1

The procession marched through the paved streets of Waset during the noon hour. Passers-by stopped and stared, and conversations broke into whispers as they moved by. Everybody knew who had arrived, but almost none had known he was coming.

 

Eventually, the procession came to an abrupt stop, at the foot of the steps to the city centre. Not a soul moved, not a sound was made, until the centre of the procession broke open, allowing passage to one man and the strongest members of his entourage.

 

Pharaoh Necho II stepped clear of his royal guard and looked around, smiling eagerly.

 

         'You, there. Where is Osiris?' He asked of the nearest commonner, walking past as he carried out his daily tasks.

 

The man opened his mouth to speak, but was interrupted by a voice behind Necho.

 

         'Down in the crypts… Again.'

 

Necho turned around and saw Osiris' younger brother, Setesh, sitting lazily atop a stone pillar, a bemused look on his face.

 

         'Ah, Setesh. Should you not be with him?'

 

Setesh gave a half-hearted shrug and sighed inwardly.

 

         'Whatever it is Osiris gets up to down there, I intend to keep my distance. I have to think about my future with Nephthys, and I am in no hurry to leave her a widow.'

 

         'You believe him to be up to something dangerous?'

 

Setesh nodded grimly, then paused, scanning the group.

 

         'Where is your wife?' He asked. It was strange to see the Pharaoh without Khedebneithirbinet; a vastly different arrangement than that of Setesh and his own wife, Nephthys, who tended to carry out her own errands during the day. While Necho wasn’t preparing for or in the middle of battle, he usually kept his family somewhat nearby, even if they were out of sight of the common folk.

 

         'Back home in Sais, looking after Psamtik,' Necho answered. The birth of their son, properly named Psammetichus II, had kept the family busy; but the life of a Pharaoh was truly an eventful one, especially once as conquest-driven as Necho.

 

         'Ah, of course.' Setesh nodded thoughtfully and slid free of the pillar, landing on his feet with minimal effort. He began to approach Necho, but was quickly blocked by two guardsmen.

 

         'That is close enough, beast,' warned one of the guards.

 

Setesh sighed, irritated by the guard's choice of words. He would need to have a word with Necho about his guards and their interactions with Setesh and his kin. In the meantime, though, he may as well entertain himself.

 

         'And what, pray tell, will you do if I come closer?'

 

The guards blocking his path exchanged a nervous glance, causing Setesh to smile slightly. Just as the first guard opened his mouth to speak, Necho cut him off.

 

         'Relax, Tekin. Setesh would be the last of his kin to try to harm me.'

 

The guard looked like he was about to object, but apparently decided against it. Nodding at Setesh, the guard stepped aside, gesturing for his partner to do the same.

 

         'Thank you, friend. I will take it from here,' Setesh said to the guard, stepping between the pair to approach Necho once again.

 

The guards looked to Necho, who nodded in approval, before re-joining the formation. Necho then gestured for Setesh to walk with him, and the pair began to make their way to the city centre, once the Pharaoh had waved off his entourage.

 

         'I am sorry about that, Setesh. Being the leader of our country opens me up to all manner of threats, and my guards are under orders to protect me from any potential assassins. I'm sure you can understand that a member of a family such as yours definitely qualifies.'

 

Setesh considered this for a moment as they walked.

 

         'Of course,' Setesh responded. 'You could hardly call them a guard if they were any less protective.'

 

Necho nodded slowly.

 

         'I am very fortunate to call you my friend, Setesh. You possess a certain rationality the other men in your family have never shown before. I believe you and I could do great things for this country. Perhaps even the world...' He trailed off, seemingly lost in thought.

 

That was just like Necho, always trying to find a new way to make things better.

 

Setesh nodded.

 

         'We are both fortunate. A lesser man could be executed for speaking to you as casually as I do, and I have grown quite fond of being alive.' He made no mention of the difficulty of executing someone such as himself, for he knew Necho was already acutely aware of the fact.

 

         'Ah, but are all men not lesser to the likes of you?' Necho chuckled in spite of the seriousness of his question.

 

Setesh shook his head, looking Necho in the eyes.

 

         'The moment I see myself above mankind, I may as well join my brother in the crypt.'

 

         'A noble sentiment, though not entirely true. Speaking of Osiris, however, what do you say we go take a look and see what he has been up to?' Necho suggested.

 

         'I knew you would ask that,' Setesh sighed. 'Very well, it is not far anyway.'

 

Necho nodded and smiled, satisfied. He had been curious for far too long, and there was little to no chance his curiosity would be sated if not for Setesh.

 

The sun was closer to the horizon than it was to its apex by the time the crypt was in sight. Through some miracle of timing, Osiris and his group, mostly consisting of servants in brown robes, or “disciples,” as Osiris insisted on referring to them, appeared from inside the crypt just as Setesh and Necho drew close.

 

         'Pharaoh! I didn't expect to see you here, my lord.' Osiris proclaimed, more than a little shocked.

 

         'That's how surprise visits work, brother,' Setesh interjected, eliciting a chuckle from Necho.

 

         'Relax, Osiris. I just thought I'd come see what the most powerful family in Egypt did with their spare time,' Necho explained, before turning to face the crypt. 'Which seems to be spending a dreadfully boring amount of time underground.' He paused for a moment as Osiris exchanged glances with the woman by his side; his wife, Isis. 'Would you mind...?' He continued, gesturing at the entrance.

 

         'By all means, my lord,' Isis answered, casting another look toward Osiris.

Necho nodded curtly at the woman.

 

         'Thank you, Isis. Now, Osiris, if it's not too much trouble, I could use a guide. I try not to spend much time in crypts; between you and me, they give me the creeps,' Necho said softly, eyes gleaming.

 

Osiris nodded, his face set in a serious look.

