The Chain
“I don’t know what Khonshu’s told you,” Marc started. “But I can guarantee it was bullshit.”
Jake had tensed up, watching Marc like a hawk – completely lacking the ease he’d had when it had been just him and Steven. “You sure about that?”
“I am.” Marc stepped forward, hands up, but Steven did not miss the rigidity in his frame. “He’s playing you, Jake. Just like he did to me.”
Jake coiled up as Marc approached, like a viper, waiting to strike. He watched Marc coolly, the two of them locking eyes as though Steven were a mere fly on the wall. Jake’s lip curled up. “One of us has to do it. You know that.”
“Do what?” Steven cut in, perplexed. He turned to Marc. “What’s he on about?”
Marc watched him for a moment, and Steven did not miss the pain in his eyes when he looked at him. The muscle in Marc’s jaw flickered and he exhaled slowly, running a hand through his curls. “Remember how I told you I had a deal with Khonshu? Back in the storage locker in London?”
Steven reeled a little. The night he’d found out about Marc, and Khonshu, and…well, all of it. It felt like a lifetime ago, now. “Yeah.”
“Well, the thing is…” Marc bit his lip. “That deal is for life.”
Of course. Steven mentally slapped himself for not realising sooner – they were literally Khonshu’s fist of vengeance, because the god couldn’t do much on this plane himself. “So he’s got you trapped.” Steven replied, glancing between the two of them. “He has all of us trapped.”
“It’s not really a trap if I agreed to it,” Marc muttered, and Steven saw Jake’s eyes fix on him again. “And as much as I wanna kick his bony ass, he is the reason we’re not dead.”
“And you?” Steven turned to Jake, who was still watching Marc intently. “You’re just okay with all of this?”
Jake smirked. “I’m okay with a lot of things, hermanito,” he drawled, and Steven saw Marc flinch at the name out of the corner of his eye. “You’re gonna have to get used to that.”
They were getting nowhere. Steven glanced desperately at Marc, and he could practically hear the cogs turning over in his head. Finally, Marc raised his chin, looking directly at Jake. “I saw it, you know. A memory, of you and Khonshu.”
Jake had gone completely still, watching Marc with that unblinking, bottomless gaze. He didn’t answer.
Marc stepped forward. “I saw you arguing with him. He threatened to force me back into doing his dirty work. You didn’t let him.”
Jake looked away.
The silence that followed was almost unbearable – a tangible thing, a cord waiting to snap. Jake’s hands went to his pockets, and he rocked forward on his feet. “Is that a thank you, hermano?”
Marc stepped back, the nickname hanging in the air, looking as though Jake had slapped him. He swallowed, hard. “Do you…do you remember him?”
“I remember him because you do,” Jake responded. He turned a little on his heels, jutting his chin toward Steven. “And I remember through him. But I wasn’t there. You were alone in that one, hermano.”
Marc looked like someone had punched him in the gut, his frame crumpling. The memory of the boys screaming in the cave rattled through Steven’s mind, and he realised with a start that Marc was watching him, his agony-ridden gaze boring into him like a drill. For all the anger and resentment Steven had felt upon the realisation of Marc’s lies, he felt almost none of it now – all he could see was the man who’d sought to protect him, the man who’d loved him so much that he couldn’t bear for Steven to feel the pain he’d carried with him his whole life.
Steven met his gaze, his voice soft. “I know you made me up, Marc.”
Marc opened his mouth to reply, but no sound came out. Steven continued, slowly walking forward. “I know that we came from you – both of us. After our brother died.”
Marc pressed his lips into a thin line, in a futile attempt to stop them from trembling. Steven was very aware of Jake watching him, motionless, and completely silent. “I know how he died. I saw it.”
Marc shook his head, his eyes pleading. “Steven, I – ”
“And I saw what she did to you.” Marc stopped dead, whatever he was going to say jamming itself in his throat. Steven continued, his voice soft. “I saw how she treated you, how she beat you. How she blamed you. I saw how you made me to cope, to have someone to protect.” Steven’s eyes flicked to Jake. “The brother you could keep safe.”
Marc went completely still as Steven approached him, putting a hand on his shoulder. His eyes were misty, shining tears spilling from their corners as Marc pointedly looked away. It was shame, Steven realised – but Marc had nothing to be ashamed of. He only wished his alter could believe it. Marc’s voice trembled. “I shouldn’t have – it was my fault.” He looked at Steven then, tears spilling over, staining his cheeks. “It was all my fault.”
“You were just a child, Marc. It wasn’t your fault.” Steven told him, his voice soft. “She was your mother. She should never have hurt you.”
