The Veil Of Ages
Alexandria wandered the sun-scorched ruins of Luxor, where the ghosts of ancient temples whispered beneath a modern sky. At twenty-one, she was a vision of fire and grace, her long, straight ginger hair blazing like a comet’s tail against the faded sandstone. Her yellow sundress, embroidered with delicate white floral patterns, fluttered in the warm breeze, a bright anachronism among the tourists and guides. Alexandria’s emerald eyes, sharp with curiosity, drank in the hieroglyphs and towering columns of Karnak, her heart stirred by a connection she could not name. A history student, she had come to Egypt seeking the past, but fate had other designs.
At a shadowed corner of the temple complex, where the crowds thinned, she found a stall half-hidden by weathered canvas. Amid its clutter of trinkets and chipped relics gleamed an obsidian scarab, its surface carved with glyphs that seemed to pulse under her gaze. The vendor, an old man with eyes like polished onyx, pressed it into her hand with a knowing nod. “It seeks its own path,” he murmured, waving away her offer of payment. Alexandria, sceptical but intrigued, slipped the amulet into her pocket, its weight a quiet promise.
That evening, as twilight bathed the temple in gold, Alexandria lingered near the Sanctuary of Amun, the scarab clutched in her hand. She traced its edges, and a sudden heat surged through her fingers. The air thickened, heavy with the scent of myrrh and dust. The ground shuddered, her sundress catching on unseen stone, and she fell, not onto the worn flagstones of Karnak, but into warm, endless sand beneath a sky starting to come alive with unfamiliar stars.
She was no longer in her time.
The desert stretched vast and unforgiving, the horizon broken by a city of limestone and gold, its temples gleaming as if newly built. Alexandria’s heart thundered as she rose, her dress was gone and her skin was dusted with golden sand, the scarab pulsing faintly in her grip. Figures approached, men in linen kilts, their bronze skin aglow, their eyes wide with awe and wariness. Their words, in a tongue both strange and strangely clear, carried fragments she understood: “Goddess… fire-haired… touched by Ra.”
She was Led to the city, where the Nile’s breath cooled the air and temples loomed like mountains, Alexandria stood before a woman of commanding beauty, her eyes rimmed with kohl. “I am Neferet, high priestess of Hathor,” she declared, her gaze lingering on Alexandria’s vibrant hair and nudity. “You bear the mark of the divine. Speak, flame-haired one, what brings you to Kemet?”
Alexandria, her modern wit clashing with the surreal, faltered. “I… I was at Karnak. This amulet...it brought me here.” She held up the scarab, its glyphs flaring briefly, and a murmur rippled through the gathered priests. Neferet’s eyes narrowed. “The Eye of Anubis,” she whispered. “Lost since the Old Kingdom, it bends the river of time.”
Days bled into eternities as Alexandria navigated this world of ritual and power. Her ginger hair and pale skin marked her as a divine enigma, revered yet watched. Her sharp mind, honed by years of study and debate, unraveled the court’s intrigues. A young scribe, Khepri, became her guide, his quiet courage and warm smile easing her longing for her own time. She shared tales of her world, machines that soared, lights that burned without fire, while he taught her the rhythms of Kemet, his eyes alight with wonder.
Yet the scarab’s power was a coveted thing. Neferet, hungry for its secrets, confronted Alexandria in the temple’s shadowed heart one starless night. “The Eye is not yours to keep,” the priestess hissed, her hand outstretched. Alexandria, defiant, gripped the amulet, and its light erupted, a blinding cascade of fire and shadow. The world spun, sand and stone dissolving into nothingness.
When Alexandria opened her eyes, she stood once more in Karnak’s ruins, the modern sun harsh overhead. The scarab lay cold in her hand, its glyphs dull, her sundress on the ground dusted with ancient sand. Khepri’s face lingered in her mind, a bittersweet echo. As she stared at the amulet, its secrets locked tight, Alexandria knew the past had claimed a piece of her soul, and the future might yet call her back.
Alexandria doesn't have a "models page", but she does have a members only gallery that you can view HERE
Just to be abundantly clear....none of these "women" exist in real life. They are 100% computer generated by Ai. All the Ai "models" are generated to represent "women" who are over 18 years of age.
The bottom two images are more themes I am playing with..
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