Sarcophagus
Layla sat there, hands in front of her mouth and a tear struck face, as she looked at Harrow and back to her husband. Her heartbeat is going faster, her breathing started to quicken and she had a growing suspicion that Marc, that Steven, they had just died. That she lost them.
She wanted to go to him, cradle him in her arms and cry. Hold him, beg him to come back to her. The white clothing he wore turned slowly into a darkish red as he shed his blood.
The water around him slowly wet his clothes, his hair. Made it shine in the few lights that came into this room. Everything was silent besides the movements of the water against her husband's body and the breathing of herself and the people who were standing opposite the sarcophagus.
I need to get to Marc, get him out of here.
Her eyes fell on the backpack he threw away and the ushabti he carelessly laid onto the sarcophagus so he could grab the axe. So he could protect them.
If I hadn't confronted him now about my father... We could have gotten out of here. We- but I needed to know-
She wanted to get to her husband, to lay down beside him and stay there. But this was more important than them.
She needed to prevent Harrow from getting the ushabti. That is the last thing holding Ammit imprisoned. Unable to harm others. Unable to judge them.
Layla searched for a way out, to get the ushabti and run. Run to where? Even if she gets out of this place, she would get followed. She would have a small chance of successfully getaway. She felt what Harrow could summon. What Steven told her to be a jackal. She may have not been able to see it but she felt it and knew it was there.
If she thought about it, she still could feel its claws gripping her leg and pulling her to itself, lifting her into the air and throwing her away like she weighed nothing.
Layla closed her eyes, inhaled and exhaled deeply and glanced one more time at Marc. She still could feel the tears flowing down her cheeks, her hands trembling.
⊰᯽⊱┈──╌ •| ⊱✿⊰ |• ╌──┈⊰᯽⊱
Marc hugged his arms around his legs, getting as small as he can get.
His lungs were burning as they tried to get enough air into them.
His eyes were burning as they tried to blink away the tears.
His nose was burning as it started to run and get stuffed.
Marc's cheeks were turning red from his clothing rubbing against them, trying to get the tear tracks to vanish.
The reeds around him touched him now and then, which brought each time another shudder or flinch of his body. He slowly started to shake his head again. Trying to get the images of Steven falling from the boat away from him. His mind was already broken enough. It was fragile. Every wrong step could make it shudder into single pieces. And after that happened, he was sure of it that even Khonshu wouldn't put up with him anymore. That's probably why his mind chooses to see the boat, the Duat as an asylum.
That had to be it. He was crazy. The nurses probably drugged him and he was hallucinating. He was dreaming. This was all a stupid dream his broken mind came up with to torture him. Maybe Dr Harrow was right. He couldn't get helped if he didn't help himself. But how does one save himself if even their mind is against them? If even their mind wants them to suffer. To fail. Why would he get accepted into the Field of Reeds and Steven get rejected if not for their broken mind?
Steven loves— loved— everything in Egyptian mythology. He knew everything. Why would they reject someone who loves them so dearly? Why would they reject a soul like Steven's and let Marc in?
He was supposed to see this.
The tears began flowing down his cheeks again.
He was supposed to live a long and happy life.
His body trembled whit each sob that tore out of his lungs.
I ruined his chance of a normal life. I failed him. I am at fault for all this. Steven was right. I ruin everything I touch.
He watched through his tear-stained eyes how the reeds grumbled under him. How he even destroys something that Steven so dearly loved.
I'm sorry. I failed you, Steven. I failed you, and Randall. I'm sorry, Layla, that I couldn't save your father. I'm sorry, Khonshu. Maybe I was the wrong choice you made. I am not strong enough to be your fist of vengeance. To protect those who travel at night.
Marc remembered the souls that were crashing down from the sky into the sand where Steven died. He failed those too. They still had time. They still had a chance at life if not for his failure.
⊰᯽⊱┈──╌ •| ⊱✿⊰ |• ╌──┈⊰᯽⊱
Steven stood frozen in place. Something was off about that voice. He stared at the figure that was coming to him, that was uncomfortably also having his face. Marc's face. Marc was the real one.
I'm just... A Coping mechanism. One that can't even do what is needed of them. But... But I saved Marc. Maybe that was good for something? I mean. I am still here but maybe it would have been different if our... Host? If Marc had fallen.
He flinched and looked up, into the eyes of Marc— not Marc. Definitely not Marc— Into the eyes of someone as they laid their hands on his shoulders. "Whoa- hey!" Steven tried to get away, but the grip on his shoulders was too strong. The eyes of the face-stealer were of setting. They looked crazy, ruthless.
