Ghosts of Sekhemru: The Book of Rayne and the Ruby Ring

By R.T. Oliver

Over 400 years have passed since Dragon Wolf resurrected and went through his trials on Earth. After falling in love and reproducing with a human, Dragon Wolf's descendants on Earth now carry the Gene of the Gods. Years before Rayne's birth, his mother, Omarosa, received a gift from her father, Dr. Reno Palmer. After cracking the code to Imhotep

• Language: English
• Publisher: Palmetto Publishing
• Release date: Jan 24, 2022
• ISBN: 9781685157999

R.T. Oliver

R.T. Oliver is a disabled veteran who served in the U.S. Army for six years as a military policeman, obtaining the rank of sergeant. He served one year in Baghdad, Iraq, and one year in South Korea. During his military career he spent time on the special reactions team, the drug suppression team, and in physical security and force protection. After the military, he bounced around from being a massage therapist to pharmacist technician, to a medical assistant. After he obtained an AA in applied science, Covid-19 became a pandemic, so these days he spends writing and trying to stay alive.

Book preview

Chapter I:

THE RUBY RING

M

y name is Rayne Sekhemru, the son of Omarosa Palmer and the first Ghost of Sekhemru. Through the memories stored within the ruby ring worn by my mother and stories told to me as a child, I will take you to the beginning. My grandfather was a world-renowned Egyptologist. He was fascinated by the Great Pyramid in Egypt and how it cosmically aligned with the universe. As above, so below. As within, so without. He would study the hieroglyphics for days at a time, go on excavations, and interact with the locals; he was much respected. Everyone across the land of Egypt knew who Dr. Palmer was, and they enjoyed his company just as much as they enjoyed intellectual conversations with him. My grandfather indeed had the gift of gab and could sell salt to a slug. Putting his talents to positive use, the underground trade, and bartering were just a few of his many hobbies.

He would leave America with items from his pawnshop in Charleston, South Carolina, then travel across the Atlantic to Egypt. From there, he would trade his goods with the locals at the underground bazaar and bring back foreign antiques. He would teach my mother everything he knew about life and its wonders. Homeschooling was quite different for my mother because her mind was far beyond the school curricula in America, and this allowed her to skip grades at an accelerated pace. Whenever my grandfather took my mother to Africa, it was more like a field trip for her. A vast amount of knowledge always surrounded her. It played a vital role in her early development in life, so much so that her concept of life was completely different than that of other children her age. It was a no-brainer that she would be a genius. Which is to say, due to genetics, experience, and exposure, my mother was well ahead of her years.

Her role model was a vizier by the name of Imhotep. He was famous for his knowledge of science and medicine, and my mother knew that science and medicine were her future career fields. She aspired to be like Imhotep. One day she asked my grandfather to look for a puzzle left behind by Imhotep the next time he traveled to the bazaar for trading and bartering. Three months later, after numerous trips to Egypt, my grandfather came across an out-of-place merchant booth in the underground bazaar. On display were ancient artifacts from different eras, cultures, and civilizations. To my grandfather's surprise, there was a section with Imhotep's artifacts. Drawn into the merchant's booth, my grandfather had one thing on his mind—Imhotep's puzzle.

From out of nowhere burst a sketchy merchant. Noticing my grandfather focused solely on Imhotep artifacts, he quickly began spitting out information regarding Imhotep's life and achievements. As a professional salesman, the sketchy merchant was quick to sell the artifacts, but to my grandfather's surprise, the price of the artifacts was meager. When my grandfather asked the sketchy merchant for a magic puzzle that belonged to Imhotep, a colossal smile spread across his face. With his rotted teeth and hunched back, the sketchy merchant strolled back behind his booth. After several minutes had passed, he returned to my grandfather with two magic puzzles.

Eyeing the two puzzles, my grandfather knew he had to have them. Surprisingly, the merchant was quick to increase the price to an unpayable amount. After my grandfather refused to pay the outrageous price, the merchant became adamant about them not being for sale and repeated that only the gods had access to the content inside. Taking on the challenge, my grandfather used his gift of gab to calm the merchant and eventually made a deal with him. He made a guarantee that his twenty-year-old daughter could solve and open the puzzles before her twenty-first birthday. If his daughter, my mother, could not, he would return them in the same condition he had found them in. As a friendly gesture, my grandfather left the sketchy merchant with a sizable check. Knowing that whatever was within the puzzles was far more valuable than money, he offered the sketchy merchant an even sweeter deal: he promised he would come back to the booth and show him what was inside the puzzles.