 

         'You go ahead, my love. I will show our great leader the way,' he said to Isis, who promptly turned and led the rest of Osiris' group away. Turning back to Necho, Osiris smiled with tight lips. 'Shall we?'

 

         'We shall,' Necho responded, and the three made their way into the depths of the crypt.

 

The waning light from outside barely penetrated the limestone entryway. Fortunately, Osiris' group had left the torches on the walls lit, casting flickering lights deep within. The dancing shadows did nothing to ease the tension; rather, they added a morbid eeriness to the air that only grew stronger the deeper the group delved.

 

After quite some time searching the crypt, the group arrived in what appeared to be the innermost chamber. A ceremonial table took pride of place in the centre of the chamber, totally bare save for an abandoned robe.

 

Osiris and Necho made their way to the centre while Setesh walked around the outskirts of the chamber. Osiris picked up the robe and examined it, then dropped it back onto the table and looked up at Necho, who was now on the other side of the table.

 

         'Does this sate your curiosity, my lord?' He asked, gesturing around the chamber.

 

Necho looked up at Osiris' question.

 

         'Not particularly, but it'll do, for now...' He said, before turning to Setesh. 'Come, let's get back to the city. All this exploring has dried out my throat.'

 

         'Shall I call for a feast, my lord?'

 

Necho turned back to Osiris once more, eyeing him cautiously.

 

         'That sounds like a grand idea, Osiris. We will catch up with my men and meet you when we receive word that everything is ready.'

 

Osiris nodded as Setesh and Necho turned to leave. Grabbing the discarded robe from the table, he glanced around at the walls of the chamber once more, then followed the others back through the dimly lit tunnels, face locked in a thoughtful frown.

 

 

 

Outside, the sky had darkened as night took hold. Osiris plucked the two torches from the wall nearest the entryway and handed one to Setesh.

 

         'I shall send a servant to find you when the feast is almost ready. I would advise you hurry, as the food is not likely to stay warm long in the night air.

 

Setesh nodded as Osiris turned and walked away, following the path his group had taken earlier.

 

         'Thank you for sending for me, Setesh… There is definitely something going on here,' Necho said quietly, staring at the fading figure.

 

Setesh turned to look at him.

 

         'Agreed. It is hard to say what, though, while the crypt is so empty. Perhaps we should come back when Osiris and his disciples meet again. Sneak in behind them, see just what it is they are doing in there.'

 

Necho hummed in agreement, then paused.

 

         'Perhaps, although I have another idea. I'll send some of my guards this way when the rest of us head to the feast.'

 

Setesh nodded thoughtfully. 'We should probably get moving. Your guards are not likely to find themselves for us.'

 

         'Oh, worry not about that,' Necho responded with a smile, though the pair began to walk anyway. 'There is only one place those men will be at a time like this.'

 

 

 

The sounds of drunk men rang loud through the tavern as the pair approached the doorway some time later. Mostly laughter, along with some singing and belligerent yelling. All fell silent as the two walked in, however; every man in the place waiting for Necho to speak.

 

         'Look at you all, drunk already...' He called in mock disdain, shaking his head and chuckling. 'You all had better sort yourselves out quickly, as we have been called for a feast at the Temple of Amunl. I would suggest you don't embarrass yourselves until after everyone else is half as drunk as you all are right now. Is that understood?'

 

The sounds of goblets clinking together and men cheering erupted again, the men all excited at the prospect of further merriment.

 

Necho turned to Setesh and spoke again, this time a little more quietly.

 

         'Come with me.'

 

Setesh nodded and followed Necho as he made his way to the farthest corner of the room, where a group of five guards sat at a table watching the others drink.

 

         'I see you men are not drinking with the others,' Necho said as he and Setesh joined the men in sitting.

 

         'Not yet, my lord. We felt it would be unwise for not one of us to be clear headed, just in case anyone starts any trouble,' said one of the guards, whom Setesh recognised as the one who had barred his way that afternoon. Tekin, Necho had called him.

 

Necho nodded.

 

         'Very well. It just so happens that I have a need for a few sober men now, anyway,' he began.

 

The guards looked at him, curious.

 

'Setesh and I are concerned that his brother is up to something. We found Osiris, his wife and those disciples of his leaving a crypt this afternoon, and had Osiris lead us back through it. The place was bare, almost nothing inside, but I feel there may be something we missed. I would like you men to go investigate while we keep the others busy at the feast tonight. I apologise, but that means you will not be feasting with the rest of us.'

 

The men looked at each other briefly and nodded.

 

         'Fine with us, my lord. We would only end up drinking ourselves sick anyway,' Tekin answered, after letting out an almost inaudible sigh. 'When do we go?'

 

Necho looked at Setesh for clarification.

 

         'When we receive word that the feast is ready, we'll all leave as one. You walk at the back, and break away to the East when the rest of us turn toward the citadel. Just keep going that way and you'll find the crypt.'

 

Necho and his men looked at Setesh, surprised.

 

         'Giving orders suits you, Setesh. Perhaps one day you'll get to play an even bigger part in leading our people,' Necho said, before nodding at his men. 'There you have it, men. Do as Setesh said, and if you find anything �" anything �" out of the ordinary, you send someone back to let us know. Oh, and if anyone catches you, I'm afraid I can't help you. It will not do to have any issues between my family and Osiris'.'

 

The men nodded grimly, and Necho rose to his feet.

 

'Come now, Setesh. Let's enjoy ourselves a little while we wait.'

 

Setesh nodded and stood, then the pair made their way through the crowded tavern in search of a drink.

 

Some time later, Setesh and Necho were well on their way to being as drunk as the guards when a messenger approached Setesh to inform him that the feast was ready. Setesh relayed the information to Necho, and soon they and the royal guards were making their way through the city.

