Overwatch

The forces of Heaven begin to grow concerned about the metaphorical storm brewing over Thebes; Panya comes face to face with her attacker; Masika wakes in a frightening predicament.

Staring intently down upon Egypt with her face submerged in the Viewing Pool taking pride of place in the centre of Heaven’s Observatory, the Angel Arakiel grew suddenly aware that somebody was speaking nearby, their voice muffled by the almost viscous fluid that filled the Pool.

Withdrawing her face as she straightened and stood, Arakiel blinked rapidly to help her eyes adjust to the harsh brightness, then turned to identify the speaker. Though by this time her vision had cleared, she still saw very little of the figure standing before her; albeit for a different reason than the temporary blindness she had just shaken off. Still, she was able to recognise the newcomer quite easily, once she was able to make him out.

‘Azrael! What a surprise to see you here… Tell me, what is it you seek?’

Adorned with flowing robes that were perhaps a little too bright a white, save for what appeared to be droplets of blood constantly dripping from every fold only to disappear upon hitting the floor, paired with a matching white hood that threw most of his absurdly pale face into shadow, Azrael was an eerily terrifying sight for many to behold, despite how little of his body was ever actually in sight.

Indeed, even his ever-clean hands were always covered by a pair of white gloves, and his feet were hidden inside his full-wrap white sandals. Inside the Observatory, or in fact, most of Heaven itself, the scarlet droplets were easily the most distinguishable feature of his entire appearance; without them, one would be forgiven for thinking a room empty even with him standing in full view within. Whether Heaven itself was too bright a white, or his attire, or even both, none would ever dare to voice such concerns.

Stepping closer now that he had Arakiel’s attention, Azrael gestured with an open palm as he began to speak in a soft, gentle voice, befitting one of Heaven’s most revered Angels.

‘It is you I seek, Arakiel. Word is beginning to spread among the Angels that you have been spending quite a significant amount of time with your head buried in the Viewing Pool; perhaps a little too much time.’

Arakiel snorted mockingly.

‘I am a Watcher, Azrael. I have little else to do but watch, and I hardly have anywhere else I need to be,’ she responded curtly, her eyes drifting back to the surface of the Pool.

‘Hmm…’

Approaching Arakiel until he stood directly to her left, Azrael turned and fell silent for a moment, his eyes also now glued to the beautiful, shifting fluid in the Pool.

‘Would you care to see? I can make it happen,’ Arakiel offered, reaching a hand down to swirl absently at the fluid.

Raising a hand as if to block her words, Azrael shook his head.

‘I have no desire to watch mortals crawl around in the mud… No, I shall leave the watching to you, just as you leave the purging to me.’

Deciding not to respond to Azrael’s initial comment, Arakiel considered the second. 

‘If you did not come to look through the Viewing Pool, what is it about my extended presence in the Observatory that interests you? Have I done something to cause an upset?’

Her tone took on a slightly nervous edge at the end, which would be completely understandable to any who have witnessed the less-than-subtle unpleasantries of Heaven.

Azrael chuckled at this, still looking curiously down into the Pool.

‘No, no, nothing of the sort… It has been some time since I last took life, and the simple truth is that I grow bored quite easily. It was my hope that you would direct me to a mortal deserving of… Shall I say, Divine Punishment?’

Surprised, Arakiel turned and looked at Azrael once more, noticing the hopeful look in his eyes as he turned his head to meet her gaze. She considered first his words, and then her own.

‘Well, at least you understand the boredom I feel here. Why else would I throw myself into my work so completely? I suppose it makes sense that you wish to do the same…’

‘Hmm…’ Azrael hummed again, then shook his head. ‘I feel that my drive would be to take life regardless of my purpose; it is purely entertainment that I intend to use to break this boredom.’

A little disappointed, Arakiel turned away once more. 

‘Is it possible that your drive to take life stemmed solely from your purpose? I mean, it has been your purpose since the very first day… I, too, find my work interesting, though I am quite sure this was an added measure gifted by our Lord to ensure satisfaction in our work.’

In the shadow of his hood, Azrael’s eyes darkened for just a moment.

‘I must admit, such a thought leaves an unpleasant taste in my mouth; it rings true, but sounds like a twisted level of manipulation that I care little for, even under guise of a “gift” from our Lord.’

Arakiel paused, then began to speak more quietly than before.

‘Mind your words, dear brother. You border blasphemy.’

Azrael grunted briefly, then waved the matter aside.

‘No matter,’ he said, changing the subject. ‘What say you on Punishable mortals?’