Steven heard Jake’s breath catch and he glanced to the side. Jake’s fists were clenched, his shoulders pulled taut – he looked tense, rigid – almost…angry. His eyes had glassed over, as if he was seeing something in front of his face, something invisible to everyone else. Steven squeezed Marc’s shoulder and both of them looked to Jake, perplexed.
“Oy, Jake,” Steven called, and Jake’s eyes snapped to his. “Is something wrong?”
“Not a thing, hermanito.” He shook his head slightly. “Not a damn thing.”
Steven furrowed his brows. “No, no – there’s something. We’re in this together, yeah?” He nodded to him, reassuring. “You can tell us.”
Jake was silent for a long time, the chamber of the Great Pyramid stretching out around them. Zara’s memory had long since disappeared, as had the wreckage of bodies that had been left in Ammit’s wake. Jake set his jaw, his gaze fixing on Marc. “When did it start?”
Marc blinked, seeming to take a moment to register Jake’s words. “I was just a kid…nine, I guess. Maybe ten, I – I’m not – ” He faltered, clearly lost in memory, and Steven squeezed his shoulder again.
“It’s okay, Marc. We’re here for you.” Steven glanced at Jake, watching them in silence. He raised his brows expectantly. “Aren’t we?”
Jake didn’t answer, his gaze never leaving Marc for even a moment. Marc shook his head as if shaking off thoughts. “It was really bad at first, almost daily. It never really got better until I was about fourteen. It’s hard to remember…I don’t really remember much of that time. Then, I dunno – ” He exhaled slowly, staring at the ground. “She didn’t stop, she knew I wouldn’t fight back. But it wasn’t as brutal as it used to be. Or maybe I just pretended it wasn’t, since sometimes I’d still wake up with all these bruises – ”
Marc trailed off suddenly, his eyes going wide. Steven frowned. “What’s wrong?”
Marc slowly dragged his eyes off the ground, looking to Jake, as if he was seeing him for the first time. “She was right.”
Steven balked. “What?”
“Zara,” Marc responded, and Steven’s heart almost jumped out of his chest. “She was right. About him.” Marc turned to Steven, then back to Jake, his eyes wide. Jake didn’t move. “What happened, those times I blacked out? When I was a teenager?” He stepped forward and Steven followed him, Marc now mere inches away from Jake. “What did she do to you?”
The muscle in Jake’s jaw flicked over and he clenched his teeth, unmoving as a statue. But Steven did not miss the way his eyes softened, ever so slightly – something anyone else would’ve missed, if they weren’t looking for it – the tiniest crack in the facade. Jake released a short breath. “Let’s not ask questions we don’t wanna know the answer to, hermano.”
Steven heard the breath leave Marc’s lungs, felt the air escape his own. It seemed that no matter how isolated he’d felt in his life, he’d never truly been alone – Marc, with his cynical brand of protectiveness had watched over him from day dot. And Jake…strange as he was, Steven couldn’t bring himself to feel unnerved by him now, by his mannerisms and his bottomless gaze and the way his teeth seemed blinding when he flashed his Cheshire cat grin. If Steven was Marc’s compassion, Jake was his rage – Jake was the righteous anger, the fighting spirit, the absolute refusal to ever be helpless again. The three of them stood silent, and Steven had the sudden urge to pull them towards him, to never let them go. And when he looked at Marc – Marc who’d protected him his whole life, who’d have done anything to keep his peace – Steven knew he was realising the same things. They needed each other, all of them. It was their moving parts that bound them, that made them who they were.
Marc moved forward suddenly, placing a hand on both his and Jake’s shoulders. Jake stiffened, but did not move, and Marc’s voice came out low. “Khonshu doesn’t control us anymore, okay?” His eyes landed on Jake, who gave a slight nod. “We take this into our own hands. Whoever’s after us – after me,” he corrected himself. “We can handle. But Khonshu doesn’t tell us who to kill. Not anymore.”
“It’s not that simple,” Jake replied, his voice sounding jarring after so much silence. “You know it isn’t.”
“Maybe not,” Steven agreed, nodding to him. “But we’ll figure it out. We will.”
Suddenly the scene around them fell away, leaving them bathed in the harsh white light of a psych ward room. Steven glanced around in confusion, Marc running a hand through his hair. “What the – ”
“Bloody hell!”
Both Steven and Jake suddenly sprang backward, nearly jumping out of their skins as Anubis materialised behind them. Jake clutched at his arm, almost throwing Steven behind him, and Marc barked a laugh. Jake narrowed his eyes. “Shut up, pendejo.”
Osiris grows too suspicious of the presence of souls who do not progress through the Duat. Anubis glanced at the three of them, his obsidian eyes shining. Your time has run out.
