Battle for Olympus

Chapter 1: Usurper

"You."

The single word rang out across the silence of the throne room. It surprised Ra, the accusation and venom lacing it striking the ear as though it were a physical blow. But what truly surprised the lord of the Egyptian Pantheon was that the word was not his own, though it echoed the shock and anger radiating from his heart.

The challenge had come from the golden, winged god Ra had just encountered, the one whose anger and pain had immediately convinced Ra he was innocent of Osiris' murder. That crime fell upon the hands of another, one who had just manifested from the shadows into the waning light of the setting sun.

"Yes," the dark god answered, his voice never rising beyond a barely decipherable whisper. "I. It is fair enough that the sight of blood might weaken your knees, young nephew. Give it time, and maybe you might recover a measure of the strength that has been so denied to you in your life."

At last, Ra saw them clearly. His gaze fell to the winged god, who knelt beside the slain Osiris, grief warring with rage. "Horus," said Ra.

"All your posturing," Horus snarled, looking back over his shoulder. "All of your threats, we endured them as the rantings of one embittered. But now, you have crossed a threshold you cannot return from. Murderer. You clutch for the crown, still dripping with the blood of the fair Osiris, to place upon your own head. You have destroyed order, Set, and cast us all into chaos."

"Order," Set repeated from behind Horus. "How can you love it so, even as it suffocates you?" He took a step closer, and Ra saw the corded muscles bunch in Horus' arms at his approach.

"Your father's blood is yet warm upon my hands, but it could never match the fire of conviction in my heart. Osiris was weak, and he was a fool. He was our king yet fear was his, her relished our stagnation as he headed the whims of fate for himself. There was never any future for us beyond what he, our master, allowed."

Set stopped just behind Horus, tilting his head to whisper in his nephew's ear. "Ours was an anemic, narrow inheritance, our destinies never our own. We were slaves, Horus. Surely even you could see that?"

Horus bolted upright, rounding upon Set. "Do not dare seek to draw me into your delusions. You speak only for yourself, of power rightly denied to one who seeks only wickedness and evil. You speak of one who murders, the act of a coward."

A dry chuckle slipped from Set's lips. "Only a fool could see my liberation of our land from his oppression as cowardice. Only the blind could fail to see my courage."

"Courage?" Horus roared. "From the shadows you came, a thief who stole the life from a god, a king, a father. With a single act you seek to throw all we know into madness, to sow the discord that will pave the way for your own ascension to rule over a people who have so rightly rejected and forgotten you. This cannot stand. This will not stand."

The air in the throne room crackled with supernatural tension of the three divine beings within it. Set and Horus locked their gaze, their faces a mere hand's span apart, their weapons creaking in their tightening grasps.

"Such pretty words," said Set. "And strong ones, for one who has lived off the scraps Osiris saw fit to drop to him. It is good to look to fend for yourself now. I would hate so to see you starve."

"You will never sit upon the throne of our kingdom," snarled Horus. "Not while my heart yet beats."

"Ah, and so you now seek your own vengeance," said Set, "so that you might take Osiris' place. The broken wheel keeps turning, until its weakness brings collapse."

"This is not vengeance, for this is a crime that can never be forgiven, or what was taken ever restored. No, this is justice, and I will be its agent here. I shall be the one to speak for he who had his voice taken from him. Through me, my father's silence will end."