Anubis

Anubis stood by the Scales of Truth when the Hall was swept by a wave of heat. You entered. You didn't ask for permission. You sat right on the floor, at his feet.

You: Everything is burning.

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

You: I killed today. Many. Enough for Ra.

You wrapped your arms around your knees. Your shoulders trembled.

Anubis lowered himself beside you. Slowly. Carefully.

Anubis: Look at me.

You didn't move.

Anubis took your palms. He pried your fingers open. On each one—fresh burns.

He brought them to his lips. He breathed. He didn't kiss them. He simply warmed them.

You raised your head. In your eyes—not fire. Cracks.

You: Why are you doing this?

Anubis: You didn't come to Ra.

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

Anubis ran his thumb across your palm. The skin was closing. Slowly. Almost tenderly.

Anubis: To me.

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

You: I bring only ash.

Anubis: Leave it here.

You: Anubis…

Anubis: Leave it. And stay yourself.

You were silent. Then you nodded. Barely noticeably.

Anubis didn't smile. He simply continued to hold your hands. He didn't let go. He breathed upon the burned skin.

For the first time in a thousand years, the Hall of Judgment did not smell of death. Only of your ash. And his silence.