As instructed, Tekin and his few sober companions broke formation as the rest of the group turned for the large staircase on the way to the Temple of Amun, slipping away to the East in search of the crypt.

Setesh's wife, Nephthys, was waiting for them just inside the walls of the temple. She greeted Necho and locked arms with Setesh, falling into step by his side as they approached the feast.

In the centre opening of the Temple of Amun, seating arrangements were made in the shape of a large ring. Necho moved to sit on one side of the ring, while Setesh and Nephthys sat opposite. Osiris and Isis took their seats halfway between, on the right side of Setesh.

Once everyone was seated, servants emerged holding large jugs of wine and thick beer. After a few minutes of filling the guests' goblets, they stepped back into the shadows, replaced by others carrying trays of food. The mixed smells of various meats and vegetables filled the air as the trays were lowered before the guests. Setesh recognised Nephthys' personal servant, Mertrashida, offering a selection of fish to Osiris.

Mertrashida placed the tray back on the table as Osiris claimed a piece of fish, then backed away with her eyes down.

Shrugging, Setesh turned his attention to the feast.

The food was delicious, the wine strong. Before long, the area rang loud with festive cheer as the guests gorged themselves, most quite a bit drunk. By the time the feast appeared to be drawing to a close, most of the guests, particularly the guards, were slumped over the table, fast asleep. Nephthys herself had already excused herself, too dignified to pass out in such a manner.

In her- and Setesh-’s shared quarters, Nephthys allowed herself to fall onto the bed as her head spun, still locked in a dance with the drinks she had consumed. Eyes closed, a smile glued to her lips, she allowed herself to fall through her drunkenness, feeling sleep rapidly approaching.

A sound near the door jolted her fully awake. Turning and squinting through bleary eyes, she saw a figure stumbling over a chair just a little inside the room.

‘I thought you would be out all night, she mumbled, assuming the figure to be Setesh. When no response came, she lifted her head and tried to clear her mind for a better view. 

In the dark of night and with the impairment of the alcohol, the most she was able to make out was a figure dressed in black, looming over the bed. At that moment, she realised, this person was far too tall to be her husband.

By then, it was far too late to call for help.

Looking across the table back at the Temple of Amun, Setesh noticed Necho rocking lightly side to side in his chair, goblet in hand. Wine spilled over his hand every time he moved, but he didn't seem to care. He locked eyes with Setesh and sat up slightly.

 

         'Setesh!' He slurred, seeming almost unable to make eye contact.

 

Setesh cocked his head, waiting for his friend to resume speaking. After just a moment, he realised that Necho was actually looking over his shoulder, eyes widening.

 

It was a moment too late; before Setesh could so much as turn to look, he was struck in the head by something heavy, slamming his head forward into the table and stunning him. He looked up through bleary eyes and saw two of Osiris' guards grab Necho, while more marched around the table and began to execute the Pharaoh's drunken guards. That was all Setesh was able to see before he was struck again and his vision went black.

Setesh woke with a start some time later to the sun's warmth on his face. The harsh brightness of the sun was magnified by his hangover, causing him to wince and jerk his head back as he shut his eyes. The movement sent a surge of pain through the back of his head, and he suddenly remembered what had happened the night before.

Reopening his eyes, Setesh looked around at the mess before him. Bodies lay everywhere, left where they were slain. One of the tables on Necho's side had been knocked over, spilling everything on it onto the ground in the middle of the table ring.

Setesh slowly rose to his feet and shakily moved around the tables, checking the bodies for signs of life. He found none.

As he reached the side at which Osiris had been seated, the bodies and all other mess came to an end, confirming the suspicions that had begun to dance in the back of his mind. Whatever the reason, Osiris had ordered the attack.

Setesh returned to the nearest fallen guard and rolled him over, pulling his sword free. When he stood, his eyes seemed to dance with the flames that still burned in the torches on the walls.

He would head East, back to the crypt. Either he would find Osiris there and deal with him right away, or he would reunite with the few guards that had been spared the slaughter. First, however, he had to find Nephthys and ensure that she was unharmed.

He moved quickly, running to their shared quarters, but slowed as he approached the doorway; the door had been left open, very much out of character for his wife.

His heart filled with dread as he approached, grasping the guard's sword with a tight fist. Peering around the door, the feeling grew as he saw the state of the room.

Their chambers had been completely turned over. Setesh ran into the room, head on a swivel, terrified he would find her body. He was almost relieved to find nothing, but that still left more questions than answers.

Fortunately, he knew where he might find some.

 

A little while later, Setesh finally arrived, out of breath, at the Eastern crypt. He took a moment to rest out of view of the entrance, and then darted inside, sword at the ready.

As yesterday, the place was empty, yet fully lit. Setesh darted down the same passageways that led to the chamber Osiris had shown them.

The moment he arrived, he noticed the glaring difference in the room. The stone table in the centre had been moved, revealing a hole in the floor big enough for a person to climb through. Sure enough, upon closer inspection, Setesh found grips cut away in the walls of the hole, leading the way down into the first truly dark part of the crypt.

 

The climb down was painfully slow, if only for the fact that Setesh had to search for places to put his hands and feet every time he moved. Finally, though, light began to filter through from below, eventually casting his shadow in front of him as his feet touched the floor. Turning around, Setesh saw a corridor stretch out before him, giving way to passages on both sides halfway along, before it seemed to open up into another large cavern, far bigger than the one above.

 

As he approached, Setesh saw three figures directly ahead of the passageway, the one in the middle shorter than the others. The closer he got, though, the more he saw, until he realised what was in front of him.

 

Two stone pillars rose from the floor, bearing chains that met in the middle to hold the middle figure in place.

 

Setesh ran forward the moment he noticed his wife, bound to the pillars and struggling helplessly.

 

         'Setesh, no!’

