The Jackal
Nothing can ever quite prepare you for meeting the god of the dead.
Both Zara and Marc froze in place as the statue struck the ground, the hard stone crumbling to dust as ink-black mist swirled into the air. Zara felt Marc’s hand pull her protectively toward him as the mist rose higher and higher, the two of them staggering back in awe as the figure rose to full height. His chest was bare, his broad shoulders adorned with gold, the dark head of a jackal sitting atop them. The god’s eyes shimmered, the sheer power radiating from him in waves through the chamber. Zara heard a gasp from the man next to her, Steven’s voice shivering with a potent mixture of fear and awe.
“The god of the scales, patron of embalmers and protector of the dead,” Steven breathed, gripping her arm. “I can’t believe it.”
It has been millennia since I have seen the light of this chamber.
Anubis’ voice rumbled through the hall of the Great Pyramid, his attention pinpointed on the battling gods. For what reason do the gods of the Ennead wage war against each other?
Anubis, Sekhmet addressed him, her enormous hand slamming Ammit to the ground, the crocodile-headed goddess straining against her strength. Your imprisonment has had dire consequences, as was predicted by Thoth all those aeons ago.
Indeed. Khonshu had his staff pointed at Ammit, seeming to stiffen at the appearance of Anubis. I, however, was not aware you had been imprisoned in stone.
Ammit rasped. Nor was I.
Anubis scanned the room, his gaze resting on the statue marking Sekhmet’s position on the council. You did not tell them how you ended up on this council, then, Eye of Ra?
Sekhmet bristled, her voice a crackling bonfire. I was appointed because you could no longer serve, Anubis – but whatever reason Osiris may have had for imprisoning you, I was not told of it.
Anubis considered her, nodding his head. It seems Osiris does not deem much of the Ennead fit to know the reasons behind his actions. Finally, he looked down at Ammit, and Zara could’ve sworn she saw sympathy in the eyes of the jackal. Did you leave the Underworld to avenge me, Devourer? Did you think me lost forever?
The scales of Ma’at require a judge, Ammit reasoned, glancing up at the jackal-headed god from where she was pinned to the stone floor. She’d stopped trying to resist Sekhmet, but the goddess did not drop her guard for even a moment, keeping Ammit restrained on the ground. And you, Anubis – you disappeared. I was not told what had become of you. Other gods tried to fill your position, to weigh the hearts of the dead and feed me the sinners, but – she seemed to hesitate, as if lost in memory.
That is how you came to this realm? Anubis questioned her, stalking forward. That is why you abandoned the Underworld?
Sekhmet bared her teeth. That is why you weighed the hearts of humans with scales of your own.
That seemed to catch Anubis by surprise. He glanced between the goddesses, pure disbelief marking his canine features. Ammit’s voice was resigned. I grew weary of waiting for the return of an appropriate judge of the dead. I have worked beside you for millennia, Anubis. If you were unable to resume your divine purpose, who better than I to continue where you left off?
Except you take away choice, Khonshu argued, finally interjecting. You do not allow them to choose their path.
Sekhmet nodded. This is not the principle of Ma’at. Each soul must choose. She glared down at Ammit, her fiery gaze so intense that Zara was sure it could’ve melted steel. That freedom of choice – that is their right.
Ammit looked to Anubis, perhaps hoping he would side with her – but the jackal-headed deity merely shook his head. I am sorry that I could not be there to fulfil my duties with you, Ammit. He approached her, gesturing for Sekhmet to let go of the goddess. Sekhmet hesitated, her expression taut with warning, before releasing her. Ammit stood, and Anubis bowed his head. I was imprisoned so long ago, that I am no longer certain of the state of the world which we are in. But Ma’at does not change, he reasoned, watching Ammit with a steely gaze. And we must abide by it, and not make our own rules to fit what we want it to be.
I did not want to give the evildoers of the world the satisfaction, Ammit argued, her voice rising. Zara saw Sekhmet tense, ready to pounce again. I could stop them before they even have the chance to do harm. She shook her head, staring straight at Anubis. Is that not the best course of action, Anubis? Why wait for the whole garden to die before you pull out the weeds?
Because humans are not weeds, Anubis responded, his voice surprisingly gentle. The eyes of the jackal landed on the two of them, as deep and endless as an abyss. Weeds cannot change their nature. Humans can always change their course.
His eyes fixed then on Zara, the gaze of the god of the scales boring into her. Avatar of Sekhmet. In releasing me, you have honoured me. Zara froze, and Anubis nodded his great, dark head. It is an honour I will not forget.
