A/N: Something a little different. I have always loved Ancient Egyptian culture, mythology, history etc. I wanted to play with the idea of the mythology regarding how Ancient Egyptians were judged and sent to the afterlife when they died. So this fic features the Ancient Egyptian pantheon, and their judgement of the Thief King of Egypt, and how it might have worked into the grand scheme of things. Hope you enjoy :)
The Hall of Judgment was the first sight seen by the eyes of those who had taken their leave of life's journey. For many, it was also to be their last. Yet the room's elegant beauty alone seemed to make it worth their fate.
Torches were mounted upon the walls, supported by intricate metal casings inlaid with sparkling gems, bolted into the stone. Spaced in gradients, it appeared as though traversing the length of the hall was like coming out of a dark fog. At the head of the hall the torches were complimented by tall, elegant candelabras cast in gold. Their warmth and light seemed to stretch out towards the lonely flickering flames at the far end of the hall.
Illuminated by the wavering light, vast murals, carved, painted, and inlaid with precious metals and glittering stones spanned the walls and ceiling, turning the hall into a kaleidoscope of colors, and throwing refractions of light onto the floor.
At the head of the hall was a vast golden dais. Four pillars at each corner supported a latticework of gold above the dais from which long, pale indigo lengths of sheer silk hung, billowing gently at the slightest motion. A large throne, cut from fine mahogany, stained a deep red, and adorned with gold-inlaid carvings sat at the center of the dais, and in it was a man who could only be a god.
He had an air of regality that seemed to emanate from him, making the seat, dais, and room feel natural, as though any place less ornate would be unworthy to exist in his presence. He was dressed in robes of perfect white cotton. Beneath the robes, his legs were individually wrapped in pure linens – the same that would dress the body of a deceased pharaoh. In one hand he held a crook and in the other a flail, crafted from gold and studded with turquoise and emerald. On his head was a tall crown, artfully decorated with magnificent feathers on each side. He gazed out over the hall with eyes that were the color of liquid bronze.
Most notable about his appearance was his skin: a deep green, the color of ripe olives.
To each side of him, two women stood, one in a dress of deep red silk, and the other in a flowing dress of green cotton, tied at the waist with white, woven ropes. They stood in silence, the former with her hand on the green man's shoulder, the latter gazing out at the rest of the hall's occupants, stroking her ebony hair absently.
Despite the beauty and magnificence of the hall, it held an atmosphere of foreboding.
"It will be soon now…" The woman in red said softly.
"Not soon enough." A man countered from the side of the dais where he stood, gazing sightlessly at the flames of a bright torch. He turned towards the woman, a single piercing eye, golden yellow and wild, gleaming out of the face of a hawk. On the opposite side, he sported a golden patch, hiding the scars that were all that was left of his eye. His beak, sharp and black, clicked loudly; he crossed his arms over his chest, muscle flexing as though he were prepared to face an opponent in battle.
"Patience, Horus." The green-skinned man said softly.
"I will be patient when Ammut shreds the slave of Set into ribbons, Father." Horus replied evenly, fixing his good eye on the man at the center of the dais.
A murmur of agreement passed around the room. The green skinned man let his gaze pass over the rest of his court.
Seven men and seven women, each bearing a Sacred Ankh, stood at the edges of the hall. The green skinned man could hear their concerned whispers. They feared for the life of Pharaoh. Until the slave of Set met his demise, the living god of Egypt was at risk. They feared it would be he who they greeted in the hall. They feared it would be he who they must judge.
At the other end of the dais, opposite of Horus, stood a man with the pale green feathers and long black beak of an Ibis. Blue and white feathers flowed around his head in a likeness of hair, while glittering black eyes traced over a sheaf of papyrus documents, an ornate quill tapping steadily against the page.
