The chamber felt colder than usual. Thoth’s breath barely stirred the heavy air as he sat motionless on his stone throne. His mind was restless, drawn inexorably to a single thought, a single being: Ma’khet. For weeks, perhaps months—time blurred in the underworld—his mind had wandered to the warrior whose origins defied the gods themselves. Born from the primal forces of time and space, Ma’khet was a mystery that gnawed at Thoth. Every attempt to see his future had ended in failure.

And Thoth was not used to failure.

His mastery over the flow of time, the cycles of existence, had never been questioned. He could delve into the future of any god or mortal, bending time's threads to see their triumphs and falls. Yet, every time his gaze fell upon Ma’khet, the future became… twisted. Blurred. As though Ma’khet’s very presence resisted the laws that governed reality.

Today, Thoth would try again. He could feel Ma’khet's energy pulsating somewhere deep within the underworld, a force that demanded to be understood yet evaded his grasp. The power of time and space now flowed through him after Iset’s death, and with it came an obligation to see everything, to know everything. If he could not uncover the future of Ma’khet, what kind of god of knowledge was he?

("Thoth was never one to accept limits," Seshat’s voice whispered like a breeze through the dark chamber. "He had always pushed beyond the boundaries that even the gods dared not cross. And yet, with Ma’khet, something new stirred within him—an unease he had never felt. It was a curiosity, yes, but also something deeper. An acknowledgment, perhaps, that there are forces even he cannot control.")

Thoth inhaled deeply, centering his thoughts. His eyes closed, and his mind extended outward into the fabric of the cosmos. The familiar threads of time appeared before him, each one shimmering in its place, each one a life, a destiny. Thoth’s consciousness moved effortlessly between them—Ra’s path, flickering and dimming as his reign over the cosmos began to wane; Horus’s, bold and sure, but shadowed by the inevitable downfall of kings; Set’s, a chaotic whirlwind of violence and betrayal, ever shifting.

But as he reached for Ma’khet’s thread, a sharp resistance met him.

The familiar sensation of time's flow buckled beneath his grasp, twisting away as if it were alive. Thoth’s brow furrowed as he focused harder, willing the future to reveal itself. He had touched Ma’khet’s fate before, glimpsing pieces—storms, battles, shadows—but never the full picture. Now, though, he felt something else. The thread was unraveling.

A flash of darkness flickered before his eyes, followed by a sharp crack of thunder that echoed in his mind. He could see Ma’khet, but the image was unstable, distorted. The warrior stood tall on the edge of a battlefield, his form wreathed in an unnatural storm. Lightning danced across the sky, and the ground beneath his feet trembled with power. Yet, as Thoth reached out to pull the image closer, it shifted, blurring and fading.

He pushed harder, his mind delving deeper into the vision, but the more he pushed, the more the vision resisted. The threads of time twisted in his grasp, tangling into knots that even his immense power could not unravel.

("There are moments in time when even the gods feel helpless," Seshat’s voice whispered, soft yet sharp with the weight of truth. "For Thoth, who had never been denied anything, this moment was unfamiliar. Ma’khet was not like the others—his destiny was not something to be shaped or predicted. It was something that defied the laws that Thoth had come to master.")

The vision before Thoth began to spin wildly out of control. The battlefield vanished, replaced by a swirling storm of energy. Time itself buckled under the strain, the once orderly threads now warping and distorting in ways that Thoth had never seen. It was as if Ma’khet’s presence was unraveling the very fabric of reality, bending time’s flow into something chaotic and unpredictable.

This tale has been pilfered from Royal Road. If found on Amazon, kindly file a report.

A cold sweat broke out on Thoth’s brow as he struggled to regain control. His mind raced, his focus narrowing to a razor’s edge as he tried to force the future back into its proper shape. But the harder he pushed, the more elusive it became. The future refused him, slipping away like water through his fingers.

Thoth had never felt this before—this sensation of losing control.

("For eons, Thoth had been the master of his domain," Seshat reflected, her voice carrying the weight of countless centuries. "He had bent time to his will, shaped the destinies of gods and mortals alike. But now, in the face of Ma’khet’s storm, he felt something he had not known for longer than he cared to remember—fear.")