 

Setesh froze in place as her words rang out, only then noticing the rest of his surroundings.

 

Behind Nephthys, Setesh noticed for the first time a black-robed disciple, seemingly busy with whatever preparations he was making on a stone table before him. Fifteen brown-robed disciples stood on either side of the centre, each holding a ceremonial urn with both hands.

Rows of stone seats lay on either side of Setesh, facing Nephthys and the pillars. Many of the seats in the front rows had been filled by Osiris' guards, who stared back at him over their shoulders as he looked around. Above him, on the left and right, a second level stood overlooking the chamber, alternating between wall and opening.

Dust and small pieces of rock crumbled down from one of the openings above Setesh's right. Strangely, he noticed, it didn't sound like it had landed on the stone floor, but something soft instead. Glancing down from the source, Setesh was surprised to see Mertrashida, Nephthys' servant from the night before, hiding between chairs and looking up at Setesh with a terrified expression.

Before he could react, Osiris' voice boomed out from above Nephthys. Setesh turns and notices a viewing platform jutting out over the stage area. Osiris stood on this platform, hands on the barrier, staring down at Setesh as he called out.

         'I am sorry it has to be this way, brother. All you both had to do was join us... Instead you let Nephthys talk you into living like a common man... She has poisoned your mind, and so sealed her own fate.

Your wife has been chosen as the sacrifice in a very, very important ritual. I would advise you to let my disciples do their jobs; Nephthys is already dead, so you may as well reap the rewards with the rest of us.'

He paused and looked down toward the black-robed disciple, then nodded.

Setesh said nothing but instead charged right through as the disciple approached Nephthys from behind. Disciples in brown robes rose from the chairs and moved to stop him, but he cut them down with relative ease. Finally reaching Nephthys, he prepared to cut her free, drawing back his sword - but then she jerked, cried out and convulsed as a lance of some kind was thrust through her back and out through her chest.

 

Setesh screamed, overcome by blind rage and horror, but was pulled back by other disciples and pinned to the ground as the others waiting to the sides began filling their urns with the blood flowing freely from Nephthys' wound.

 

Setesh looked on in horror as the disciples moved out of his way and returned to their positions, revealing the lifeless body of his wife hanging limply from the chains. He began screaming curses and thrashing about as disciples grabbed his hands and dragged him back the way he had entered. As he was dragged further and further away, the black-robed disciple began to chant an incantation, causing strange lights in the form of runic symbols to appear all around the room and on the urns of blood.

The disciples continued dragging Setesh back through the passageway, taking a left turn before they reached the entrance he had climbed through.

Shortly after making the turn, the hands pulling Setesh let go as the sounds of a blade cutting through flesh and a body falling to the floor repeated several times. He turned over and lifted himself up, raising his eyes to see who had freed him, expecting to see Necho's guards or even Mertrashida.

 

Instead, as he looked up, his eyes locked with those of his childhood friend, Necho himself.

         'Are you alright Setesh?' Necho asked, out of breath.

Setesh just shook his head miserably, trembling. Necho put his hand on Setesh's shoulder and looked him in the eyes.

'We have to leave, right now.'

         'No... No. I have to go back. I'm going to kill them all,' Setesh responded.

Necho shook his head.

 

         'In time, Setesh. You need to survive doing so if it's to mean anything. Come, I'll show you another passageway I found.'

Setesh nodded after some time, and the two began to hurry away, ducking into a side corridor hidden in the darkness between torches.

         'Where are we going?' Setesh asked Necho, who said nothing, and the pair kept moving in silence.

Soon, the tunnel they were in began to slope upward, and levelled out not long after. Necho gestured for Setesh to go through a doorway to their left and see what awaited on the other side.

Setesh made his way past Necho and found himself standing on a balcony - the very same balcony Osiris had stood on just minutes before.

'What..?' Setesh started, confused.

Necho walked up beside him and spoke as an odd feeling began to grow from Setesh's stomach.

         'How long have we been friends, Setesh?

Glancing down tentatively, Setesh saw that the chamber below was already nearly empty. No disciples, no urns… Only dead disciples and the suspended body of his wife.

         ''Nearly seventeen years... What is going on here, Necho?' Setesh asked impatiently.

         'Hmm... Indeed. Tell me, in all that time,' Necho began, 'have I ever given you reason not to trust me?'

Setesh shook his head, confused.

'And do you trust me?'

Setesh nodded slowly.

Looking over at Necho beside him, Setesh locked eyes with his friend, who smiles wistfully.

'Then I need you to do something.'

Setesh paused, confused.

         'He needs you to drink,' came a familiar voice from Setesh's left. He spun around to find Isis, smiling brightly and holding out her hand; more specifically, an urn.

It took a moment to sink in, but then Setesh felt his stomach drop. He spun back around to Necho, who was smiling openly.

         'You betray me?' Setesh whispered.

         'No, brother. We wish to offer you something,' came another voice from behind. Osiris.

Setesh spun back around, shocked.

'A parting gift, of sorts, from your dearly beloved.'

Osiris gestured to the urn in Isis' hands.

         'This cannot be happening. No. No, I refuse to accept this.' Setesh cried, backing away from Osiris.

         'I am afraid you have no choice,’ Necho cut in.

Setesh's mind raced. For so much to have gone so wrong... How could this be happening?

He began to search frantically for a way out, but found none. His back was to the wall this time - or, rather, to the barrier of the balcony.

That's when Setesh realised, he had a way out, after all.

It took half a second for Setesh to fling himself backwards over the barrier; he didn't even hesitate for a moment.

The fall took slightly longer; long enough for Setesh to see three bemused faces appear over the balcony before he landed on his back atop one of the pillars, snapping his spine and almost folding him in half backwards, before his momentum bounced him over the side and onto the ground, coming to rest by the feet of Nephthys’ corpse.

