Control | Moon Knight

11.0

Desolate.

Dreadful.

Dismal.

The torches produce no light. The grand temple disappears from the naked eye. It all disappears in a bleak, darkness. A gust of wind blows by, tickling the ears as it picks up the sand on the ground.

The air is dry as the wind blows by.

Her feet are stuck on the ground, unable to move as her heart thumps in her chest. Her mind begs for her legs to move, her eyes beg to see. Her body is out of her own control as she's trapped within the harsh grasp of a God. Her chest heavily heaves, up and down, up and down.

And Marc is nowhere to be found.

Or Steven

She's all alone in this place... trapped, with no way out.

It all happened so quickly... too quickly. She doesn't even remember how she got here... as if her mind is playing tricks on her.

Lost in this sea of darkness, Cleo reaches out blindly, her fingers grazing the rough stone walls of the temple. But even the touch of the stone offers no solace, for it feels cold, as if drained of life, as if the temple itself mourns the presence of Anubis.

Every sound becomes amplified, magnified by the absence of light. The distant scurrying of rodents sounds like a cacophony of malicious whispers, the gusts of wind resemble the baying of lost souls, and the shifting sand beneath her feet feels like the restless stirrings of forgotten phantoms.

Her mind is a turbulent maelstrom of fear and uncertainty. She can no longer trust her own perceptions, for the darkness distorts and manipulates, playing tricks on her senses. Shadows dance and flicker along the walls, taking on grotesque forms that seem to taunt and torment her. She catches glimpses of figures lurking in the periphery of her vision, their eyes gleaming with an insatiable hunger.

A bone-chilling chill permeates the air, as if the breath of the underworld itself is unleashed within the temple. Cleo's skin prickles with goosebumps, her every nerve on edge. She can almost taste the stale, oppressive atmosphere, the taste of forgotten rituals and ancient sacrilege.

" Did you truly believe you could outwit the gods?"

Cleo turns around as if to find the source of the voice. It appears in all places and in none. It sounds as if it's coming from all around her, all at once.

The torch slips from her hands as they tremble. The once mighty Cleopatra Hassan now crumbling beneath the heavy foot of the jackal-headed god.

" Look at you, trembling in fear."

The God chuckles, cackling at her feeble state. Cleo's senses betray her. She has no weapons, no means of defending herself... but what weapons would be able to strike the God of Death?

" I can taste it. It is sweet, like the nectar of defeat. How delightful it is to witness your downfall."

Anubis' taunting laughter reverberates through the chamber, amplifying the sense of dread that engulfs Cleo. His voice seems to surround her, coming from every direction, echoing off the walls with a chilling resonance.

As Cleo tries to steady her trembling hands, she feels a searing pain in her temples. A sharp, piercing headache courses through her skull, as if Anubis is digging his claws into her mind, unraveling her sanity thread by thread. She cries out in agony, her eyes snapping shut as her hands fly to her head in an attempt to reduce the level of pain.

The darkness continues to play tricks on her senses, distorting her perception of reality. Illusions dance before her eyes, flickering shadows that whisper in sinister tones. She sees fleeting glimpses of her own reflection, twisted and contorted into a grotesque mockery of herself.