The Trial
Zara doubted she’d ever get used to portals.
“Zara, is that you?” The familiar voice sounded behind her as she walked through the chamber of the Great Pyramid, the avatar of Isis appearing from her own portal. “I almost didn’t recognise you in that armour.”
“Nagisa,” Zara smiled warmly, embracing her fellow avatar. “It’s been too long.”
They pulled back, and Nagisa nodded to her armour. “Seems a little formal for this.”
“Trust me, I know,” Zara laughed, feigning innocence. “But Sekhmet has her preferences.”
Nagisa nodded with a knowing smile. “Gods and their rules. At least it’s fitting, for the goddess of war.”
Zara leaned forward, her voice low. “Do you know what this is about?”
“Not at all,” Nagisa shrugged, glancing at the other avatars who had congregated in the chamber. “Isis has not told me anything. Whatever it is, I have a feeling it’s going to be interesting.”
Zara followed her gaze into the great hall, spotting Marc at the centre, speaking to Yatzil, avatar of Hathor. “Let’s hope you’re right.”
The chamber of the Great Pyramid of Giza rose impossibly high, the ancient relics filling the space with the history of a world long passed. Giant braziers glowed with brilliant flame, the faint light of the sun emanating through the ceiling. Zara nodded to the other avatars as she entered the main sector, Nagisa close behind – each avatar taking their rightful place at the seat of their respective deity. Zara briefly locked eyes with Marc as he stood in the centre, giving him a slight nod of acknowledgement. Butterflies flared in her stomach, and she realised with a start that she was truly worried. Worried for him. Each avatar took their seat, and Zara braced herself for what was to come. Heat travelled up her spine and into her throat, her head being thrown back by the force of Sekhmet. Her eyes glowed gold, and suddenly Zara was a passenger in her own body, still able to see and hear, but completely unable to speak or move. A feeling she knew well, but not one she ever missed.
Yatzil threw her head back as she ascended the staircase, her voice transforming into the melodic notes of Hathor. “In attendance,” she announced. “Horus, Sekhmet, Isis, Osiris, and Hathor, to hear the account of Khonshu.”
Zara watched as Marc jolted in the centre of the room, the spirit of the god of the moon overtaking him. I can only assist Khonshu so much without raising suspicion, Sekhmet’s voice reverberated through her skull. Let us hope he knows how to convince the Ennead, without antagonising them further than his theatrics already have.
Selim – avatar of Osiris – stood, glaring down at Marc with contempt. The voice of Osiris boomed through the chamber. “You’ve been banished once for nearly exposing us, Khonshu. And you know we despise your garishness,” he clenched his jaw slightly, lowering his voice. “But manipulate the sky again, and we will imprison you in stone.”
Marc suddenly threw his head back, the thunderous voice of Khonshu spewing from his mouth. “Spare me your self-righteous threats!” Marc’s eyes flickered frantically from side to side, but the god continued, his voice full of disdain. “I was banished for not abandoning humanity, unlike the rest of you.”
Well, Zara thought. We’re off to a great start.
Horus stood. “We have not abandoned humanity. They abandoned us.” His voice was calm, but that fooled no-one – Horus was as dangerous as they came. “We simply trust our avatars to carry out our purposes – without calling undue attention to ourselves.” His eyes scanned Marc’s form with displeasure. “Not like some of us.”
“Avatars are not enough!” Khonshu asserted, his voice ricocheting off the stone walls. “We need the might of gods! Return from the opulence of the Overvoid before you lose this realm.”
Zara had never truly understood the extent to which Sekhmet was right about Khonshu, from his poor judgement to his distinct lack of strategy – but this meeting was swiftly changing that. The tension built in the room as the gods bristled, Osiris seeming to simmer with irritation at the moon god standing before him. Zara didn’t want to take her eyes off Marc, standing alone and vulnerable as he was in the centre of the chamber, but Sekhmet had control – and she stood upright, her gravelly voice travelling upward through Zara’s throat.