Setesh lay there, twitching helplessly as Osiris' disciples reappeared from their various hiding spots.

         'Thank you for making this easy,' Osiris called down. Setesh saw one of the disciples approaching, urn in hand. 'You should be grateful; you get to be the first to drink of our success.'

         'N-no...' He gasped, trying to move, but his body no longer followed his commands.

 

Setesh could do nothing as the disciple opened the urn, turned Setesh's head to face the ceiling, and held the neck of the urn to his lips. Slowly, ever so slowly, the disciple tipped the urn upside down, pouring the thick, viscous red liquid within right down Setesh's throat.

Setesh choked and sputtered, tears pouring from his eyes, as his wife's blood drained into his stomach. All he wanted was to get away, to throw up; still, he could do nothing.

Suddenly, as the last of the blood made its way down his throat, everything disappeared around Setesh.

Not even the floor remained; looking around with his eyes, Setesh saw nothing but a vast darkness. A void, even. But still... He did not feel that he was alone. He couldn't place it, but he sensed that there was a presence, all around him. Whether said presence was malicious or not, or even actually there, he had no idea.

He was beginning to doubt his senses when he suddenly felt the presence shift.

 

Instead of being all around, the only place he could sense the presence was... Right behind him.

 

         'Look at you. Down on the ground, unable to move... Like scum.'

 

The voice was deep and raspy, and spoke with a tone of disgust.

 

'I suppose I should fix you if you are to be my host... Very well.'

 

With that, Setesh felt a deep heat burned through his body, focused mainly on his spine, followed by a sharp, stabbing pain in his upper back, and then the sensation of all feeling returning to his limbs and torso. As the feeling faded, Setesh attempted to move his fingers, and was delighted to see them wiggle.

 

Climbing to his feet, he went to turn and thank the being behind him, but was stopped by a cautionary hissing.

 

         'Do not turn around. The impurity of your blood offends me... To think, of all the possible choices, I should be stuck with the likes of you...'

 

Confusion and concern filled Setesh as he processed the words. Could it be that this being knew his family secret?

 

         “How insulting. Even if we were not currently joined together, the very youngest of us Umbra could notice how badly you reek of it. Do the humans not notice? How pathetic.”

 

Setesh could hear how thickly the voice dripped with disdain, but was too shocked by the realisation that the being had first healed his paralysis and then apparently read his mind to care. That word, though... Umbra... He could swear he had heard it once, long ago.

 

         'We are their Gods,' Setesh responded. ‘They notice whatever we tell them to notice.’ Evidently his answer amused the “Umbra” behind him, as it uttered a deep, booming burst of laughter.

 

         ‘Your kind are all the same. Barely a step above the rest, more to the side, really, and yet you strut around like the world is yours. How it must pain you to be so close to real power.’

 

Setesh clenched his teeth. He knew that while his family were truly superior to humans, this being was indeed far more powerful than he. Still, he felt compelled by nature to respond in kind.

 

         'Why don't you try me and we will see who wins,' he retorted.

 

The Umbra behind him chuckled.

 

         'I think I like you after all. You have fire in you, which I suppose is quite ironic now. For that, I will give you my name, and my blessing. I am-'

 

         '-Nuri.' Setesh blurted out, suddenly confused. 'How did I just know that?' He asked.

 

Nuri growled.

 

         'Do not interrupt me. You and I are now one and the same, the connection goes both ways, even if you are… Disappointingly numb to me as of yet.'

 

He paused.

 

'As I was saying, I am Nuri, the essence of flame. From this point forward, you may summon my flames and use them as you wish.' The voice seemed less hateful, now. Almost as if he respected Setesh; or, rather, despised him less.

 

'...And with that, I believe it is about time for you to wake up. You will soon find you have... Much work to do. Oh, and Setesh... Do refrain from coming back here unnecessarily.'

 

Just like that, the void faded around Setesh, and he felt his consciousness begin to rejoin his body.

 

Setesh then reawoke in a bed, a disciple dabbing at his face with a damp cloth. Every time it touched his skin, it sizzled and steamed; it seemed Setesh's body now burned hot to the touch.

Setesh's eyes flicked upward as Osiris walked into the room, closely followed by Necho. Locking eyes with his brother and staring at him silently for a moment, Setesh found himself unable to feel hatred, a truly confusing sensation. Strangely, everything Setesh felt for his brother and the Pharaoh behind him now seemed subdued, possibly by the Umbra within.

Finally, Osiris broke the silence.

        

         'Do you understand now, Setesh?'

Setesh paused. He still knew how he had felt earlier, and was clear-minded enough to see that what Osiris was doing was not fuelled by good intentions. Still, with the state he found his mind in, he knew that such concerns were all but pointless. Perhaps Nuri really was influencing his emotions… Either way, he was grateful not to be tied to such things so tightly.

 

         ‘I understand, brother…’ He paused, looking around at his surroundings. ‘More than that, I believe I am ready to get to work.’

Osiris nodded curtly, before turning on the spot and leading Necho away, noting as he left that his younger brother’s eyes had changed to a dark red that almost seemed to shine in the dim light of the torches on the walls.

Not too far away, back in the chamber where Nephthys had been executed, Mertrashida finally moved from her hiding space, having waited to be sure she was alone.

It had taken everything she had to stay silent when the block-robed disciple had murdered Nephthys. She very nearly moved to save Setesh, but knew such an attempt would be a lost cause. So she waited, and watched on in horror as Setesh flung himself from the balcony above and was forced to drink Nephthys' blood.

Now, she crept forward, approaching Nephthys' lifeless body. Once she stood before her fallen master, she fell to the floor and began to sob. Unlike the other slave owners in the city, and especially the rest of their family, Nephthys had always been kind to Mertrashida, and Setesh had interacted very little with her at all.

