A/N: A thank you to all the people who gave me a slap of reality to the face and told me that no, the Despair arc is not good, and yes, I should rewrite it. As of now, Despair is being rewritten. Posting of that arc will restart once the rewrite is complete. I apologize for screwing up.

Also, as a general rule: if you notice a mistake I made, please, please let me know. Constructive criticism is very helpful to my writing, and I will not yell at you for giving it to me, because criticism helps me a lot. In this case, if two guest reviewers hadn't let me know that Bunny's behavior was OOC and that the arc needed to be reworked, than I would probably have gone six more chapters in before realizing that I screwed up. At least this way, the arc was nipped in the bud and I don't have to redo as much.

Moral of the story: Everyone makes mistakes. If you notice that I made one, please tell me so. Unless you really, really don't want to, in which case fine.

And now on to Sol 8.

Disclaimer: I don't own RotG.


Ma'at sighed to herself as she watched spirits file out of the courtroom, feeling all of a sudden as if the weight of the world was on her shoulders. Although normally she felt a grim sort of satisfaction after a successful trial, as if she were fulfilling her purpose in life, today she felt uncomfortable and agitated, and it took all of her self-control not to visibly fidget as the courtroom emptied.

At last, even the orderly and the stenographer had left, leaving Ma'at alone, and with a small frown the Goddess of Law and Order slumped in her seat and buried her head in her hands, a wave of sadness and fatigue hitting her that seemed to have no clear cause.

Involuntarily, her mind wandered to Jack Frost, and to the look on his face when the guards had led him away, and the memory made something in her chest twist nervously like a frightened snake. Although normally she had no sympathy for wrongdoers, especially those that attempted to frame others and smear their names, the situation with Jack Frost felt...different, somehow. Like she'd just made a terrible mistake.

Was such a thing even possible? She certainly hadn't expected events to unfold the way they had. Jack Frost had seemed so sincere, and Ra had been losing his marbles one by one ever since the fall of the Ancient Egyptian empire. If she'd had to choose which one was more likely to be the culprit, she would have definitely chosen her father, for though he had been a great ruler in his time, lack of belief had degraded him into nothing more than a raving, dangerous lunatic, a hollow shell of a man that Ma'at both pitied and felt disgusted by. Ra had never been a just or kind king, and insanity had only exacerbated the faults in his character, turning him into a manipulative, delusional liar with an insufferable ego and a love for senseless cruelty.

Jack Frost, on the other hand, was a different matter. Though years of solitude had attempted to drive him to madness, the winter spirit had kept his sanity against all odds, remaining balanced and composed while others would have surely succumbed to insanity. He'd seemed so rational, so levelheaded, so respectable.

Remember, young Ma'at, injustice has no face. Criminals can be found in even the most virtuous-seeming of individuals. Do not let your personal feelings get in the way of your work, or else you will fall. These words, words that justice itself had first told her when she first came into existence, echoed in her mind, and Ma'at scrunched her teal-blue eyes shut. She couldn't afford to forget this fact. Injustice had no face, and criminals could be found even among those who seemed guiltless. She had done well in condemning Jack Frost.

But had she? Could she have been wrong? It was unthinkable, and yet…

No. It was impossible. She would never do such a thing.

And yet...


Ra practically pranced out of the courtroom, sick joy in his rotten heart and a wide smile on his face. The trial had gone perfectly, absolutely perfectly. He was a free man, freer than the wild wind swirling through the desert. Not only that, but now that miserable excuse for a winter spirit was locked away where no one could ever find him again, in the deepest cell of the darkest prison that Ma'at had to offer.

His grin widened at the thought. Maybe he could give that Frost kid a visit sometime. He was sure that the lad would adore a visit from his favorite sun god, complete with Ra's stunning collection of very sharp hunting knives.

With a small, demented laugh, Ra began fantasizing about his next visit to Jack Frost. So engrossed was he in his deranged thoughts that it took a little while for him to notice that something felt...off.

There was a prickling underneath the surface of his skin and unease shifting in his chest. Shivers were dancing up and down his spine, and the unwelcome feeling of anxiety was clawing at his insides like a famished hawk-

Hawk...hawk. Horakhty. Something bad had happened to Horakhty, he just knew it.

His smile was quickly replaced by a dark frown. Although Horakhty was useless at best and downright annoying at worst, he was Ra's. He wasn't useful for much else than as a punching bag, but he was Ra's punching bag. No one else had the right to lay a finger on him.

