In the primordial age when the gods walked the earth as kings, Ra, the Great Sun God, ruled over all creation with an authority that seemed as eternal as the rising dawn. From his seat in Heliopolis, the City of the Sun, he commanded the Barque of Millions of Years, sailing across the sky by day and through the dark underworld of the Duat by night. However, as the eons passed, even the creator of the world began to feel the weight of time. Ra grew old; his golden skin lost its luster, his limbs trembled, and his speech became slurred. As he walked the earth, his divine saliva would sometimes spill from his mouth and fall onto the dusty soil of Egypt.
Observing this decline was Isis, a goddess of immense wisdom and ambition. Unlike the other gods who were content to live in the shadow of Ra’s fading glory, Isis desired the ultimate power of 'heka'—magic—for herself and for her future son, Horus. She knew that the secret to Ra’s absolute sovereignty lay within his hidden name, a name so powerful that it was unknown to any other being, divine or mortal. To know a being's true name was to possess total control over their essence. Isis, the 'Great of Magic,' devised a plan to extract this secret from the weary sun god.
She went to the spot where Ra had spat upon the ground and collected the moistened earth. With her skilled hands, she molded the clay into the shape of a serpent, the first of its kind—the uraeus. Unlike the creatures Ra had created, this serpent was fashioned from his own divine substance, making it capable of harming him. Isis breathed life into the creature and placed it in the tall grasses along the path where Ra took his daily walk through the two lands. She did not command it to strike immediately; she simply waited for the inevitable intersection of the creator and his creation.
When the sun reached its zenith, Ra stepped out for his walk, accompanied by his usual retinue of gods. As he passed the hidden serpent, the creature lunged and sank its fangs into his golden flesh. The poison was unlike any other; because it was made from his own essence, Ra’s divine immunity was useless against it. A cry of agony ripped through the heavens, a sound so terrible that it shook the foundations of the earth and brought the celestial barque to a halt. The gods of his company trembled, asking, 'What is it? What has happened?' but Ra could not find the breath to answer. His heart shook, and his limbs quaked as the fire of the venom raced through his veins, a heat more intense than the sun itself, yet followed by a chilling cold that threatened to extinguish his life.
Finally, Ra found his voice. 'Come to me, you who were created from my own body!' he cried out to the Ennead. 'I have been bitten by a thing I did not create, a thing I do not know. It is not fire, it is not water, yet my heart is on fire and my body is shivering. Let the children of the gods be brought to me, those whose words are power and whose wisdom reaches the heavens!' The gods hurried to his side, weeping and lamenting, but none among them could offer a cure for a poison that came from the King of the Gods himself. Then, stepping forward with a mask of concern, came Isis.
'What is this, divine father?' she asked, her voice smooth and comforting. 'Has a serpent bitten you? Has a creature of your own making turned its head against you? I shall cast it out with my magic. I shall make your majesty whole again. But first, you must tell me your name. For a man lives when he is called by his true name.' Ra, desperate for relief, began to recite his titles and his deeds. 'I am the maker of heaven and earth,' he proclaimed. 'I am the one who knitted the mountains together and created all that exists. I am the one who opens his eyes and the light appears, who closes them and darkness falls. I am Khepri in the morning, Ra at noon, and Atum in the evening.'