A young woman stood beside him, clothed in a dress of black and gold. Attached to each arm by golden chords, semblances of wings were crafted from black, white, and golden feathers. They stretched down, brushing the floor. Her flawless skin was a deep caramel, and her hair the color of raven's wings. An elaborate headdress crafted from golden coils and woven feathers decorated her hair, its focus a large, golden feather that fanned out against the side of her head, creating a brilliant contrast of golden fibers against ebony strands of hair.
Horus was not the only one who was impatient for the events about to occur. There was an air of tension about the room, the patience of the other gods as thin as that of their brother.
But they would not have to wait much longer. The green-skinned man breathed deeply. Suddenly a change came over the room. The torches dimmed slightly, before flaring up even brighter than before. A hush fell over the fourteen immortals that had been conversing with one another. Horus took a step forward, and the woman in red murmured, "It is done."
The large golden doors at the darkened far end of the hall swung open.
A large, jackal-headed man swept into the room with long triumphant strides. His teeth were bared in a fierce growl, ears pricked attentively, while amber eyes glowed in the dim half-light of the hall's end. A man limped behind him, arms bound by thick black chains gripped in the clawed hands of the jackal god.
Every eye turned to him: the cause of so much chaos and destruction, a mere mortal, yet he bore the Ka of a god, born of rage, nurtured by vengeance. The man may have been handsome once, but now was bruised and bleeding. Cuts traced the contours of his arms, chest and face. Large patches of skin were burned and blistered, and soot and blood dirtied hair that had once been the purest silver.
Despite his injuries, he was still impressive. The thick muscles that shaped his arms, legs and torso, all bare, save a thin kilt, and tattered robe, alluded to a lifetime of labor.
Though he was in obvious pain, his pale violet eyes were on fire, bright with energy, revealing the cunning mind behind the rough face.
The jackal god quickened his pace. He yanked harshly on the chains, letting out a deep, throaty growl when the man he led stumbled, almost collapsing upon the floor.
"Breathe easy, Anubis." The green-skinned god said gently, though his face was downturned in a deep scowl. "He has yet to face judgment."
Anubis snarled slightly as he and his prisoner came into the fullness of the light at the head of the hall, but dipped his head and growled, "As always, Osiris, I obey… But, with all due respect, this slave deserves no mercy. Not from Ammut. Not from me."
Osiris gazed down at the prisoner in stony silence, and finally said, "His judgment will determine as much. Let us begin." He nodded to Thoth, and the Ibis-headed god stepped forward. With a final, threatening snarl, Anubis dropped the chains to the floor and stepped back, leaving the man alone in the center of the room.
"Akefia Bakura…" Thoth announced, his voice soft, and layered, as though speaking in unanimity with an unseen being. His eyes were sharp though, at odds with his gentle voice, fixed in a glare upon the man before them. Akefia straightened ever so slightly in acknowledgment of his name. The fire in his eyes burned, as though willing the gods before him to be consumed by his own hatred.
Thoth continued, "As all living things must, you have returned to the earth from whence you came. You have come to the Hall of Two Truths, and here your life will be judged, and your final death will be determined. If you are deemed worthy—" Anubis growled slightly, and Thoth shot him a sharp glance, "then you shall join the ranks of the exalted in an afterlife that is beyond your imagination.
"If not," He paused, and the silence was heavy with the words that were to come, "then you shall experience a second death. Your heart, indeed, your very soul, shall be devoured by the demon Ammut, and you shall spend eternity in torment and misery."
The assembly of divine beings gazed down upon Akefia, as though waiting for him to respond. He looked around the room, and fixed his gaze upon Osiris. A coarse laugh, raw, as though his very voice had been scorched, escaped his lips. "A pretty speech," he said. Then his lips quirked in a smile that was half smirk, half wince, and he confidently stated, "I will not be claimed by your pet demon today, though. Nor will I ever."
"We shall see, slave," Horus snapped. He stepped forward, feathery cowl raised in anger. Voice filled with venom, he snarled, "You have a demon's heart, and your soul is as black as pitch. You are no better than the filth you attempted to summon in the name of you so-called Master. I swear by Ra that I will not guide you to paradise, no matter what claim Ma'at may make—"
"Horus," Osiris reprimanded, cutting him off.