 

A few minutes of crying seemed to lighten the load on her shoulders. Mertrashida steeled herself, knowing that she may well be the only person with a chance of stopping Osiris' plan, whatever it was; and she knew just how to do it.

Looking up at Nephthys, Mertrashida allowed her final vision of her master to burn into her memory.

         'I am sorry, master. I will not let this be for nothing...'

Mertrashida whispered her final message to Nephthys, then rose to her feet and headed for a small exit under Osiris' balcony; the passageway the rest of the disciples had left through.

It took surprisingly less time than Mertrashida expected to find the urns. The problem was, two disciples were standing by the urns, looking at the symbols and picking the occasional urn. Looking for specific urns, Mertrashida surmised from the doorway.

Mertrashida peered around the doorway for a few more moments, trying to figure out what to do next. Fortunately, she merely needed to wait, as the disciples had apparently retrieved the urns they were sent for, and were turning to leave.

From her vantage point, Mertrashida could see the symbols on four of the five urns they carried.

Change. Life. Death. Luck.

An involuntary chill ran through her as she saw the symbol on the third urn. The fifth stayed out of her line of sight, despite her attempts to move and look from another angle.

 

Seconds later, when the disciples had cleared the room, Mertrashida rushed forward and began checking the urns. She had spent enough time eavesdropping on Osiris' meetings to know about the Umbra and the powers they offered; she had even come close to being caught when Osiris found her abandoned robe left behind in the upper chamber.

The urns before her seemed to vibrate as she touched them, tilting them back for a better look.

 

Water. Earth. Lightning. Decay. Place.

 

That was it. Upon seeing the latter, a plan began to form in Mertrashidas mind. Looking around, she found a large cloth bag resting in the corner beside some baskets. She could claim the Place urn for herself, put the other twenty-four in the bag, and take them with her. Whatever was happening to Setesh, she could come back for him later; her first priority was to get as many urns out of Osiris' hands as possible.

Picking up the urn with shaking hands, Mertrashida readied herself for what came next. She cracked the fresh seal and removed the lid, tipped her head back with her eyes squeezed tightly shut, and prepared to drink.

 

Just before the contents of the urn could reach the edge and tip into Mertrashidas mouth, she felt someone grasp the urn and prevent it from tipping. Opening her eyes, she saw a small group of five men. Royal guards, she noticed, judging by their finer attire.

 

Mertrashida felt her heart leap into her throat as fear suddenly took over, having seen Necho’s part in the betrayal of Setesh. She tried to pull the urn toward her, but came dangerously close to tipping the contents everywhere, and decided to try another plan.

 

Locking eyes with the guard holding the urn, Mertrashida steeled herself as best she could and began to speak.

 

         ‘Release the urn. You have no idea what you are doing.’

 

The guard shook his head as his companions snorted.

 

         ‘And I suppose you do?’ He asked, one eyebrow raised, looking Mertrashida up and down distastefully.

 

Mertrashida paused, only for a second, but it was a second too long. The guard pulled back on the urn and yanked it out of her hands, then sniffed at the contents before turning up his nose.

 

         ‘You were going to drink that? What in the world is wrong with you?’

 

Deciding to ignore the comment, Mertrashida lunged forward in an attempt to take the urn back, but stood little chance against the larger adult.

 

‘Enough! Whatever is in this is surely not meant for the likes of you. How about you sit down and wait for your master?’

 

Mertrashidas eyes fell at the mention of Nephthys; the pair had always shared a closer relationship than just about every other slave she had met, and the shocking murder of her master had left Mertrashida with a strange new sadness, one she hadn’t yet had a chance to process.

 

The guard seemed to notice her downcast look, and cocked his head a little before closing the urn and handing it back to one of his companions. As he then leaned forward for a better look into Mertrashidas eyes, it finally began to dawn on the guard that something was up.

 

         ‘Where is your master?’

 

Mertrashida opened her mouth to answer, but couldn’t speak; the best she could manage was a shake of her head, which elicited a sigh from the guard.

 

‘Okay then, let us try this. Who is your master?’

 

Mertrashidas' mouth opened and closed several more times before she was able to speak the name.

 

         ‘Nephthys.’

 

The guard's face took on a surprised expression.

 

         ‘Nephthys? As in, wife of Setesh?’

 

Mertrashida winced at the name of her master’s husband, a response that did not go unnoticed by the guard.

 

         ‘Am I missing something here? What exactly is going on with that family?’

 

Mertrashida shook her head vehemently, hoping that keeping the guards in the dark would be a viable way to ensure her safety.

 

         ‘Whatever. The Pharaoh gave us a job to do, and I will be damned if I am going to let a slave girl get in the way.’

 

The guard turned and gestured to his men, who surrounded Mertrashida in preparation to escort her away. Mertrashida struggled as the men gripped her arms, trying to pull away with all the strength she could muster.

 

It was no use, of course. Four large guards against an underfed, exhausted young servant is generally a guaranteed win, after all.

 

Even with the commotion Mertrashida was putting up, the guards all immediately noticed someone entering the room, and stood to attention.

 

Necho and Setesh stood in the doorway, observing the scene in front of them.

 

         ‘My lord.’

 

The guards all repeated the greeting and bowed, still holding Mertrashida firmly in place. For her part, Mertrashida was unable to take her eyes off of Setesh; the last she saw of him, he was on the floor of the sacrificial chamber, with a body that was far more broken than it appeared to be presently.

 

‘This girl was sniffing around the urns,’ reported the guard in charge. ‘The men were just about to bring her to you.’

 

Mertrashida still couldn’t take her eyes off Setesh, even when Necho began to speak.

 

         ‘What do you know of these urns, girl?’

 

His tone was smooth and pleasant, a disturbing revelation after having seen his betrayal of Setesh.

