The air in the chamber was thick, stale with the stench of rot. A heavy stillness hung in the atmosphere, broken only by the faint flicker of torchlight that cast long shadows across the ancient carvings lining the walls. The chamber was a relic of a forgotten era, its stone cold and unyielding, covered in hieroglyphs that once spoke of power, wisdom, and the eternal dance between life and death. But now, the carvings seemed to mock those ideals, as if they too had decayed over time, their meaning twisted and lost.

At the center of the chamber stood Thoth and Anubis, gods whose presence should have commanded awe, but in this moment, only darkness radiated from them. Once, they had been peers—two gods united in their understanding of life’s mysteries, of the cosmic balance between creation and destruction. But that time had long since passed. Now, there was only distance between them.

Anubis knelt beside the mangled remains of a man, his long, clawed fingers reaching out with precision. His touch, though brutal, was practiced, his movements deliberate as he began the ritual of mummification. The man’s body had long since cooled, but traces of warmth still clung to the bones, a fleeting reminder of the life that had once pulsed through his veins.

"It is always the quiet moments that reveal the most," Seshat’s voice whispered from the shadows, her presence unseen yet ever watchful. "Watching Anubis at work is to witness the artistry of cruelty itself. There is no hesitation in his movements, no doubt in his purpose. He has always understood the suffering of others in a way that few gods ever could."

Anubis’ hands moved swiftly, wrapping the strips of linen around the flesh and bones with an almost tender care. There was no kindness in his task, only the efficiency of a god who had performed this ritual countless times. He bound the body tightly, as if trying to preserve not only the man’s form but the agony that clung to his soul. The man’s eyes, though dim with death, still held a flicker of awareness, a desperate plea for release that would never come.

(Thoth watched in silence, his eyes cold and distant. Once, the pursuit of wisdom had driven him, a need to understand the mysteries of life and death. But now, his gaze was devoid of curiosity. There was no desire to learn, no longing for answers. Thoth had grown detached, a servant to Osiris and a master of control, his thirst for knowledge twisted into something darker—something that served no one but himself.)

"Do you remember, Thoth?" Seshat’s voice echoed softly, her tone mournful as it slipped through the chamber. "Do you remember when you once revered this process? When you sought to guide souls with your wisdom, to understand the delicate balance between the world of the living and the dead? But now... now, you have become a shadow of what you were. You do not guide anymore. You bind. You control."

Anubis continued his work, his hands gliding over the linen with precise movements. There was no rush, no urgency in his task. He savored every moment, his cruelty deliberate and methodical. The man’s soul, trapped within the remains of his body, writhed in agony, unable to escape the torturous binding that was unfolding. His mouth, now sealed shut by the linen, emitted only muffled groans of despair—a sound that echoed through the decaying chamber like a haunting melody.

(Thoth did not flinch at the man’s suffering. Once, he might have sought to ease the passage of the soul, to offer wisdom or comfort. But now, he stood above it all, his mind lost in thoughts far removed from the present. He no longer cared for the soul before him, nor for the suffering that filled the air. To him, this was simply another soul to be bound, another piece of Osiris’ grand design to be put into place.)

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"I once admired your curiosity, Thoth," Seshat whispered, her voice carrying an unspoken sadness. "You were relentless in your pursuit of knowledge, always seeking the truth, no matter the cost. But now, I see that the cost has been too great. You no longer seek knowledge for its own sake. You seek control—control over life, over death, and over the souls you once sought to guide."

With a final, deliberate motion, Anubis completed the mummification. The body, once a vessel of life, was now little more than a grotesque reminder of the suffering it had endured. Yet, even in death, the man’s soul remained trapped, bound to his remains by the cruel precision of Anubis’ hands. The room grew quieter, the groans of the soul fading into the stillness, as if even the air had grown weary of the torment.

Without a word, Thoth stepped forward, his hand raised as he began to weave dark magic into the air. His fingers moved with a practiced grace, but there was no reverence in his actions—only cold detachment. The magic flowed from him effortlessly, tendrils of shadow wrapping around the man’s remains like chains. The spell, once a sacred rite meant to guide souls into the afterlife, had now become a weapon of torment, trapping the soul within the very bones that once gave it life.

(Once, Thoth’s magic had been a source of wonder. His spells had been woven with care, with purpose, each incantation designed to guide the souls of the dead on their journey to the next world. But now, his magic had become something far more sinister. There was no beauty in it anymore, no sense of balance or harmony. Only power—power that bound, power that controlled, power that suffocated the soul with its weight.)

Seshat’s presence lingered in the shadows, her eyes fixed on the scene unfolding before her. She watched as Thoth completed his spell, the magic sealing the man’s soul to his bones, binding him to an eternity of suffering. Once, she might have intervened, might have tried to pull Thoth back from the brink of the darkness that now consumed him. But now, she knew there was no turning back.

"The Thoth I knew is gone," she whispered, her voice heavy with sorrow. "What remains is a god who no longer seeks to understand the world but seeks to rule it. You have become a servant of Osiris, Thoth, but you are no longer a servant of wisdom."

As Thoth finished his incantation, the man’s body convulsed, the soul within struggling against the bindings that held it. But there was no escape. The magic was too strong, too deeply entwined with the remains. The soul would remain bound, trapped in the decaying flesh, its suffering an endless reminder of the power Thoth now wielded without mercy.

For a moment, there was silence in the chamber. Anubis, his task complete, stood quietly by, his dark eyes reflecting nothing of the cruelty he had just performed. There was no pride in his work, no satisfaction. Only the grim efficiency of a god who understood suffering in a way no mortal ever could.

(Anubis had always been constant in his cruelty. He did not question his role, nor did he seek to rise above it. His place in the order of the gods was clear, and he carried out his duties with a precision that bordered on artistry. But Thoth... Thoth had once been different. His cruelty had been born not of nature but of choice—a choice that he had made long ago when he first turned away from the path of wisdom and began his descent into the shadows of Osiris’ domain.)

Without a word, Thoth turned away from the remains, his eyes no longer lingering on the man’s suffering. He was done here. The soul was bound, the task complete. There was no need to stay, no need to witness the aftermath of his own cruelty.

"Take it away," Thoth commanded, his voice cold and detached. The words held no emotion, no hint of the god who had once revered the sanctity of life and death. He no longer cared for the souls he bound, no longer cared for the suffering that filled the air around him.

As Anubis moved to carry out his order, Seshat remained in the shadows, her heart heavy with the knowledge of what Thoth had become. She had once known him as a god of wisdom, a seeker of truth who valued knowledge above all else. But now, he had become something far more dangerous—a god who no longer sought wisdom for its own sake but for the power it could give him.

(The Thoth I once knew is gone, replaced by a being who serves only the will of Osiris. His thirst for knowledge has turned into a hunger for control, and that hunger will consume him, just as it has consumed so many others. I watch from the shadows, mourning the loss of the god who once revered life and death in equal measure. But now, there is nothing left to revere. Only power. Only control.)

As the torches flickered and the shadows lengthened in the cold, decaying chamber, Seshat’s voice fell silent, her presence fading into the darkness. She had seen enough. Thoth had made his choice, and there was no turning back from the path he had chosen.

The chamber, once a place of reverence and ritual, now felt like a tomb, a place where the last remnants of Thoth’s wisdom lay buried beneath the weight of his ambition. And as the gods carried out their grim work, the stench of death clung to the air, a reminder of the suffering that now defined them.

Thoth had become a servant of Osiris, but in doing so, he had lost something far more valuable—his soul.