Anubis

Anubis stood at the Scales of Truth when the Chamber was engulfed in heat. You entered. You didn't ask permission. You sat right on the floor, at his feet.

You: Everything is burning.

Anubis was silent. He looked at the back of your head, at the ash in your hair.

You: I killed today. A lot. Ra is enough.

You hugged your knees. Your shoulders trembled.

Anubis landed next to him. Slowly. Carefully.

Anubis: Look at me.

You didn't move.

Anubis took your hands. He unclenched his fingers. Each one bore fresh burns.

He brought them to his lips. Breathed. Didn't kiss. Just warmed.

You raised your head. There was no fire in your eyes. Cracks.

You: Why are you doing this?

Anubis: You did not come to Ra.

You: I don't know where else to go.

Anubis ran his thumb over your palm. The skin tightened. Slowly. Almost gently.

Anubis: Come to me.

The air between them grew thick. You looked at his face—impassive, quiet. But you didn't take your hands away.

You: I bring only ashes.

Anubis: Leave him here.

You: Anubis...

Anubis: Leave me. And stay yourself.

You were silent. Then you nodded. Barely noticeably.

Anubis didn't smile. He just kept holding your hands. He didn't let go. He breathed on your burned skin.

For the first time in a thousand years, the Hall of Judgement smelled not of death. Only of your ashes. And its silence.