“Our avatars are not meant to meddle, Khonshu. Unless absolutely necessary.” Sekhmet’s voice carried across the chamber, and Zara saw Marc’s attention snap towards her, his eyes wide. Osiris glanced towards her, and Sekhmet continued, Zara’s lips moving with a mind of their own. “For what reason do you summon the Ennead?”
“I call for judgement against Arthur Harrow!” Khonshu bellowed, the force of his voice thrusting Marc’s chin forward. He seemed to collapse inward after each instance of Khonshu’s speech, and Zara wished more than anything that she could talk to him, to help him through. But that was impossible, here.
Nagisa spoke, the voice of Isis flowing from her like a river. “What are the charges?”
“Conspiracy to release Ammit! Arthur Harrow seeks to release her from her imprisonment.” Marc gasped as Khonshu’s voice ceased, his head bowed.
Osiris considered him. “That is not an accusation to make lightly, Khonshu.”
Marc looked up, his mouth pressed into a thin line. He glanced up at Zara, but Sekhmet kept her gaze averted, ignoring him. It was the right move, Zara repeated to herself. They could not give themselves away.
“I am aware,” Khonshu retorted, and Zara felt Sekhmet stiffen at his tone. Every god was staring at him as though they wanted to slap him. “I do not need to be told the gravity of this situation, Osiris. And neither should you.”
Osiris merely watched him for a moment. His exterior was collected, but his eyes flickered like embers. Zara saw the muscles in his jaw working, the plan already slipping away, their chances of convincing the Ennead beginning to crumble like dust between their fingers. Sekhmet must have sensed it as well, as she suddenly spoke:
“Let us see if your theatrics are warranted, Khonshu,” she interjected, looking down at Marc, matching the contempt of the other gods. Osiris was watching them with a flicker of amusement, nodding to Sekhmet as she met his gaze.
“Very well, then.” He stood, raising his voice. “Let us summon the accused.”
A grinding sound emerged from the back of the chamber, every avatar in the room turning their attention towards the portal. Arthur Harrow stepped out, leisurely making his way towards the centre of the chamber.
“So, I see by the presence of Khonshu’s current makeshift avatar,” he mused. “The purposes of our meeting must be nefarious.”
“You know exactly why we are here!” Khonshu boomed, the force of his voice throwing Marc forward. Each word spoken was taking its toll on him, and Zara wasn’t sure how much more he was going to be able to take.
Harrow clasped his hands together, turning towards the gods. “I must admit I do not miss the sound of that voice.” He glanced fleetingly at Marc, his voice holding a slight tremor. “But speak, old master, to the point.”
Bring out the theatrics, Harrow. Zara thought, fuming. Make sure you throw some waterworks in there, too.
He did have Khonshu in his head for years. Sekhmet responded, her sudden humour throwing Zara off balance. The goddess of war was clearly more miffed about Khonshu’s disrespect than she’d let on.
Khonshu whirled, turning Marc to face him. “Do you not seek to release Ammit from her tomb?”
“I was in the desert,” Harrow answered simply, addressing the court. “But if visiting the sands were a crime, the line of sinners would be longer than the Nile.”
He knows what he’s doing, Sekhmet, Zara pleaded internally. He’s going to derail this.
This trial is Khonshu’s fight, Sekhmet responded, her voice rattling through Zara’s skull. If he fails and is imprisoned, we are all that will be left. I cannot risk exposure in this chamber. She paused. They have imprisoned much greater gods than Khonshu.
Zara reeled, dumbstruck. Who else? She demanded, but this time, Sekhmet did not answer. Sekhmet, who else has been imprisoned in stone?
