must miss your husband, Tabia," she sneered. "You sin to join him sooner in Duat, do you not? But that will not happen, not yet. His heart may already be devoured, for a slave who defies her master is fated to be forgotten and cast into nothingness."
Those words struck deeper than any whip. Fury and despair rose within both mother and son.
"You-" A-in began, but before he could speak another word, Tabia acted. Her trembling hand found a stone lying nearby, and with one swift motion, she struck the mistress upon the head.
A heavy thud followed, louder than the cries, louder than the silence that came after.