Myths of Egypt: Horus — Falcon King, Forged in Battle

In the final chapter of our Myths of Egypt series, soar through skies of vengeance and justice as we follow the rise of Horus, the falcon-born son of Isis and Osiris. Hidden in the marshes, raised by magic and moonlight, Horus emerges to face his destiny: a divine battle for the throne of Egypt. So snuggle up in your blankets and have sweet dreams. 

The music in this episode is Over the Dunes by Jon Sumner. 

Transcript

Speaker 1: 0:21

Welcome to Dreamful Podcast bedtime stories for slumber. I would like to start off this episode by thanking our newest supporters, Madison Hageman and Nina Giannino. Thank you both so much, and I hope you have the sweetest of dreams. If you find value in Dreamful and would also like to contribute to the show, please visit dreamfulstoriescom, where you can find info about the show and on the support page there's a link to become a Buzzsprout supporter or subscribe via Supercast. If you listen on Spotify, when you subscribe to the show, you gain access to subscriber-only episodes while receiving a shout-out. You can also support the show on Apple Podcasts, but I can't see your name so I won't be able to do a shout out. Sorry about that. We still get access to over 100 bonus episodes by subscribing. Your donations go toward things like music licensing, equipment upgrades and paying my awesome editor, Katie.

Speaker 1: 1:22

All good things must come to an end, and this is the final episode of the Myths of Egypt series, the tale of a child who grew not only into a warrior, but into the rightful heir of the living throne. He is the falcon whose wings span the sky, the eye that sees justice from the highest perch, the flame that rose from the ashes of betrayal. This is the story of Horus Falcon King, Forged in battle. So snuggle up in your blankets and have sweet dreams. I miss you.

Speaker 1: 2:41

Before the throne, before the crown, before the cry of triumph, there was a boy hidden in the reeds, born of Isis. Forged from grief and magic, horus came into the world beneath the breathless hush of stars. His mother, veiled in shadows, cradled him close as scorpions circled, the papyrus thickets, their tails poised, their loyalty sworn. The wind carried whispers of his father, osiris, murdered by set, torn and scattered across the Nile. And so the child was born into secrecy, among the marshes, in the cradle of silence and survival. Isis wrapped her son in spells, each word, a shield, each lullaby a warning. For set still ruled his storming feet, pounding across the land, seeking the child destined to end him. And Horus, young as he was, could feel the weight of futures behind his closed eyes. His wings had not yet spread, but the sky already knew his name. Time moved like the river, winding and relentless. In the shelter of the marsh forests grew Islam, strengthened with each rising sun. His eyes, one bright as day, the other shadowed like night, saw further than they should have. Isis taught him the old ways how to speak with falcons, how to call the wind to yield, how to summon his father's name and feel the echo in his chest. He learned the constellations, as if they were kin, the secrets of judgment, balance, justice. His mind, a mirror of the heavens, his heart etched with purpose. But the world beyond the wreaths stirred sets. Rain thundered over Egypt, a crown of iron, a voice of sandstorms.

Speaker 1: 5:41

The gods watched in silence, waiting for the falcon to take flight and Horus, no longer a boy, raised his wings for the first time and the sky opened to meet him. From temple halls to desert winds, the name of Horus spread like a storm on the horizon. He emerged with the falcon's gaze, his feathers caught in the blaze of the sun, his heart steady with ancient purpose. Set met him with thunder. No throne could hold two kings, no sky could shelter both peace and ruin. So they battled across riverbanks painted with lotus and blood, through mountains where even jackals held the breath in silence and in fury. For days that bent into years, the gods looked on, some with awe, others with dread. Some with awe, others with dread. The earth cracked where they clashed and the stars flinched above their cries. Set brought chaos, sandstorms and serpents, cunning and cruelty. He reshaped the now with disorder, twisting laws, turning allies to doubt, challenging Horus in shadowed trial. The gods watched divided. Some favored Horus, the rightful heir.

Speaker 1: 7:45

Others whispered allegiance to Set Set, whose strength made them tremble, and so the trials began many of them, contests of speech and judgment, riddles posed before divine counsels, races across the river in made of stone and wood, battles of wit, of endurance, of patience, each one a test not just of horse's might but of his restraint. Not just of horse's might, but of his restraint. In one battle, set changed shape, becoming a black boar, tusked and silent, charging from the darkness. He struck horse across the face and from that wound the eye was torn. The eye of Horus was scattered, dimmed.