“Khonshu seeks power, and has searched for Ammit’s tomb since I was forced into his service as his avatar,” Harrow continued, locking eyes with Marc. “His vision is obscured by jealousy, paranoia, and his – ”
“He is a deceiver!” Khonshu exclaimed, jutting Marc’s finger at the man beside him. Marc doubled over as if in pain, breathing hard. Zara yelled in frustration, but her lips did not move so much as a millimetre, not a note of sound leaving her lips. This was going badly. Very, very badly.
“While I do not believe that Khonshu has acted wisely,” Sekhmet suddenly interjected, her voice pulling Zara forward. “It is only fair that we ask you to answer the question he presented directly.” Zara locked eyes with Harrow, thankfully seeing no recognition in his features. Sekhmet’s voice flowed from her like heat from a flame. “Do you seek to release Ammit from her tomb?”
“Khonshu is a shamed god, and this honoured court banished him long ago for a reason. Do not trust his word. I assure this honoured court, I do not seek to release anyone.” The lies fell from his lips with impressive ease, and Zara knew that Sekhmet could do no more without raising suspicion. Harrow continued. “No, Khonshu is unhinged – and his servant, unwell.”
All eyes flicked to Marc then, his brow beaded in sweat, breathing as though he couldn’t get enough air. Hathor furrowed her brows. “How do you mean?”
He’s manipulating them, Zara fumed. He was ready for this.
Harrow looked at Marc now, faux sympathy staining his voice. “This is a man who literally does not know his own name. He alternates between Steven Grant and Marc Spector – ”
“Liar!” Khonshu yelled.
“He speaks to himself, threatens himself – ”
“Do not listen – ”
“He endangers the lives of others – ”
“Stop!” That voice was Marc.
“He is clearly insane – ”
Suddenly Marc swung at him. His fist froze in mid-air, the magic of Osiris preventing it from connecting with Harrow’s jaw. Sekhmet pulled her forward in an instant, before freezing in place. Osiris brought Marc to his knees, his voice as sharp as a razor. “We will not tolerate violence in this chamber.”
Khonshu has resorted to violence, Sekhmet observed, her voice mournful in Zara’s head. This trial is as good as over.
Marc looked up from the ground, nodding weakly. Harrow clasped his hands again, continuing. “It brings me no pleasure to tell you that this is a deeply troubled man.” Zara saw Marc’s face twist in pain, as if each word from Harrow’s mouth was an assault. “Khonshu is taking advantage of him, the same way that he abused me. The way he aspires to abuse this court.” Harrow spread his hands. “Take action now, before it’s too late.”
Marc was reeling, his hands locked behind his back, and Zara could see the sweat beading on his face. He managed to glance up at her, their eyes locking for a split second before Sekhmet averted her gaze once again. Khonshu has failed, she stated. There is nothing more we can do for him, here.
“Marc Spector,” Horus spoke, releasing his binds. “Are you unwell?”
Marc seemed to shudder, his breathing becoming laboured as he knelt on the cold stone floor. He glanced up at each of the gods, nodding his head in anguish. “I am,” his voice cracked, sending a shockwave of pain through Zara’s chest. “I am unwell. I – I need help.” He shook his head, pointing to Harrow. “But that doesn’t change that the fact that this man is…” he faltered, bracing himself with his hands on the ground. “He’s dangerous.”
“This man has not committed an offence.” Osiris stood, surveying the chamber before him. “I see no reason to continue such a clearly baseless escapade. This matter is concluded.”
And just like that, it was over.
Each avatar stood, the force of each respective god leaving their bodies one by one. Harrow nodded one final time, swiftly exiting the chamber. A portal appeared behind each of the avatars, and Zara glanced back one last time. Marc was still kneeling on the floor, the unforgiving stone his only consolation as each god abandoned him to his solitude. Every instinct tried to pull her back to him, but she forced herself to keep moving, stepping through the portal. She could only hope he remembered where to meet her if he was ever able to pull himself from the ground. Khonshu had failed to present his case and the gods had failed to see the threat that was right in front of them, spinning his web of lies with ease.
Harrow had exactly what he wanted.