The cold, oppressive air within the ancient temple weighed heavy on them both. Stone pillars, long since cracked and worn from millennia of neglect, cast shadows that twisted in the flickering light of the torches. The silence was suffocating, broken only by the occasional whisper of the wind as it crept through the gaps in the stone. Thoth stood before one of the crumbling walls, his hand tracing the faint, barely-visible symbols carved into the stone, ancient words that few still understood. His brow furrowed in thought, his eyes distant, lost in the mysteries that only he could perceive.
Behind him, Anubis stood still, watching with an intensity that seemed to bleed into the atmosphere around them. His tall, imposing figure was motionless, a sentinel of judgment amidst the ruin. The tension between them had been growing, unspoken but unmistakable. Anubis had sensed it for some time now—the slow but deliberate shift in Thoth’s demeanor, the way his once measured thoughts were becoming clouded, consumed by the ancient force they had sought to understand.
But there were limits to understanding. And Anubis was beginning to fear that Thoth had already crossed them.
“They speak to you, don’t they?” Anubis’ voice, low and cold, cut through the silence. There was no need for names or elaboration. They both knew what he was referring to.
Thoth’s hand paused for a moment, but he didn’t turn around. His gaze remained fixed on the wall, his fingers still tracing the symbols. “They show me what can be,” he replied, his voice steady but tinged with something deeper, something darker. “A future we can shape, if only we are bold enough to seize it.”
Anubis’ eyes narrowed. He stepped forward, his presence a looming shadow behind Thoth. “At what cost?”
(Anubis had always been the one to question, to weigh the balance between desire and consequence. Thoth, for all his wisdom, had never been as cautious. He sought knowledge, and in that quest, sometimes ignored the dangers that lurked within the unknown. It was a flaw that had once seemed small, almost insignificant. But now, it was growing.)
Seshat’s voice lingered in the air, unnoticed by the two gods. Anubis, who had always walked the line between death and power, understood better than most that control was fleeting. What Thoth now dabbled in was something far worse—something that had no end.
“They’re manipulating you, Thoth,” Anubis said, his voice darkening. “This force, this... power. It isn’t knowledge. It’s control. And control is a poison.”
Thoth finally turned to face him, his expression calm but his eyes gleaming with a dangerous light. “It is only poison to those who fear it,” he said, a hint of a smile playing on his lips. “I do not fear knowledge, Anubis. I seek to understand it, to wield it. I thought you, of all beings, would understand that.”
Anubis’ jaw tightened. He took another step forward, his face now inches from Thoth’s. “I understand better than you think. I have seen what happens when gods believe they can bend the universe to their will. It always ends the same. Chaos. Ruin. Death.”
Thoth’s eyes flickered with impatience, a rare but telling sign. “You underestimate me,” he said coldly. “You think I do not see the risks, that I am blinded by ambition. But I see more than you can imagine, Anubis. This force—this power—it is not chaos. It is order. It is control over what has been and what will be. And it is ours for the taking.”
(There had been a time when Thoth’s pursuit of knowledge was pure, driven by a desire to understand the universe, to bring order to the chaos of existence. But now, as the ancient force whispered to him, that pursuit had shifted. Knowledge had become a tool—a weapon. And with every moment, Thoth was being drawn closer to a path that even he could not fully comprehend.)
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Seshat’s voice echoed faintly, her words a reminder of what Thoth once was, and what he was becoming. Anubis, ever watchful, could see the change more clearly than anyone. He could feel the ancient force wrapping itself around Thoth’s mind, warping his thoughts, feeding on his desires. And it would only grow stronger.
“We don’t have time for this,” Anubis said, his voice hard. “Iset must be sacrificed. The longer we delay, the stronger this force becomes. And once it has you fully in its grip, Thoth, there will be no turning back.”
Thoth’s eyes darkened, his expression sharpening. “You think I’m too weak to resist it?”
Anubis’ gaze was unyielding. “I think you’re already losing.”
For a long moment, there was only silence between them. The air was thick with unspoken tension, with the weight of the choices that lay before them. Thoth’s hands clenched at his sides, his mind racing. He had seen the visions, felt the power coursing through him, whispering promises of control, of shaping the future as he saw fit. But there was a part of him—a part that still clung to reason—that understood the danger.
