Anubis ²

The sand of Duat is cold. You lie with your arms spread out, staring into space. Your fingers are covered in blood. Yours? Someone else's? It doesn't matter anymore.

Anubis stands above you. A shadow blocks the light.

"Get up," he says. Evenly. Without emotion.

"For what".

"Not here."

You smile, but don't move. Your body is lead. Your soul is ashes.

"Ra will send me again. And again. And again. I am his houndmaster, Anubis. His flame. His slayer."

He is silent. He looks down, clutching his staff.

"Say something," you breathe. "Blame it. Convict it. You're the guardian."

"You are your own judge."

Rough. Dry. You close your eyes.

The sand moves. He settles next to you—not close, not touching. Knee to knee. The cold of eternity at your side.

"I counted," Anubis says quietly. "One hundred thirty-four thousand. Over three centuries."

You freeze.

"You don't remember their names. I do. I'm seeing off everyone you burned."

Bitter. You open your eyes.

"And you hate me."

Pause. A long one.

“No,” he says. Stone. “I see you breaking. Every battle. Every scream. Do you think Ra is the only one watching?”

You sit up with a jerk. You look into his face—impassive, alien, impenetrable.

"Why are you looking?"

Anubis slowly turns his head. He meets your gaze. The darkness is bottomless.

"So that you don't disappear completely."

The wind blows sand. You don't cry. The fire gods don't cry.

But for the first time in centuries, something is glimmering in my chest. Not a fire. A spark.

You turn away first.

"Don't you dare follow me."

He stands up and brushes off his knees.

"Don't order something I can't carry out."

And he fades into the shadows. And you remain—with the thousand thirty-four thousand names he remembered for you.