The room fell deadly silent, and Anubis turned back towards the remaining gods. Zara glanced at Steven, staring in awe at the assemblage of deities before him. Despite the tension in the room, she felt a warmth flood her chest. A silent agreement seemed to pass between the gods, Sekhmet and Khonshu finally stepping back, Anubis advancing forward to place his hand on Ammit’s armoured shoulder. Come, Devourer, he said gently. And let us return to the plane on which we both belong. The eyes of everyone in the room, human and deity alike stayed trained on him – and Zara could swear she saw a hint of deviousness in Anubis’ eyes. I’m sure Osiris will be very happy to see me, after all this time.
Black and purple mist shimmered around the two gods, engulfing them in wisps of smoke. The room seemed to shudder, as if the ground itself would split open and swallow them whole. Then the mist suddenly cleared, leaving no trace of either Ammit or Anubis’s presence, no sign that they’d ever been there at all. Zara felt Steven shift closer to her, glancing over his shoulder – she did the same, taking in the bodies of the dead left in Ammit’s wake. Among them were so many that she knew, some she would’ve even called her friends.
Yatzil. Nagisa. Selim.
The all-too-familiar wave of grief threatened to overtake her, to swallow her whole once again as it had so many times. She felt herself shudder, tears threatening to spill over as she tried with all her might to force them back.
Yatzil. Nagisa. Selim.
More names to add to her list of those lost, more names to haunt her memory as the ghosts of those she couldn’t save. More to add pressure to the wall she’d built in her mind that was constantly threatening to collapse. She couldn’t take her eyes off Nagisa and Yatzil, the knowledge that Selim’s body lay lifeless in one of the halls of this very pyramid pressing down on her as heavily as the weight of the world. When will it end? The thoughts raced through her mind, circulating in their endless, incessant loop. Why do I lose everyone –
A warm hand landed on her arm and Zara started, glancing beside her to see Steven’s lovely dark eyes resting on her. She opened her mouth to speak but no words came out, as though they were honey, stuck to the inside of her throat. He didn’t flinch as her hand met his on her arm, holding it so tightly she was afraid she might break it. He didn’t flinch as she shuddered, her lip trembling with all the words she could not say. Steven did not drop his gaze, and before she knew it – he pulled her in, his strong arms wrapping around her in an embrace. Zara froze in surprise for a moment before melting into him, the two of them holding each other so tightly they could have melded into one. She buried her head in the crook of his shoulder, his fingers running soothingly through her dark strands. “It’s all right,” he murmured into her hair. “It’s over, now.”
They pulled apart slightly, Steven’s hand lingering on her face, his thumb tracing her cheek. His expression shifted slightly, and Marc’s voice fell from his lips. “You wanna get out of here?”
Not so fast, Khonshu interrupted, stalking towards them. We still have a loose end.
Marc whirled on him. “What?”
Khonshu nodded towards the top of the chamber, where Harrow was starting to regain consciousness. He’s still alive.
“And?” Marc queried, the word practically dripping with annoyance. “Ammit is gone, and so is his power, right?”
“She’s not even on this plane anymore,” Zara chimed in. “He can’t act as her avatar if she’s not here.”
Every moment that Ammit’s followers inhabit this earth is a risk to all of humankind. He is still dangerous, Khonshu argued, and vaguely Zara realised that Sekhmet had disappeared from the chamber. Perfect timing, as always. And there is always the chance that she will come back. Marc, you must kill him. The god of the moon stood taller, towering over them. That is not a request.
Marc considered for a moment. Zara watched his expression falter, his thoughts clearly running circles in his head. She stepped towards him, placing a hand on his arm. “What does Steven think?”
Marc gave a wry laugh. “He strongly disagrees with Khonshu.”
No surprise there. Marc clenched his fists, and she turned him to face her. “Hey,” Zara murmured, angling her head to look him in the eyes. “This is your choice, Marc.” She glanced sideways at Khonshu. “Not his.”
Marc held her gaze for what felt like an eternity, a mixture of confliction and pain flickering through his dark eyes. Then finally he nodded, turning to Khonshu. “I’m sick of killing. If you want him dead – ” He set his jaw, shaking his head at the god of the moon. “Do it yourself.”
Khonshu sighed dramatically. I was afraid you might say that.
Marc’s eyes flicked to Khonshu for a moment in confusion, then he looked away, bowing his head. He seemed to tense, his entire demeanour changing in a matter of seconds.
“Marc?” Zara started forward. “Is something – ”
Suddenly Marc looked up at her, something in his eyes making her recoil, and she took a step back. “Marc?” She ventured cautiously. “Steven? Are you all right?”
Marc merely looked at her, the corner of his lip pulling upward into a smirk. His voice had changed slightly, only adding to her bewilderment. “Never felt so good.”
Then he stalked up the stairs, picked up a gun from one of Harrow’s disciples, and shot him in the head.