In an obscure corner of the nation of Turkmenistan, the avatar of the demon-god Apophis froze as something flittered over her senses. It was followed by what sounded like a static hiss and a crackle, then a miniature quake. Her eyes flared black for a second, and Naf briefly felt a shiver of vertigo, then the world rightened itself again.
"What…" she murmured.
The Unholy in her hands thrummed with the echoes of the power surge, but it was in no way dangerous to her or her bond-mate.
"Khonshu," came a deep rumble with a slightly sibilant hiss.
She looked at the massive serpent that had appeared behind and around her. Apophis' eyes were awash in colors she had rarely seen before. The normally black orbs with their iridescent sheen were a spectrum of color, then returned to their normal obsidian.
Naf packed away the Unholy and quickly left the forgotten grave of an Oguz Turk elder where she had discovered the necklace. It was a rather weak little thing, barely a challenge, and she had only discovered it because she had been looking for something else.
"What happened?" she asked.
Apophis hummed. "Something that led to a discharge of psychic energy of immense proportions across the spirit planes."
"For anyone to feel?"
"For any avatar who can walk between realms."
Naf frowned. Aside from Marc Spector, who had only recently leaned that skill, there was only her. She knew of no other.
"What about other gods?"
"While the gods possess the ability, few have used them in recent millennia, if ever, and even less are that receptive."
She stopped and surveyed the seemingly endless desert before her. "It was a violent pass through the realms," Naf finally stated. It wasn't a question.
Apophis was silent, eyes holding a distant expression. "Yes. A lot of power was involved. A tremendous amount, actually. I suspect the Knight of Khonshu ran into something he wasn't able to fight." The black eyes took on a pearlescent sheen. "I can still sense the echoes."
"They did not call for our help."
"Marc never would," he reminded her with a fine smile. "Even if his god was close to being obliterated."
She scowled. It had been a while since Marc Spector had left Saqqara and with it the pocket dimension Apophis had created there. It had been an abrupt departure, but not one she was worried about. Spector was still young, was still getting used to what he had become, what he could do, and who he truly was. He fought over terminologies and ignored what resided deep within him. He was a well of potential fed by his god's timeless, endless energy, and when he finally opened himself to all the possibilities, he would be equal to Naf and her own bonded.
And yes, he wasn't one to call for help. Even if it meant extreme danger of a fatal kind to himself and Khonshu.
Apophis curled around her and she reached out to touch the obsidian scales, brushing a caress over the armor.
"He doesn't trust lightly," the serpent purred, leaning into the brush of fingers. "Unlike his alter."
"They are unusual," she agreed. Her eyes fell on the necklace. It was of no danger to anyone, at least in this condition.
He gave her a knowing look. Hunting for the Unholies had become a new interest and it was truly entertaining to pitch herself against the power of these creations, as well as to neutralize the ones she could and destroy others. So far she had found two, one of which she had been able to safely retrieve, while the other had to remain where it was because it was highly dangerous to a demon-god.
They knew the location, that was enough. Maybe she would divulge that information to the Moon Knight, maybe she would keep it to herself.
"I'll keep an eye on them," Apophis told her with a glint in his eyes.
It was reflected in Naf's.
The serpent disappeared once more, though she felt his presence, their bond humming gently in the back of her mind.
It was time to get back to what she had actually come here for.
Marc staggered, stumbled, nearly crashed and finally caught himself against a wooden beam. His head ached; actually, his whole body ached. His sight was blurry and sound was muted, like his head was wrapped in a thick blanket. He felt drained and his body was starting to tremble.
Home.
He was home!
A breathy laugh escaped him; it sounded almost hysterical.
He had made it to the one place that had been burning brightly in his mind. The London flat. His safety and his home. Their home.
"…steven…?" he managed, voice faint and cracking.
No answer.
He blinked. The world remained blurry. Like a dust bomb had exploded around him. Everything was just grayish white light. Sound was warbling in and out, his heart hammering in his ears and his pulse thundering like a background noise to the staccato.
This had been bad. So, so bad.
Khonshu?
Marc wasn't even sure he had called out the name of the moon god or if it was just echoing around his mind.
The last shreds of the ceremonial armor dissolved around him and he collapsed onto the bed with a groan. He was aching all over. The jump had taken everything out of him. Every little thing. He was exhausted, down to his very soul.
"…steven?" he repeated.
It finally got him a tired murmur from his alter, who was just as drained.
"…n'kay?..."
Steven made a noise that sounded like an affirmative.
Okay. Steven was there and okay. Well, relatively okay. Depending on what 'okay' should look and feel.
Good.
They were both here. Which was good.
His thoughts started to circle almost drunkenly. Marc tried not to give in to the fatigue was trying to drag him down. One was still missing…
Khonshu… where was…
He felt not a single tremble within him, nor a twitch or a whisper. The first urges of a panic tried to rise, but he was too exhausted for that, too.
Colorful curses bounced around his mind and he rallied his last reserves.
"… you there?" he mumbled into the pillow.
For a long moment, there was nothing, then something resonated faintly. A long-fingered hand dragged through his wavy hair. The sudden touch should have made him jump, but it was soothing, familiar and calming. Wanted. Warm. Caring.
And powerful.
"I am, Marc Spector. Always. I will always be there."