Akefia smiled mockingly at Horus, whose ruffed feathers settled slowly, but his eye was still fixed on the man before them, gaze sharp enough to cut.
On the dais, Osiris continued, "I ask you, my brothers, my sisters, to remember that to judge this man is our duty. Personal vendettas must be forgotten." He paused, looking over them, "Though we each have witnessed his crimes, we must not confuse our judgment of our brother Set with the judgment of this mortal. All have a right to equality before Ma'at."
Anubis shouldered past Akefia roughly and snarled, "Then let him be judged, and we shall see if he is 'worthy' before Ma'at. Let her come forward."
Osiris nodded his consent, and motioned to the two women at his sides, "Isis, Nephtys, bring the scale forward, and retrieve Ammut, if you will."
"This is nothing but a waste of your time," Akefia said with a wicked grin.
Anubis reached out with a clawed hand and grabbed Akeifa's arm, jerking him forward, "You will be silent, slave, and respect your gods."
Akefia just laughed. "You are no gods of mine," He scoffed. "Wait and see," He smirked, glaring straight at Anubis and ignoring the god's snarls. His voice rose, "In the end, you—all of you—will fall off your high thrones and throw yourselves at the feet of him whom you shall call 'god', and we shall see who will be the slave then."
The assembly broke out in a host of indignant and angry outbursts. Horus let out a predatory shriek, even as Thoth's face contorted in fury. Osiris frowned down at the mortal.
Anubis raised his other hand, as though preparing to strike the insolent mortal standing before him. Before he released the blow, Isis and Nephtys came forward from behind the dais carrying a large, elaborate scale between them. Anubis released Akefia with a growl, as they carried the symbolic scale into the center of the room. Twisting tendrils of silver and gold wrapped around one another to form the center of the scale, separating at the top and curving into each steady arm. Golden threads supported the two measuring plates which hung, perfectly balanced, to each side. They placed the scale before Osiris' throne and stepped back.
Trotting behind Isis, a stout beast emerged from the side of the dais. Its face was long and reptilian, like a crocodile, eyes the color of desert sand glowing eagerly. A mane of lustrous brown fur billowed around its head. The front of its body was sleek, lithe, and catlike, with a pattern of leopard's spots. Halfway down its body, the fur receded, revealing haunches that were covered in a tough gray hide that shone slightly as though wet. A short, thin tail with a tuft of black hair on the end swung side to side. It seated itself at Osiris' feet, and began to emit a sound that was a blend between a drawn out hiss and a guttural purr, glittering eyes fixed on Akefia. It licked its lips in anticipation, sensing that it would soon be fed.
"Ma'at," Osiris said, his voice icy, nodding towards the scale.
The young woman with the black and gold dress took a deep breath and stepped forward, lifting her arms, the feathery wings extending as though preparing to take flight. With a flourish she stepped before Osiris and bent low, sweeping her arms to each side, in a respectful bow. Then she turned and stood in front of the scale. She lifted a slender hand to her headdress and with a gentle pull, removed the largest feather from the design. Holding it up in one hand, she met Anubis' eager gaze and nodded ever so slightly.
Anubis' lips drew back in a ferocious grin, sharp teeth clicking together. Without hesitation he pulled a sharp dagger from a sheath at his waist and turned to face Akefia.
"Now, slave, your heart will be judged." Anubis smirked, leaning down he gripped the chains that bound the man's hands and yanked. Akefia grimaced as he stumbled forward, the chains chafing against his burnt, bloodied wrists. With two quick slashes, Anubis cut the threadbare robe from Akeifa's body. The ribbons of cloth fell unceremoniously to the ground, leaving his torso exposed.
Anubis placed the knife tip directly over Akefia's heart, and the mortal gritted his teeth, his eyes glaring straight ahead.
