The air within the great hall was heavy, thick with the weight of newly claimed power. Thoth stood alone, his form enveloped by the dark energies that now pulsed through him like a second heartbeat. The remnants of Iset’s essence—the god of time and space—clung to him like shadows, warping the air around him, bending reality at his command. For the first time in his long existence, Thoth no longer simply sought knowledge—he had become it. His once singular pursuit had expanded, spreading its roots into the realms of time and space, intertwining the very fabric of reality with his will.

The vastness of the cosmos lay before him, threads of time twisting and writhing like living things. They shimmered in his mind’s eye, each one a possible future, a fate waiting to be unraveled. And Thoth could see it all. Every choice, every decision, every path taken or not taken. Time no longer flowed for him—it stretched and bent, obeying his every thought, his every desire. He had gained what he had always sought: control over the most elusive force in existence.

He closed his eyes, letting the sensations wash over him, feeling the threads of time and space tugging at his consciousness. There was no boundary between the past and future now. It was all one, an infinite sea of knowledge waiting to be explored. Thoth’s mind reached out, and with a subtle thought, the veil of time lifted, revealing the futures of gods and mortals alike.

("I had always known that this moment would come," Seshat’s voice whispered, a soft echo through the halls of time. "Thoth’s hunger for knowledge had always been insatiable, but now, that hunger had transformed into something darker. He no longer sought to simply understand the world. Now, with Iset’s power coursing through him, he sought to master it, to bend it to his will. And in doing so, he stepped further into the shadows that had been creeping toward him for millennia.")

Thoth's first experiment came almost instinctively. His thoughts shifted toward the future of a mortal king—a figure of little consequence in the grand scheme of things, yet one whose lineage would affect the course of empires. In an instant, Thoth saw the king's future splintering into a dozen different paths. Each one bloomed before him, unfurling like the petals of a poisonous flower.

In one, the king’s reign continued, his empire expanding with each passing year. In another, the king faltered, his closest ally betraying him, leading to his downfall and death. In a third, the king never reached his throne, slain by an assassin before his coronation. Each future was as clear to Thoth as the present, and with a flick of his hand, he could manipulate any of them. He could decide which future the king would face, which path he would follow.

It was intoxicating.

Thoth smiled—a cold, calculating smile. "I hold the threads of fate in my hands," he murmured, his voice a low hum that reverberated through the chamber. "I can shape reality itself."

He let the vision of the king fade, his attention turning elsewhere. There were larger forces at play, forces far beyond the mortal realm. He had tested his newfound power on a mere human, but now he craved something more—something grander. His mind reached out once more, this time to the realm of the gods.

("Thoth had always believed that knowledge was power," Seshat continued, her voice filled with a quiet sadness. "But now, that belief had twisted into something far more dangerous. The gods themselves were no longer beyond his reach. He could see their futures, their choices, their fates—all laid bare before him. And with that knowledge came a temptation that even Thoth, for all his wisdom, could not resist.")

He saw the future of Ra, the sun god, the one who had reigned supreme over the cosmos since the dawn of time. Thoth watched as the sun’s light flickered and dimmed, its once-unshakeable brilliance faltering. In some futures, Ra fell, consumed by darkness, his reign ending as a new power rose in his place. In others, he endured, his light blazing brighter than ever, reshaping the heavens in his image.

Thoth’s eyes gleamed as he studied these possible futures. He could end Ra’s dominance with a mere thought, snuffing out the sun and plunging the world into eternal night. Or he could strengthen him, ensuring his rule continued unchallenged for eons. The power to decide the fate of a god was exhilarating, but there was something even more compelling.

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Anubis.

Thoth’s gaze shifted to the god of death, the one who had walked beside him for centuries. Anubis, with his cold, methodical cruelty, had always been a figure of unshakable resolve. But now, with Thoth’s mastery over time and space, even Anubis was vulnerable. Thoth saw the death god’s future splinter before him, a web of possibilities twisting and branching into infinity.

In one future, Anubis stood over the corpses of gods, his dominion over death absolute. In another, he was brought low, betrayed by forces beyond his control, his body consumed by the very souls he had once commanded. Thoth watched these futures unfold, feeling a strange thrill at the thought of manipulating Anubis’s fate. He could destroy him, twist his future into one of suffering and torment. Or he could elevate him, grant him the power to reign over the underworld with even greater authority.

The possibilities were endless.

("I had always known that Thoth’s mind was dangerous," Seshat whispered, her voice filled with regret. "But now, with the power of time and space at his fingertips, his thoughts had grown darker, more dangerous. He no longer saw his companions as equals. They were merely pieces on a board, their futures something to be shaped, bent, or broken as he saw fit.")

