Hathor Reborn

By Elizabeth Spring

Hathor Reborn is the story of how Hathor became the Goddess of Love.
What comes after enlightenment? The unravelling.
Hathor is a minor deity, goddess of the sky. She thought she would live out the rest of eternity in an idyllic life in the divine dimension. But one day she meets Tabia, daughter to Menkaure (king in Ancient Egypt), a human girl who impresses Hathor with her incredible artistry. Over time, Hathor comes to love the girl as her own daughter, but the problem is that mortal, non-magic beings such as humans cannot ascend to the heavens. Desiring to raise Tabia up into divinity, Hathor makes a deal with Fate and hatches a plan with the help of Tourain, the shadow immortal, to open a portal from Earth to another world.
Her plan to transform Tabia’s soul from non-magic to magic, from mortal to immortal, goes against the rules of the Heavenly Realm. When the Great Gods and Goddesses banish Hathor, she loses her divinity, her immortality, even her wings, and is sent to Earth as a mortal.
While grieving the loss of everything that mattered to her, Hathor must find a way to overcome the challenges of mortality, escape Tourain (who hounds her because she has yet to pay the price of his help) and fulfill her true potential.
What comes after enlightenment? Standing face to face with Fate and creating yourself anew. But a rebirth must be earned and deals with Fate are never simple.
Hathor Reborn is a fantasy about transforming yourself, about discovering who you truly are and giving yourself permission to become who you need to be. It explores different kinds of love (familial, platonic, sensual, sexual) and the themes of found family and loyalty. It can be read as a standalone novel or as a kind of a prequel to Winds of Transformation, since the character of Hathor appears in both. The events of Hathor Reborn happen thousands of years before Winds of Transformation and describe the origins of the Goddess of Love, and to some extent, give a wider context to certain events and characters that appear in Winds of Transformation.
The novel contains positive depictions of LGBTQA+ characters.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Elizabeth Spring
• Release date: May 8, 2023
• ISBN: 9798215759684

Elizabeth Spring

Elizabeth Spring is a pseudonym, behind which lives a creative soul who loves languages, travel, different cultures and learning. I write poetry and prose, flash fiction and long novels, mostly fantasy, though I read all kinds of genres. I enjoy nature and art, and they never fail to recharge me. My personal motto: "If you are not happy, you cannot spread happiness around yourself." Also: Be kind.

Book preview

‘Describe to me the jewels of spring, the messengers of hope; talk to me only of renewal. I begin again, on this ever-winding road, and I must have story companions, words of beauty to float beside me, staving off loneliness and leading me on.’ Hathor’s plea, full of pathos and pain, was directed at Idun, goddess of renewal.

Light filaments of gossamer-coloured energy fell around Hathor. Her fragility allowed no touch, but Idun still tried to comfort her by reaching out a hand. It stopped just short of a face wet with tears, a face of deep beauty and of untold sacrifice. Her ethereal magic wings were dissolving around the former goddess of the sky, enveloping her in hurt. Finally, the last of their power exploded in a violet burst and Hathor let out a scream that pierced the heavens.

The price was paid. Hathor was no longer winged, no longer immortal, and no longer a goddess.

‘Pain is inevitable,’ said Idun sympathetically. ‘But as you are unmade, you are remade. You get to choose your life. Who else can claim such power over Fate? The strength of that choice will guide you now, and love will heal your suffering.’

Love. Love was the culprit. Her salvation. Her demise. Her every waking thought. And the reason for her descent from the heavenly realm.

***

It was still the age when gods walked among mortals and Embralt still sang the song of life on Earth. The young god of singing had fallen in love with Elwayana, the wood immortal of the Amazon rainforest, a gorgeous dryad who had not even a thousand years under her tree. At first merely frowned upon, the god’s infatuation soon brought the heavenly realm to regard their relationship with genuine concern. Embralt arrived at a state where he only stayed in Amazonia, singing only to and about Elwayana.

The god’s songs were far from ordinary. The magic in his voice could create life, calling the rains to nourish, enriching the soil, which yielded plants and trees that grew in Elwayana’s domain. This caused a great imbalance, for while the Amazon rainforest flourished, due to his magic strengthening the dryad’s protection of the wood realm a hundredfold, or even a thousandfold, other areas of the world started experiencing sudden droughts and extreme weather changes. The elements of earth, water, air, fire, metal and wood behaved unpredictably. It was not the first time that the six noble elements had been disrupted, but it was the first time that a deity from the heavenly realm had such an enormous influence upon one element on Earth.

