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𝐦𝐨𝐨𝐧 𝐤𝐧𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭
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chapter five
The sound of low music floats through the air as Zahra begins to awaken. She registers the softness and familiarity of the bed she lays on first then she's shooting up in shock. Hand flying to grip her head as a headache pounds through her. "Ow. What the hell?" She mumbles, taking in her surrounding. She's in her childhood home, specifically her room, surrounded by her posters and objects from her teen years. A knock on the door startles her again and it swings open to reveal a giant hippopotamus. Zahra lets out a scream, shuffling beck against her head board. "What the hell are you!?" The hippo begins laughing, offering Zahra a friendly wave. "Welcome, gentle traveler to the realm of the Duat." "Duat? As in the Egyptian underworld." The hippo nods once in confirmation. "Seems you're a quick learner. The other two are slow, I'll tell you that." Zahra looks around once more, noticing the tiny details that make it obvious she's in a different variation of her old room.
"The other two?" Zahra questions. "I believe you know them." The hippo begins to flip through some pages in her hand before landing on their names. "Yes, Steven and Marc." "Marc? Marc's here? Can I see him?" Zahra jumps from the bed, marching up to the hippo. "Slow down there. You aren't dead yet. You still have a chance to head back, but those two are heading the Field of Reeds." "Why am I not?" Zahra argues, sizing the animal up. "Well, if I can just make sure you're body and mind are fit to return to then you can head on up there." She answers happily. "What? I can't do anything to save them?" The hippo shakes her head. "The best thing you can do is take the chance the gods are giving you." "How- how do I do that?" The hippo turns, leading her down the steps of her house slowly. "Well, I've got the scales and all that jazz and as long as you pass you're free to go." Zahra continues to observe each detail of the house. "Why does Duat look like my house?" "Okay, so... Because the Duat's true nature is impossible for the human mind to comprehend you may perceive this realm as something more easily recognisable to you." Zahra takes in the statement, following the hippo further into the house.
"How do you-" Zahra cuts herself off with a scream as the hippo dips her hand into Zahra's chest. "Relaxxx, you'll be fine." She mumbles, pulling a clear copy of Zahra's heart. "I'll just be weighing your heart on the Scales of Justice and the Feather of Truth." She states simply, throwing open the front door onto what can only be described as a massive ancient ship. "If the Scales balance by the time you end the journey, then your soul is permitted to pass back into the world of the living." She explains, laying Zahra's heart gently on the scales. The hippo places a feather on the opposite side, watching them tip. "What if it doesn't balance?" "You get thrown overboard. The dead will drag you down into the Duat, where you will remain forever, frozen in sand." Zahra looks at her nervously. "That's a joke right?" Zahra watches her heart carefully, watching as it tips back and forth. "Why is it moving like that?" "It's your heart. It seems it's unfulfilled." Zahra grips her hands together tightly. "How do I fix that?" "This boat contains all of a life's memories. My advice, get in there and stop hiding from the truth. Balance your Scales before we arrive at the gates."
Zahra stands frozen, staring at the hippo in bewilderment. "Well, go on." She urges, waving her off. Zahra looks behind her to the same door that took her out here. She hesitates, looking out at the sands that surround them. "Okay, yeah. I'll just-" She stumbles back a little, jerking her thumb behind her. Breathing slightly heavier than before. "Oh gods." She whispers, turning and stepping back into her house. The hallways seem to be longer and as she walks through she finds hundreds of rooms, each holding a significant memory. "I'll have to start somewhere." She mumbles, cracking open a door that holds a memory from years before. Zahra walks in, taking in the scene.
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"You have to use them for good. Don't you see what a gift these are? Think of the people you could help." A young girl, Zahra in her late teens, scoffs, rubbing her gloved hands together. "Think of the people I could hurt." The man shuffles forward, pressing a gentle hand to her cheek. "You have a good heart my darling, I trust you know what the right thing to do is." He offers her a smile. Zahra brushes back her hair with one hand, looking at her father with a warm look in her eyes. "Thank you." She whispers, pulling him into a gentle hug.
Zahra stands off to the side, watching the scene with a fond look in her eyes. The day her dad convinced her to help others with her powers. She steps back, leaving the room with a small smile on her face. She enters the next room over, backing out almost immediately. She takes a deep breathe, hands shaking as she enters once more.
This scene is more vivid than the last, the day she began working for hire with a man by the name of Raul Bushman. She had tried out the hero gig but it wasn't making money and she needed to get out of her friends house so she began working with the ex-marine. Through him she met Marc. They were both burnt out mercenaries just trying to do right by the world. When they met there was an instant connection, a spark.