"I will enjoy this," Anubis chuckled softly.
Suddenly the doors at the end of the hall slammed open. A searing wind gusted into the room, howling unnaturally and threatening to douse the many torches with its force. Every head in the room, save the mortal's, turned towards the door. A grin stretched Akefia's lips and he bowed his head, shoulders shaking in soft laughter. In the shrouded alcove of the open door, a shadowy figure stood.
Osiris stood, his pale green skin almost appearing to glow in the dimmed torchlight.
"Did someone forget to send my invitation?" called a deep voice, emanating and rebounding around the room. A dark chuckle echoed down the hall. "I think, for a judgment as important as this, my presence is merited."
The figure at the end of the hall began to walk forward, his gait a strange blend between a saunter, and the stalking prowl of a predatory beast. As he came into the light, his features became clear. His skin was a deep bronzed tan. A black kilt tied with a long golden belt circled his waist. A collar of black metal ornamented with gold and dotted with rubies rested over his shoulders and chest while golden clasps, similarly decorated with gems that shone like blood, adorned his arms and legs.
His face was hidden by a large, masked headdress in the form of a vicious beast with a long, fanged snout. Ruby eyes were fixed in a demonic glare, and long, square ears angled back against his head. Thick black braids hung from the back of the mask, tumbling down to his shoulders. In one hand he carried a long golden staff, the bottom as sharp as a spear, and the top adorned by a miniature figure of the same beast his mask was formed after.
As he reached the head of the room, almost parallel to Akefia, Osiris said, his voice exuding power and authority, "You are unwelcome here, demon. One such as you does not bear the right to judge—"
"One such as me, Brother?" The man interrupted, brushing past Akefia and Anubis and coming before the throne. Releasing his staff, which stood erect as though held by invisible hands, he reached up and lifted the mask from his head.
Behind the mask was a face that was flawless in its beauty. Dark hair, the color of dried blood, brushed over his forehead and fell around his face, framing it in a picture of perfect disarray. His eyes gleamed, the irises, a fiery red, shining brighter than the rubies that dotted his clothing. He casually placed the mask over his erect staff, balancing it easily. "Perhaps," he said slowly, "you have forgotten that I am as much as god as you, my Brother."
He paused, the room falling silent save for a deep throaty growl that Anubis was emitting, his knife held ready to cut into Akefia, or to plunge into the chest of the newcomer, awaiting only the command of Osiris.
"You are no god," Horus finally spat, breaking the silence. "You are a demon, a scourge upon all of Egypt."
The red-haired man didn't even acknowledge Horus, save to say, "Still holding a grudge over our last encounter, child?" then he smiled, and looked over at the hawk-god disdainfully, "Don't fret," He mocked, "You still have one good eye."
"Need I remind you of the outcome of our last encounter," Horus hissed, his feathers flaring up aggressively.
"Be still, Horus" The woman in red, Isis, murmured to him, putting a hand on his shoulder. He met her gaze, but said no more.
Thoth stepped forward, and said in his strange, multi-layered voice, "You may yet be a god, Set, but you do not bear the right of Judgment,"
"I do not come as a judge, but as a witness." Set countered. His eyes narrowed, "And in that regard, I have every right." He turned and lifted a hand towards Akefia, who lifted his head proudly, "This lowly creature is my disciple." His eyes flitted back to Osiris. "His soul belongs to me."
Osiris shook his head, "All souls are subject to judgment, regardless of their allegiance, as you well know."
Without any hesitation, Set grinned, baring sharp canines. "I know it well. By all means, let his judgment continue. As I said, I am merely a witness…"
Anubis looked to Osiris, "You will allow him to remain here?"
With a sigh, Osiris said, "The mortal is his disciple,"
"His very presence taints this Hall," Anubis argued, and Horus screeched in agreement. "Surely you will not—"
"Osiris has spoken, Anubis," Isis interjected, "Continue with this judgment, so that we may send this man to his fate and be rid of the darkness he has brought with him."