Nodding thoughtfully, Arakiel turned back to the Pool.

‘The forces of darkness seem to be as restless as we are; they walk the Earth now, and appear to be enacting the beginning of one of their foul schemes. Most of my time has been spent watching them, so I apologise, but I know little of what is happening with any mortals not directly involved.

If you insist on not looking through the Pool, then my best suggestion would be this; make your way down there, to the city of Thebes, and attach yourself to one of the unfortunate souls that are already involved. I am sure you will find plenty of candidates quite soon this way.’

Azrael nodded as Arakiel talked, growing more and more intrigued the more he listened. When she finished speaking, he smiled a smile that would chill even the bones of the dead. 

‘Thank you, Arakiel. Your time and words are greatly appreciated,’ he uttered, before turning on his heel and heading for one of the many doors out of the Observatory. ‘Farewell for now, Arakiel.’

Surprised once more by the frightening entity that was Azrael, Arakiel basked in the momentary, much-too-rare gratitude, unable to stop a brief smile from forming on her face. It had been a long time since anything she did had ever been so much as acknowledged, save for her increased time in the Observatory.

Vowing to herself to assist Azrael however she could, Arakiel turned and prepared to submerge her face in the Viewing Pool once more.

‘Farewell, Azrael,’ she said softly, before lowering her face back into the cool, thick fluid.

The hands holding Panya gripped her firmly as she was dragged backwards into the night. So firmly,  she quickly lost all hope of breaking herself free. She tried to kick and bite her way to freedom, but was ultimately unsuccessful in both endeavours. 

A voice from behind shushed her, but uttered no words of instruction, no demands - just a cue for silence in the dead of the night. Tears of helplessness fell from her eyes, rolling over the hand that remained clamped over her mouth. At first contact with the warm liquid, she felt the body behind her stiffen, affected in some way by the realisation that she had begun to cry.

The dragging stopped soon after, when she was almost entirely hidden from any potential onlookers by a small alcove in the wall around the Archives. The hand around her mouth was rapidly replaced with a thick strip of cloth, once the pair were tucked away, hidden from almost any possible line of sight even with the darkness of night all around. 

‘Climb,” came the first word spoken by her captor, though it seemed heavily muffled. Still, that one word at least revealed that Panya’s captor was very likely a man. 

Confused about the order, Panya remained motionless, until she was grabbed once more, under both of her arms this time, and lifted to the top of the wall. Grabbing hold, now more confused than ever but still terrified, she pulled herself up until she sat atop the wall, straddling it with a leg on either side.

Looking down, she saw a dark mass where her captor stood. A moment of spiteful bravery washed over her in her newfound position of power, and she kicked downward at where she assumed his head to be.

Arm already raised and bent in anticipation of such an attempt, the man below blocked her quick with ease, then gave a strange, muffled chuckle. Immediately afterwards, he grabbed at her foot, then gave it a sudden upward push, throwing her off balance and off of the wall.

By the time Panya scrambled to her feet again on the road below, the man had vaulted the wall quite easily and grabbed both of her hands, pinning them behind her back. On this side of the wall, torches lit the area every 15 or so feet, and Panya was able to slightly make out the mass that was her captor; he was about a foot and a half taller than herself, and while not overly muscular, was easily strong enough to dispel any thoughts of fighting her way free. His head was almost completely wrapped in cloth, leaving only enough space around his eyes for him to see where he was going.

Marching Panya forward by the hands at her back, the man kept as silent as earlier as the pair made their way across the dirt road. Ducking behind the small houses that peppered the roadside, the man kept himself and his hostage as far from the torchlight as possible whilst following the road to the South.

Panya hadn’t been South of Thebes for a long time; not since the first few weeks after her sale to Nephthys, when she had occassionally tried to make her way back to the family farm. Once she had received word of the farm’s destruction, she had considered making the trip one more time, but decided there was no reason to try, with nothing left for her there. Now, though, as she was led down the old, familiar road, her thoughts drifted once more to the faces of her family, the image of their small shared home and the fields they had all worked together. 

Her mind glued so tightly to the echoes of her past, Panya barely even registered the all-too-familiar path the pair turned down. Her feet moved subconsciously now, as though she had only been gone a few days at most. Soon enough, though, even her subconscious couldn’t ignore the sense of familiarity, of home, and Panya’s thoughts returned to the present.

Strangely, only a short distance ahead now, as if nothing had ever happened, Panya could almost see her childhood home, lit by torches within as though her family were inside, waiting for her to join them.