Steven tried to slow the hammering in his chest, righting himself. Jake was still absently gripping his arm, glaring at the god of the scales like he was sizing him up. “Thank you for helping us, Anubis.”
Anubis considered him, and he could swear he saw a hint of deviousness in his eyes. What Osiris doesn’t know won’t harm him. But then his voice dropped, serious. But I cannot stall him any longer. It is time – the Avatar of Sekhmet waits for you.
“Zara,” Marc murmured, and Steven glanced at him, meeting his eyes. Marc looked up at the jackal. “How long have we been out?”
Jake frowned. “Hours? Days?”
Anubis grinned, a sliver of sharp teeth. Minutes.
Steven exhaled, his eyes wide. “That’s mental.”
Anubis raised his hands, the gold adorning his shoulders shining, his eyes glowing a bright green. The room around them began to glow white, almost blinding them in its intensity. Vaguely Steven felt Jake’s hand still on his arm, Marc’s coming to grip his other shoulder – the three of them connected, the chain that would never break. Everything began to fade out, as if it were all merely a dream.
Anubis’ rumbling voice followed them into the light. I will see you all again, when your time comes.
And then they woke up.
* * *
Even by the goddess of war’s standards, this was a reckless move.
She’d always hated it here, so far from the sun. So far from where she was strongest. Over and over, Sekhmet practiced the lines she’d prepared in her head, the excuses for being here she’d have to muster if Osiris found her first. I have come to relinquish my place on the Council of the Ennead to Anubis, upon his return. I could not retain it knowing he is more deserving than I.
Humble, of course, but possibly too humble. She knew what was thought of her – what was said, even if she was never close enough to hear it. That the goddess of war was tunnel-visioned, short-sighted – that she was nothing more than what had been bestowed upon her at her birth. A blade forged in a blaze, to bring her wrath down upon the enemies of Ra as his Eye. She knew the stories, the endless names that followed her in her wake – Sekhmet the rageful, Sekhmet the violent, Sekhmet who drowned the sun god’s enemies in a river of crimson. Sekhmet, whose rage could only be quelled by the spilling of blood.
Born of fire, created of flame, yet only to be wielded to serve another’s purpose, a weapon with no true direction of her own. That was all she was to them. Overflowing with power, harnessed into the flaming arrow that was her wrath – even if she was never the one drawing back the string.
It was why she’d jumped at the chance to replace Anubis on the Council – and presumably why Osiris had allowed her to stand in for the Jackal while he’d been…incapacitated. She knew now that she should’ve been more suspicious, more inquisitive as to why Anubis had been removed in the first place. She knew now what Osiris had clearly already predicted when he’d appointed her – that she wouldn’t push further, wouldn’t question it, would assume that whatever Anubis had done to wind up in his prison of stone, he’d deserved it. That justice had been served, just as it had been served to Set before him. And what would the Protector of Ma’at desire more than the serving of justice?
But as the millennia rolled on, Sekhmet had started to notice patterns. That was the side of war not often seen by those who kept their hands physically (though, not often morally) clean – war was not always the pit of chaos that it was portrayed to be. It was the stereotype that seemed to follow so many deities like her – Huitzilopochtli, Kali, Ares, even Set himself – but there had always been another side to it. An art to war, a process. A pattern.
And so they’d begun to show themselves, the patterns forming in front of her so that she could see them in her mind’s eye each time she sat on that council, a strategy being spread out ahead of the Ennead like veins from a heart. One by one, gods who spoke out against the wishes of the Council began to disappear from the world, imprisoned in stone for one reason or another. It had all started with Anubis – and though she was risking her own freedom to do it, Sekhmet knew she needed to find out why.
Eye of Ra.
His voice came from behind her then, the Jackal appearing on the boat as it sailed through the Duat, watching her with his onyx eyes in the dim purplish light. Anubis sounded amused. You are far from home, here in the Duat. Do you come bearing a message from Ra?
Sekhmet turned, meeting his midnight gaze. I do not.
The Council, then? Anubis cocked his head, his eyes glinting in the dim light. Has Osiris decided to remove me from my post once again?
I come for myself, Anubis. Sekhmet told him, stepping forward. I come for answers.
Anubis grinned, a flash of teeth. As if he’d been expecting it. Very well, Lioness. Ask, and I will answer.
Once she asked, she was betraying the Council. Once she asked, she couldn’t take her words back – she’d fought so hard to keep her involvement with trying to prevent Ammit’s release a secret – she’d very nearly sacrificed her own avatar to do it. To be imprisoned in stone was a fate worse than any punishment she’d dealt on the battlefield: aware but without free will, without any ability to do anything until another came to save her. The thought sent an icy shudder up her spine.
But she would not go without answers any longer. She was not one to cower from the truth.