A growl built up from Anubis, rolling like thunder. He whipped around and, with no warning, plunged his knife straight into Akefia's chest.
Akeifa gasped, doubling over in agony. His eyes widened in shock, a vein pulsing at his temple showing his heartbeat rushing. Set looked on, not even flinching as the knife was buried in his servant's chest. His expression bordered on disinterest, and yet in his eyes was a burning fire of anticipation.
"Do not worry, slave of Set." Anubis hissed, "It won't kill you. You are already dead." He dragged the knife down in a quick slicing motion, not bothering to be careful, the blade shredding through skin, muscle and bone as easily as through soft butter.
Akeifa cursed hoarsely, closing his eyes, his teeth clenched as he fought pain that no human being should have been made to bear. As the knife was pulled from his chest, his knees buckled, and he would've fallen, except for Anubis' clawed hand reached out and dug into his shoulder, holding him upright.
"That wasn't even the fun part," growled Anubis softly into Akefia's ear, sheathing the bloodied blade. With a throaty chuckle, he pressed his free hand to the thief's chest, and extended claws pressed deep into the bloody lines drawn by his blade. With a thrust, his fingers extended into the man's body and closed ever so carefully on the still beating heart that rested there. With a jackal's grin, he squeezed the organ slightly, watching as Akefia stood in paralyzed shock, the pain keeping him frozen and silent. And then he drew it out, holding it in his bloody fist. His opposite hand released Akefia's shoulder and the man collapsed to the ground, gasping as though he could not get enough air until he fell still, his life tied to the beating heart in the jackal-god's hands.
Without a second glance, Anubis turned from him and approached Ma'at and the ornate scale. Carefully he placed the heart on one side of the scale, causing it to drop heavily to the ground as though the heart were made of stone. Set grinned, a fierce smile that split his face.
"Are you so eager to see your slave devoured by Ammut, demon?" Horus hissed, "After all, that is his fate."
"I'm sure. You're all so convinced, it must be… Ma'at's ability to discern truth shall reveal that to us, if you are quite finished." Set smirked, looking unconcerned. "Well, love, go ahead." He urged the young goddess. "Condemn this man's soul to hell."
Ma'at looked to Osiris who nodded his assurance. Slowly she took the golden feather in her palm and placed it on the scale. It sank slowly, the side laden with the heart of the thief lifting. They moved back and forth as the balance was determined, neither side definitively staying up nor down until…
"What!?" Anubis snarled, his eyes wide as he watched the feather dip lower and lower, finally coming to rest on the ground, the heart lifted high above it.
There was a long, shocked silence.
Then Set laughed, a deep mirthful sound that echoed loudly around the room. Suddenly Horus was at his throat. "What curse have you cast upon him? Speak, filth! Only the darkest of magic could deceive the scale of judgment!"
"Easy, my little pigeon," Set mocked, holding up his hands innocently, his voice soothing. "I am only a witness, if you recall."
"Liar," Anubis growled, gripping his dagger. "Only shadow magic could achieve this."
"Wrong." Set countered. He stepped between the two gods, stalking to the scale. His hand closed around Akefia's heart, long feline claws caging it in his palm.
"His soul is as twisted as you are, Set." Horus hissed, "He is evil—"
"Tell me: Whose definition of evil?" Set asked, glancing over his shoulder as he walked to where Akefia lay, body lifeless, his eyes dull. Set reached down, and with his free hand, touched the man's forehead. Then he pulled back, raising his arm. As though reanimating a puppet by a string, Akefia's body lifted, following the motion of Set's arm, until he was standing, eyes staring sightlessly as the ground, shoulders slumped.
"Evil is not black and white," Set said softly, gazing at the heart in his hand. "This man's hatred, his darkness…was born of love."
The room fell into a heavy silence.
"His desire is to lay his dead to rest. He sought to put them at peace… Is that evil?" Set asked sharply, turning back to the room's occupants.
