What was once a memory, caste from stone and sweat and who acted as a phantom of endless nightmares now stated Wraith down. A millennium of guilt began to cripple his chest from the inside out.
A close inspection of Asemonekh had Wraith rethink his death; he wore the same black kilt, bandages and devilish smirk that would lure any woman from their temples. Wraith knew in his gut; the papyrus was the giveaway, but he couldn't allow himself to believe it. Only Wraith could've picked up on Asemonekh's dirty habit of chewing papyrus; he'd done it since they met and the stem never wilted or broke. Perhaps it was laced with hekka.
Beside him, Anuka's grip went limp and the Blade of Duamutef fell. Unlike his Head Son, Anuka hadn't witnessed Asemonekh's death and had no memory of closure. Anuka staggered forward, "Akh-wan?"
Asemonekh turned to his younger brother and looked down on him in pity. His voice, once chipper with the prospect of play, darkened as he removed the papyrus from his lips, "To think that Anapa gave you a second chance over me is disgusting."
Anuka blinked in disbelief but quickly composed himself. He retrieved his sword and took an offensive stance, "If you do not stand with the Great Father, then you are against us. He still considers you a Son, you will always be his second hand."
Asemonekh scoffed, "I was more than a hand to Anapa, I was the backbone of his Children when we were abandoned. Once I died, the entirety of his dream collapsed in a night. The Sons of Anubis became like the rest; weak and arrogant, besotted with those who refuse to walk among men. If Anapa truly is our Great Father, where is he now—why does he not strike me? Am I not a threat against Egypt?" he cast his hands wide. "Just like the Children he created; Anapa is afraid. I am Abraxas, I am the bridge between Child and God."
He couldn't believe it, Asemonekh's words must've been a product of a Forbidden Art. Though, Anubis' words echoed; this was Seth's doing, it was a parasitic relationship—Asemonekh must've complied for Seth's essence to influence him.
Wraith raised his Khepesh, "You are no Son of mine."
He cocked his head, "Wahret of Thebesh, it's a bit late to proclaim your authority as Head Son, hm? Considering you left your Sons in limbo for years with little to no contact in between."
Ziara cut in.
She sifted sand between her fingers, "You've had a lot of time to plan your vengeance. Chigaru was your first attempt at a mind-slave, right? You needed someone who had access to the Sons of Anubis so you could manipulate Wraith, he was your end game. But it didn't go to plan, did it?"
Behind her, Elijah cupped his mouth and cried.
"Being the Head Son of Thoth, he was smarter than that and his mind rebelled. However, he held out longer than Patrick ever could," Ziara's bottom lip trembled. "You tried your best to control him from your prison and it drove Chigaru insane, though in his last moment of sanity he hung himself in a place which seemed obvious. You were too weak to breach Wraith's mind so instead, you found Patrick, but it made you vulnerable."
The hairs on Wraith's nape stood when Ziara ran at Asemonekh. She threw a fistful of sand in his face, distracting him long enough to tackle him over the mastaba. They scuffled for a moment amongst the blood and bones before Ziara wound her legs around his neck and clenched.
Instead of clawing at her legs or using an Art to break her neck, Asemonekh threw his head back and laughed, "Y–you would not protect Wahret if you saw him f–for who he is. You will never replace Rabiah, your best chance is to stand with me, I will actually value you."
Wraith pitched forward and howled like an animal.
"It's quite easy to strike a nerve," Asemonekh grinned. "Nothing has changed since the Eighteenth."
Ziara's muscles tensed and she went limp. Scrambling away from Asemonekh a fresh set of tears threatened to break their banks, "You're full of shit!"
"Believe what you will. . .I just want that Eye!" Asemonekh unhinged his jaw like a snake and struck out towards her.
Wraith sprung from his position and channelled all of his repressed rage at Asemonekh. Particles of sand swirled around the discarded knife and shot it towards Wraith's hand. He swung the Khepesh and knife with the intention to behead, but Asemonekh flinched at the last moment. The knife ground against the tip of Asemonekh's Pesesh-Kef while the curved edge of the Khepesh tore across his cheeks. He bit down against it, knowing that it split his lips in a terrifying bloody smile.
"I've had enough taken from me in both lifetimes," Wraith planted his boot against Asemonekh's chest and kicked him back, twisting the blades. "Ziara will not be one of them."
