The air of the underworld hung thick and heavy, like a shroud clinging to the gods as they descended deeper into its endless, winding passages. Darkness enveloped them, the shadows stretching long and eerie, dancing along the walls with every flicker of the dim light that seemed to have no clear source. There was no sound save for the quiet shuffle of their footsteps and the occasional distant moan of a wandering soul, forgotten in the endless torment of this realm. But it was not the souls of the dead that weighed heavily on Thoth and Anubis; it was the warning Iset had given them—a warning neither could fully accept.
Sacrifice. The word echoed in Thoth’s mind as he pressed forward, his expression as still as the tombs surrounding them. He had never been one to accept the inevitability of such things, not without thoroughly questioning it first. To him, every problem had a solution, and no force—no matter how ancient—was beyond understanding. Yet here they were, burdened with the cryptic words of the god of time.
“We are not meant to give up anything,” Thoth muttered under his breath, more to himself than to Anubis. “There must be another way.”
Beside him, Anubis strode in silence, his tall form casting a menacing shadow against the stone walls. He, too, felt the growing tension in the air, but his gaze remained cold and impassive. Anubis was the god of death, unshaken by most things, but even he could feel the gravity of what Iset had revealed. The ancient force, now stirring beneath them, was unlike anything they had faced before. It was older than time itself, older than Osiris, older than the gods who ruled now. And Iset had made it clear: stopping it would come at a great cost.
“Do you doubt Iset’s guidance?” Anubis asked, breaking the heavy silence that had fallen between them. His voice was low and rumbling, like the final breath of a dying man. He was cautious, as always, calculating his every move. “He has seen what we cannot. He knows the consequences of tampering with forces we do not fully understand.”
Thoth glanced at him, the sharpness in his gaze unyielding. “I do not doubt his wisdom,” he replied, his voice measured but hard. “But I do question his conclusions. Iset speaks of sacrifice as though it were the only answer. Time, space, life, death—he claims that one must be permanently given up to restore balance.”
“And you do not believe this?” Anubis’s tone was neutral, but there was an underlying edge to it.
Thoth shook his head, his eyes narrowing as they moved deeper into the darkened corridor. “No. I do not believe in the absoluteness of anything, not even sacrifice. There are always other paths, other possibilities. We cannot simply accept that something so permanent must be done. It’s too convenient, too final.”
(Seshat’s voice drifted through the shadows, soft and mournful. "Thoth had never been one to trust the words of others. Even the gods, those as ancient and wise as Iset, could not sway him when he believed there was a better way. Once, his skepticism had been a strength—a sign of his deep thirst for knowledge. But now... now, it had become something darker, a refusal to see the truth when it stood before him.")
The further they walked, the thicker the air became, as though the very atmosphere of the underworld was pressing down upon them, warning them of the power that lay ahead. There was something alive in the walls, something that trembled with the growing force that stirred beneath the surface. The very stone seemed to pulse with a life of its own, reacting to the presence of the ancient force Iset had spoken of. It was awakening, and with every step Thoth and Anubis took, they could feel it more keenly.
Anubis spoke again, his voice quieter now, but no less firm. “We are venturing into something beyond our understanding, Thoth. You may not trust Iset’s words, but even you must acknowledge the risk. This force has been bound for a reason, and it is stronger than either of us. If we misstep, we may not have the luxury of finding a solution. We could lose everything.”
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Thoth did not slow his pace, though his mind turned sharply over Anubis’s words. “You are right to be cautious, Anubis,” he admitted, “but fear will not guide us to the answers we need. We cannot afford to be passive. There is power in this force—power that we have never encountered. If we understand it, we can control it.”
Anubis glanced at him, his eyes narrowing. “Control it? Is that your goal now? To manipulate a force that predates even the gods?”
Thoth’s lips twisted into a smile, though it held no warmth. “My goal is to ensure we do not lose everything. Iset spoke of sacrifice as though it were inevitable. I do not believe that. There is always another way—another solution that does not require us to destroy something fundamental.”