Speaker 1: 8:56

Toth, god of wisdom, gathered the fragments and with magic and moonlight he restored the eye, not exactly as it was. It was stronger, sacred, a symbol of healing through suffering, of restoration. The war was not a single blow, but a thousand trials, contests of strength of mind, of will, and in the end, horus stood beneath the weary sky, his eyes still aching, his spirit forged in the crucible of grief. Victory came as a breath, deep and hard won At last. The gods gathered In a hall beyond horizon and time, where the papyrus swayed without wind and Maat herself Waited with her feather of truth. Toth spoke the law. Isis stood tall, her eyes heavy with years of grief and hope, and Osiris, watching from the hidden realm, sent his silence like a blessing, horus stepped forward. His body, marked by battle, his eye, restored by the hands of gods, gleamed with more than sight. It held memory of mourning, of love, of justice earned. The throne, once hollow with absence, now found its heir. So Horus was crowned as a ruler, forged in the shadow of loss and the brilliance of duty. He took the red crown of Lower Egypt and the white crown of Upper Egypt, uniting them upon his brow like falcon, wings stretched across two lands, and from this day the pharaohs bore his name, each ruler, a vessel of horse's will, protector of Maat, guardian of harmony, king by divine right, the sky belonged to him and so did the earth. Across the temples of Egypt, from the delta reeds to the desert's edge, horus was everywhere. He was etched into stone reliefs. Wings spread wide behind pharaohs as they smote chaos. His eye painted on amulets worn for protection, his falcon form perched atop temple pylons, watching over all with piercing eternal gaze.

Speaker 1: 12:44

To the ancient Egyptians, horus was not only divine, he was living. The pharaoh was Horus in the flesh, a walking embodiment of balance and divine rule. When a king died, he became Osiris, became Osiris, and the new king rose, a fresh incarnation of Horus, rising as the morning sun to take his rightful place. His eye, ouijat, was more than a symbol. It was healing and wholeness, worn by the sick and the grieving, painted on tombs and coffins to watch over the soul, carved into boats to guard safe passage through both Nile and Duat. A charm of power, a beacon of return. A charm of power, a beacon of return.

Speaker 1: 13:57

His battles with Set echoed through generations as an eternal tension between order and chaos, played out in politics, in war, in the daily life of the people of the Nile. Each harvest, each flood, each coronation, each funeral rite was touched by Horst's legacy. He was the sky itself, his left eye, the moon, his right eye, the sun, his wings. The vault stretched above the world, cradling Egypt in divine protection from temples, and new rulers came with foreign tongues. The falcon endured.

Speaker 1: 15:09

Before the cry of triumph, there was a boy hidden in the reeds, born of Isis, forged from grief and magic. Horus came into the world beneath the breathless hush of stars. His mother, veiled in shadows, cradled him close as scorpions circled, the papyrus thickets, their tails poised, their loyalties sworn. The wind carried whispers of his father, osiris, murdered by Set, torn and scattered across the Nile. And so the child was born into secrecy among the marshes, in the cradle of silence and survival, isis wrapped her son in spells, each word a shield, each lullaby a warning. For Set still ruled his storming feet, pounding across the land, seeking the child destined to end him.

Speaker 1: 16:25

And Horus, young as he was, could feel the weight of futures behind his closed eyes. His wings had not yet spread, but the sky already knew his name. Time moved like the river, winding and relentless. In the shelter of the marsh forests grew Islam, strengthened with each rising sun. His eyes, one bright as day, the other shadowed like night, saw further than they should have.

Speaker 1: 17:14

Isis taught him the old ways, how to speak with falcons, how to call the wind to yield, how to summon his father's name and feel the echo in his chest. He learned the constellations as if they were kin, the secrets of judgment, balance, justice. His mind, a mirror of the heavens, his heart etched with purpose. But but the world beyond the wreaths stirred sets. Rain thundered over Egypt, a crown of iron, a voice of sandstorms. The gods watched in silence, waiting for the falcon to take flight. And Horus, no longer a boy, raised his wings for the first time and the sky opened to meet him, from temple halls to desert winds, the name of Horus spread like a storm on the horizon. He emerged with the falcon's gaze, his feathers caught in the blaze of the sun, his heart steady with ancient purpose, set met him with thunder.

