Final Preparations

Masika and the other slaves arrive in the ceremonial chamber; Anipe learns a frightening truth; Osiris reveals his hand.

The slaves’ march through the tunnels likely only took a few minutes, but it felt much longer. After the initial straight stretch, the tunnel began to curve, then widened quite dramatically, which suited the cavernous chamber the slaves suddenly found themselves faced with. 

Uncharacteristically spherical for a chamber in one of Egypt’s crypts, the area before them was really quite large. From their entryway halfway up the large, curved wall, the slaves could see almost all the chamber had to offer. Stretching before them, a large slope led down to the flattened floor, where a circular array of ten pillars a little taller than the average Egyptian man took pride of place around the very centre.

Various viewpoints and ledges dotted the upper heights of the rounded wall, the next ominous sign that whatever the Egyptian nobles had in store for them, was intended to be quite the spectacle. Knowing the cruelty most of the same nobles were capable of, said spectacle would almost certainly be massively unpleasant, if not downright disastrous, for the unwilling participants that now stared in awe at the chamber they were being forced into.

With no chance to stop while they looked around, the slaves were led down the large slope as they investigated, each either trying to figure out the purpose for the chamber, or wondering how they would escape. 

Reaching the bottom of the slope, a pair of soldiers guided the first ten slaves in formation toward the pillars, Masika included. The other twenty slaves were led to the side, where they simply stood in place, waiting for… Whatever the next step of the noble’s plan was.

One by one, the first ten were chained to a pillar each, by way of a short chain threaded through a hole in each pillar, bound to a hand on either side, with their backs to their respective pillars so they faced outwards from the circle. As each was chained, a third soldier tested the restraints, staring in the faces of each slave as he moved.

When Masika’s turn came, she felt her arms being pulled backwards roughly, felt the cold iron shackles clasp tightly around her wrists, before the soldiers led the next of the slaves around to the following pillar. The third soldier then approached Masika, staring her in the eyes with a strange look upon his face. She recognised him as the guard who had seemed to stumble in the tunnels, after Masika’s strange encounter with the voice from the cold.

Reaching down and tugging on each end of the chains that bound her, Masika watched in silence as the soldier tested her restraints, never once breaking eye contact. Strangely, the metal seemed to grow even colder by the time he was done; so cold, in fact, that it hurt. Even more strangely, as the soldier began to turn and move on to the next pillar, Masika could swear she saw a sudden flash of icy blue in his eyes, just for a moment.

The soldier made his way around the circle, following the others. When all of the first ten slaves had been chained to their respective pillars, the soldiers led the other 20 out of the chamber. Masika and the other nine waited, unable to do anything but stand there and talk blindly among themselves.

Having made their way around the outskirts of Thebes, Anipe and Baniti were climbing their way to the upper plains to the East at the same time that the soldiers began binding the slaves. The climb was difficult in the darkness, but after some time, they finally found their way to the top, the starry sky now unobstructed by mountains. Pulling an unlit torch from a rope hanging over his back, Baniti took a moment to ignite the flame, then began leading Anipe to the far end of the plateau, moving as though he already knew where to go.

‘Just a little further, Anipe. Right over here,’ he said to the small figure walking alongside him.

‘How do you know?’ She asked, a little suspicious.

Turning and frowning in the flickering light of his torch, Baniti looked his sister in the eye as he explained.

‘When Setesh and the Pharaoh mentioned coming here earlier today, before they and the pair of you went your different ways, I came straight up here and looked around. It took a moment, but I finally found a way inside; basically, just a hole that drops into some cavern. Come on, time is short,’ he continued, turning and resuming his forward march. Anipe sighed and pressed on, as satisfied as she could be with her brother’s explanation.

‘Did you find anything inside?’

‘I never made it past the entrance, unfortunately. The moment I tried, I heard Osiris coming from within, so I hid right before he flew out of the hole…’

Anipe tripped at her brother’s words, but regained her footing and shook her head, now a few steps behind.

‘What do you mean, flew?’

Baniti turned, walking backwards as he looked at her blankly.

‘Exactly that. He flew up from the hole on wings as black as night, and disappeared way up in the sky.’

‘Just what kind of person is he? Are the others like him?’

‘There lies the problem, my dear sister. I do not believe there to be a normal person in the entire family…’

Turning around to face forwards once more, Baniti held the torch closer to the ground, revealing a large, dark hole in the ground. Alongside the hole, evidently recently moved aside, lay a large, flat stone, likely used to cover the hole until quite recently.

‘Here we are,’ Baniti declared. ‘I hope you are ready.’