The storm intensified, the vision spiraling into a chaotic frenzy. Flashes of images assaulted Thoth’s mind—Ma’khet standing over the bodies of fallen gods, his face obscured by shadow; a great tower crumbling into dust; a river of blood flowing through the desert sands, its source unknown. Each image was more disjointed than the last, fragments of a future that refused to be seen.

Thoth gasped, his concentration slipping as the vision became more than he could bear. The future blurred before his eyes, and for the first time in his long existence, he felt himself being pulled under by the very force he sought to control.

The threads of time, once pliable and obedient, now tightened around him like a snare. Thoth tried to pull back, to free himself from the vision, but something held him in place. His control, so absolute for eons, began to unravel. He was no longer the master of this moment—he was trapped within it, caught in a storm that threatened to consume him.

("Even gods have their limits," Seshat’s voice whispered, her tone heavy with solemnity. "And in this moment, Thoth was forced to confront his own. For all his knowledge, all his power, there was something about Ma’khet that defied him. Something ancient and untouchable, beyond even his understanding.")

Thoth’s breath came in short, ragged bursts as he fought to maintain his grip on reality. The threads of time twisted violently, threatening to snap under the strain. His mind, once so sharp and clear, now felt clouded and uncertain. He had never known such disarray. The vision was slipping away from him, and with it, his sense of control.

A flash of light burst before his eyes, followed by a deep, rumbling voice that seemed to echo from the very heart of the storm. It was Ma’khet’s voice, though distorted and distant, as if speaking from beyond the veil of time itself.

“You cannot see me.”

The words reverberated through Thoth’s mind, filling him with a cold, unsettling dread. The future had spoken to him, and its message was clear—Ma’khet was beyond his reach.

With a sudden jolt, Thoth was thrown from the vision, his mind snapping back into the present with brutal force. He gasped, his body trembling as he slumped forward on his throne, sweat dripping from his brow. His breath came in shallow, uneven bursts as he tried to steady himself, the weight of the failed vision pressing down on him like a crushing burden.

For the first time in centuries, Thoth had been denied.

("There are moments in time that mark the breaking of a god," Seshat whispered, her voice barely more than a breath. "And though Thoth was not broken, something had shifted within him. The future had always been his domain, his playground. But now, he had glimpsed the one being who stood outside of it, and in that moment, he realized that even gods must face their limits.")

The chamber was silent, save for the faint sound of Thoth’s labored breathing. He sat still, his mind racing as he tried to make sense of what had just happened. Ma’khet’s future had not simply eluded him—it had actively resisted him. The threads of time, which had always bent to his will, had fought back. And in that resistance, Thoth had glimpsed something terrifying.

There was a force surrounding Ma’khet, a force that even Thoth could not understand. It was not just that Ma’khet’s future was unclear—it was that the future itself did not apply to him in the same way it did to others. Ma’khet existed outside the normal flow of time, a being whose destiny defied the very laws that governed the universe.

And for the first time in eons, Thoth was afraid.

("Thoth had spent centuries shaping the future, bending time and space to his will," Seshat’s voice echoed softly, her tone tinged with sorrow. "But now, he had encountered a being who stood beyond even his reach. Ma’khet was not bound by the same rules, the same limitations. And in that realization, Thoth faced a truth he had long denied—there were forces in the universe that even he could not control.")

The weight of the revelation settled over Thoth like a heavy cloak, suffocating and relentless. His hands clenched into fists as he fought to steady his breath, his mind racing with possibilities and questions. How could Ma’khet exist outside of time’s flow? What force protected him? And most importantly—what role would Ma’khet play in the fate of the gods?

Thoth stood slowly, his legs unsteady beneath him. He had always believed that knowledge was the key to everything, that with enough understanding, he could shape the future as he saw fit. But now, he was no longer certain. The future had changed, and with it, the rules of the universe had shifted.

Ma’khet was a force beyond his control, a being whose future defied the very fabric of time. And that terrified him.

("In all his years, Thoth had never encountered a mystery he could not solve," Seshat whispered, her voice fading into the shadows. "But Ma’khet was that mystery. And in the end, it was not knowledge that would determine the future—it was Ma’khet.")

Thoth stood in the center of the chamber, the weight of his newfound fear pressing down on him. The future, once so clear, was now clouded with uncertainty. And though he had always been the master of time, Ma’khet had shown him a future he could not control.

And for the first time in his long existence, Thoth knew what it meant to be powerless.