Speaker 1: 18:55

No throne could hold two kings, no sky could shelter both peace and ruin. So they battled Across riverbanks painted with lotus and blood, Through mountains where even jackals held their breath in silence and in fury. For days that bent into years, the gods looked on, some with awe, others with dread. The earth cracked where they clashed and the stars flinched above their cries. Set brought chaos, sandstorms and serpents, cunning and cruelty. He reshaped the Nihil with disorder, twisting laws, turning allies to doubt, challenging Horus in shadowed trial. The gods watched divided. Some favored Horus, the rightful heir, others whispered allegiance to Set, whose strength made them tremble.

Speaker 1: 20:15

And so the trials began, many of them contests of speech and judgment, riddles posed before divine counsels, races across the river in boats made of stone and wood, battles of wit, of endurance, of patience, each one a test not just of horse's might but of his restraint. In one battle, set changed shape, becoming a black boar, tusked and silent. Charging from the darkness, he struck Horus across the face and from that wound the eye was torn. The eye of Horus was scattered, dimmed. Toth, god of wisdom, gathered the fragments and with magic and moonlight he restored the eye. Magic and moonlight, he restored the eye. Not exactly as it was. It was stronger, sacred, a symbol of healing through suffering, of restoration.

Speaker 1: 21:52

The war was not a single blow, but a thousand trials, contests of strength Of mind, of will, and in the end Horus stood beneath the weary sky, his eyes still aching, his spirit forged in the crucible of grief. Victory came as breath, deep and hard won At last. The gods gathered in a hall beyond horizon and time, where the papyrus swayed without wind and Maat herself waited with her feather of truth. Toth spoke, the law, isis stood tall, her eyes heavy with years of grief and hope, and Osiris, watching from the hidden realm, sent his silence like a blessing. Horus stepped forward, his body marked by battle, his eye, restored by the hands of gods, gleamed with more than sight. It held memory of mourning, of love, of justice earned.

Speaker 1: 23:23

The throne, once hollow with absence, now found its heir. So Horus was crowned as a ruler, forged in the shadow of loss and the brilliance of duty. He took the red crown of Lower Egypt and the white crown of Upper Egypt, uniting them upon his brow. Like falcon wings stretched across two lands. And from this day the pharaohs bore his name, each ruler, a vessel of horse's will, protector, guardian of harmony, king by divine right, the sky belonged to him and so did the earth. Across the temples of Egypt, from the delta reeds to the desert's edge, horus was everywhere. He was etched into stone reliefs, wings spread wide behind pharaohs as they smote chaos, his eye painted on amulets worn for protection, his falcon form perched atop temple pylons, watching over all with piercing eternal gaze.

Speaker 1: 25:03

To the ancient Egyptians, horus was not only divine, he was living. The pharaoh was Horus in the flesh, a walking embodiment of balance and divine rule. When a king died, he became Osiris and the new king rose. A fresh incarnation of Horus rose. A fresh incarnation of Horus rising as the morning sun to take his rightful place. His eye, ouijat, was more than a symbol. It was healing and wholeness, worn by the sick and the grieving, painted on tombs and coffins to watch over the soul, carved into boats to guard safe passage through both Nile and Duat. A charm of power, a beacon of return. His battles with Set echoed through generations as an eternal tension between order and chaos played out in politics, in war, in theation. Each funeral rite was touched by horse's legacy. He was the sky itself his left eye, the moon, his right eye, the sun, his wings. The vault stretched above the world, cradling Egypt in divine protection. Even as the gods faded from temples, the new rulers came with foreign tongues.

Speaker 2: 27:09

The falcon endured, watchful, regal and always ascending ¶¶, ¶¶, ¶¶, ¶¶, ¶¶, ¶¶, ¶¶, ¶¶, ¶¶, ¶¶, ¶¶, ¶¶, ¶¶, ¶¶, ¶¶, ¶¶. © transcript Emily Beynon you.