Thoth’s thoughts lingered on Anubis for a moment longer before his attention was drawn elsewhere. There was another future, one that glowed with a strange, ominous light—a future that did not belong to any god or mortal. It was the future of the warrior.

The warrior, now Ma’khet, had vanished into the storm, his power growing with each passing moment. Thoth had not yet delved into Ma’khet’s future, but now, with the full force of his abilities at his disposal, he could no longer resist. His mind stretched out, seeking the future of the one who had named himself the Unseen Storm.

But something strange happened.

As Thoth’s consciousness touched the threads of Ma’khet’s future, they recoiled, snapping back like a snake pulling away from an unwanted touch. The future of Ma’khet was not like the others. It was wild, untamed, a force that did not bend to Thoth’s will. Instead, it lashed out at him, filling his mind with a searing pain that caused him to stumble, his breath catching in his throat.

("The warrior had always been different," Seshat whispered, her voice tinged with both awe and fear. "Even Thoth, with all his mastery over time and space, could not fully comprehend the force that moved through Ma’khet. It was something beyond the gods, something older and more powerful. And in trying to see the warrior’s future, Thoth had overreached, had touched something that could not be touched.")

Thoth’s hands trembled as he tried to regain control, his mind racing. The future of Ma’khet was not like any other he had encountered. It was dark, chaotic, filled with a power that defied even his ability to see. But Thoth was not one to be easily deterred. He dug deeper, forcing his mind to pierce through the barriers that surrounded Ma’khet’s fate.

And then, he saw it.

A flash of red. Blood.

The image struck Thoth like a blow, filling his mind with visions of horror. He saw blood spilling, staining the sands of Egypt, its red tide flowing like a river through time. But it was not just any blood—it was the blood of the people, of the very souls that inhabited the land. Their skin, torn from their bodies, became parchment, their bones ground to dust to form the ink. Thoth’s breath quickened as the visions unfolded, a nightmare that gripped him and refused to let go.

In the heart of the storm, Thoth saw himself. But he was not the master of time and space, not the god who controlled the fates of all. He was a prisoner, forced to write Ma’khet’s story—his hands bound by an unseen force, a quill dripping with the blood of mortals clutched in his hand. The ink, dark and red, stained the pages of human flesh, each stroke carving out the tale of the Unseen Storm.

("I watched as Thoth’s power turned against him," Seshat’s voice murmured, a quiet lament. "For all his knowledge, for all his mastery over time and space, he had not foreseen this. He had touched something beyond his control, something that could not be bent or shaped to his will. And now, he was cursed, bound by the very power he had sought to wield.")

The vision faded, but the horror remained. Thoth staggered back, his mind reeling from what he had seen. His hands still trembled, and the weight of the future pressed down on him like a crushing wave. The power he had so eagerly sought had turned against him in the most brutal way possible.

He had thought he could manipulate Ma’khet’s future, control the storm that raged within the warrior. But now, he realized the storm could not be controlled. It was beyond him—beyond all gods. And in reaching for that power, Thoth had damned himself.

("Power always comes with a price," Seshat whispered, her voice filled with the weight of eons. "Thoth had believed that by claiming time and space, he would be free of the limitations that had once bound him. But in doing so, he had become a prisoner of his own ambition. He could see the future, yes—but now, the future had seen him.")

Thoth stood in the center of the great hall, his eyes wide with the weight of what he had seen. The threads of time still shimmered before him, but now they were twisted, knotted with uncertainty and fear. He had once believed that knowledge was the key to everything, but now he realized that some things were not meant to be known.

He had seen the future of gods, of mortals, of empires and kings. But the future of Ma’khet, the Unseen Storm, was something he could not grasp. It was a force that defied his control, and in trying to master it, he had lost control of his own destiny.

("And so, Thoth stood at the precipice of his own undoing," Seshat whispered, her voice fading into the shadows. "He had gained the power of time and space, but in doing so, he had lost something far more precious—his sense of purpose. Now, with the future laid bare before him, he was left to confront the terrifying truth that not all knowledge brings power. Some knowledge brings only ruin.")

The silence in the hall was deafening as Thoth stood motionless, his mind racing with the possibilities, the futures he had seen, and the future that had been denied him. His once-clear path was now obscured by the very power he had sought for so long. Time and space bent to his will, but even that could not protect him from the consequences of his ambition.

The future of Ma’khet was out of his grasp.

And for the first time in his existence, Thoth felt fear.