1700 BCE, Ancient Egypt

The edge of the sun rose with a fiery halo around the dark orb of the moon. In agony, Obion seized the wagon of oil vessels stacked in hay and forced himself to fly. He turned the small wagon over raining the vessels of oil on the men and the burning bridge below. Their screams filled him with a bloodthirsty sense of satisfaction only outweighed by the agony of the shadowed light. Curling into a ball with his wings wrapped around him, he dropped like a boulder. The cart crashed and came apart as it smashed on the planks, but the planks and boats exploded when he struck them. Flapping his wings underwater against the inevitable sinking. He clung to the bottoms of the boats and reed bundles. Crawling along them, he clawed holes in them. As the eclipsed sun rose, the road across the river burned or sank. When the desperate men got too close to him, he seized them with his tail or talons and drug them into the river, rending them bloodily into pieces. Nile Crocodiles drawn by the scarlet taint of the water joined him in the carnage. Men yelled unintelligibly then retreated from the shore as the plumes of smoke rose high into the cursed sky.

The penumbral light still hurt through the water, so Obion let himself sink deeper into the depths knowing it would protect him. He would not let himself be petrified and waste Khonsu-et's final gift. From the bottom of the river, he waited for the eclipse day to end, as the water carried away his tears and bellows of grief. The crocodiles gave him a wide berth as they devoured Queen Pharoah Sobekneferu's followers and basked on the riverbank where the invaders tried to cross. He replayed Khonsu-et's memories over and over, trying to burn them into his mind so he would never forget. The single day seemed to last an eternity as he waited for the sun to sink westward.

At sunset, Obion emerged from the water in the shade of Doum Palm trees, intending to carry his lover back to their home, but Khonsu-et's body and many of the others were gone. He suspected they were probably dragged into the water and consumed by the crocodiles. The wind was blowing harshly. He squinted through the dust and sand at the opposite bank; upriver, the followers of Sobekneferu were building more rafts from bound reeds in an attempt to cross the river again. Obion turned to look over his shoulder, watching the light. Certain the sun was below the horizon, he bellowed in an unearthly deep tone. His agony and grief boomed in the wind like the roar of a lion, then he took flight.

Swooping down on the panicking soldiers, he plucked them from the ground and gutted them before flinging them into the river. Many ran from the riverbank or jumped on horses and rode for their lives, shouting prayers to their sun deva Ra and Lord Osirus and Lady Isis of the underworld to save them from the servant of the Ogdoad Kekui. Obion began piling the dead in high places for the vultures rather than taking them to the river. As sunrise approached, he swoped low over the last four riding through the stony desert. One of the horses faltered, screaming and flailing as it died from being ridden hard all night. The priest rolled across the sunbaked clay and sandstone. He struggled to stand, abandoning his torch, and limped after the others, shouting for them to return for him. Obion landed and stalked after him as two of them looked back. He spread his wings as he passed the flickering torch. His deep voice echoed off the walls of the canyon.

"You cannot escape me. I have scented your blood and if you do not die for the one you took from me, then I shall kill all who share your blood."

The two who stopped watched in horror as he seized the priest and crushed his shaved head like a melon before flinging his body up into the cliffs. They dismounted as the last continued to ride away. Bowing like they were waiting for him, they remained still until he was closed then attempted to attack him together. Obion laughed mirthlessly as he caught their swords in his hand. His claws dug into the soft metal blades then bent and broke them. The brothers by the smell of their blood, staggered backward, then the older stabbed the younger in the throat.

"I won't let you have him, cursed servant of the Ogdoad."

"The Ogdoad were the eldest Devas born before the ice covered the northlands," Obion announced as he towered over the one who murdered his brother. "They believed in balance in all things. Teachings your greedy Devas have forgotten."

"Osirus and his family killed them, just as they will someday kill you!"

"You are mistaken, mortal male... The Ogdoad allowed themselves to fade as is the way of their species... The younger devas who took their place will fade someday too... but you will never walk in the metaphysical lands of your dead... Your Lord Osirus' Devourer of Hearts will consume your soul when you go before him with your brother's blood on your hands," Obion vowed as he lifted the man by the throat.

"S-spare m-my family," the man gasped as he was slowly strangled. He clawed uselessly at Obion's giant hand.

"Perhaps I will; perhaps I won't, you did take your brother from me," Obion declared a moment before the bones cracked beneath his fingers.

The shadows of the canyon shrank as the sun rose over head. Leaving the dead to lay, Obion shrank into his smaller, more human-looking form and hid in a shadowy crevasse. The light moved across the canyon as the sun made its transit overhead. When he was exposed, he sprinted to the opposite side of the canyon with his wings wrapped around him and wedged himself into the shade under a small ledge. The jackals scavenging the dead were startled but soon went back to eating. It was agony where the sunlight touched his wing but there was no other place. If he petrified completely, he would lose hours in his pursuit.