Swallowing, Anipe met her brother’s eye and shook her head.

‘Hardly… But, as you said, time is short.’

As Baniti removed the large mass of rope from around his person that had held the torch during their climb, Anipe leaned over the edge of the hole, noticing the tiny, flickering lights so very far below, her mind racing with thoughts of Masika and her brother’s revelation about the Egyptian nobles.

Osiris had been quite busy. While his soldiers had been dispatched to capture Nephthys’ slaves, he had flown high over Thebes, waiting for the perfect opportunity to carry out an abduction of his own. Hovering among the clouds, leather wings flapping powerfully in the wind, he watched and waited. 

While he had no doubt the citizens of Thebes had very little chance of seeing him in the waning light, his quarry was another story entirely; just as he could see through pitch darkness with ease, so, too, could his brother’s wife; hence the height at which he waited, watching over the proceedings in the city below.

When Nephthys began searching for the missing slaves, hurrying about the Temple of Luxor almost frantically, he dove. Soaring down through the evening sky at breakneck speeds, he wrapped himself in his wings until he was only a few metres from the ground, directly above Nephthys. Not bothering to slow his fall at all, he landed with his knees on Nephthys’ shoulder, slamming her face first into the stone floor with a sickening crunch as the stone cracked and shattered around them, wrapping his wings around the pair as he did so.

Grabbing the back of the now unconscious Nephthy’s head with an impossibly large, clawed left hand, Osiris took off into the sky once more, clutching his sleeping - though ultimately unharmed - prey. 

A short while later, he stood in a side chamber of the Eastern crypt, staring coldly at Nepthys where she lay, heavily chained, atop a ceremonial table. On the other side of the table stood his wife, Isis.

‘Is everything ready?’ Osiris asked, eyes not budging from Nephthys’ form. 

‘Yes, my love. Best get this done before Setesh comes looking for us,’ Isis answered matter-of-factly.

‘Agreed… And the other?’

‘Already investigating the slaves.’

Osiris nodded, then approached the table. Isis slid a ceremonial blade from somewhere within her robes, and passed it carefully to her husband, then stood in place as she awaited instruction.

‘Prepare the next step. This will take but a moment.’

Bowing, Isis walked quickly for the exit as Osiris began checking beneath the table to ensure the positioning of a large jug laying underneath. Satisfied, he gripped the hilt of the ceremonial weapon as he straightened, then held the blade directly above the centre of Nephthys’ chest.

‘Wake,’ he commanded in an impossibly deep voice, and her eyes flew open. Immediately noticing her predicament, Nephthys began shrieking in an intense, guttural pitch. With a cruel smile etched upon his face, Osiris whispered one more message to his brother’s wife, then plunged the blade straight through her torso, eliciting an inhuman scream from her as her thick blood began to drip into the jug below - then the dripping turned into a steadier flow as he began to jerk the blade back and forth maliciously, opening the wound as much as possible as the shrieking turned to howling before fading into silence.

‘I did not need to wake you for this… I just wanted to finally hear your screams,’ where the last words Nephthys heard.

Wrenching her face free of the Viewing Pool, Arakiel gripped the sides of its container as she hunched over, breathing heavily. Despite what she knew Nephthys to be, her screams had turned Arakiel’s stomach and left her rattled. She could almost feel the creature’s - no, the woman’s - pain, as she shared the inability to draw breath.

Thoughts raced through her mind relentlessly, scarcely showing any sign of settling on their own. Closing her eyes, trying to utilise controlled breathing to clear her head. It took some effort, but after a minute she was able to convince her body to follow her command. A cool chill settled over her, slowing everything down as her eyes shone with an icy blue hue.

Plucking one of the many thoughts from her mind, Arakiel wound her memory back, searching for a clue, for her next move. At first, nothing. Her brow furrowed as the difficulty arose, before she allowed her mind to clear itself of the pressure once more. Then, an idea - but it all hinged on Azrael.

Wrists burning from the freezing cold iron shackles locked in place around them, Masika waited anxiously for something, anything, to happen. Standing in place before her designated pillar, she lifted one foot and then the other, walking in place to alleviate the pressure, back pressed against the stone behind her. 

Looking around for the umpteenth time, she tried to learn as much about the surrounding chamber as she could. Naturally, this was made difficult by the darkness that filled the area, only broken in intermittent places by a burning torch mounted around the centre and on either side of the many overhanging ledges.