The situation soon demanded new rules be made, to restore the balance and prevent such a thing from happening again. The Great Six met urgently and, after some debate, declared that minor deities would still be allowed to visit the mortal realm, but only during the day, having to return by nightfall. Disguises were a must. They were not to use their powers to help or hinder any individual, and, most importantly, immortals of all elements were strictly off limits. The only exceptions had to be Divine Children, those chosen individuals who were soulbound to one of the Great Six: Leviathan, the goddess of all oceans; Prometheus, the great god of fire; Hou Tu Shen, the goddess of earth and soil; Vayu, the god of air and spiritual breath; Mielikki, the great goddess of wood; and Ptah, the great god of metal. These six were the most powerful deities in the heavens. They had the final say.

Embralt perhaps deserved his punishment, but it was a sad blow for Hathor, because she often spent time on Earth, where she had always cultivated a great friendship with all Earth’s angels (air immortals). The goddess of the sky used to be an air immortal herself, so now she grieved the loss of their companionship, for whenever she visited the mortal realm, her first and last wish was to fly alongside them in the great blue expanse, faster than the wind, in freedom and joy. It was not quite the same to have to do it alone.

‘Why am I being punished for other people’s mistakes?’ she lamented to her friend Idun, who listened to her complaints without judgement or impatience. ‘I have never known such love nor is it ever likely to happen. And air immortals are like me in that respect. Our friendship is pure, based in love of the Divine. And our unspoken rules of duty have always guarded us against such undue influence as Embralt inadvertently unleashed. It’s just not fair!’ Perhaps it was childish to talk in such a manner, but she had to vent her grief and pout in frustration, for she truly considered herself an exception. ‘It is so unfair to include everyone in these new laws. I never did anything wrong. Why do I have to pay for another’s actions?...

‘If I made the rules,’ she added, ‘I’d create a world where each of us paid only for our own steps. Good or bad. But this is ridiculous. The innocent should not have to suffer in prevention of the possibility they might err in some uncertain future.’ It was comical how she exaggerated the way the new rules had been worded. Idun hid a smile of amusement. The goddess of renewal cared little for the new rules, for she rarely walked on Earth.

Hathor looked done, so Idun opened her mouth to say something soothing, but the goddess of sky launched into a different diatribe. ‘And who is to say that this strict non-interference policy won’t have unforeseen, disastrous consequences? My aid to air immortals served to heal all life, of all elements. How will a prolonged absence affect their work? Don’t you see, there should be exceptions!…’

Hathor’s grumbling made no difference. Once a decision had been reached by the Great Six, it was not likely to be revisited for the next hundred years at least. The Great Six, representatives of the six noble elements in the heavenly realm, differed greatly from one another, but in their differences they complemented a perfect circle of power, like six pieces that fit into a puzzle. Leviathan for water; Hou Tu Shen for earth; Vayu for air; Prometheus for fire; Mielikki for wood; and Ptah for metal. Between them they had created all elementals as well as most plants and animals, including humans. Essentially, the mortal world as it existed on Earth was of their making. And they reserved the right to forbid entry to lesser deities who dared disobey their rules. Hathor feared to anger them by demanding openly she be given exceptional status.

Not even Vayu would look kindly upon such a request, although they shared a deeper connection, like father and daughter. She had been a Divine Child, soulbound to Vayu even in her angelic existence, and after that part of her life ended, he pulled her soul to ascend into the heavenly realm, where she spent the next few hundred years as his attendant. Like it always happened, the Great Six then met to decide what should be done with her, and finally, it was announced with great pleasure that she would be named goddess of the sky. Great rejoicing and celebrations ushered her into divinity, and while this meant cutting the thread that bound her to Vayu as his Child, she still looked up to him like she would to a father.

In the past, whenever she needed anything, he used to be there for her. It was strange and exciting to now be untethered, free, on her own, practically without guidance or supervision. And she was just getting used to that—right when it was wrenched away because of Embralt’s folly!

‘Isn’t falling in love ridiculous?’ Hathor turned to Idun with a contemptuous pout. ‘I swear it has caused more harm than good!’ she declared hotly. ‘And perhaps one could understand mortals behaving irresponsibly, but for deities to make such fools of themselves all because of some attraction, I will never understand...’

Asexual deities like Hathor often sighed at all the drama the other—pansexual—deities went through in their long and complex love lives. Though they mostly ignored such matters, it was now impossible not to comment and wonder about Embralt and Elwayana. What possessed them to end up creating such a mess?

‘Undone mistakes may yet come for a visit,’ Idun said simply, finally deciding that she had let her friend ramble on enough. Hathor frowned in thought. What did she mean by that?

