In the earliest days of the world, long before the pharaohs wore the double crown of Egypt, the sun god Ra ruled over the land as a living king. He was the source of all light, the architect of the Nile’s cycles, and the protector of the cosmic order known as Ma'at. Under his reign, the earth was a paradise, a place where gods and humans walked together in the eternal warmth of the sun. However, as the centuries stretched into millennia, even the eternal Ra began to show the passage of time. The myths tell us that his flesh, once as firm as the morning horizon, began to resemble pure gold; his bones, once strong, turned to silver; and his hair took on the deep blue hue of lapis lazuli. As he aged, his divine saliva occasionally fell to the earth, where it transformed into the first sacred creatures and plants.
Yet, the humans who lived beneath Ra’s golden gaze were not as constant as the gods. Seeing their ruler grow frail and hearing his voice tremble like a reed in the wind, they began to whisper among themselves. They gathered in the shadows of the great temples of Heliopolis and plotted in the deep deserts, claiming that Ra was no longer fit to hold the scepter of sovereignty. They mocked his silver bones and his golden skin, believing that the creator had become weak and that his time of dominion should come to an end. But Ra, though aged, was not blind. His divine essence permeated the very air, and he heard the treasonous murmurs rising from the cities and the fields. Heartbroken by the ingratitude of his creations, Ra decided that he could no longer rule a people who did not respect the divine order.
Ra summoned a secret council of the eldest gods, those who had existed before the world was fully formed. He called upon Nun, the primordial water from which all life emerged; Shu, the god of the air; Tefnut, the goddess of moisture; Geb, the earth god; and Nut, the goddess of the sky. In the hidden chambers of his palace, Ra spoke to Nun: 'Oldest of the gods, look upon the humans I have created. They are plotting against me, speaking words of rebellion. Tell me, what should be done with those who turn against their father?' Nun replied with the weight of the deep waters, suggesting that Ra should send his 'Eye'—the fierce and protective aspect of his power—to punish those who had strayed. Ra agreed, and he detached his Eye, which transformed into the goddess Hathor, though in her fury, she took the terrifying form of the lioness Sekhmet.
Sekhmet descended upon the earth like a searing wind from the desert. She was the embodiment of the sun’s destructive heat, and she fell upon the rebels with a ferocity that turned the sands of the Sahara red. For days, the lioness-goddess rampaged through the Nile Valley, hunting down those who had spoken ill of the sun. The slaughter was so vast that the river itself began to run thick with the blood of the fallen. Sekhmet, intoxicated by the scent of battle and the taste of blood, could not be satiated. She no longer distinguished between the guilty and the innocent; her only desire was to cleanse the world of humanity entirely.
Watching from his throne, Ra felt a sudden and profound pang of pity. He had wanted to punish the rebels, but he did not wish for his children to be wiped from the face of the earth. He realized that if he did not intervene, there would be no one left to offer prayers or tend the fields of Egypt. However, Sekhmet was in a divine blood-frenzy that no word of command could break. Ra knew he had to use cunning to save the survivors. He summoned swift messengers and commanded them to bring vast quantities of red ochre from the mines of Elephantine. He then ordered the royal brewers of Heliopolis to prepare seven thousand jars of barley beer. Under the cover of night, the ochre was ground into a fine powder and mixed with the beer, giving the liquid the exact color and consistency of human blood.