The shade of the western wall fell across the canyon floor and Obion began following the hoofprints at a jog, dragging his partially petrified wing. He couldn't fly but he could run almost as fast as the horse. The rider had several hours headstart so Obion wasn't hopeful about catching him before dawn. His wing would take part of the night to recover from the sun exposure. Just after sunset, he turned a bend and found his prey. The horse died midstride and rolled crushing the man beneath it and trapping him. He moaned and wept, calling out to the gods he worshipped as Obion approached. The stone skin's wings wrapped him like a garment.

"You, stranger! I command you to help me, I am a Priest of Osirus and servant of Queen Pharoah Sobekneferu." The man shouted when he caught a glimpse of Obion in the darkening shadows. "I will see that you are rewarded richly, traveler from Kush." Obion realized the priest mistook him as being from a neighboring kingdom.

"What can the servant of a dead queen offer anyone?" Obion taunted as he peered over the bloated horse at him.

"Listen, Kushite, I know there is no peace between our kingdoms but I vow to reward you." The man pushed uselessly at the dead horse again. "My leg is caught under the dead beast. Help me."

"If I help you, will you tell me who sent the army to attack the children of Wepwawet? They say the sacred river is filled with their corpses and the crocodiles are bloated on their flesh." Obion asked as he pulled at the horse's corpse, rocking it back and forth uselessly, before rolling it over.

The priest screamed in pain, then panted out. "Yes, yes, the High Priest of Osirus ordered the deaths of the Moon and Wolf worshipers as punishment against General Khutawyre Wegaf, an apostate who overthrew the ordained queen."

"And he was the only one?" Obion held a flask of warm water that had hung just out of reach of the man, to the man's lips. "To attack the new ruler's people seems foolish."

"He has an alliance with the Temple of Ra and the remnant of Mentu, the god of war. The attack was thwarted by the servants of Ogdoad Kekui. Dozens attacked us pretending to be winged taemons and crocodiles. It's proof the General has allied himself with evil forces to seize the white crown of the lower kingdom."

"Thank you for telling me the truth, mortal man, but you are mistaken." As he spoke, Obion began to grow into his inner form. His wings unfurled as fangs protruded from his bottom jaw and horns curled from his head. "The son of Wepwawet only sought to free the people of the land from the tyranny of the inbred children of men who have bloated themselves on power and the misery of those they should be leading and protecting."

"No... no." The priest of Ra scrambled back dragging his crushed leg. He held out his hand and began chanting curses as fire erupted from his hand splashing harmlessly against Obion's chest like water.

The stone skin laughed malevolently, "Your magic does not work on me, sorcerer. My kind is immune to such flames." Then he leapt on the man, disemboweling him before he removed his head to forever kill him.

The cold agony of his grief did not subside with the priest-sorcerer's death. Climbing the rock cliff, Obion left bloody prints. Standing on the top, he was shocked to see the thin cup of the moon just touching the horizon. Suddenly, Iddoferu's words came back to him.

"Once the waxing cup sets, you will find violence as empty as a shattered water vessel."

Obion sobbed then bellowed out a keening shout of grief. There was a shimmer in the air and the moon on the horizon turned whole then moved toward him above the face of the Deva Khonsu. The world shifted and they were standing in a beautiful garden.

"What would you sacrifice to have him back?" A shimmering image of Khonsu-et appeared. He was kneeling in prayer as he often did.

"What do I have that you would want?" Obion groaned, longing to reach out and touch him but knowing this Khonsu-et was an illusion.

"Time... I have never had a priest protector of my temple more devoted than your beloved, but he was stronger with you at his side. Wepwawet and I have struck a bargain, the soul of your beloved will be returned every few generations. Once he remembers who he is to you, his love for you will continue."

"What of his mate? Wolves have true soul-halves and potential mates. I will not compete as I have with Khonsu-et's pull to be with Iddoferu," Obion explained why he almost refused.

"There will be no struggle because his mate has already agreed to renounce their bond."

"Khonsu-et wanted children, he loved them," Obion reminded. "It would be unfair to deny him those."

"Very well, he shall have a choice mate and children if you wish, but his affection and protectiveness will be more generalized for all of those around him, all of those he is responsible for. You will be the exception for as long as my temple and worship endure."

Thinking of Khonsu-et's memories and affection, Obion shook with his need to hold his beloved. "I agree to protect your temple to the best of my abilities for as long as it endures, Deva Khonsu."

"We have a bargain, stone skin Obion."

"Wait... how will I know him?"

The deva smiled, revealing, "His soul will carry the scent of my temple's incense."

"I want..."

"You want?" Khonsu interrupted with a smug smile.

Panting in desperation, Obion begged, "May I have his body back, to prepare for burial while I wait."

