The air was thick, as if time itself hesitated in the void between breaths. Thoth stood in the heart of Iset’s sanctum, the ancient halls of time and space stretching infinitely in all directions. Light shimmered in the air, not from a sun or moon, but from the very fabric of reality, bending and rippling like liquid. Every step, every breath, felt momentous—as though the universe was holding its breath, waiting.

Iset, god of time and space, stood at the center of it all. His presence was overwhelming, a force so ancient that it transcended the mortal understanding of gods. His eyes, shimmering pools of shifting galaxies, met Thoth's gaze with a mixture of sorrow and resolve. He had known this day would come—had seen it in the countless threads of time he wove together—but that did not make the moment any less unbearable.

"You must stop, Thoth," Iset’s voice was steady, though there was an underlying tremor of desperation. "If you kill me, you will unravel everything. The balance of time and space will shatter. You do not understand the consequences."

Thoth stepped forward, his expression unreadable, save for the dark glint of ambition in his eyes. The power he sought was within reach, so close that he could feel it humming in the air around him. He had spent centuries, millennia, preparing for this moment—an eternity spent learning, mastering the secrets of existence. And now, all that stood in his way was Iset.

"You misunderstand, Iset," Thoth said quietly, his voice like a blade cutting through the tension. "I understand the consequences better than you think. Your death will not bring chaos—it will bring order. I will not let time and space fall apart; I will control them."

Anubis stood behind Thoth, his dark form blending into the shadows of the sanctum. His eyes, gleaming with the cold precision of death, watched the confrontation with an eerie calm. He had warned Thoth of the dangers, had tried to steer him away from this path, but he knew better than to resist the inevitable. Thoth had always been relentless, and now, he was beyond reason.

"Do you truly believe you can control time?" Anubis asked, his voice low, almost a whisper. "You are playing with forces older than the gods, Thoth. If you make one mistake, all of creation will unravel."

Thoth did not turn to acknowledge Anubis’s words. His eyes were locked on Iset, his thoughts consumed by the possibilities that lay before him. "I have no intention of making mistakes."

Seshat’s voice drifted through the sanctum, a quiet echo of memory that seemed to fold itself into the moment. "I had seen Thoth in moments like this before, when his thirst for power overcame his sense of caution. He had always walked a fine line between wisdom and ambition, but now, he had stepped fully into the shadows. Iset, the god of time, had known Thoth's hunger long before this moment came. And now, they stood on the precipice of destruction, both aware that the next step would change the fate of the gods forever."

Iset’s eyes flashed with something like grief, though his posture remained resolute. "You think you can control time and space, but you do not understand their nature. I have seen countless timelines, countless realities. Without me, they will fracture and spiral into chaos. The gods will fall, the world will collapse, and you—"

"I will rise," Thoth interrupted, his voice growing sharper, more insistent. "I will rise as the master of time, the master of space, and the master of fate itself."

The words hung in the air like a challenge, daring the universe to contradict him. Iset’s gaze softened, a flicker of pity crossing his features. "You are blinded by your own ambition. I had hoped that you would see reason, Thoth. That you would understand the burden I carry and why it cannot be passed to another. But you have already made your decision."

Thoth’s expression hardened, the final confirmation of his intent. He raised his hand, and the very air around him began to hum with power. The ancient force, that strange, unknowable presence that had stirred the gods to action, seemed to pulse in response to Thoth’s will. It was as though the universe itself recognized the significance of this moment, the impending shift in the balance of power.

The genuine version of this novel can be found on another site. Support the author by reading it there.

And yet, in the shadows, the warrior watched.

They had followed Thoth and Anubis into Iset’s domain, drawn by a sense of inevitability that they could not fully explain. The ancient force that had whispered to them since their creation pulsed more strongly now, its power tugging at their very being. They could feel the weight of the moment pressing down on them, the knowledge that this confrontation would define the future of the gods—and perhaps even their own existence.

("The warrior watched in silence," Seshat whispered, her voice a soft thread of memory woven into the present. "They had always been an outsider in this world of gods, something both ancient and new, something that did not quite belong. And yet, they were bound to this moment, just as surely as Thoth and Iset were. I had always known that the warrior would play a role in the fate of the gods, but even I did not know what choice they would make when the time came.")