Now furious, Ra focused his magic, commanding the sun beams to search the world and tell him where Horakhty was. It did not take them long to locate the hawk, and with murder in his hazel-amber gaze the sun god snapped his fingers, abruptly disappearing. He reappeared in a place only a few miles from the location of the courtroom, where nothing but endless sand could be seen.

...As well as a bedraggled hawk having a ferocious battle with a man made of sand, and clearly losing. No matter what Horakhty tried, whether it be dive-bombing the Sandman from above or breathing fire at him from his beak, Sandy dodged every strike and retaliated by flinging the hawk at every available surface.

It was enough to make Ra see red. With an inhuman shriek of rage, the sun god unleashed a barrage of flames on the Sandman, the latter only barely blocking the onslaught by a combination of quick reactions and pure luck. Without giving Sandy any time to recover, Ra launched two more blasts of fire in rapid succession, forcing his opponent to dodge frantically like a frightened snipe.

Though Sandy put up a good fight, Ra had a distinct advantage, for he was both tremendously skilled in combat and far more powerful than his adversary. As such, it wasn't long before he vanquished his opponent, using ropes made of flames to restrain the Sandman and leave him trussed up on the ground like a chicken.

Still livid, the sun god scowled down at the Sandman, who responded with another glare. This seemed to snap Ra's already short patience, and with an animalistic growl the deranged god snarled at the Sandman. "What did you mean by attacking my hawk like that, Sanderson?"

Still maintaining eye contact with the god, Sandy glowered as images of a snowflake, a balance scale, and a stop sign appeared above his head, before being replaced by a pictograph of an angry sand-hawk attempting to drive a sand-Sandy away. I wanted to stop Jack's trial. Your hawk got in the way.

Ra raised one sand-colored eyebrow, wondering how Sandy could possibly know about the trial, before mentally shrugging it off. He had to deal with the Sandman somehow, and quickly. "Is that so? Well, I can tell you that the Egyptian Gods do not appreciate outsiders meddling in their personal affairs, nor do they like outsiders harming their sacred animals. You have crossed a great deal of lines, Sanderson, and I am honestly debating whether I should forgive you for that."

Of course, Ra was anything but honest, for he had no intentions whatsoever to 'forgive' Sandy. Already he was considering ideas for disposing of the Sandman. The problem was that the process needed to be irreversible, or at least very difficult to undo, else the Sandman might return and meddle further in matters which did not concern him…

A sudden, beautiful, brilliant idea came to mind, and Ra felt the corners of his mouth twitch upwards into a demented smile. He had the perfect way to get rid of the Sandman...permanently.

With a maniacal grin, Ra stared at Sandy, seemingly uncaring of the flames which suddenly blossomed on the palm of his right hand. "My dear Sanderson...Do you, perchance, know what happens to sand when it comes into contact with fire?"

Sandy's eyes widened in alarm, and Ra's grin brightened. "No? How remiss of you, it really is quite interesting...Well, I am slightly fuzzy on the exact details of the matter, but the long and short of it is that when sand meets fire, it turns into glass. Fascinating, isn't it?"

Sandy was clearly frightened, though he did his best to hide it, and it took all of Ra's self-control not to burst into laughter then and there. Instead, he flashed Sandy a Cheshire-cat smile, voice sickly-sweet. "You seem disbelieving. Understandable. Perhaps you would like a small demonstration?"

As Sandy frantically shook his head, Ra burst into horrifying, mad laughter, before plunging his flame-covered hand straight into the Sandman's chest.


"...Ma'at?"

Ma'at straightened up, opening her eyes as she did so, turning instinctively towards the source of the voice. What she saw was enough to make a thin smile cross her normally blank face. "Thoth."

The man who stood in the doorway smiled, gray eyes filled with humor and lightheartedness, tanned arms folded across his chest as he leaned against the door frame. "The very same, my dear one. How are you?"

Ma'at nodded stiffly. "I am well. How are you and Djehuti?"

Thoth shrugged, the movement nearly dislodging the dark red ibis that was perched precariously on his shoulder, the bird in question letting out a disgruntled squawk. "I'm doing well, all things considered. As for Djehuti, the stupid birdbrain tried to eat the ink again, so let's hope he doesn't get poisoned."

"Knowing you, you probably crafted a new recipe for ink specifically designed not to harm him, so I doubt that is much of a concern."

Thoth grinned. "You know me too well, my dear one. Indeed, the ink won't hurt Djehuti. Not that he won't try to hurt himself in other ways, the idiot is about as intelligent as a hearthrug. Isn't that right, you little self-destructive menace to society?" This last was directed at the ibis, which glared at the God of Knowledge, indignation in its small, beady eyes.