Wraith twirled his Khepesh and straightened his shoulders. He refused to repeat the same mistakes from his former life. With no spear or Forbidden Art like last time, Writh kicked up the tainted sand between them and struck with finesse. His priority was to protect Ziara and her Wadjet.
Anuka moved in front of Ziara and used a Mummification Art to surround them in linen while Lacy guarded Elijah and deflected more floating hieroglyphs with her hair pins.
Wraith swatted Asemonekh's palm away with his elbow and kneed him in the abdomen. He blocked Asemonekh's wand with the hilt of the Khepesh and dug the knife into his side. Whatever fighting techniques the Great Father gave Asemonekh were taken and gave Wraith an advantage.
"Outnumbered and weakened," Asemonekh blocked Wraith's Khepesh with his forearm, wincing as the blade went to the bone. Despite his injuries, the torn skin around his mouth slowly knit together as he spoke, "Bury what is left of your dead, I will be sure to collect my just-rewards soon."
"Asem—?!" as Wraith pulled the knife out to then cut at his throat, Asemonekh's body dissolved into a cloud of black smoke.
"That was it?" Nathanial rose from his crouch. "For some mythical sage, he was nothing special."
As if on cue, a wave of sand shot up behind Wraith and threatened to encompass the entirety of Naqada. Frantically, Wraith ordered Anuka to gather what remained of Harry Massit and run to the banks. Ziara ran towards the wave and jerked her chin at Wraith.
Both Head Children slammed their hands against the ground and commanded their will of earth to halt the flow of sand. The wave arced over them, encompassing the torches and stone ruins of Naqada before it came to a stop above the marsh. A few veins of sand spilled from the peak but the body itself remained sturdy.
"Go," Wraith said, not looking at her. "Get to the Shabti."
"W—"
"Go!" this time, he barked the order.
Ziara removed her hands and stood, stumbling over her feet towards the bank. He watched her gag into her shoulder at the site of her father's body resting between the claws of the Shabti and the lone Son of Horus dangling at the back. That one split second of distraction caused the sand to tumble. Shit. He wasn't too far from the bank, but the wave grew in speed and multitude. Wraith inhaled a deep breath and bound to the bank of the Nile, jumping as the sand lapped at his ankles. He vaulted towards the hovering Shabti and latched onto Nathanial's arm.
Before anyone could speak, they watched helplessly as Naqada City's ruins were devoured beneath Asemonekh's incantation.
• • •
Burial was out of the question for the corpses, they were tainted with Forbidden Arts and could never travel through the Hours. Despite that, Wraith couldn't leave without trying and was adamant on performing mummification.
Upon their arrival, Sons and Daughters were in the process of scrubbing the blood from the temple whilst others repaired the gaping ceiling. Elijah and Lacy immediately abandoned their skittish personas to order their fractured brethren. Wraith commended them on their attitude, but the assertiveness came too late.
The library served as the Necropolis. On the varnished table lay two bodies. Rennenet's head rolled to the side, her face distorted from the debris that crushed her. Her eyes were vague of any light and her extremities paled as the blood stopped circulating. Hatem, the lone survivor, rested his head against her broken wrist and cried freely.
Wraith allowed him to grieve out of pity.
Harry Massit's body was a deflated mangled mess of tissue and flesh. Many of the Children vomited when Anuka carried the corpse through the temple. Wraith covered his mouth with the hem of his shirt to refrain from gagging.
As per tradition, the bodies had to be separated. Elijah allocated the preparation room to be the Hall of Remembrance. Wraith found it somewhat ironic preparing mummification beneath Asemonekh's glare.
Wraith stared at the empty mastaba; they were missing one body; Patrick Carn. His lips pressed into a flat line; the Head Son's body had been swallowed up amidst the destruction of Naqada but he supposed a Shabti could suffice.
From memory, the clay and grit solidified into Carn's features. It looked moreso like a painted doll than a dead body, but Wraith thought it was good enough to give Ziara closure. He dunked a torn rag into a bowl of palm wine and began to scrub the Shabti. He then doused it in a mixture of fragrant oil and purified water.
Wraith rolled his sleeves past his elbows and raised his Khepesh to make an incision in the abdomen. Before he could do so, a hand stopped him. The woven hilt shook slightly when Ziara bit her lip.