Then it dawned on her - she truly was approaching her childhood home. With the realisation came the sight of the damage her home had sustained; much of the outside had been burned, though the structure remained mostly intact.

‘Why are we here?’

She didn’t really expect an answer, at least not yet, and none came. Still, it was worth a try. Shaking her head to nobody in particular, she resigned herself to compliance, figuring that she would find out the man’s intentions soon enough.

When the pair reached the heavily burned door, one of the hands holding hers behind her back let go, leaving the other to grip both of hers. From the flickering light coming through the cracks in the door, and the miniscule amount of light filtering down from above, she saw the man’s hand reach forward and shove the door quite violently, pushing it halfway open with only a little difficulty. 

The hand that remained behind Panya’s back suddenly pushed her forward, sending her stumbling inside as she fell to her knees. Shoving the door shut behind him as he followed her inside, the man strangely didn’t walk any closer to her than the doorway.

‘Finally,’ came the muffled voice. ‘I have been following you for so long...’

A feeling of dread washed over Panya as she began to piece the puzzle together. 

This man must be one of those responsible for what happened to her family, to her home. For whatever reason, he hadn’t been satisfied with killing any less than the entire family, and seemed quite happy making their home his own.

‘Why? What do you want?’

A hesitant sigh came from behind her, and she turned her head shakily as the man began to unwrap the cloth around his head.

When she finally saw the face of the man beneath, tears began to flow freely as she stammered to speak. In the end, after what felt like an eternity, she finally managed a single, weakened word, a question; an accusation.

‘You?!’

Masika woke with a start, her forehead aching fiercely. She was on her side in the darkness, laying on a cold stone floor. Whispers surrounded her, accompanied by the occasional brief set of footsteps and the rustling of cloth against rough stone.

Groaning, she sat up slowly, raising a hand to cup the sore area of her head. 

‘She wakes,’ came a whisper to her right.

‘Hey! Are you okay?’ Came another, not far from the first.

‘Does it matter?’

The third voice came from directly to Masika’s left, startling her. 

‘What is this place?’ She asked aloud, speaking into the darkness.

‘Whatever it is, the soldiers locked us in here some time ago. You were the first here, we all thought you dead at first. Then the guards left with the torches, and we have been waiting in the dark since.’ The voice to her left answered. Whoever it was, he seemed only a little older than Masika herself, while the other two voices belonged to a boy and a girl of around the her own age. 

‘Waiting… Any idea what for?’ Masika asked, still holding her hand to her head. 

‘We were hoping you would know, being the first one here and in the state you were left in.’

Another voice, this one only a little to the left of Masika’s current facing direction.

Sighing, Masika thought back, cueing a sudden flash of pain in her head as she remembered what had happened earlier that evening.

‘Setesh and the Pharaoh were planning something today… Osiris and Isis were in on it, too… I never did get to find out what, though, only that it involved some kind of selection. I guess that selection was us.’

A chorus of sighs and curses erupted from the small room, revealing that there were signifcantly more people locked in with Masika than she had thought.

‘How many of us are in here?’

‘No more or less than thirty, yourself included,’ came the slightly older voice to her left. 

‘Wait a second,’ Masika interjected, recognising the voice. ‘Hager? Hager, is that you?’

Silence fell for a moment. 

‘Yes, I am Hager.’

‘Are we all slaves of Nephthys?’ Masika asked, the discussion she had heard earlier now beginning to make sense.

One by one, twenty-eight voices spoke up in the affirmative.

Slightly relieved, more hopeful than anything, Masika exhaled sharply through her nose. 

‘There may be hope for us yet,’ she offered. ‘Something else I learned earlier today, was that Nephthys would be against this plan. I sent Panya to warn her… Oh, Panya!’ She cried, worry for her young friend setting in. She fell silent, lost in her thoughts as the others began to whisper excitedly among themselves.

‘You think she might help us? Are we not just slaves to her?’ Came Hager’s scepticism-filled voice. 

‘One would be forgiven for thinking so, but she does feel for us, even if it is just a little more than the others do,’ Masika answered. ‘We shall have to wait, and see what fate has in store for us.’

The room fell silent once more at that, as the children began to pray to Amun; though the silence could not last forever. 

In fact, it only lasted a handle of moments, before the sound of approaching footsteps warned them of incoming company, accompanied by the growing glow of lit torches, approaching from the other side of a completely barred wall. 

The footsteps grew louder and louder as the light from the torches grew, until a group of soldiers marched into view, right on the other side of the bars.

‘Look who woke up, just in time… Guess your friends won’t have to drag you, after all,’ the lead soldier sneered. ‘On your feet, the lot of you. Time to go.’