"Stop teasing him, Thoth."

"He started it. If he had even slightly better self-preservation instincts than a concussed lemming, I wouldn't have to mock him."

"Nevertheless, he is the one who is equipped with a sharp beak, and is also currently sitting right next to your head. I would consider my words carefully if I were you and wished to avoid being pecked in the side of the head."

Thoth scoffed. "He'd ever do such a thing, he's too stupid—ow!" This last phrase was hardly intended on Thoth's part, having been a hasty reaction to the pain that accompanied Djehuti suddenly delivering a harsh, painful-looking peck to the god's forehead.

Thoth stared at the bird for a long moment, expression incredulous."...He pecked me."

Ma'at giggled slightly at Thoth's pouting tone, before rapidly regaining her composure. "Occasionally, I wonder which one of you two is the real fool. For the God of Knowledge, you sometimes do the stupidest things, Thoth."

Thoth gave Ma'at a deadpan glare, voice dripping with sarcasm. "Thank you for that. I feel flattered, oh love of my life. Here I am, suffering a concussion that was just given to me by a homicidal bird maniac-"

"Hardly a concussion, Thoth. A mere bruise at the most."

"-bleeding all over the floor of your courtroom-"

"You have only a very small cut, and it has already scabbed over with minimal bleeding."

"-likely to be disfigured forevermore by horrible scars that will ruin my looks-

"The likelihood of you gaining a scar from that wound is minimal at best, and your appearance was never particularly impressive to start with anyways."

"-and yet all you can do is mock me and hurt my feelings. Shame on you, my heart, shame."

Ma'at smiled faintly. "You talk as if you actually had feelings to hurt."

With a mock gasp, Thoth clasped his hands over his chest. "You wound me, Ma'at, you wound me greatly. How did it come to this?"

"Well, I believe all started several millenia ago, when a certain young, foolish god who was obsessed with ibises and books decided to propose marriage to me, mere moments before falling into a stream and nearly drowning."

Thoth huffed. "You're never going to let that incident go, are you?"

"To be fair, you made an amusing sight."

Thoth nodded. "True. But, now that he have engaged in sufficient small talk, I believe it is time to move on to the heart of the matter. Dear one, what is wrong?"

Ma'at stiffened, her silver wings ruffling slightly. "Why should there be anything wrong?"

Thoth shrugged again. "No reason. It's just that you don't normally look like you're about to cry. One would think something went wrong during the trial."

"Nothing went wrong. Everything was fine. Jack Frost was sentenced for his crimes, and Ra was liberated with all false charges cleared."

"That does not explain why you spent four hours musing alone in your deserted courtroom, or why you look utterly heartbroken."

Had it really been four hours since the trial? Surprised, Ma'at glanced towards one of the windows and noted with no small amount of dismay that the sun was significantly lower in the sky. "I suppose it does not. To be entirely honest, Thoth, I feel...uneasy. Like I have somehow violated the rules of justice and fairness, and thus failed in my duties. I feel like I have made some terrible mistake."

There was no trace of humor in Thoth's face now, the god looking entirely serious. "Perhaps you have?"

Ma'at scoffed. "Really, you are ridiculous at times, Thoth. I am not in the habit of making mistakes. The Feather of Truth was clear on the matter."

"Perhaps it was the Feather itself that made an error in judgment, then."

"Impossible. The Feather has been isolated entirely from any outside sources of magic that could possibly corrupt it. There is no way it can be impure, unless the court proceedings themselves have tainted it slightly, and even that would not be enough to significantly alter the judgment."

Thoth looked thoughtful. "I wouldn't be so sure if I were you, my love. For while it's true that the Feather has been isolated from magic, it also means that it was very susceptible to being tampered with."

"I am not sure I understand your meaning."

"Your insistence on having it remain pure has meant that no charms or magical shields could be used to protect it, and that no magic-using guards could watch over it for longer periods of time. With the result that a mere child could enter the house in which it was stored and corrupt it."

Ma'at shook her head. "You are correct, Thoth, but at the same time woefully incorrect. To tamper with the Feather is to go against the very rules that govern justice, to violate the oldest rules of our Code of Honor. No one would dare to go against such ancient and sacred rules."

"And what makes you think that Ra would care about such rules?"

"Thoth. Though my father may be insane, I believe even he would not be so foolhardy as to disrupt the Feather."

"Nevertheless, I'd feel more at ease if I looked at it, and I think you would too. May I?"