"Think what you will of me. . .but I want you to know that I'm sorry," tears already wet her cheeks. "My Wadjet saw everything. . .your childhood. . .Rabiah's manipulation and what you did for your mother. . .I'm sorry."
Wraith said nothing.
"You. . .you don't have to pretend to bury Patrick for me, the man I knew died long before Asemonekh got to him," she whispered.
"It's for me," he finally commanded his voice. "I need to know that he is dead."
Ziara let go of his wrist and moved her hand to his. There was no resistance in his movements, she was able to pry the Khepesh from his fingers easily. The tattoos across his knuckles flared gold and the Shabti fragmented into pieces.
He pulled out of her grip and focussed on his next customer; Harry Massit. Wraith sat at the foot of Tuau's statue, the Head Son of Sobek. He rubbed his face and tried to compose himself beneath Ziara's watery stare.
His body already seemed prepared for embalming in Naqada, but now, the corpse tainted the air. The odour of palm wine and honey couldn't shield Wraith's nose from the acute smell of Ungifted hekka. He did his best to pick out the fragments of skull and cartilage, but in the end found it difficult to discern between the two. Wraith attempted to scrub the body in palm wine but all it did was smear the already dried blood over the limbs. Wraith didn't want to admit that the body was beyond salvage, but he couldn't.
Wraith clasped his hands over Harry's concaved chest and rested his forehead against his knuckles. He expelled a long breath and lowered his shoulders in defeat.
"Burn him. . .that's the only solution," Ziara spoke up from the end of the mastaba. She rubbed her eyes with the back of her hand, "Dad can't speak, eat or defend himself in the Duat. . .he's left to be eaten by the creatures. Mummification will be a waste of your time and resources, save it for Rennenet."
Wraith washed his hands in a bowl filled with Nile water and flicked them four times to dry. He turned to Ziara and dared to meet her eyes. He tucked a piece of hair behind her ear and then cupped her cheek. Why did you have to lie to me?
"I will save him, I have not yet lost a soul to Sokar," his thumb rubbed the tears from her chin.
"It's all a lie," she turned away from him. "You know I'm right. Fire is the only way to be rid of the cursed. . .just like in the stupid fucking prophecy."
He didn't know what compelled him, but Wraith guided her head back and kissed her. Unlike hers, this wasn't a diversion or a means to escape. He wanted to understand why she felt the need to break him, why couldn't she tell him that Asemonekh had reached out to her? Wraith pushed down on her shoulders to keep her in place before he grew bold and allowed his hands to travel. His hands brushed her breasts before rubbing the curve of her hips.
"I don't know," Wraith said after a while, their lips a breath away from each other.
He could feel Ziara's frown, "What?"
"Your question, I never answered it," he tugged at her bottom lip. "I'm not sure yet."
Ziara inhaled a sharp breath. Rather than giving into the kiss or using her Wadjet, she softly pushed against his chest to break away from him. She looked up at him as another wave of tears breached their banks, "I'll answer it for you."
Her arms came around herself and she walked away. Wraith stood there, eyes wide and made no attempt to stop her—that was his mistake.
Assuming she'd return once her father was prepared, Wraith tried to busy himself with embalming. You need time. He cleaned Harry to the best of his abilities and nodded for Anuka to perform his Mummification Art. He agreed with Ziara's idea and realised that a funeral pyre would be appropriate where they could pray for him.
Wraith frowned at Anuka's silence as the bandages would themselves around Harry's torso.
"Does Ziara refuse to see her father before the pyre?" he washed his hands again.
"She's gone," Anuka murmured.
"Where?" the hairs rose on the back of Wraith's neck in panic.
He gave an off-shoulder shrug, "She wanted Isfet to transport her via scroll. She said she doesn't fit into this life and that was it."
Wraith pushed off from the mastaba to run after her, but Anuka flicked his hand. Rolls of linen shot out towards Wraith and tripped him. Wraith fell and bit his tongue, landing beneath Chigaru's fractured statue.
"Let her grieve," the bandages fell from his face, revealing a cocky smirk. "Besides, she can't be gone for long. We made a deal."
"What for?" Wraith winced when the linen tightened around his calves.
"WhenI released the Head Son of Horus, she agreed to repay us," he folded his arms. "Myprice was that she comes back to us to fulfil her destiny. It will reach a pointwhere she doesn't have a choice."