Sekhmet looked him dead in the eyes. Why were you banished?
Anubis paused for a long moment, and Sekhmet bit back her impatience under his bottomless gaze. Are you sure you wish to know the answer to that question, Sekhmet?
He was giving her an out, an opportunity to take back the question that could land Sekhmet herself a stone prison that held so many that came before her. But she wouldn’t bite.
I was never told of why I was appointed to take your place on the Council. And, like a fool, I never asked. She raised her chin. But I ask you now, Anubis. What was Osiris’ reason?
For what felt like an eternity, Anubis didn’t answer. The silence stretched on around them as the boat moved through the Duat, the shifting sands rhythmically swaying the boat like the waves of the ocean. Just when the silence became unbearable, Anubis spoke.
Do you remember the days before his rule?
Sekhmet leaned back in confusion. She didn’t answer.
Anubis sighed. It was not all that long after Mafdet faded into the shadows, and you rose to prominence yourself. I was god not just of funerary rites, but of the entire Underworld. Until Osiris was murdered by his brother, and could not separate that part of himself which remained here. Anubis gestured around them, to the vast expanse of the Duat. Part of Osiris never left the realm of the dead – and so, he saw himself fit to rule it.
You gave up your position willingly, Sekhmet told him, perplexed. Out of respect for him, after Set’s betrayal.
Did I? Anubis suddenly stepped forward, his voice a low rumble of stones. I, one of the oldest gods of our pantheon, whose entire purpose on this realm is to protect the dead? Sekhmet stepped back, reeling, but he stepped forward again. I have always watched over them, always been their guide to eternal peace – I have never given up on humanity once in all my millennia of existence, Lioness. I could hardly bear it when Osiris came to take my throne and preside over their souls –
He cut off, averting his gaze, and Sekhmet felt something rise within her. Something potent, something molten. Something…ancient. Anubis was still looking away from her, his shoulders crumpling inward. She stepped forward then, propelled by this righteous rage. Why did you give it up? She asked him, that feeling rising like bile once again. She could not put a complete stop to it, so she pushed it down. If not out of respect, why give up your role that you held so dear?
A simple question, Lioness, but not so simple an answer. Anubis let out a dry laugh, the sound reverberating through the cool air of the Duat. As always, Thoth foresaw what I could not. That to defy the new slain hero was to bring down a wrath upon my head that would not end, a threat that would never recede. He convinced me to allow Osiris to usurp me as Lord of the Dead, to save face and say that I allowed it out of respect for him. And for nearly a thousand years, I did – Anubis shook his head then, and Sekhmet could swear she saw flames flicker in his dark eyes. But then he began to desert them, the humans. He began to punish gods who wished to be among them, to help them on their way, to spread the principle of Ma’at through their avatars.
It was true, then – what she’d suspected all these years, that the gods she saw imprisoned in those ushabti were not as guilty as they’d been made out to be. For the life of her, Sekhmet could never have imagined Heqet to be deserving of such punishment, or Khepri so sinister as to defy Ma’at itself. Their images flashed before her now, branding themselves in her mind, and she fought back a shudder. Anubis was watching her, swallowing her up with that knowing gaze.
I was on the Council when Khnum was banished, he admitted, and the very shame of those words seemed to weigh him down like the anchor of a boat. I saw Meretserger imprisoned, all for wanting to protect humanity. All for not wishing to abandon his divine purpose. I could not stand by as god after god was imprisoned in ushabti simply for speaking of their love for the people who had worshipped them for millennia. Soul after soul I fed to Ammit, the Devourer growing fuller by the day because humanity had no torches to light their path to Ma’at. He shook his canine head. Finally, I could bear it no longer. My imprisonment was the price I paid for speaking out of turn.
They both fell silent then, the words uttered out of the Jackal’s mouth weighing down the air between them.
Finally, Sekhmet raised her head, her golden eyes flicking upward to meet his. I was right not to trust them.
I suspect if you had, Ammit would have ravaged the world’s souls until there was nothing left at all. Anubis inclined his head, reverent. If you had trusted the Ennead to see what lay bare in front of them, your fate would have been the same as mine. But you see more than they think you do, Sekhmet. More than the Ennead, more than Osiris, more than I. You see the plays before they are made. It is your art form. He seemed to grin then, a flash of white. It is why I know they will never be able to pin you long enough to enact the same fate onto you as they have so many others.
Let us hope not, Sekhmet murmured, a grimace lining her features. I could not imagine a fate worse than to be ensnared such as you were, Anubis.
His laugh echoed around them, a tangible thing. Anubis stepped back then, watching her with that unblinking gaze. We gods are not so creative as we think we are. Trust me, Eye of Ra – there are always worse fates than what a god can muster.