High above the prisoner's heads, a small figure carefully descended on a rope from the surface, as hidden by the darkness as much of the chamber itself. The rope rubbed against the rim of the opening in the roof, showering a small amount of desert sand over Masika’s head. Looking up when the sand stopped falling, Masika could swear that just for a moment, the light from the surrounding torches reflected on something metallic, but she could see no further sign no matter how hard she tried.

A voice suddenly booming from above and to the right of Masika drew her attention, and that of the other prisoners around the circle. Looking over to the source, Masika recognised the Pharaoh’s headdress glinting in the torchlight, saw his face as a darkened blur courtesy of the distance and of the darkness. Behind him, a little to the side, Setesh shadowed his childhood friend, watching the proceedings with poorly hidden fascination.

‘Welcome to the beginning of the end, servants of Nephthys. It is with great pleasure that I now stand before you with this, the most exciting of announcements.

At this moment, the final preparations are being made for a long-awaited ritual. I do not care to tell you the details of this ritual, but I will tell you that your lives, granted on loan by the Gods of Egypt, have reached their end. However, unlike so many others, this ritual will bestow upon you all an incredible gift… The ability to be of use even at the very end, and, indeed, a long time after. This is an involuntary service - give your lives willingly, and perhaps the Gods will show kindness for your final moments.’

With that, the Pharaoh turned on his heel and walked out of sight, closely followed by Setesh.

Panic broke out among the bound slave children as they began to cry out in a new wave of fear and helplessness. Chains rattled and shook as their captives attempted to break free, while Masika merely closed her eyes and began to pray silently. 

Amenhotep could barely contain the joy he felt from driving such terror into the hearts of his victims. Indeed, as he turned away, his face was broken by a huge, sadistic grin, cruel enough to put even a Demon to shame. 

Anipe froze in place, suspended from Baniti’s rope, as she heard the Pharaoh’s words. Just what kind of world had she walked into? Panic and fear began to creep into her heart and she found herself incapable of doing anything but cling to the rope for dear life. Halfway through her descent, too far to go back and too scared to go deeper, she swung a little on the rope as she trembled uncontrollably.

When she saw the exposed ledge a little below, not far away, the idea struck. With the idea came a newfound courage, but she knew she had to move quickly before she lost the nerve once again.

Kicking her legs back, Anipe hoped beyond all else that Baniti, holding the end of the rope above her, could manage the shifting of her weight. Gliding forward a little, then back again, she began to gain momentum as she swung to and fro in a growing arc. Before too long, she was soaring across the large expanse of the spherical cavern, terrified by the knowledge that such movement greatly increased the odds of her being seen. 

Satisfied with the strength of her swinging, Anipe held her breath and flung herself free of the rope as it neared the end of its forward swing. Flying feet-first toward the ledge, she twisted her body at the last moment to allow herself to land in a sideways roll, quickly vanishing from any eyes that may have noticed her. If she had one advantage through her current situation, it was her agility, and she intended to make the most of it.

Once she was sure she was out of sight, and hadn’t been noticed during her risky maneuvering, Anipe crawled back across the ledge, poking her head just high enough above the barrier to be able to see what was happening.

Isis walked gracefully through the tunnels, finding herself grateful that she had been largely unable to hear her sister’s dying screams, courtesy of the crypt’s design. More than anything, she was grateful that Setesh couldn’t possibly have heard it, either. He may have agreed to use Nephthys’ slaves as sacrifices, and his disdain for her soft heart was no secret, but still; Nephthys was his wife, brought into being for his purposes. As she thought about the pair, Isis found herself hoping she wouldn’t need to be present when he found out what she and Osiris had done. 

In effort to keep him from finding out, the pair hadn’t even properly informed him of the conditions for the ritual; he knew blood would need to be spilled, but he had never even been informed of the blood tributes required.

It was the second blood that she sought then, as she made her way down to where the unchained prisoners were being kept under guard. Fortunately, everything seemed to be going as planned, even if neither she or Osiris were privy to the entire plot. 

Entering the temporary holding quarters for the twenty slaves, Isis barely hesitated in approaching the soldiers keeping watch. She locked eyes with one in particular, who seemed to stare at her blankly, almost seeming bored, not looking away once from the moment she entered the room to the second she was standing directly before him.

‘Your assistance is required. Follow me,’ she said simply, before turning on her heel and walking back the way she had come.

Falling into step behind the woman, Azrael felt he had no choice but to play along. Truth be told, his mind was weaker since possessing the guard; perhaps because the guard in question had inferior cognitive abilities. Regardless, he decided that whatever dark scheme was at play, this was his best chance to gain some insight, especially if he wasn’t operating at full capacity.

