Petunia Unspeakables Adventures Egypt
The Deathless Trial of Osiris
Deep within the Egyptian Ministry’s Hall of Anubis, in a chamber where shadows have whispered secrets for millennia, Petunia Evans stands before the Scarab of Osiris. This ancient relic, said to possess the power to tear the fabric of life and death itself, pulses with a dark, magnetic energy. The air is thick with the scent of incense and forgotten histories, and the walls seem to press in on her, as if holding their breath, awaiting her decision. To discover the truth of its power, she must pass the Weighing of the Heart, an ancient and deadly trial where the scales of Ma’at, the goddess of truth, will judge the very essence of her soul.
The weight of destiny bears down on her as her hand hovers above the scarab. She knows the legends—the trials that await beyond this relic, the stakes that could cost her far more than just her life. And yet, she feels an undeniable pull. With a steadying breath, Petunia places her palm upon the cold surface of the scarab.
In an instant, the world fractures, disintegrating into ribbons of light and darkness. Her vision spins as she is yanked from reality, sucked into the vast, shifting chaos of the Duat, the Egyptian underworld. The air is oppressive, saturated with the scent of death and despair. It presses against her skin like a physical weight. The sands beneath her feet are cold, shifting in impossible directions. Above, the sky pulses with an eerie greenish glow, as if the stars themselves have been replaced by the watching eyes of the forgotten.
Before her stands a procession of figures—forgotten Unspeakables, souls trapped in this desolate realm for centuries, cursed for failing their trials. Their eyes are hollow, their faces frozen in eternal agony, a silent warning to Petunia as she passes. Their whispers—soft, mournful—float in the air, fragments of their last regrets, their last thoughts before the Duat swallowed them whole. "Escape," one of them murmurs. "It is a lie."
The Nine Gates of the Afterlife loom ahead, each a monumental test, a trial of both mind and spirit. To survive, Petunia must confront not just her fears, but the darkest corners of her own soul. The first gate reveals her past—an illusion of her childhood, of a life she tried to bury beneath layers of resentment and shame. Her younger self stares back at her, eyes wide with a desperate longing for acceptance. Why were you never enough? the vision hisses.
Petunia falters, but only for a moment. With a surge of will, she shatters the illusion and steps forward, the vision dissolving into dust. But the gates are not so easily escaped. The second reveals a twisted version of Vernon, his voice laced with malice, mocking her for her every decision, every sacrifice. The third is far worse—a vision of Lily, standing before her with eyes full of betrayal. “You abandoned me,” Lily’s ghost whispers, her voice breaking Petunia’s heart anew.
But these are not just illusions. They are the Duat's way of feeding on her guilt, on her deepest fears. And with every step, the air grows heavier, the ground shifts beneath her, pulling her toward the monstrous creature that watches from the distance—the devourer of souls, Ammit. With the head of a crocodile, the body of a lion, and the hind legs of a hippopotamus, Ammit is a terrifying vision made flesh, an embodiment of every doubt, every weakness.
Its hunger grows stronger with each hesitation, each fragment of fear that claws at Petunia’s resolve. The beast’s massive jaws snap through the air, devouring everything in its path. Petunia runs, heart pounding, knowing that every second of doubt brings her closer to becoming its next meal. But she cannot afford to falter.
At the final gate, she stands before Osiris, the god of the dead, his form draped in black robes as ancient as the sands. His eyes gleam with an unsettling calm, as though he has seen the fates of countless souls pass before him—and now, Petunia’s is among them. His voice is like thunder in the vast chamber. “You have come far, Petunia Evans. But your trial is not over. To leave, you must offer something of value.”
Petunia’s mind races. The Department of Mysteries holds the deepest secrets of the magical world—secrets she swore to protect. To reveal them would be a betrayal beyond measure. Instead, she looks up, and something shifts within her—a sudden, wild realization.
“I offer you something greater,” she says, her voice steady, though her heart races.
Osiris tilts his head, intrigued. “And what could you possibly offer that surpasses knowledge, mortal?”
With no hesitation, Petunia steps forward and presents to him a written vision—a vision of his own future. Not the future of the world, but his. The tapestry of his fate as only she, as a unique Seer, could perceive it. It is a vision that no god has ever seen, a glimpse of a time yet to come, full of untold possibilities.
Osiris’ eyes widen as he gazes upon it, the future unfurling before him like an intricate weave of threads, each one more mysterious than the last. The god’s expression shifts from intrigue to something else—a deep, almost ancient recognition.
“You... see the unseen,” he murmurs, a faint smile curling at the corners of his lips. “You offer me knowledge I do not possess.”
“I offer you the truth,” Petunia replies. “The future is not set. Even gods can be wrong.”
For a long moment, Osiris does not speak. His gaze lingers on her, probing the depths of her soul. Then, at last, he steps aside, the path to freedom now open. “Go, Petunia Evans. You have earned your passage. But know this: I now see you as you see me. The eyes of the gods are upon you.”
With a final glance at the chamber, she steps through, the world of the Duat slipping away. She finds herself back in the Hall of Anubis, but the weight of Osiris’ gaze remains, heavy and unyielding. Her trial is over, but its echoes will follow her—forever.
And somewhere in the distance, deep in the heart of the Duat, Osiris watches. Waiting.