The path ahead was dark, suffocating. The deeper they ventured, the more the underworld seemed to close in around them, as if the very essence of the place was swallowing them whole. Thoth's staff emitted a faint glow, its light barely enough to pierce through the oppressive blackness. But even in the dim light, the vastness of the underworld revealed itself—endless, boundless, and merciless.
Anubis moved with practiced precision, his sharp eyes scanning the terrain as if every shadow held a threat. His long, clawed hands twitched occasionally, ready to strike. Thoth, walking a step behind, was more deliberate, his mind turning over the mysteries that surrounded them. The weight of the ancient force pressed down on them both, yet neither faltered.
The terrain had changed, subtly at first, but now unmistakably. The ground beneath their feet was no longer the smooth obsidian they had known for centuries, but a twisted, fractured expanse, like the remains of something once alive. Strange carvings appeared on the jagged walls—symbols that whispered secrets too dangerous to hear. Thoth’s eyes lingered on them, absorbing their meaning, while Anubis remained wary.
“Do you feel it?” Thoth asked, his voice low but sharp with curiosity.
Anubis paused, his head tilting slightly as if he could sense something in the distance. His expression was as cold as ever. “It’s getting stronger,” he muttered. His tone held no fear, only a clinical assessment of the facts. “And it’s watching us.”
Thoth smiled faintly, though there was no warmth in it. “Good. It means we’re close.”
(Thoth had never feared the underworld. He had walked these paths for millennia, shaping the fates of souls with a detached hand. But there had been times when even he, in all his wisdom, had felt the pull of forces beyond his control. Seshat had seen it all, had written it in the scrolls of history. She had chronicled Thoth’s encounters with the unknown—his relentless pursuit of knowledge, no matter the cost. But this time, the cost would be different.)
The symbols along the walls began to shift as they passed, their meanings twisting and distorting. What had once been ancient warnings now seemed like invitations, beckoning them deeper. The whispers that followed them grew louder, as though the very walls were speaking—conversing with the ancient force that awaited them.
“This force,” Thoth began, his fingers tracing one of the symbols, “it is older than even the gods.”
Anubis said nothing, his eyes cold and calculating. He had always been a creature of action, leaving the understanding of such things to Thoth. But he knew well enough that forces older than the gods were not to be trifled with.
Suddenly, a low moan echoed through the corridor, a sound so faint it might have been mistaken for the wind. But both gods knew better. It was the cry of a soul, one trapped and bound to this forsaken place.
Anubis’s claws flexed, his gaze hardening. “They’re suffering.”
Thoth’s gaze flicked toward him, but he did not share the same reaction. “They’re always suffering,” he said coolly. “That’s the nature of this place.”
(There was no sympathy in Thoth, no compassion. He had long abandoned those emotions. To guide the souls of the dead was not an act of mercy but of necessity. Anubis was much the same—his cruelty was not born of malice, but of purpose. Together, they embodied a cold, relentless power. They were gods, after all, and gods do not show mercy.)
The cry grew louder, more desperate, and Thoth’s eyes narrowed as he moved toward its source. Ahead of them, a figure appeared—a soul, torn and twisted, its form barely recognizable. It writhed in agony, its voice little more than a hoarse whisper, begging for release.
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Anubis knelt beside the wretched creature, his clawed hand hovering just above the torn remnants of its body. There was no pity in his gaze, only a detached curiosity. “It’s been marked,” he observed. “By the force.”
Thoth studied the soul with the same cold interest. The mark of the ancient force was unmistakable—a dark, swirling energy that clung to the soul like a parasite, feeding off its torment. The soul was beyond salvation, consumed by its own pain, and yet, there was something more at work here.
Anubis’s hand moved swiftly, his claws slicing through the air with precision. The soul’s cries were silenced as its form crumbled, dissolving into the shadows. There was no hesitation in his actions—only the methodical execution of a task that had been performed countless times before.
“Whatever this force is,” Thoth said, his voice calm, “it’s feeding on them. The souls are its sustenance.”
Anubis stood, his gaze hard. “Then it’s growing stronger with every step we take.”