Heading back the same way she had come, Isis did her best to hide her nervousness; she knew what kind of creature was walking behind her, and she wasn’t too fond of turning her back on him. Such was the rivalry between their respective kinds; almost exact polar opposites, the one trait they did share was their apprehension for the other.

It was truly a strange situation; both Isis and Azrael knew what the other was, but neither was willing to break the facade first, unsure if their own identity had been revealed.

‘What is it you need, my lady?’

Azrael’s voice was cool, almost impossibly calm. Such was the temperament of an Angel, Isis supposed. Aloof and confident even while walking with the enemy. 

‘Osiris is nearly finished preparing a mixture for the ritual… One ingredient remains, and you have been chosen to aid in it’s acquisition,’ Isis stated calmly.

Such was the nature of her kind; cold and commanding even while speaking to what might well be their most dangerous enemy. Well, save only for the mightiest of the almighty, Azrael reasoned.

If only that could have remained true, for the implications of such a fact changing were beyond the scope of any creature’s imagination - at least, that of any creature from Earth, Heaven or Hell.

Down at the centre of the ritual chamber, it seemed things were finally progressing. Despite her fear of what the ritual would bring, Masika had grown more and more restless the longer she was made to wait. 

Now, as the other nine slaves in the circle fell quiet in their hopelessness, the captain of the guard emerged from the closest dark doorway to Masika’s left, several of Isis’ own slaves in tow. Captain Tekin stopped just shy of the circle of pillars, curved sword - or khopesh - in hand, as the slaves behind him approached those bound to the pillars, a small golden box held in the hands of each.

One by one, Isis’ slaves approached the bound figures and began to force-feed them a mix of herbs and leaves from within the boxes. The first slave they approached, directly to Masika’s left, refused to cooperate, spitting the mix onto the ground. The slave standing before him simply stepped aside, turning to look at Captain Tekin - who promptly stepped forward and levelled the point of his khopesh at the slave's throat, threatening him silently with the tip of his weapon just barely piercing the skin on the slave’s neck.

What came next, Masika was sure, could never have been predicted - and it very nearly threw the Egyptian Gods’ entire plan into disarray. The slaves had been bound by their wrists, but they still had a modicum of freedom with their movement - a fact the slave took full advantage of.

‘To Hell with you all,’ the young man said angrily, before thrusting what little of himself forward that he could - driving Tekin’s blade right through his throat.

Tekin’s eyes widened in horror as he jerked back in surprise, but there was nothing to be done. All stood and listened in silence as the slave began to choke on his own blood. While none of the nine remaining slaves could tell, the young man stared defiantly into Tekin’s horrified eyes the entire time, until he no longer possessed the strength to hold his head up - and then, he was dead.

Tekin began to back away further, raising a hand to his face. He seemed terrified, shaken to his very core, likely at the thought of Osiris’ punishment for such a failure. 

‘Finish up here,’ he ordered Isis’ slaves, as he turned to leave the chamber. ‘I will need to find another before-’

‘Before what?’ Came Setesh’s voice from above. ‘Please, give me an idea.’

Tekin froze mid-step, shaking as he raised his eyes to a nearby ledge, where Setesh stood, had perhaps been standing for some time. 

‘Lord Setesh -’ Tekin began, then stopped when Setesh raised a hand to silence him.

‘No matter, I have an idea of my own… One that will save a lot of time.’

Vaulting the small barrier of the ledge, Setesh dropped to the ground below, a good thirty feet, landing with an almost feline poise. He wasted no time in approaching the trembling Captain, who finally found the ability to move just in time to kneel before the young Egyptian God.

As this exchange began, Isis’ servants continued with their task, force-feeding the contents of their boxes to the remaining nine. Fortunately for them, none matched the courage of the dead slave, and complied with little complaint - though a few of them begged for help, their cries met with silence. Whatever their role in the Gods’ plans, Masika figured Isis’ slaves were just happy to not be the ones chained to the pillars.

When Setesh stood before Tekin, one of the slaves moved in front of Masika, blocking her view of the interaction. Curious, Masika allowed the slave to push the mixture into her mouth, and she swallowed quickly, then opened her mouth to confirm her consumption. Satisfied, the slave stepped away, allowing Masika to see Setesh dragging Tekin toward the pillar where the dead slave hung by his wrists, khopesh laying discarded on the ground.

Throwing Tekin to the ground, Setesh gripped the fallen slave’s wrists and tugged hard - ripping the hands free of the young man’s body entirely, before casting them aside and flinging the corpse away.