Thoth’s power surged, the air around him crackling with raw energy. He stepped closer to Iset, his eyes burning with a hunger that could no longer be hidden. "You have ruled time for long enough, Iset. Your era ends now."

Iset did not move, though there was a sadness in his eyes that spoke of the countless eons he had witnessed. "You think you are claiming power, Thoth, but you are only sealing your fate."

Thoth’s lips curled into a dark smile. "We shall see."

The energy swirling around Thoth intensified, and for a moment, it seemed as though the very fabric of reality would tear apart under the weight of his power. The ground trembled, the walls of the sanctum rippled like water, and the light in the air dimmed as though it was being consumed by the darkness gathering around Thoth.

Anubis watched in silence, his gaze cold and detached. He had seen this coming long ago—had known that Thoth’s ambition would lead them here. There was no stopping it now, no turning back. The only question that remained was whether Thoth would succeed or whether all of existence would unravel in the process.

("Anubis had always been the one who understood the cost of power," Seshat reflected, her voice filled with a quiet resignation. "He had warned Thoth, time and time again, but Thoth never listened. To Anubis, death was an inevitability, a natural part of existence. But to Thoth, death was merely another tool to be mastered, another force to bend to his will. And now, that mindset had led them to the brink of disaster.")

The warrior, still hidden in the shadows, felt the pull of the ancient force grow stronger. It was as if the force itself recognized the significance of what was about to happen—the impending death of a god, the shifting of the balance of time and space. They had always known that they were tied to the ancient force, but now, they understood that their connection to Iset ran just as deep.

("The warrior had always been an enigma," Seshat continued, her voice thoughtful. "They had been created for a purpose, but that purpose was still unclear, even to them. And yet, as they watched Thoth and Iset face each other, they could feel the weight of destiny pressing down on them. They knew, in that moment, that their role in this confrontation would define the future of the gods—and perhaps even the world itself.")

Iset’s gaze shifted to the warrior, though his expression remained calm. "You, too, are part of this," he said softly, his voice barely more than a whisper. "You are tied to both the force and to me. What happens here will affect you as much as it affects the gods."

The warrior did not respond, but their eyes met Iset’s, and in that brief moment of connection, something passed between them—a silent understanding of the weight of the moment.

Thoth’s power reached its peak, the air around him crackling with energy. He raised his hand, and the world seemed to hold its breath.

"This is the end, Iset," Thoth said, his voice filled with triumph.

But Iset did not flinch. "No, Thoth," he replied softly, his voice filled with a calm certainty that unnerved even Thoth. "This is only the beginning."

In a single, blinding flash of light, Thoth unleashed his power, striking at the very core of Iset’s being. The impact rippled through the sanctum, through the underworld, through time and space itself. The walls of the sanctum buckled, the air warped and twisted, and for a brief, terrifying moment, reality seemed to tear itself apart.

The warrior, watching from the shadows, felt the force surge through them, pulling them closer to the chaos unfolding before them. They could feel the ancient force responding to Thoth’s actions, its power growing, shifting, as if it were preparing to break free from the constraints that had held it in check for so long.

("And so, it began," Seshat whispered, her voice filled with a quiet sense of inevitability. "Thoth had unleashed the storm, and now, there was no turning back. The death of a god—the death of Iset—was not merely an ending. It was the catalyst for something far greater, something far more dangerous. And the warrior, standing in the shadows, knew that they would have to choose which path to follow when the time came.")

As the light faded, Iset fell to his knees, the power that had sustained him for eons draining from his form. Time itself seemed to ripple and distort around him, as though the very fabric of reality was beginning to unravel. He looked up at Thoth, his eyes filled with sorrow.

"You do not know what you have done," Iset whispered, his voice barely audible.

Thoth, standing tall and triumphant, gazed down at the fallen god with cold satisfaction. "I know exactly what I have done."

The warrior stepped forward, their presence suddenly heavy with purpose. The ancient force pulsed around them, its power growing, as though it had been waiting for this moment.

The future of the gods, the world, and all of existence hung in the balance.