"He was attempting to murder Pharaoh." Isis murmured.
"Whose own kin murdered an entire village of Egypt's subjects!" Set growled in return.
He looked into each of the faces of the gods around him. "Their punishment was disparate to their crimes." He snapped, and then his voice grew soft. "A child was left alone. To suffer in pain and misery, to grieve the loss of every person he's ever known." Set took a step forward, and gestured at Akefia with a clawed hand. "Which of you helped him?"
There was silence. Nephtys bowed her head, as though ashamed.
"What's this…?" Set asked, his voice soft with mock surprise. "Not even one came to the aid of a child of thieves?" Then he laughed harshly. "No. Of course not… You sat here in all your self-righteous glory and abandoned him. Now you put your support behind the man whose own father condoned the murder of those whom you swore a sacred oath to protect, the children of Egypt, his village!"
Set's eyes fell on Osiris. "You would condemn my acolyte, a victim of the wickedness of your chosen, for falling to his knees before the only god who didn't turn their back on him." His voice was soft, but there was poison in his words. "And you have the audacity to tell me I am the one who is evil."
With an almost fervent gentleness, Set turned and pressed the heart sitting in his palm into the gaping wound in Akefia's chest. With clawed fingers, he pulled the loose skin over the wound, and then dragged a single dagger-sharp nail over the laceration. Where his nail pierced, the flesh knit together, leaving behind a dark black scar. With the last edge of the wound closed, he pressed his palm over the man's heart.
With a sudden gasp, life returned to Akefia's body. He jerked forward, his bound hands clamping over Set's wrist, still pressed against his chest. He breathed heavily, his eyes wide, and from his lips poured half-murmured prayers to his god.
"Welcome back, child." Set smirked, letting his hand fall. He turned back to the watching gods. "Now… He passed your test. As my servant, I deem his fate to be in my hands."
Osiris sighed, a deep, long, heavy sigh that carried the weight of his responsibility as the overseer of judgment. "The Scale cannot be deceived… His heart is pure." He finally conceded grimly. He stood, raising his arms. His voice deepened, as he spoke the words to end the judgment ceremony: "This man is justified. Ammut shall have no power over him. He has my blessing to move on to his afterlife."
Set smiled, a chilling sneer that was as sharp as the blade of a knife. "On the contrary, I had a different fate in mind for my disciple."
"You go to the trouble to grant your slave salvation, and yet you deny him paradise?" Anubis snarled, "And you are shocked that your devotees are so small in number. Demon."
Set chuckled, "Oh naïve little pup. You believe that this war has been won, that your Pharaoh was the victor in this fight. All of you are terribly mistaken…" The room was silent as death, each and every member of the court listening in shock, "This war has only just begun."
He lifted his hand. Shadows leaped from the corners of the room and into his palm, swirling madly, and then dissipating as quickly as they had come. Left behind, a golden pendant sat in his palm.
"The Millennium Ring!" Isis gasped.
"One of the tools created by your elite, forged from the souls of the family of my servant." Set agreed, "And, consequently, the weapon of the demise of your Pharaoh."
Over the protests of the other gods, he lifted the Ring by the gold cord, and the shadows rushed in again, surrounding Akefia, swirling around him in a whirlwind of darkness. A scream emanated from the cloud of darkness, and Akefia could just be seen collapsing into a heap within the dark cloud. A white light joined with the darkness, rising out of Akefia in a silver cloud. The sound of his scream died, and the darkness and silver light coalesced into a mass, finally darting back to the Ring, hitting the center Eye and rushing inside. Suddenly, the darkness was gone. Akefia lie motionless on the ground. The Ring glowed with a faint light, and Set stood there, cradling the Ring in his hands.
"What have you done…" Isis cried softly.
Set chuckled darkly, "Oh, this ought to be the least of your concerns, Isis."
The room began to shake around them, the very earth beneath them rumbling from somewhere deep, deep below.