Idun grabbed her hands with a sigh. ‘Here’s a suggestion: do something different. Go see what the humans are up to. Put your feet on the ground and experience something new. The skies will always be there, and perhaps one day you will fly with the angels once more. But this discontent is poisoning your peace. I don’t like it. I don’t want you to become bitter.’

***

Counselled thus—quite rightly, she had to admit—Hathor assumed the shape of a human and came to the Kingdom of Egypt on a most auspicious day, right before the Nile floods, when the air stirred with expectation and, not too far from the great river, human architects were raising a monumental edifice, a huge pyramid.

It was a bustling scene, alive and exciting, with a lot of dust rising from the parched land. Hathor wandered about the marketplace, looking at the wares and the people and often stopping to admire the monumental work of King Menkaure’s builders. That pyramid, once finished, will touch the clouds in the sky, Hathor thought, trying to imagine the top. Her neck craned up, she stepped back and bumped into someone.

The next moment, she heard a loud crack as something fell on the ground and broke. ‘Oh, no!’ a girl cried out in consternation. Hathor turned around to see a young human on her hands and knees trying to put together a shattered greywacke slab. The dark rock fragments revealed pieces of a face. No wonder the girl was in tears! Hathor must have broken a precious statue.

‘I’m so sorry!’ she exclaimed, genuinely apologetic. ‘I promise to help you fix it.’ The girl gave her a shy, tearful look. Hathor’s mind raced. Would she have time to go get an amulet of repair and still be able to return to the heavenly realm by nightfall? The Sun was getting low. Not even the goddess of the sky could travel that fast.

The little girl scooped up the shards of greywacke into her apron and stood up. Her snotty nose and red, tear-filled eyes presented a sorry sight. ‘Please, child, fret not!’ Hathor said awkwardly. ‘I must be away now, but I always fulfil my promises. Where can I find you tomorrow?’

‘Daaad,’ wailed the girl and ran off before Hathor could even think to stop her. She followed, instead, hoping to clear up the misunderstanding and give reassurances to the father if the child was too distraught to believe her.

The girl with the broken statue ran quite fast, winding through the crowd with cat-like agility. She was tall and willowy, with long flexible limbs, which made Hathor wonder how old she actually was. She could have been a young woman, fourteen or fifteen. Hathor would still see her as a child, of course, but she knew girls could even be married at that age among humans. This one, however, was running to her father, another tall and a much more imposing figure, who looked at his daughter’s ugly face in surprise and annoyance. She showed him what lay in her apron and pointed back. Hathor could guess the conversation they were having, but she failed to imagine what would happen next.

The father gestured to several soldiers who stood nearby and commanded in a brusque, practiced voice: ‘Find whoever broke this!’ Without a moment’s hesitation, the soldiers obeyed, descending upon the crowd with menacing intensity, which made everyone draw back, from the beggars to the wealthy merchants. Hathor, who understood how powerful the man who commanded those soldiers must be, wanted no contact with him, and so she quietly slipped away, vowing to herself that she would find a way to fix what she broke.

Chapter 2 Marquetry of the Soul

The edges of the mortal world shimmered as if the veil which separated the dimensions was blowing on a breeze. The Nile floods had begun, a time of great importance for all life, and for all elements. As Hathor entered the Earth’s atmosphere, she felt the energy of water infuse new vigour into the land and the air. A new day was beginning, a new season. She rejoiced in the warm feeling of being embraced by the elements. How lovely was this world! How happy she was to be a part of it again! While the divine dimension certainly felt like home now, there was still something special that drew Hathor to Earth, like a pleasant caress of a familiar hand.

The planet’s magic realms responded to the sudden appearance of the goddess, and where she entered through the air portal, the early morning sky greeted her with all shades of purple, the colour of her divine aura.

With the dawn and the floods, Hathor swooped noiselessly through an open balcony into a girl’s bedroom. It was the great palace of King Menkaure, guarded tight against all intruders… well, all except a winged goddess on a quest. Nobody ever thought to guard against her. In Hathor’s hand shone a bright blue stone, lapis lazuli. She had kept her vow and brought the amulet which made whole what was broken.

As soon as she landed, Hathor folded her wings and assumed a more humanoid shape, but in that moment she could not transform her appearance entirely, so what the young girl saw, as she was startled awake, did not resemble any woman she had ever met. Hathor’s light, flowing robes, white and blue like the sky, clung to her body with ethereal, mist-like grace. And that body was light brown with tiny veins of gold which formed patterns on her skin, like Nature paints her flowers: delicately, with great love and delight in beauty.

