The heart is mine. I ate it fair and square. I sang the hymn, with Amun's blessing.
This lack of memory has been tugging at me. I don't remember seeing it all come down. But that doesn't mean I don't feel it. Without memory, it's easy to say that it wasn't me. Plausible deniability. "I'm not the one who's so far away." But if I drop the excuses and say "I am Horus," I feel a shift. I feel present. I'm sitting in the front seat, not the backseat of this ride. Horus feels more right than Heru. He's the one who came after. He still wore a crown, but where was his land by then? What's the point of the hat anyway? Just a ghost. My mother commanded me to live. I can feel the bitterness in those words.
My heart was not my own. There was a hole in my chest that the sun would shine through. That horrible spring, I heard him screaming as it burned him, as he drank it up like water in a desert. It always felt like it was going through me to somewhere else.
Until that summer when I took it back by force. He was so angry. It felt like a nuclear furnace. I had to keep the wind in constant motion to prevent a melt down. All day long, just rage. He wasn't mad at me. He wanted to protect me from it. That's why he didn't give it up willingly.
Two years since then, and now what? The sun shines on me, not through me. The rage has mellowed out. I'm still trying to deny it, which does his sacrifice a disservice. I'm not just some side-shoot netjeri as I've been implying. I'm still a small part of a greater whole, and I'm still not the one that people pray to. That hasn't changed, but calling myself a shard is sounding more like an attempt to cut myself off from our past.