The shadows in the temple of the underworld seemed to cling to every surface, their weight oppressive, as if the very walls were suffocating under the strain of what was to come. Thoth and Anubis stood at the center of the chamber, their figures barely visible beneath the dim light of the flickering torches. The air was thick with anticipation, and the lingering echoes of the warrior’s defiance hung between them like a threat unspoken.

It had been mere days since the warrior had walked away, refusing to be bound by the gods, choosing their own path. But now, something far more dangerous was about to take shape. Thoth, ever calculating, could feel it. He had sensed the subtle shift in the cosmic balance, the faint ripple that signaled the arrival of something—or someone—far more important than a mere warrior.

Iset was coming.

The god of time and space, the one who had been watching from the periphery, was finally stepping into the open. Thoth’s eyes gleamed with a dark hunger as he waited. He knew this confrontation had been inevitable. Iset held the key to controlling not just the ancient force, but the very fabric of reality. And as the underworld trembled beneath the weight of Iset’s arrival, Thoth’s mind was already racing with possibilities.

Anubis, however, was more cautious. He had sensed Iset’s presence long before Thoth, the god of death’s instincts finely attuned to the shifts in the underworld. His gaze was cold, unreadable, as he waited for Iset to reveal himself. There was no love lost between these gods. Anubis had never trusted Iset—his dominion over time and space gave him a power that no other god possessed, and that power made him unpredictable, dangerous.

Then, without warning, the air in the chamber shifted. The torches flickered wildly as if bowing to the presence that had just entered. And there, standing at the threshold, was Iset.

He was tall, his form wreathed in a cloak of stars, the vast expanse of the cosmos swirling around him. His face was serene, ageless, but his eyes were deep pools of endless time, filled with the weight of eternity. His very presence seemed to warp reality, bending space around him as if the world itself could not fully contain him.

Iset stepped forward, his gaze sweeping over Thoth and Anubis, and when he spoke, his voice echoed as though it came from every moment in time at once.

“Thoth. Anubis.”

The two gods stood still, their eyes locked on Iset, their expressions cold. Thoth was the first to speak, his voice smooth, but laced with the sharp edge of ambition.

“Iset,” Thoth said, inclining his head ever so slightly. “You’ve finally decided to reveal yourself. It’s been... far too long.”

Iset’s eyes, filled with the weight of time itself, rested on Thoth for a moment before shifting to Anubis. There was no warmth in his gaze, only a deep sadness, as though he knew what was to come.

“I have come to tell you the truth,” Iset said, his voice calm, steady. “The ancient force... cannot be stopped.”

Anubis’s eyes narrowed. “Explain.”

Iset’s gaze shifted back to Thoth, and there was something in his expression that spoke of regret, of inevitability. “The force has grown beyond what even the gods can control. It is the very essence of chaos, the disruption of time and space. And the only way to stop it... is through my death.”

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The words hung in the air like a death knell, the gravity of what Iset had just said settling over the chamber like a shroud. Anubis’s expression darkened, his eyes flashing with anger.

“You would sacrifice yourself?” Anubis’s voice was cold, accusatory. “The god of time and space, the one who holds the fabric of reality together—you would end it all?”

Iset’s gaze did not waver. “If I die, the ancient force will cease to exist. Time and space will be... reset. Order will be restored.”

(Seshat had seen it all before—gods sacrificing themselves for the greater good, offering their lives to restore balance. But this was different. Iset was no mere god; he was the embodiment of time and space itself. His death would not simply restore balance—it would unravel the very foundations of existence. And as Seshat watched Thoth, she knew what he was thinking. This was not an ending for Thoth—this was an opportunity.)

Thoth’s lips curled into a faint smile, though he quickly hid it behind a mask of contemplation. “Your death, Iset... would restore balance. But it would also leave a... void.”

Iset’s gaze sharpened, his expression unreadable. “A void that cannot be filled.”

Thoth tilted his head slightly, his eyes gleaming with something dark, dangerous. “That’s where you’re wrong. A void, yes. But a void that can be filled by someone... worthy.”