Osiris stood from his throne, "What have you done!?" He roared, all pretense of calm drained away. His eyes glowed in fury.
"While you have all been sitting here, concerning yourselves with your self-righteousness, finding pleasure in the punishment of the innocent, Zorc Necrophades has been laying siege to the palace of your favored king."
"Zorc…" Nephtys gasped, "The demon was defeated though… He… Pharaoh defeated him."
"Explain yourself." Osiris demanded, stepping down from the dais. In just a few strides, he'd closed the distance between himself and his brother. They were nearly identical in height and stature. Set grinned, shaking his head, red hair tumbling around his head.
"Oh, brother," He sighed, resting a hand on Osiris' shoulder. Anubis and Horus both bristled, but Osiris raised a hand, stopping them in their tracks.
"Explain," Osiris said again, softer now, his voice steady, but his eyes betrayed his concern.
"You have lost," Set murmured. "While you sat here in your golden hall, the demon my faithful servant raised from the shadows regained his strength and carried out his mission…"
"Then Pharaoh is dead?" Osiris asked, "Isis would have sensed it, she-"
"Not dead," Set cut him off, squeezing his brother's shoulder. His ruby eyes gleamed mischievously, savoring this moment that he had waited so long for. "His soul lives on." Osiris' brow furrowed in confusion, but Set continued. "It seems that... in order to send Zorc Necrophades back into the Shadows, a sacrifice had to be made. And not just any sacrifice, no. Not any soul would do…" A smirk lifted Set's lips. "Pharaoh's soul."
Osiris fell back a step. "Atemu, he…"
"He has been sealed into the Millennium Puzzle." Set confirmed with a nod. Then his lip curled in disgust, "Such a noble sacrifice by the son of a murderer."
Osiris turned away from Set, pressing fingers to his temples.
Horus stalked up to him. "What is it, father," he asked, "What has he done?"
"Atemu," Osiris hissed, "He has been locked within the Millennium Puzzle."
Horus gripped his father's arms. "What does that mean?"
Osiris breathed deeply, placing a hand on his son's chest and pushing past him slowly. He returned to his throne and, slowly, took his seat.
"Atemu is within the Puzzle," He said again, loud enough for all to hear. "And the thief, Set's acolyte, is within the Ring." Whispers erupted around the room, but Osiris held up his hands to quiet them. "Millenium items are forged with...shadow magic. There are rules, laws, that even we must abide."
"Is there nothing that can be done?" Thoth said quietly, his layered voice dismal.
"The law states," Set interjected, "that Souls locked within Items forged of Shadow Magic must remain so until the Item finds itself possessed by a host of worthy lineage."
"That could be decades, centuries-" Isis whispered.
"Millennia." Osiris finished.
Silence fell over the court of gods. Heavy, dismayed. Though the King of Thieves, scourge of Egypt, had been defeated, their Pharaoh was still lost to them.
Anubis snorted, "So that's it then. A stalemate."
"To be concluded when the spirits of Atemu and Akefia Bakura are united with worthy hosts and come together to finish the game they began here." Osiris agreed.
"And with that… I take my leave." Set chuckled. He set the Millennium Ring, hung upon silken rope, around his neck, and lifted his headdress from his staff. "It's been a delight seeing you my fellow deities," He said, voice laced with sarcasm. "But I can't say I'm disappointed to be rid of you."
"This is not over," Horus gritted out.
"Not for me," Set agreed, settling the headdress upon his shoulders, hiding his face. "For you though?" A dark laugh, made all the more course by the mask hiding his face, "We shall see."
With that, the dark god turned and strode down the hall, the shadows swallowing him. In his wake, the court of dismayed gods and goddesses were left silent and unsure, each unable to admit that their brother, the demon-god, had bested them. Their hopes and prayers for the fate of their Kingdom now lay with the spirit of the Pharaoh whose soul rested, locked away, in the Millennium Puzzle, awaiting the time when a worthy host would find the Item and release him.
A/N: Thanks for reading!