(Seshat’s voice was quieter now, filled with regret. "There was a time when Thoth’s search for knowledge was driven by a noble purpose. He sought to understand the world, to bring balance and wisdom to those who lacked it. But that time had long since passed. Now, his pursuit of understanding was a mask for something else—control. He had become consumed by the belief that if he could understand a force, he could own it, bend it to his will. And that... that would be his undoing.")
The stone beneath their feet trembled as they approached a vast, open chamber. The walls of the underworld here were different, older, marked with symbols that even Thoth did not recognize. The air was dense with the presence of the force they had been chasing, the ancient power that had begun to seep into every crack and crevice of the realm. It was growing stronger with every moment, testing the limits of its bindings.
Anubis slowed his pace, his eyes narrowing as he studied the room. “This is where the force is strongest.”
Thoth stepped forward, his gaze scanning the symbols on the walls, the dark energy that radiated from every surface. He could feel it—something powerful, something beyond comprehension. Yet, it was not beyond control. He was sure of that.
“The binding is weak,” Thoth muttered, more to himself than to Anubis. “But I believe it can be reinforced.”
Anubis frowned. “Reinforced? You speak as though you have the power to strengthen what was sealed away by gods who existed long before us.”
Thoth turned to face him, his expression unreadable. “Knowledge is power, Anubis. If we understand how this force was bound, we can learn how to bind it again—without sacrificing something so essential.”
Anubis studied him in silence, his gaze cold and calculating. He had always known Thoth’s ambition ran deep, but now, in the presence of this ancient force, he could see just how far Thoth was willing to go. There was a danger in his eyes, a hunger for control that had grown beyond reason.
“You are risking everything for the sake of your pride,” Anubis said finally, his voice a low growl. “You refuse to accept that some things cannot be controlled.”
Thoth’s lips curled into a thin smile. “Pride? Perhaps. But I do not believe in absolutes. I refuse to believe that this force cannot be tamed.”
(Seshat’s voice echoed softly through the chamber, filled with sorrow. "I had watched Thoth grow over the eons, watched as his hunger for knowledge became something darker. But now, standing before this ancient force, I saw the full extent of his ambition. He had become blinded by his own belief that knowledge was the key to everything. He no longer sought balance. He sought dominion. And that was what frightened me most.")
The ground beneath them shuddered violently, and the chamber seemed to pulse with dark energy, as though the force itself was responding to Thoth’s presence. The air crackled with power, thick and oppressive, pressing down on the gods as they stood at the edge of something far older than themselves.
Anubis’s gaze remained fixed on Thoth, his expression hard. “You cannot see beyond your own ambition,” he said quietly. “You are willing to risk everything—time, space, life, death—for the chance to control something that should remain bound.”
Thoth met his gaze, his eyes cold and calculating. “I am willing to do what is necessary to prevent destruction. And if that means bending this force to my will, then so be it.”
Anubis’s lips twisted into a frown. “And what if you are wrong? What if this force cannot be controlled?”
Thoth’s smile was thin, almost cruel. “Then we will deal with the consequences. But I do not intend to be wrong.”
(Seshat’s voice was little more than a whisper now, her tone heavy with sorrow. "Thoth had crossed a line from which there was no return. He no longer cared for balance, for wisdom. He cared only for control, for power. And in his arrogance, he had forgotten the most important lesson of all: that some forces are beyond even the gods. And when that lesson came, it would be too late.")
The chamber trembled again, the force beneath them growing more volatile, more aware of their presence. The ancient bindings that held it in place were weakening, and Thoth could feel it slipping free, its power surging toward the surface.
“We must act now,” Thoth said sharply, his eyes gleaming with dark intent. “We cannot allow this force to escape.”
Anubis watched him for a long moment, his expression unreadable. Then, with a nod, he stepped forward, his cold gaze scanning the chamber. “Do what you must. But know that if you fail, I will be the one to end this.”
Thoth smiled, though there was no warmth in the gesture. “I will not fail.”
(Seshat’s final words echoed softly, filled with a deep, aching sorrow. "Thoth had forgotten what it meant to be wise. He had forgotten the lessons of the past, the truths that had guided him for so long. And in his pursuit of control, he had sealed his own fate. For there are some things that even the gods cannot control. And when that moment came, Thoth would learn that lesson the hard way.")