The sketchy merchant wore a dark-violet diamond ring that stuck out on his old, dark, wrinkled hand. Smiling, showing off the few remaining teeth he had left in his mouth, the merchant asked my grandfather if that was what he wanted. Standing by his word, my grandfather nodded in agreement and shook the sketchy merchant's hand. As he did, flashes of planetary constellations, wars, demons, a red planet, multiple moons, and a violet sun began storming the mind of my grandfather, bringing him to his knees. With his hands covering his eyes, he started screaming, begging the sketchy merchant to stop. When it did, and he opened his eyes, the sketchy merchant and the booth were gone.

Placed next to him on the floor were the two puzzles he had recently bargained to obtain. Unable to explain the events that had just transpired, my grandfather ran off looking for the merchant inside the underground bazaar. After asking numerous people about the puzzles and the sketchy merchant, he took the mysterious puzzles and left the underground bazaar frantically. He then inquired to several merchants outside whether they had seen an elderly black man with long silver locks wearing a dark violet ring, but no one could help. Frustrated by the fact that the older man with a hunch in his back could disappear so quickly while walking with a cane, my grandfather began to question everything he thought he knew about reality.

Having returned to America, my grandfather went to his antique pawnshop. After attempting to solve the two puzzles independently, he soon realized he did not have what it took to do so. He showered and completed his late-night ritual at the shop, then finally decided to give my mother a crack at solving the puzzle. When he arrived at my mother's residence, he was overly excited to see her. Informing my mother of his trip, he did not leave out any details about the sketchy merchant. Believing he had made a deal with the devil himself, my grandfather began telling my mother about the images he had seen after shaking the devil's hand. He spoke on and on about it until my mother poured him a double shot of Crown Royal. After she powered on the vinyl player, the two began to drink straight from the bottle, dancing the night away and enjoying each other's company; they had a great evening of laughter.

After my grandfather fell asleep on the couch, my mother quickly began to attempt to unlock the sculpted puzzle. She was amazed by the artisan's crafting technique on the puzzle's intricate design—the ancient antique artifact had numerous writings and markings around its outer covering. With an endless supply of stored knowledge in her mind and thoughtful attention to detail, she could interpret much of the puzzle herself. She began to piece together both puzzles with ease, without the need for any assistance or books.

The markings on the shell of the two sculptures were hieroglyphics paired with an ancient Sumerian text. Another text pattern was also present, but she was unable to decipher the origin of the language. Therefore, the only way my mother could open the puzzles was by arranging the scrambled text in its proper place.

After countless months, my mother finally figured out Imhotep's secret within the first puzzle. Unable to keep it to herself, she immediately shared her accomplishment with my grandfather. Thumbing through Imhotep's teachings and the ancient Sumerian archaic scrolls gave my mother all the answers she needed for Imhotep's first puzzle. She waited to be accompanied by my grandfather before opening the puzzle, and they were both silent for a moment as they stared at each other. When my mother and grandfather opened the puzzle together, an unknown aroma filled the room. The sweet, nectar-like fragrance sent chills down their spines, through their toes, and then to their fingertips. With a feeling of euphoria, my mother and grandfather could not explain or fully grasp the unknown phenomena they both were experiencing.

Within the center of the puzzle, a small clear jar rested. Inside the jar was a folded piece of papyrus filled with seeds and green flower petals. Written on the papyrus were instructions left behind by Imhotep himself. My mother and grandfather were fully capable of reading the hieroglyphic text on the papyrus, which stimulated their pineal glands and placed them in a temporary trance.

Unable to control their actions, they placed the seeds and flower petals within the small jar. Then, taking a small dagger from off the oakwood tabletop, my grandfather and mother both slit their palms. As they clenched their hands into a fist, their blood began to flow out, drop by drop; they did not stop until their blood filled the small jar. Their blood began bubbling within the jar, and the infused blood quickly dissolved the flower petals, which caused the same sweet, nectar-like aroma as before. Picking up the clear jar filled with the infused blood, my mother soon poured the entire jar of blood onto the second puzzle. To her surprise, she instantly recognized the diversion. The second puzzle was not a puzzle at all. The inscribed markings on the shell had no meaning to them whatsoever. Once the blood deteriorated the cover of the second puzzle, a small cube appeared.

My mother then placed the seeds within the small holes on top of the cube. The