Grabbing Tekin once more, Setesh pinned him against the pillar as he gripped one of the now empty shackles. The metal began to glow around his hand, first red, then white, as it rapidly reached an almost impossible level of heat. Molten metal fell in droplets to the ground as he burned his way through, until the shackle was completely melted open. Setesh seized Tekin’s arm and held it in place, clasping the white-hot shackle around it as the big man screamed in pain, before Setesh melted it closed again. Tekin continued to scream and cry as the process was repeated on the other side, then Setesh stepped back and stared at the man in disain.

‘We have come much too far for you to mess this up now,’ he said coldly, before turning and leading Isis’ slaves back out of the chamber, their task complete.

‘What happened?’ Came the voice of one of the slaves behind Masika.

‘Our favourite guard just joined us at a pillar,’ came a response from the left of Tekin.

The slaves began to jeer at the now whimpering Tekin, as the smell of burning flesh began to thicken in the air. Screwing up her nose, Masika kept her eyes forward, staring at the khopesh that still lay in the dirt where Setesh had taken it from the Captain. If she could only break free and retrieve it… She wasn’t sure what she would do, but she would definitely feel a lot more comfortable if she was free and armed.

Osiris waited by the doorway Isis had left through as she guided Azrael to him. Nervously clutching at the hilt of the blade he had used to kill Nephthys, he did his best to calm his nerves, readying himself to spring the trap. Of all the steps they had undertaken already, this would by far be the most dangerous yet.

As Isis stepped through the doorway, Osiris held his breath and waited. One second passed, then another, and then… The soldier behind her passed through, eyes quickly fixating on the bloody table before him. He barely even registered the sound of Osiris’ weapon slicing through the air behind him - though his internal alarm began to scream at him the moment the danger grew near. 

Leaning to the right, Azrael felt the wind brush by his neck, the blade just barely missing his skin. He began to turn and reach for the moving arm, but was surprised when it continued to swing as Osiris spun around in a full circle, slamming his left elbow into the back of Azrael’s host’s head and stunning him for just a moment - the surprise second attack being just what the pair needed. 

Isis, standing by as Osiris launched his attack, grabbed Azrael by the shoulders and held him in place as Osiris continued his assault. Having made contact with his elbow, the Egyptian continued his spin and swept his leg through those of his victim, knocking Azrael to the floor.

Azrael hit the ground hard, dazing him even further. He may have been a deadly force of Heaven’s wrath, but a surprise attack by another skilled warrior, coupled with being outnumbered two-to-one, was almost too much for him. 

Almost.

Rolling to the side the moment he hit the ground,Azrael heard the tip of Osiris’ blade hit the stone floor and scrape off, followed by the sound of cursing. Rolling until he was facing the ground a short distance away, Azrael slammed his hands against the stone and launched himself back to his feet, narrowly avoiding a downward stomp from Isis. 

Swinging around behind her, Azrael grabbed the back of her head and threw her at Osiris with great force, bowling the pair over. Changing stance, Azrael readied himself to defend against the next attack.

‘What are you planning?’ He asked, now that he had the upper hand. 

Osiris grunted in response, pushing Isis back toward the Angel and darting forward behind her. Azrael blocked the stumbling Isis with one arm, then saw the pointed wings unfolding from behind her. Osiris jabbed down with the singular claws on the end of each wing, one either side of Isis, as he pushed her down by hand and leapt over her. 

Grabbing at both wings and pulling them away from each other, Azrael realised his mistake too late - only then feeling the burning pain of Isis’s dagger slicing up through his torso. 

Stumbling back and narrowly avoiding Osiris’ wings, Azrael bumped into the table and faltered, unable to retreat further. Wounded, he tried to catch his breath, but the attack wasn’t over yet. Still crouching before him, Isis launched herself forward and up, slamming into Azrael and bowling him over onto the table.

If it weren’t for Azrael’s current fogginess of mind, he could have easily avoided it, surprise attack or not.

No sooner had he landed on his back on the table than Osiris’ clawed wings impaled his hands, pinning them down and apart. Isis gripped at Azrael’s legs, assisting her husband in completely immobilizing the Angel.

Then came a flash of silver as Osiris brandished his blade above the struggling Angel - then thrust it down into his chest in much the same way as he had to Nephthys just a short time earlier.

Azrael howled in pain and rage as the pair of Egyptians bested him, a howl that was only heard by one other. 

Jerking her face free of the Viewing Pool, Arakiel stood frozen in shock as what she had just witnessed raced through her mind.

‘What have we done?’ She whispered to herself, as the blood of Azrael’s host began to flow into the half-full jug below the sacrificial table.