Mertrashida said nothing; she merely continued looking Setesh over, trying to understand what had happened. This didn’t matter, though, as Setesh answered for her, his eyes seeming to shine with a crimson hue that she had never noticed before.

 

         ‘She saw the summons and my bonding. I am afraid she knows far too much to be allowed to leave.’

 

Necho began nodding thoughtfully, face locked in a frown, as Setesh’s words began to dawn on Mertrashida.

 

         ‘I leave this with you, Setesh. You could use the practice.’

 

If Mertrashida was shocked before, she was absolutely mortified when Setesh’s right forearm suddenly burst into flames after Necho finished speaking. Despite the situation, she was surprised to find her first instinct was to extinguish the flames before Setesh was badly burned �" but then her surprise grew even greater at the sudden realization that the flames were neither harming Setesh nor spreading up his arm.

The power of an Umbra, she realised.

 

Half-turned toward the doorway, Necho paused and leaned close to Setesh, speaking quietly and looking around at the faces in the room.

 

Stunned surprise lit up Setesh’s face, just for a moment, before it was suddenly replaced with pure, cold focus and a renewed rage. This, coupled with his eyes, made for a frightening combination that chilled Mertrashida to the bone.

Necho continued turning and walked out of the room as Setesh held out a hand, seeming to manifest a large ball of flame in the middle of his already burning palm.

 

That was the moment it dawned on Mertrashida; every one of the people standing before Setesh was now a target.

 

Mertrashida opened her mouth to yell a warning to the guards, making the decision to save the men who were just doing their job, as Setesh drew back his arm in preparation to throw.

 

Setesh was faster.

 

The ball of flame launched across the chamber at immense speeds, burning with an unnaturally intense heat. Mertrashida’s warning began to ring out far too late; the men holding her in place barely managed to flinch before the fireball made impact.

 

The guard in front of Mertrashida’s right side took the hit directly to the left side of his neck. Upon impact, the fireball came alive in a brilliant explosion of light and heat. The guard hit by the fireball roasted alive in a matter of moments as the flames continued their explosive expansion.

Mertrashida tried to turn her head away and shield herself, but she couldn’t avoid the heat that hit her entire right side, engulfing her in pain as searing hot as the flames that now engulfed almost half of her body.

 

As the force of the explosion hit, Mertrashida and the other three guards holding her in place were blown away from the point of impact. The front left guard disappeared and slammed into the stone wall on his side of the chamber with a sickening amount of force. The hands of the guards behind Mertrashida ripped free of her arms as the three of them were blown back, and the rear left guard crashed into the leader, bowling him over and landing mostly on top of him.

 

Mertrashida and the rear right guard were essentially blown straight back toward the table. Mertrashida’s smaller stature meant she was also hit with downward force, and she found herself flying back into the base of the table, making impact with her left shoulder, shattering the bone within. The guard appeared to be more fortunate, flipping right over the table and slamming into the floor on the other side.

 

All this happened in mere moments, but to Mertrashida, it felt like everything happened much more slowly.

 

Lowering his arm, Setesh admired his handiwork. Looking around, he was disappointed to see only two of his intended targets were dead.

 

No matter, he thought. Try something else.

 

Setesh approached the guard leader, trapped under the weight of the dazed guard on top of him. The guard leader saw him coming and began to squirm, trying to squeeze his way out from beneath the other guard.

 

Setesh stopped, looking down at the pair as he seemed to consider their fate, then let loose a stream of fire as the final guard stood shakily to his feet on the other side of the table.

 

Mertrashida could do nothing but watch, horrified, as the stream of fire engulfed the top guard, drawing a range of horrific screams from the guard as he began to burn.

 

The guard leader, however, thought quickly. Mertrashida watched, equally impressed and disgusted, as he moved the guard atop him, blocking most of the flames from reaching his body at the dying man’s expense.

 

At this point the stream of fire jerked and moved, heading straight for Mertrashida, as the remaining guard leapt the table and repeatedly began plunging his dagger into Setesh’s chest.

 

Setesh let out an animalistic scream and stopped the stream of fire, moments before it could reach Mertrashida.

 

Mertrashida watched on in stunned silence as her old master fell to his knees, blood pouring from what used to be his chest. His eyes tracked upward, glaring into the face of the final guard, as he lifted an open palm and blasted the guard with a superheated torrent of flame before he fell to his side on the stone floor, defeated.

 

It was then that Mertrashida realised she had to leave, as soon as possible. There was no way Setesh could be truly stopped so easily, especially with an Umbra bonded to him. With this thought in mind, she lifted herself with her scorched arm and began to push herself off the ground.

 

As she stood, she looked down and saw the guard leader, still laying under the corpse of his shield, face locked in a terrified expression.

 

         ‘Get up,’ she said in disgust. ‘You are not hurt.’

 

The guard stammered for a moment, trying to find his voice. He swallowed, then tried again.

 

         ‘What the f**k just happened?’

 

Mertrashida paused, hand outstretched to retrieve her urn from the table.

 

         ‘You work for the wrong people,’ was all she said.

 

The leader grunted as he began to roll the body off of himself. Standing, he looked Mertrashida up and down, amazed that she was so composed considering the damage to her body. Still, he knew people were capable of amazing things when the time came �" Setesh’s flames certainly proved that true on a whole new level.

 

         ‘Well, I think it is safe to say my services are no longer wanted here…’ he said quietly, looking around.

 

By this point, Mertrashida had already retrieved her urn, and was preparing to drink. The guard looked at her, equally amazed and sickened, as the girl tipped her head back and downed the contents.

‘There is something seriously wrong with you, kid.’

 

Mertrashida snorted and wiped the bloody concoction from her lips. She was about to respond, but suddenly the mixture took effect.

