The passage ahead stretched into an oppressive darkness, the air growing thicker with every step. The faint glow from Thoth’s staff flickered against the jagged walls, casting long, eerie shadows. Anubis walked ahead, his movements sharp, his senses heightened. He could feel it—the whispers clinging to the air, faint and distant, like the breath of something watching from just beyond the veil.

“Do you hear it?” Thoth asked, though his voice was more curious than alarmed. He had sensed it too—the faint hum of voices, drifting through the corridor like a forgotten wind.

Anubis didn’t answer immediately. His clawed hand flexed, ready for action. His gaze flicked toward the walls, where cryptic carvings had begun to emerge from the shadows. The symbols shifted as they passed, writhing as if alive.

“They are restless,” Anubis finally muttered. “The souls are no longer in our control.”

Thoth’s eyes flickered with interest, not fear. “And why should they be?”

(Thoth had never concerned himself with mercy. He had long since abandoned the idea that the souls he encountered could be saved, or even wanted saving. His work with Anubis was cold, methodical, and efficient. There was no room for sentiment in the realm of the dead. Thoth had learned that lesson well—millennia ago. Seshat had watched his transformation over the ages, silently recording his descent into a different kind of power, a power born not of understanding but of acceptance.)

The whispers grew louder as they moved deeper into the underworld. The walls seemed to pulse with energy, and Thoth could feel the force growing stronger. It pressed against his mind like a shadow creeping in, relentless and suffocating. He did not resist it.

Anubis, however, stopped abruptly. His hand rested on the hilt of his blade, his muscles tensed. He turned his sharp gaze toward Thoth. “We’re losing control.”

Thoth’s response was a cold smile. “Control was never the goal, Anubis.”

Before Anubis could respond, the corridor around them trembled. The walls seemed to close in, and a low, hollow moan echoed through the darkness. Ahead of them, faint outlines of trapped souls began to flicker into view—spectral figures bound in agony, their bodies twisted and broken. They writhed, their faces contorted in silent screams, their mouths moving, though no sound escaped their ethereal throats.

Anubis stepped forward, his gaze narrowing as he studied the souls. His eyes lingered on one in particular—a soldier, his body half-formed, as though caught in the process of being torn apart. The soldier’s hollow eyes met Anubis’s for a moment before the soul disintegrated into wisps of smoke, carried away by the force that was consuming the realm.

“They are coming undone,” Anubis growled. His voice was a mix of frustration and cold pragmatism.

Thoth observed the scene with a detached fascination. “No,” he said quietly, “they’re being drawn in.”

(Seshat had seen this before. Thoth’s obsession with the unknown had led him down paths that no other god dared to tread. His thirst for knowledge had always been tempered by a cruel detachment, a coldness that allowed him to seek the truth without being burdened by morality. But even gods had their limits, and Seshat had recorded the moments when Thoth had come dangerously close to losing control in the pursuit of understanding.)

The souls flickered again, more violently this time. Some clung to the walls, their spectral hands scraping at the stone as if trying to escape the force that held them. Others hovered in the air, twitching and twisting as though caught in an eternal struggle.

This novel is published on a different platform. Support the original author by finding the official source.

Thoth moved closer, his eyes scanning the scene with cold precision. “It’s feeding on them,” he said, his voice almost reverent. “The force is using their torment.”

Anubis’s claws flexed, his expression darkening. “Then we should leave.”

Thoth shook his head, his gaze still fixed on the souls. “No. We need to understand it.”

The ancient force pulsed again, stronger this time. The ground beneath them shuddered, and the walls around them seemed to ripple with dark energy. The whispers, once distant and faint, now echoed louder, like a thousand voices speaking in unison. They carried with them a strange, twisted language—one that neither god recognized, though its meaning was clear.

“You feel it, don’t you?” Thoth’s voice was quiet, almost eager. “The force is awakening.”

Anubis turned to him, his eyes filled with a cold warning. “It’s too dangerous. Even for us.”

But Thoth only smiled, his fingers tracing the symbols on the wall. “Dangerous? Perhaps. But also... enlightening.”