Anubis’s gaze snapped to Thoth, his expression hardening. He knew exactly what Thoth was suggesting, and it sent a cold wave of fury through him.

“Do not speak of this,” Anubis growled, his voice low and dangerous. “You would seek to take Iset’s place? You would control time and space itself?”

Thoth’s smile did not falter. “Why not? If Iset is willing to sacrifice himself for the good of all, then why shouldn’t I step in? Someone must take his place, after all. And who better than me? Who else has the knowledge, the understanding, the will to control time and space?”

Anubis’s patience was wearing thin, and his hand twitched toward his weapon. “You are a fool, Thoth. You cannot control time. You cannot control the force.”

Thoth’s eyes flashed with anger. “And yet, here we stand, with the opportunity of a lifetime before us. Iset’s death will create a vacuum, a chance to rewrite the rules of existence. We could shape reality itself, bend it to our will.”

(Seshat had watched Thoth chase power for centuries, watched him manipulate the threads of fate and time to serve his own ends. But now, she saw the madness in his eyes, the way his ambition had consumed him. He was no longer seeking knowledge—he was seeking dominion over reality itself. And Seshat knew that this path would only end in ruin.)

Iset’s voice cut through the tension like a blade. “Thoth, you do not understand. My death will not bring you the power you seek. Time and space cannot be controlled by anyone, not even a god. If I die, the universe will collapse under the weight of its own instability. You will not gain power—you will lose everything.”

Thoth’s smile faltered, but only for a moment. His mind was already calculating, weighing the risks, the potential rewards. He knew Iset was right—there would be chaos, instability. But chaos was the very thing he had learned to manipulate. He had spent lifetimes studying the nature of time, of space, of reality itself. And now, with Iset’s death, he would finally have the chance to bend it all to his will.

“You underestimate me, Iset,” Thoth said, his voice low, but filled with dark conviction. “I have spent centuries preparing for this moment. Your death will not destroy me—it will elevate me.”

Anubis, his patience gone, stepped forward, his voice a low growl. “If you pursue this, Thoth, you will bring ruin upon us all.”

Thoth’s eyes burned with a cold, ruthless fire. “You don’t understand, Anubis. This is not about ruin—this is about control. With Iset’s death, I will be able to reshape reality itself. I will become the architect of time, the master of space.”

Anubis’s expression was hard, unyielding. “You are playing with forces beyond your comprehension.”

Thoth’s gaze locked with Anubis, and for a moment, the two gods stood in silence, the tension between them palpable. Thoth had always been the seeker, the one who pushed the boundaries of knowledge. But now, he had crossed a line, a line that even Anubis, in all his cruelty, would not cross.

Iset, however, remained calm. He had seen this coming long before Thoth or Anubis had even begun to understand the consequences of their actions.

“I see now,” Iset said quietly, his voice filled with a deep sadness. “You were always meant to walk this path, Thoth. The path of destruction.”

Thoth’s eyes flashed with anger. “Destruction? No. I will create something greater than you ever could.”

(Seshat had seen it all before—gods believing they could create something greater, only to watch as their ambition consumed them. And now, as she watched Thoth, she knew that he had reached the point of no return. He would not stop, not until he had taken everything, even if it meant the end of the world.)

Anubis’s voice was low, filled with a cold finality. “If you pursue this, Thoth, I will stop you.”

Thoth’s smile returned, colder than ever. “You can try.”

Without another word, Thoth turned and left the chamber, the weight of his ambition pressing down on him like a shroud. He had made his decision. Iset would die, and with his death, Thoth would rise.

Anubis watched him go, his expression unreadable. And as the silence of the chamber settled over them, Iset turned to Anubis, his eyes filled with the weight of time itself.

“Do you think you can stop him?” Iset asked, his voice soft.

Anubis did not answer. He already knew what was to come.

(Seshat had always known that Thoth’s ambition would lead him to this moment. The moment where he would sacrifice everything for the chance to control time and space. But as she watched him walk away, she wondered if even he understood the full cost of what he was about to do. For in the end, time could not be controlled, not even by the gods.)