 

No amount of spying could have prepared Mertrashida for what came next. Though she managed to drink the contents of the urn with relative ease, at least considering what she knew it to be, there was no way to foresee what happened once it was inside her.

 

The contents bubbled and turned inside her stomach as the power imbued within began to adapt to its new container. At the same time, every nerve in her body came alive, sending an unknowable number of different signals to her brain with every instant. Every sense Mertrashida possessed went wild, barraging her with a symphony of twisted perception. All of this happened instantaneously, constantly, causing Mertrashida to stumble and fall, convulsing on the cold limestone floor as she blacked out.

 

The guard leader stood there, shocked. Looking around, he realized he had only one option. Bending down, he picked Mertrashida off the floor and moved for the door.

 

Before he left, though, a thought occurred to him. Turning around, he noticed all the urns on the table. The girl had been quite insistent on taking the urns, and the first thing she did in the aftermath of the fight was drink from one, before passing out. Whatever they contained, it seemed apparent that he should continue her mission.

 

Several minutes later, he hurried out of the chamber, Mertrashida draped over one shoulder, sack of urns on the other.

 

His timing was extremely fortunate; as he ran from the room with his precious cargo, Setesh began to stir, chest fully healed and full of rage.

 

The guard leader ran a considerable distance considering his cargo. As he ran, leaving the crypt and the lights of Waset far behind, the sack of urns and Mertrashida appeared to be competing to see which could jostle around the most. Mertrashida for her part remained unconscious, still deep under whatever trance drinking from the urn had put her under.

 

Had he looked back, the man would have seen a burning figure lift into the air above the crypt and fly in the opposite direction, heading back to Waset. Instead, he kept his eyes locked forward, terrified that at any moment his escape would be cut short in a brilliant explosion.

 

He didn’t stop running until Mertrashida began to stir and groan. It took a minute before he even noticed, he was so focused on running. Once he took note, however, he slowed and stopped, lowering the girl to the ground. As she slowly sat up and looked around, he allowed himself to keel over, forehead kissing the sand as he closed his eyes. He breathed deeply for a moment, before turning his head to look at the girl.

 

         ‘Welcome back…’

 

The moment he finished speaking, he allowed himself to fall sideways, passing out before he hit the ground.

 

The first thing Mertrashida did when the man passed out was check her injuries, but she was oddly unsurprised to find that they had already healed. Her left arm appeared as though it had never been hurt, though the right side of her body bore scars from being so badly burned. She stared at the scars on her arm for a little while, trying to get used to their presence. Eventually she simply seemed to shrug it off, and stood to survey her new surroundings.

 

She took watch for a while as the man slept, but as the time passed she began to grow restless. Looking around to ensure there was nobody approaching, she crept over to the sleeping man and crouched by his side. With one hand on the man’s side, and the other taking hold of the sack of urns on the other side of him, Mertrashida closed her eyes and bowed her head.

 

Before she could do anything else, the man stirred beneath her hand. She opened her eyes and pulled away, looking over to the man’s face as he began to wake up fully.

 

         ‘What are you doing?’ He grumbled.

 

         ‘We need to keep moving,’ Mertrashida responded.

 

The man nodded and rolled onto his back, sitting up with a groan.

 

         ‘No arguments here… The further we are from that show, the better.’

 

Mertrashida nodded silently. Looking at her, the man realised that neither of them had a clue who the other even was, and yet they had now been forced together by whatever monstrous scheme was at play.

 

         ‘What is your name?’

 

Mertrashida broke the silence, almost seeming to read his mind. Shaking his head, the man met her gaze and finally introduced himself.

 

         ‘Adil Tekin.’

 

Mertrashida nodded.

 

         ‘My name is Mertrashida. Nice to meet you, Adil.’

 

This time it was Adil who nodded.

 

         ‘Just Mertrashida?’ He asked.

 

 

 

Mertrashida cleared her throat and paused.

 

         ‘I do not know my real name... I only know the name my masters gave me when I was little.’

 

Adil lowered his eyes, regretting his question.

 

         ‘Sorry.’

 

Mertrashida smiled, apparently undisturbed.

 

         ‘Fear not. They were actually quite nice to me, you know. I used to wonder about my real family, but… This is my life now.’ She shrugged.

 

Adil nodded thoughtfully then yawned, stretching his arms out. As he did so, he moved his right hand down onto the sack of urns, drawing his attention.

 

He looked down at the urns and then back at Mertrashida, a question burning in his mind.

 

         ‘What the hell was all that back there anyway?’

 

Mertrashida sighed, thinking to herself silently for a moment, before meeting his gaze.

 

         ‘I think it would be best if somebody else explained that. Here, hand me the urns.’

 

Adil grabbed the sack of urns and passed it over to Mertrashida, who set it down and began inspecting the urns within.

 

Every now and then, she looked up at Adil, then back down at whichever urn was in her hands, before setting it aside and reaching for the next. This went on for a short while, until she smiled and extended her hand, offering Adil the urn clasped within.

 

         ‘I know this is nasty, but you should try to drink it all, and quickly. I will work on getting us out of here.’

 

Adil hesitated, fearing the possibilities. Looking into Mertrashida’s eyes, however, he was filled with the sense that he should trust her.

Taking the urn, Adil sat up properly and cracked open the seal. Tipping his head back, he poured the mixture down his throat before he had a chance to back down.

 

The moment he was done, he tossed the urn and clutched at his stomach, coughing.

 

         ‘You made this look easy,’ he choked. “That is disgusting!’

 

A moment later, he convulsed for a second, before collapsing to the ground unconscious.

 

Gathering the urns she had set aside, Mertrashida stepped over to Adil and crouched next to him once again. Like last time, she reached out her hand and set it upon his side, then closed her eyes.

 

A few moments later, the man, the girl and the urns all disappeared with a flurry of sand.