With that, he nodded at one of the soldiers standing by him, who then proceeded to unlock the barred gate and hold it open. The rest of the soldiers all drew their various weapons the moment the soldier reached for the door, and were ready to fight by the time it swung open. 

Gesturing with his head for the slaves to step through, the soldier stood behind the open gate and held it wide as the armed soldiers cleared a path in the direction they had come. 

‘Where are we going?’ One of the younger slaves snivelled, only to be met with laughter.

‘Away,’ was all the answer the boy received. 

Though his words were vague, Masika couldn’t help but pick up on the hidden meaning - none of them would be leaving alive. 

Eyeing the guard’s weapons as the slaves all began to shuffle for the exit, Masika weighed the odds of saving anybody before being struck down. Smart as she was, she found the odds lacking.

A minute later, the slaves were being escorted through a long, winding, dark corridor, their footsteps silent compared to those of the booted soldiers’ own. Masika leaned to her left, attempting to see past the few slaves and guards in front of her, and found herself shivering with a sudden chill.

At the same time, she could have sworn she heard a voice, disembodied and a little garbled. 

‘Fine, Arakiel… But I had better get to kill somebody soon.’

Freezing mid-step, Masika looked around, bewildered. The slaves directly behind her didn’t stop in time, walking into her and cursing. The soldiers to the rear then began to yell, pointing their weapons at the slaves and ordering them to keep moving. Falling back into step, Masika looked back once more, just in time to see the rear-most soldier convulse slightly mid-step, before shaking it off and continuing as normal.

What the…

Resigning herself to either finding out later or not at all, Masika pushed the weirdness out of her mind and pressed on. 

In Heaven’s Observatory, Arakiel bubbled a sigh of relief through the fluid of the Viewing Pool. Azrael had made his way down to Egypt already, and through her guidance, found his way into the strange crypt where the slaves were being held captive. 

It had taken some convincing, but she had managed to strike a deal with the other Angel; she would cover his absence as best she could, and guide him wherever his services could be most useful, provided she could count on his assistance with a single, small favour first. 

Now that he was in play, she turned her attention to the other child, to the South of the city.

Now that is interesting, she thought, peeking inside the burned home. I wonder how this will turn out…

‘You?!’ Came Panya’s cry, before she spun in place, rising to her feet.

Within an instant, she lunged forward, diving at the figure before her, hands outstretched and eyes bulging. 

She covered the distance in barely a second, throwing herself at her attacker… Throwing her arms around him as she sobbed.

Stunned, Baniti paused for a moment, then wrapped his arms gently around his little sister as he began to smile wistfully.

‘I have missed you, too,’ he said quietly, hugging the girl as she cried.

The two remained locked in place for a moment, making up for a much-too-long time apart. Panya’s sobbing eventually slowed, then stopped, as she began to tense up. Unwrapping his arms from around her and kneeling before her with his head bowed, he prepared for what came next.

‘You… You sold me! Why? How could you?’ She began to scream at him, beating into the sides of his head with her small fists. 

This time it was Baniti who began to cry, his face still turned down as his shoulders shook.

‘Forgive me, Anipe,’ he began, calling her by her own, true name.

His sister’s eyes grew wide at the sound, one she hadn’t heard spoken by another since the night of her sale, and she paused in mid-swing to hear the pain in her brother’s voice.

‘It was the only choice I had. The other farmers, they did this…’ He slammed a fist against the wall to his left, signifying the damage to their home. ‘Father knew they would. They were jealous… We had what they did not; a successful farm, worked  with love by a family that stuck together, no matter what. They hinted to Father bad things were coming for us all, so I beat them to it… That bought us some time, but… Still, they came.’

Baniti’s words stunned Anipe, and she lowered herself to her knees before him.

‘Why sell me, though? Why could we not all fight, or run?’

Baniti shook his head.

‘I could never understand it, either. Our parents refused to leave… I think they were too proud to run. As for fighting, I guess you know how that went. I knew the attack would come, so I took you where I knew you would be safe, fed and watered. Then I came back to fight… Maybe even to die.’

Anipe shook her head again, processing a lot of new information.

‘Wait… There were three bodies, right?’

Baniti smiled darkly for a moment, ‘Did you think we could be attacked and killed without at least getting one of them?’

Anipe hesitated for a moment, then nodded.

‘I knew not what to think… But everyone said it was so, so what else would I believe?’

Baniti shrugged, then, after a moment’s silence fell over the two, he began to recount his tale.