"Steven. This is important. Calm down." The other man explained. "Steven, you need to listen. No- don't panic now. Calm down." He said, letting his hands glide down and hold Steven's upper arms in an unyielding hold. Steven let out a desperate and confused laugh as he answered, "Yeah well. No. Who are you? Sorry that I'm not staying the f calm!"
Steven glanced with judging eyes at the person in front of him. "Who are you? What are you doing here?" Steven asked the person.
Sighing, the person answered, "I am Jake. Jake Lockley, at your service. We are the same." Jake looked Steven in the eyes and smirked. "Maybe not the same-same but we both got created by Marc's mind. So. Now tell me. Where. Is. Marc." Jake loosened his grip on Steven's arms, only to let completely go of them after Steven calmed down.
No time for a panic attack right now.
"I don't know..." Steven said, looking at the ground. "We were on that boat — the Duat — whit Taweret, who told us to find whatever was the reason that our hearts weren't balanced. Our mind... I am sure that was more Marc's part of the mind. Anyways, it created an asylum. Crazy, innit?" Steven chuckled and rubbed his hand on his neck. "So we were running around there, finding the -" he got interrupted. "We don't have time for a story, Steven. When did you last see Marc?" Jake glared at Steven, waiting for a short answer.
"As I fell down the boat... The scale balanced afterwards. I shouldn't be here, to be honest. I mean- getting rejected from the Field of Reeds is kinda a bit painful but I fell. I should be down there with the other rejected souls. I got turned to sand," Steven answered, shuffling his feet over the ground.
"Are you telling me, that the last thing Marc saw of you... Were you, turning into sand?" Jake said coldly. Every hint of amusement was gone. "How did you fall?"
"I... There was this undead? It tried to take Marc down with them so I just.. Kind of" - "You say, you saved Marc. And in doing so you fell off that boat. Thought yourself dead. And Marc is now likely thinking that it was his fault that you fell because... Fuck!" Jake felt the urge to punch something. But the only living thing next to him was Steven. And hurting Steven meant hurting Marc. "If you say it like that... We need to find him."
Jake looked up from his balled fists to see Steven's face. To see into his sad-looking eyes. His face showed worry and fear for their other part
They were sheeting with sadness, confusion, anger, a protective nature born the moment their fragile mind created them. But they knew. They were there for Marc. They were healing each other as long as they are together. They just needed to find the missing part of them. They needed to find Marc. No matter what.
"We will find him. Even if we need to die." Jake said certainly. Glaring sternly at Steven. "Uh... Sorry to tell you that like this but... You know that we're already dead, right? We died. Marc died. We... Taweret was there... I fell. You. Where ever you were— where were you?"
"I..."
He should have been there for Marc, but the coffin in which he was just wouldn't open. They couldn't talk with each other. The walls were dissolving into themselves but there still was no way for Jake to get to Marc. To talk to him. He tried to protect him every time it was too much for him. Every time Marc couldn't do what was needed, Jake did it without merely a thought of how wrong it was, that he should feel remorse for what he did. But he did it for Marc, for Steven, for their system. so it was fine.
Everything would be fine as long as they were safe. He didn't feel anything besides the rush, the fulfilling feeling of the kill, the blows he had to take or he had provided tho others. He felt alive in these moments. But these moments would only feel as fulfilling when he knew that he was protecting their System with it. Marc with it. The urge to kill, to hurt only ever rose when the urge to protect started winding its way up into his soul.
A hand landed on Jake's shoulder and with that, he came back into the moment. "You good?" Steven asked. Looking worried. Jake just shook his head, smirking.
"I was in some coffin or some shit like that. Couldn't get out, no matter what I tried," he explained. "Then I woke up in front of this Harrow guy, sitting behind some table doing as if he would be a doctor. Tried to kill him but probably got drugged or some shit. The next thing I know is standing in this field," Jake continued.
Steven thought for a bit before raising an eyebrow. "Seems like we both started this afterlife in a sarcophagus," he said, amusement in his voice. "Come on then, let's find Marc." Together they began their mission of finding their lost part.
They felt one of their souls scream in sorrow, pain, doubt and loss. Not able to do anything about it, but listen, feel it as it drowns on it and search for their missing part, hoping to get there in time to save it. This time. They will save Marc from himself. They will succeed and get out of here. Together, as one. They will get Khonshu back and with his help, they will defeat Ammit. Defeat Harrow. They will win against all odds if that means for Marc to be safe. They protect each other and as long as they were together they will succeed. They will win. They will stand up with more strength each time they fall.
Steven and Jake may be a creation of Marc's mind. But they are their own person. They are not the same. They are different and still a part of each other's souls. Steven may be all Marc wished he could be. Jake may be all Marc is afraid that he is. But they are one. They are connected. Their mind had built them and let everyone take a role in this system. Together they are complete.
Together they will fight the invincible and be the last one standing.