‘Who are you?! Is this a dream?’ The girl looked up at Hathor with wide-eyed admiration. Her pure, sweet face looked even more childlike moments after waking.

Hathor smiled, pleased to find her calm. Sometimes, when she chose to appear to humans, her visits caused more bustle and shock than she could handle. ‘Dear child, do you not remember me from yesterday? Granted, I looked a bit different then, but I did tell you I’d come to repair your broken greywacke slab. You looked so inconsolable.’

The girl stared at her in stunned silence, and only a look of wondrous surprise betrayed her feelings. She pointed at a small table where the greywacke statue lay in pieces.

Hathor winked at the girl and waved the lapis amulet in her face. ‘Come, don’t you want to see some magic?’ They approached the table, and Hathor touched all the pieces with the blue stone. Slowly, they merged back together, revealing a face of delicate beauty, feminine, regal, strong yet lively. The sculptor had taken more than just a likeness of this person, Hathor thought; they had managed to capture a piece of her spirit, as well.

‘How extraordinary,’ she murmured. ‘Who is the artist? Who is the woman in the stone?’

‘This is my mother,’ said the girl. ‘I made it.’

Hathor saw that she was telling the truth, but she was so amazed at the skill and artistic ability on display that she could hardly believe it. ‘A king’s daughter, a sculptor? What is your name, child?’

‘Tabia,’ said the girl, blushing a little. ‘They call me Tabia.’

‘Well, Tabia, Mistress of Greywacke,’ said Hathor without a shred of sarcasm, ‘I am doubly glad now I have fixed your statue. In fact, I’m glad I broke it, for otherwise I would never have met you.’

Tabia smiled shyly, but her delight made her lose all fear, and she quickly opened up to this strange creature who visited her like in a fairy tale. ‘Would you like to see my other work? Come, I’ll show you!’ She grabbed Hathor’s hand boldly and took her to the next room, the amused goddess following obediently with a smile. This special space that the girl was so eager to show contained dozens of artworks, mostly statues of Tabia’s father and mother, but also of other people in her life. ‘This is my sister… and my brother…’ she pointed out different statues, proudly beaming at her guest, waiting to see her reactions, to hear more praise. The girl worked mostly with greywacke, but there were also clay figures and smaller objects carved out of sycomore wood. Hathor stared at animals and plants engraved with such skill that they seemed more lifelike than Nature’s own creations. She was left speechless at this marquetry of the soul.

The young sculptor had moulded stone into a reflection of her human subjects; the engraver had carved into wood the very essence of creatures of air and water, of earth and wood, of metal and fire. How was such skill even possible, from a human?

Hathor turned to study the girl’s face. ‘Tabia… meaning: talented. Has there ever been a more appropriate name? I’ve never seen artistry like this. It makes me think gods have dreamt you.’

‘You like it?’ the girl asked excitedly.

‘I more than like it. I love everything about it. This room, your art, how many people know about it?’

‘Just my parents and teacher. And some servants. My father gets me all the greywacke and the sycomore wood that I want, and all the tools. He says he is sure I will be a great artist one day. I’m only fourteen now, so he says in a few years, after I’m married, he’ll show the whole world all my pieces.’ A strange mixture of timidity and confidence played out a little battle on her face. She blushed and beamed, still shy about what that great big world would think of her, but already knowledgeable about what she had to offer it. ‘It’s all I want: to create art.’

Hathor could not foretell the future, but she had thousands of years of experience. Tabia’s naivete clutched at her heart in a deadly grip. After she’s married? the goddess thought to herself hours later. How exactly will that accomplish her freedom—to create, to show her art, to just be herself? She had a terrible feeling, but decided to reserve judgement for the time being, until she saw for herself what King Menkaure was truly like. She wished more than anything to be proven wrong by this imposing figure who held Tabia’s future in his hands.

Chapter 3 Aspects

A tall muscular man, with sharp features and cunning eyes stalked into the garden, looking about like a big cat searching for prey. ‘Where did she go? My eyes did not deceive me. I saw a woman here moments ago.’

He was partially talking to himself and partially addressing a shorter man, who bowed obsequiously and said: ‘I do not know. I did not see, my king.’

King Menkaure frowned in frustration and kept looking, but then suddenly he stopped by a tree. ‘Has this sycomore always been here?’

The strange question took Menkaure’s vizir by surprise. He did not know how to answer, for he never noticed much about gardening. ‘Perhaps it was planted here recently,’ he suggested.

‘This old tree? Impossible. But how odd that I