He told his sister of working the farm as normal, though always looking around for sign of an attack. He spoke of how he had tossed and seeded the soil, following the fields with his parents. How he looked behind him for a moment, just in case, only to hear their mother to cry out in pain as she was struck by the sword of a farmer who seemed to come from nowhere. Their father reacted first, running to her side as he yelled for Baniti to get back home. He ran, and heard his father crying out the same the their mother had; he knew their father had been slain. Rounding the corner of the house, Baniti barely even realised he still carried his pitchfork in one hand when one of the tips buried itself in the body of the other attacker. 

Just as surprised as the now-wounded farmer, Baniti grabbed the pitchfork with both hands and pushed with all his strength, forcing his makeshift weapon deeper into the flesh of his enemy and pushing him back. Then, with a sudden angled pull on the shaft, Baniti forced his opponent in towards him again, finishing his movement with a half-turn and an elbow to the face.

The man went down hard. Stepping over him, he broke the pitchfork free of the farmer’s chest and thrust it quickly into his throat. Stepping free of the dying man, he jerked the pitchfork sideways, then ripped it back up, free of the man’s body. Hurrying inside the house as instructed, Baniti then blocked every possible entrance and readied himself, waiting with his weapon in the centre of their home.

He didn’t need to wait for long, of course. Two voices called to their fallen partner, then began to yell when they found him, still slowly dying on the ground by the door. The two tried finding a way in, taunting and threatening him all the while… The next thing he knew, everything was on fire. He managed to escape the house in time, but the men had both run off. 

Knowing there was nothing left he could do, Baniti left and headed for the Temple of Luxor, where he would continue watching over his sister to make sure the survivors never came for her. 

While he told his tale, Baniti helped his sister up and began to brew them each a drink, which she then proceeded to sip at slowly while she listened.

‘Why did you show up now?’ She asked, once he had finished speaking.

‘Because I was following you at the Temple of Karnak earlier today. I heard they were planning something, just as you and your friend did. I saw those soldiers capture her, and I had to stop you from getting caught trying to free her,’ he explained, before downing what was left of his drink. ‘If you mean to ask why it took me so long… I was actually hoping those men would somehow figure out where you were and show up at the Temple, so I could kill them, too.’ He looked quite ashamed to say the last part; using his sister as bait was a decision he absolutely hated to make. The desire to kill the farmers, though, he had no issues with.

None of that mattered to Anipe. The moment he mentioned Masika, she all but lost herself in thought.

‘Baniti! You must help me free Masika!’ She cried, rising to her feet determinedly. 

Baniti nodded.

‘I thought you might say that. Did you hear in the Temple about where the nobles would be? They mentioned a crypt to the West, the same way they took your friend.’

‘Masika,’ Anipe corrected, and Baniti repeated the name to himself as his sister continued. ‘Yes, we heard. You will help me, right?’

Silently, Baniti stood and walked over to a cloth-covered table by the wall to his left. Crouching before it, he reached under with both hands, then withdrew them and stood, approaching Anipe with one hand outstretched.

Laying flat across Baniti’s palm, sheathed in a lovingly-crafted leather casing, was a beautiful silver dagger, slightly curved on the blade. The handle was wrapped in pure black leather, embedded with a small topaz on both sides, and with a much smaller, much thicker blade protruding from the exposed end, pointed in the opposite direction to the main blade.

‘Baniti, did… Did you buy this?’ Anipe asked, in awe of the weapon’s beauty, as she reached out and picked it from her brother’s hand.

Baniti laughed, shaking his head.

‘With what? The 30 silver coins I got from your sale? No, that would cost much, much more than that Nephthys gave me… Which, you should know, is sitting under that table. Every single coin... Actually, I took that dagger while we were all at the Temple today,’ he grinned.

Stunned, Anipe couldn’t help but laugh as her brother chuckled along.

‘You never spent the coins?’ She asked incredulously.

Baniti shook his head.

‘That money belongs to you - it will never make up for what you went through, but I hope it will help.’

‘And that?’ She asked, nodding to Baniti’s other hand. 

‘This,’ he answered, bringing his hand around to reveal a black metal sickle, ‘is for me. Now, we both have weapons, are you ready to go find this crypt?’

He moved to the door as he spoke, extinguishing the torches on what was left of the walls. Anipe nodded emphatically, tucking her new dagger into her clothes as she joined him by the door.

‘Well… Come on, then,’ he said, pulling the door open, and the two stepped back out into the darkness, full of determination and hope as Baniti put out the last of the torches, slamming the door shut behind them.