"The Oracle of Wepwawet is already seeing to it. Take care of his son." Khonsu took Obion's wrist. A tendril of glowing moonlight wrapped around it and infused into Obion's flesh.

Obion blinked and he was back in the desert in the dark night. Flapping his wings, he flew as fast as he could to Lycopolis. He landed on the roof of the temple of the moon only moments before dawn and rushed inside. Iddoferu was sitting on the steps watching them wrapping Khonsu-et's body. The Priests looked up then backed away.

"Leave us." She didn't turn her head as she asked, "Did you kill them all?"

"Yes, Oracle."

"And you made the bargain with the Moon?"

"Yes, Oracle." Obion walked past her and stood over his lover's body. He ran his hands over the red fur. He bent and clung to it with great heaving sobs. When he recovered enough to stand, Iddoferu had not moved from where she sat.

She stood, shaking her head, "Your life will become a circle of waiting, loving, grieving, a snake consuming its tail... You have cursed yourself and you are a fool." Then she walked out and went to the temple of the wolf.

~~~~

Modern times...

Ethridge sat up quickly. His hand pressed over his heart which was beating frantically.

"Ridge?" His sister Heather rose up to one elbow to look at him across their shared room.

"I'm fine... it was just a dream."

"I have nightmares too," Heather said as she laid back down. She shuddered and he could smell her tears. Rising, he went to her bedside and held her hand until she fell asleep then he left their room.

Going to the kitchen, he was starting a pot of coffee when he scented the Bibre Cruor before he spoke.

"Beta Ethridge." The deep voice sent a thrilling shiver down his spine.

Ridge turned slowly to look at the tall, dark, male Cruor. "I don't know what I am supposed to call you."

"I am called Ouroboros."

"But you weren't always, you were Obion, the stone snake. I had a dream." Ridge panted slightly. "About ancient Egypt I think."

"That is how it begins. You will dream of each life and death," Ouroboros revealed. "Soon you will have to make a choice, to accept me as you have many times, or reject me as you have a few times. I will not take your choice from you."

"The magic that binds us? Is it permanent?" He asked in fear of being held prisoner and forced into something against his will, like when he was made to kill his packmates to save his sister. Those moments crippled his soul until he could not sleep.

"I don't know. It did not end when the temple in Lycopolis fell fifteen centuries later, or when Devas Khosu and Wepwawet faded as I expected." Ourboros admitted, "I was so surprised to find you again nearly two hundred years later among the descendants of your lineage in Britanni."

"How did I... I mean, he get there?" Ridge asked because he wasn't certain who he was at that moment or since Lord Dartanian's revelation that he was the reincarnation of someone named Nigel.

"I took the survivors of Lycopolis to one of my sisters' territories before the one they called the Christ was born. The worship of the old Devas had been struggling for hundreds of years and with new ones emerging I knew the children of the wolf and the moon would not be safe in the upper kingdom any longer."

Ridge poured himself a cup of coffee as Lord Ouroboros made a cup of tea. After several minutes, Ridge made himself ask, "How long has it been? Since we were together last?"

"Four centuries. I was certain I lost you forever. You were with us when we fought the Nahuatl's Sun Deva and its witch followers. It consumes the souls of the dead like a scavenger consumes carrion," Ouro revealed as he looked at the young Beta with all his desperate hope for a chance and fear of rejection. "You sacrificed yourself to save me when its indwelled priest stabbed me with an emerald blade. When he removed your heart, I lost control and slaughtered them all. Anjael and Dartanian almost failed to stop me from attacking the innocents enslaved in the city. Forgive me for not protecting you, Nigel."

"My name is Ethridge," Ridge growled.

"Your forgiveness, Ethridge," Ouro begged then said, "You need more rest. I can smell your fatigue."

"You can smell that I am tired?" he asked incredulously.

"Yes. Cruors have far better senses than Lycani or Vampyri or Draconus," Ouro revealed in a tone that sounded to Ridge like a bored professor.

Reminded of the mythology classes he took as electives in college and his childhood obsession with history and mythology, Ridge asked, "Have I made a free choice in my whole life?"

Ouro nodded, "Every choice you have ever made or will ever make is of your own free will."

"Why? You can make me do whatever you want. My sister says you and your clan of demons own us now."

"We are not deamones, you will know what those are when you dream of the war against the unicorns during the Black Death when you lost your arm... And having given up my own freedom for 1500 years, just to be with you for a fleeting lifetime every few centuries, I value your freedom. I would never take that from you." Ouro took his tea and left, pausing in the door, "If you want to talk, I will answer all your questions. When you are ready to decide, I will accept whatever choice you make."

Ridge stood in the kitchen alone, shaking so badly he had to put his cup on the counter. Turning, he looked out the kitchen window before quickly going outside. He stared at the waxing half-moon and prayed, "Oh Goddess, I don't know what to do. I feel like I am going crazy."