Zahra sits in a small corner shop, waiting to meet her partner for the mission, adjusting her gloves on her hands. Someone clears their voice behind her and she spins to see a tall man staring down at her. "You must be Zahra." She looks him over once, a small smile on her face. "Pleasure." She reaches out her hand and he takes it in his own, eyes locking on hers. Her cheeks pulse with heat and she feels blood rush to her ears. "You must be Marc."
The scene changes without the need for Zahra to move and suddenly she's standing in the middle of the desert at night. The memory searing in her brain. "I need you to do this." The memory Zahra shakes in her head rapidly, betrayal in her eyes. "You're asking me to kill my partner!?" She shouts in anger. "You have promised there is nothing going on between you two so it shouldn't be an issue." "I won't do it." She concludes, heat flaring up her spine. "Do it for your father." Zahra freezes. "Excuse me?" Bushman smirks, a heavy look in his eyes. "You do this and he stays safe. You don't and I can promise you he won't live to see another day." Zahra sucks in a breathe, searching his eyes for mercy. She looks from Bushman to where Marc stands attempting to keep a man alive in the sands. "I can't." "You will." Bushman shoves a gun into her hand.
Zahra sobs loudly, drawing Marc's attention. She turns to him, lifting her gun in her shakey hand. She steadies it, aiming for his leg, hoping with naivety that Bushman will fall for it. She fires her shot, it lands in Marc's left leg and he yelps in pain. Her hands continue to shake until her heat melts the handle. She drops to her knees. "I can't." "Then I will." Bushman, marches forward firing multiple shots into Marc's body. Zahra screams, rushing forward but Bushman holds her back, gun pressed to her temple. "I'm not going to kill. You'll do it yourself." He shoves her to the ground, leaving her in the sand.
Zahra brings herself towards Marc, dragging himself towards the main area of the dig site. She finds him on the steps below the shadow of Khonshu. She kneels beside him. "I'm so sorry." She sobs, holding him tightly. His breathing is rapid as reaches a hand into her hair. "It's okay. We're okay." He mumbles. "Hm?" Zahra looks at him carefully, tears blurring her vision. "What?" "What the hell are you?" She runs a hand through his hair. "It's me, Marc?" She mumbles between shaky and ugly crying.
Marc scoffs lowly. "A warrior? Well, good luck with that." "What?" Zahra utters out, worry lacing her features. This was it. This is how she loses him. "Yes." He mumbles then suddenly his eyes glow white, throwing Zahra off guard. "Marc?" He stands, body slowly being wrapped by old white bandages. He stands tall, looking down at her. A distant look in his eyes.
The problem with that night was that Marc didn't know what she was asked to do and he doesn't remember being shot by her, his memory of that night dips in and out and he happened to miss that moment. The knowledge of it weighs of Zahra's conscious everyday. He also doesn't know of the aftermath that followed.
Zahra is sucked into a final memory. The day her father died. The burnt remains of a warehouse come into her view and she watches herself standing in the middle of it, staring at her hands in fear. She crumbles to the ground, screaming in despair. "I'm sorry, da." She mumbles, hands dipping into the ashes on the ground. She pulls them to her chest, tearing creating clear streaks on her blackened face. Her golden cheeks are dimmed by the light around her as she sobs into the open air. "I couldn't do it."
The present day Zahra exits the room as the memory fades. An old pain plaguing her heart. The day her father died by fire, a slap in the face from Bushman. Zahra looks to her own hands, taking in a deep breathe. When she looks up again she's back at the front of the boat, the sunset like view striking her eyes.
The hippo stands, watching as the scales balance out. "Well would you look at that." She looks to Zahra's tear stained face. "Sometimes the truth is the hardest thing to face." She reaches out a hand for Zahra, attitude switching rapidly. "I'm Taweret, goddess of women and children." She formally introduces. "And I'm pleased to welcome you back into the realm of the living." Zahra is sucked back into her real body as their hands touch.
The pain strikes her first as she jolts awake. "Marc." The words die on her lips as she looks over at the water where his body drifts down, her eyes tearing up once more. "I can't do this." She whispers in fear, the reality of her situation striking her hard. "I can't do this without him."
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(a/n)
This chapter is absolutely shite but i'm distraught over this episode and I decided to write angst. I'm sorry it's soooo short but please enjoy the pain I put zahra through (:
[word count: 1844]