(In times long past, Thoth had witnessed the fall of gods who had sought control over forces beyond their understanding. Power had a way of corrupting even the most disciplined minds, and Thoth knew this well. He had seen it happen before, had watched as one of his own brethren succumbed to madness in his pursuit of dominion over the unknowable. Seshat had written of that god’s fall—how his thirst for control had led him into the very darkness that had consumed him.)
The memory of that fallen god flickered in Thoth’s mind, but he quickly pushed it aside. This was different. He was different.
They pressed on, deeper into the heart of the forgotten region. The terrain grew more treacherous, the ground beneath them shifting as though it were alive. The symbols carved into the walls pulsed with a dark energy, and the whispers had grown louder, more insistent. Thoth could feel the ancient force pressing down on them, a heavy, suffocating presence that seemed to coil around their every step.
Anubis paused again, his gaze fixed on something up ahead. “There’s something waiting for us.”
Thoth followed his gaze, and there, in the distance, he saw it—a massive structure, half-buried in the earth. It was a temple, or what remained of one, its pillars broken and crumbling. The air around it shimmered with the force’s energy, and Thoth could feel its power pulling him closer.
“This is it,” Thoth whispered, his eyes gleaming with a cold fascination. “This is what we’ve been searching for.”
Anubis’s expression remained unreadable, but there was a tension in his stance, a readiness to act if things went wrong. “Be careful,” he warned, his voice low. “This force isn’t something we can control.”
Thoth smiled faintly, though there was no humor in it. “Control isn’t the goal, Anubis. Understanding is.”
They approached the temple cautiously, the weight of the ancient force growing stronger with every step. The air was thick with its presence, and the whispers had become a deafening roar, echoing off the walls of the temple like a thousand voices speaking in unison.
Thoth reached out, his fingers brushing against one of the broken pillars. The stone was cold, but there was an energy that coursed through it—a dark, pulsing power that resonated with the force itself. He could feel it in his veins, could sense the knowledge it held just out of reach.
“This temple,” he murmured, “it was built to contain the force. But it failed.”
Anubis’s gaze flicked to the ruins around them, his eyes narrowing. “Whatever it was meant to contain, it’s free now.”
Thoth nodded slowly, his mind racing as he pieced together the fragments of history that surrounded them. This place had been a prison, a tomb for the ancient force that had been sealed away by those who had once ruled this realm. But something had gone wrong—the force had escaped, and now it was feeding on the souls that wandered the underworld, growing stronger with each passing moment.
“Do you see it, Anubis?” Thoth said, his voice filled with cold excitement. “This force... it’s ancient. It’s beyond anything we’ve ever encountered. But if we can understand it—if we can learn from it—we can unlock secrets even the gods have forgotten.”
Anubis’s expression darkened, his eyes hard. “Or it will destroy us, like it destroyed this place.”
(There was a time when Thoth would have dismissed Anubis’s caution, would have charged forward in his quest for knowledge without a second thought. But now, standing in the shadow of this forgotten temple, he could feel the weight of his past pressing down on him. Seshat’s voice whispered in his mind, reminding him of the dangers he had faced before, of the gods who had fallen in their pursuit of power.)
Thoth’s hand fell away from the pillar, and for the first time since they had entered the forgotten region, a flicker of doubt crossed his mind. The ancient force was powerful, far more powerful than anything he had encountered before. But it was also dangerous, unpredictable, and uncontrollable.
“We should leave,” Anubis said, his voice firm. “Before it’s too late.”
Thoth hesitated, his gaze lingering on the temple, the knowledge it held calling to him like a siren’s song. But he knew Anubis was right. This force was not something they could control, not something they could use. It was a force of chaos, a force of destruction, and it would consume them if they stayed.
“Let’s go,” Thoth said finally, his voice heavy with the weight of his decision.
They turned and left the temple behind, the whispers fading as they moved away from the ancient force. But even as they left, Thoth couldn’t shake the feeling that the force was still watching them, waiting for the moment when they would return.
(Thoth had learned many lessons over the millennia, but perhaps the most important was this: not all knowledge was meant to be uncovered. Some forces were too dangerous, too wild, even for gods. And yet, even as Seshat recorded his steps, Thoth knew that the temptation to return would always linger in his mind, just as the ancient force would linger in the shadows of the underworld.)