Ma'at sighed. "Certainly. I will have to create a new, pure one after you are done with it, but that was to be expected anyways. There were too many spirits and too much ambient magic in the courtroom not to have disturbed it slightly, and though it might be usable again, I would prefer not to risk it."

Thoth nodded before striding into the room and towards the golden scales. With a brisk movement, the God of Knowledge and Magic plucked the Feather from the scales, a dark blue aura forming around the Feather as his magic set to work, scanning the magic that surrounded the Feather.

It wasn't long before a frown marred his tanned face. Concerned, Ma'at spoke. "Thoth, what is wrong?"

Thoth's frown darkened. "Ma'at, my dear one, love of my life...I am afraid you have condemned the wrong man."

Dread filled her heart, even as she struggled to keep her voice steady and calm. "What? What do you mean?"

"It is as I thought," Thoth looked up, expression somber. "Ra has corrupted the Feather of Truth."


Jack was alone, or at least as good as alone. Screams, pleas, threats got him nowhere, the guards in front of his door remaining stoically indifferent to his antics. Eventually, he tired, blood loss and exhaustion rendering him utterly spent, and with a heavy heart he fell into a troubled sleep.

He was awoken about an hour later by a rough baritone voice singing lithely outside his cell. The tune was a lilting one, both musical and discordant, as if the singer was making it up on the spot, and overall the song seemed joyful, even if Jack's groggy mind prevented him from discerning the words.

As Jack fully emerged from the haze of sleep, the murmuring song gradually shaped itself into comprehensible words: words that contrasted sharply against the cheerful melody in such a manner as to send shivers up his spine.

" Death is but a memory, of our grim reality, before that depraved fantasy, that we all call our lives..." A mad cackle interrupted the singer briefly, echoing grimly within the stone walls of the prison, before the person continued as if nothing had happened."Love is war and war is pain, so love is pain and wet is rain...Blood is cold and ice is hot, death is fun and life is not..."

What on Earth…?

"Pain is fire and death is ice, yet they walk hand in hand like dice, the prophet sings, the shadows long, death is like a mountain's song..."

The voice was nearing the door to his cell, and Jack suddenly felt very, very frightened, a sick knot of dread forming in his chest. An urge to run away, to hide, to somehow get himself as far away as possible from the voice consumed him.

Of course, what with the chains and the heavy, glass-spiked door, such a thing was impossible.

"Bloodlines are worth less than dirt, for brother do their brother hurt, mother poisons, father wounds, their children sleep under the dunes..."

The voice was now directly in front of his door. The distinctive sound of a key scraping the inside of a lock met his ears, and Jack was conscious of terror beating in his chest as the lock began to snap open.

"Life is death and death is life, pain is joy and joy is strife..."

There was a howling creak from the hinges, as if they were themselves were screaming in fear, before the door swung open.


A/N: I'm iffy about this chapter, to be honest (especially the bit with Thoth and Ma'at). But eh, I tried my best.

Anyway, we've introduced a new character to this stupid mess of an arc that shows no sign of ending: Thoth. Thoth is the God of Knowledge, the Moon, Measurement, Wisdom, the Alphabet, Records, Thought, Intelligence, Meditation, the Mind, Logic, Reason, Reading, Hieroglyphics, Magic, Secrets, Scribes, and Writing. He's also Ma'at's husband, and they make the cutest couple-

Ahem. Sorry about that.

A bit about the Feather: The Feather of Truth is one of Ma'at's own specially-prepared feathers. It's a very delicate magical object that can be negatively affected by even small amounts of magic, hence the lack of defenses around the place it was stored and the concern that the trial proceedings may have unbalanced it (due to all of the magic-wielding spirits present at the trial). Thus, it can only be stored in places without magic of any kind. Hence why Ra could get to it so easily.

It is true that Ma'at could make a new Feather to replace the corrupted one whenever she likes, but the process is painful and difficult, hence why she likes to reuse a Feather as many times as possible. So that's why she doesn't simply replace the Feather before every trial.

Okay, you say, than why can't they examine the Feather for corruption before the trial? Well, here's the thing: Magic is subtle. The only way they could have detected Ra's magic was by asking Thoth (who is literally the God of Magic) to have a look at it. Except Thoth's magic would have corrupted it anyway, so...Plus Ma'at had no reason to believe the Feather was corrupted in the first place.

Also, as for the song...any phrasing errors and stuff that just doesn't make sense is intentional. I'll tell you why later.

One last thing: virtual cookie to whoever correctly guesses the identity of Mister Creepy Song. (Clue: the "brother do their brother hurt" line is particularly important)

(Questions? PM me)

(Techie out [of writing skills])