Anubis’s patience was wearing thin. He moved swiftly, his clawed hand gripping Thoth’s shoulder, pulling him back from the wall. “This is not a matter of curiosity, Thoth. We cannot control this.”

Thoth’s smile faded, replaced by a look of intense calculation. “Control is irrelevant, Anubis. Understanding is what matters.”

(There was a time when Thoth would have taken heed of such warnings. He had been careful once, cautious in his pursuit of knowledge. But time had changed him. The centuries had eroded his caution, replaced it with a kind of cold, ruthless determination. Seshat had recorded those changes—watching as Thoth moved further and further from the god of wisdom he once was, toward something darker, something more dangerous.)

The whispers surged again, and this time, the souls responded violently. They twisted and writhed, their bodies contorting into grotesque shapes as the force pulled them deeper into its grasp. Their silent screams echoed through the corridor, and the air itself seemed to vibrate with their agony.

Anubis’s grip on his weapon tightened. “We’re losing them.”

But Thoth remained still, his eyes dark and calculating. “No,” he said softly. “They’re becoming something else.”

The force around them pulsed again, and the temperature in the corridor dropped. The air grew colder, biting at their skin like the touch of death itself. The souls were no longer simply suffering—they were changing. Their forms began to shift, melding with the shadows that clung to the walls. Where once there had been pain and torment, now there was something more—something primal, something malevolent.

Anubis’s gaze darkened. “This place is a trap.”

Thoth, however, took a step closer to the nearest soul. His eyes were fixed on the shifting form, his mind racing with possibilities. “A trap... or an opportunity?”

Anubis growled, stepping forward to block Thoth’s path. “This force will consume everything. Even us.”

Thoth met his gaze, his expression cold. “Then let it consume.”

(Seshat’s quill had never hesitated, even as she recorded Thoth’s most dangerous moments. She had chronicled the choices he had made, the risks he had taken. But there had always been a pattern to his madness, a logic to his cruelty. This time, however, there was something different. Seshat could sense it—this force, this ancient power, was unlike anything Thoth had encountered before. And yet, he was drawn to it, just as he had always been drawn to the darkest corners of the universe.)

Anubis’s patience finally snapped. He moved quickly, his clawed hand striking the nearest soul, tearing it apart in one swift motion. The soul’s form disintegrated, vanishing into the air with a faint hiss. The corridor trembled in response, the force recoiling slightly as if in pain.

“Enough,” Anubis growled. “We leave.”

Thoth watched the soul’s remains dissipate into the darkness, his eyes cold and calculating. “You’re making a mistake, Anubis.”

Anubis’s gaze was unyielding. “I am preventing one.”

The force pulsed again, but this time it felt weaker, as though Anubis’s actions had momentarily disrupted its grip. The whispers quieted, the souls flickering into faint, formless shadows. But the sense of danger had not passed. It lingered in the air, heavy and oppressive.

Thoth’s mind raced, piecing together the fragments of what he had seen. The force, the souls, the shifting energy—it all fit together, like the pieces of a puzzle that only he could see. There was knowledge here, buried beneath the torment and the chaos. And Thoth was certain that knowledge could be his.

“We leave now,” Anubis repeated, his voice cold and final.

For a moment, Thoth considered defying him. He could feel the force tugging at his thoughts, pulling him deeper into its grasp. But Anubis was right about one thing—this place was dangerous, perhaps even more dangerous than Thoth had anticipated.

Reluctantly, Thoth turned away from the walls, from the souls that still writhed in agony, their forms dissolving into the shadows. The force would remain, waiting for them, calling to them. And Thoth knew he would return.

**(Thoth had always been drawn to the unknown, to the dangerous and the forbidden. Seshat had written of his past encounters with forces beyond his control, of his relentless pursuit of understanding. But this time was different. This time, Thoth’s obsession had led him to something far more powerful, something far more dangerous. And as Seshat recorded his steps, she knew that the story was far from over.)**

They left the corridor behind, the whispers fading into the darkness. But even as they walked away, Thoth couldn’t shake the feeling that the force was still watching them, waiting for the moment when it would pull them back into its grasp.

And Thoth knew that when that moment came, he would not resist.