“Iset’s sacrifice is necessary,” Anubis continued, his voice now colder, more resolute. “If we don’t act soon, this force will tear everything apart. You’ve seen the visions, Thoth. You know what will happen if we fail.”
Thoth’s gaze flickered, and for a moment, doubt crossed his features. But it was brief, and quickly replaced by the burning intensity of his ambition. “Sacrifice,” he muttered, almost to himself. “What if there’s another way?”
Anubis’ eyes narrowed. “There is no other way. Iset is the key. Without her, we cannot stop what’s coming.”
Thoth turned away, his hands trembling slightly as he pressed them against the cold stone of the temple wall. His mind was a storm, torn between the warnings of Anubis and the seductive pull of the ancient force. The power he had glimpsed, the future he had seen—it was so close, so tangible. But with it came a darkness that even he could not fully understand.
“I am not ready to kill her,” Thoth said finally, his voice low, almost pained. “There is still more to learn, more to understand.”
Anubis’ patience had worn thin. He stepped forward, his voice now laced with a deadly calm. “There is no more time, Thoth. Either we act now, or I will act alone.”
(Anubis had never been one to show mercy. His role as the judge of the dead had stripped him of any illusions about the value of life. To him, sacrifice was not a question of morality, but of necessity. And now, with the ancient force threatening to consume everything they had built, he saw no other option. Iset had to die. The balance depended on it.)
Seshat’s voice drifted through the chamber again, her words filled with the weight of ancient knowledge. Anubis, ever resolute, stood firm in his belief. But Thoth, despite all his wisdom, was wavering.
“You think you can control this,” Anubis said, his voice sharp. “You think you can bend it to your will. But you’re wrong. It will destroy you, Thoth. Just like it has destroyed everyone who came before.”
Thoth’s hands clenched into fists, his mind a whirlwind of conflicting thoughts. He had always been the one to seek answers, to uncover the mysteries of the universe. But now, those mysteries were turning against him, offering him power that was both intoxicating and terrifying.
Anubis watched him carefully, his eyes never leaving Thoth’s face. “This is your last chance,” he said, his voice hard. “Either you accept what needs to be done, or I will do it myself.”
Thoth’s breath came in short, sharp bursts, his heart pounding in his chest. He had always been the one in control, the one who understood the forces at play. But now, for the first time, he felt as though that control was slipping away, like sand through his fingers.
(There had been a time when Thoth would have seen the wisdom in Anubis’ words, when he would have acted without hesitation to preserve the balance of the universe. But that time had passed. Now, the ancient force whispered to him, promising him power beyond anything he had ever known. And it was a promise he could not ignore.)
Seshat’s voice was a distant echo in his mind, her warnings growing fainter with each passing moment. Thoth knew what was at stake, knew the consequences of his choices. But he could not bring himself to turn away from the power that had been offered to him.
“Iset must be sacrificed,” Anubis repeated, his voice now cold and final. “Or everything we know will be lost.”
Thoth turned to face him, his eyes hard, his expression unreadable. “Then do it,” he said quietly. “If you truly believe there is no other way, then act. But do not expect me to help.”
Anubis’ eyes flickered with something—disappointment, perhaps, or anger. But he said nothing. Instead, he nodded once, his decision made. “Very well,” he said, his voice a low growl. “But know this, Thoth—when the time comes, you will see the truth. And by then, it may be too late.”
Thoth said nothing as Anubis turned and walked away, his form disappearing into the shadows of the temple. The silence that followed was deafening, the weight of the ultimatum hanging heavy in the air.
(Thoth had made his choice. Whether out of fear, arrogance, or some twisted sense of curiosity, he had chosen to walk the path of knowledge, even if it meant abandoning the one ally who could save him from himself. And in that moment, as the ancient force whispered promises of power into his mind, Thoth understood that he was alone.)
Seshat’s voice lingered in the air, her words a solemn reminder of the path that lay ahead. Thoth, for all his wisdom, had chosen a path of uncertainty—a path that could lead to unimaginable power or unimaginable destruction.
And as the shadows closed in around him, Thoth could not help but wonder which it would be.