The faint resonance grew stronger. Marc felt himself exhale, though it was just a weak cough, but it unraveled a knot that had formed inside.
Khonshu was there. He was okay.
The sensation grew in leaps, the energy so well-known and wanted. Something shivered deep inside him. Something desperately in need of rest, needing to simply shut down and recuperate. It was his very soul, both of his souls. And some part of it was Khonshu, too.
The moon god's presence surrounded him, wrapped around his trembling form. The embrace was so physical, so real, so warm, he closed his eyes and sank into it. Marc's soft groan of relief echoed his own feelings.
They were safe.
Steven was there, with him, already asleep, and Marc drifted with his alter, unable to give in completely just yet.
"Relax," Khonshu rumbled, the voice dark and low. "Answers later. You need to recover first."
"Not injured." He didn't even know if he was actually talking. Everything was like molasses and cotton wool.
"The jump drained you, Marc. Deeply."
Us, he thought. Because he could feel it within them.
"Yes. Both of you."
You were there, too, he reminded the entity, thoughts flowing freely between them. I can feel what it did to you, you stupid pigeon!
And he really could. As much as his barriers were down and he was completely open to the god, the same was true the other way around. Marc might not be able to understand what exactly he was looking at, touching, feeling, and his human brain might be interpreting it and translating it into human emotions and thoughts, but he did get the gist of it: Khonshu wasn't one hundred percent either.
Khonshu hummed. "It takes more than this kind of magic to best me."
Marc thought he was laughing, but maybe he was also just hallucinating. Tell me another one! he thought. A better one! I can feel it.
Khonshu embraced him. "I know."
The god was everywhere around him, and not just on a physical level. Khonshu felt like a living, breathing shield. Passive and protective. A web of carefully woven strings of warm, familiar moon light everywhere, keeping guard. The attack had cut into Khonshu as well. It wasn't as bad as the time Apophis had severely injured him throughout their first encounter, but the moon god was tired.
Fingers caressed him, brushed over his skin. "Do not worry."
Always worry, he thought dizzily. Always. Important. You are important, you stupid bird! You are important to me!
"As are you. Both of you. I will always protect you, just like you protect me, my soul-bound. I saved you, but you have saved me countless times since."
Not a contest! he muttered.
"Now rest."
With a grumble, Marc curled into the warmth and safety, felt Khonshu embrace them both. Ribbons whispered over his skin, a tattered cloak covering him like a thin, insubstantial blanket.
It was the last he sensed before darkness swallowed him.
The waxing moon was bright and unclouded in the night sky. Its light bathed the flat in surreal silver and gray as it came through the uncovered windows.
Khonshu felt its endless, timeless power and he surrounded his soul-bound with it. It brushed over Marc's motionless form, healing and protective in one. And just like he felt the power of the moon, he could sense the damage his Knight had taken in his name, in his defense. So many tiny lacerations on a purely psychic level. No blood had flown, but a soul didn't bleed.
This had been bad.
Whatever malicious magic resided in that house, whatever spells had been used, it had clawed and bitten at Khonshu, had tried to take him down, keep him trapped within the museum-like building, and his own magic had been dampened and sluggish to respond. He had felt the drain, worse than anything he had ever experienced before. There was no comparison, even to being spelled into an ushabti by the Ennead, which had been extremely unpleasant to begin with.
No, this had been worse. This had been twisted magic trying to assimilate a powerful entity, drain him, feed on him. Without the anchor, Khonshu knew he would have perished, trapped once more but not in an ushabti. Not dead, not alive, just another part of the collection.
Without the soul bond, he would be no more.
Even now he felt the tremors of the experience, how his own essence needed to recuperate. Khonshu was quite aware of what a close call this had been and that without Marc Spector, he would be nothingness by now.
"You have grown in power, my soul-bound," he murmured, caressing the sleeping man. "You grow with each challenge."
Khonshu had never encountered such twisted energy before, and it was able to entrap a god! Weird, sick magic. Magic that shouldn't exist at all.
He snarled softly, the winds picking up briefly.
A noise of displeasure escaped him and Marc moved restlessly as his god's rising emotions tided over into his own mind. Khonshu placed a gentle hand on the other man's back, healing magic trickling into the exhausted form, soothing the rawness, and Marc relaxed again.
"My apologies," he rumbled, though he wasn't heard by the sleeping man.
The uneven waves became smooth again. He listened to the pulses of the other mind, both of them balanced in each other.
Marc did not deserve his anger, unshielded as he was right now. So close to Khonshu, so interwoven and needing the nearness to heal the psychic wounds ripped into his mind. His Knight had given everything to get them out of the mansion and he had refused to surrender Khonshu to save himself.
"You keep surpassing yourself, Marc Spector. Surprising even me," he whispered.
His endless sockets fell on the ushabti.
Anubis.
The real ushabti, taken from another dimension. Not the Overvoid, no. That would have enraged him to no end, even if Khonshu's bonds to his home were different now. The pocket dimension was highly secured. It was absolutely impossible for a mere human to break into the chamber and leave with any kind of treasure.
His bonded shivered a little and the moon god forced the dark thoughts to disperse. Marc needed to heal first; that was his priority.
Everything else would be dealt with later.
Curling his essence around his avatar, the two souls sleeping soundly within the deceptively human shell, Khonshu let himself drift with the moon.