Isis
Vision two: we're in the throne room of the gods. Except, the palace doesn't match the precious image I have of it in my head.
It looks like it has been abandoned for centuries.
Technically speaking, we were exiled. This, the saddening scenery before us, is what happened when the people abandoned their gods.
The roof has fallen in, along with half of the columns. The blazers are cold and rusty. For years, only cracks have been dancing on the beautiful marble floor.
Ah, and the messenger: Bast.
She stands alone next to the empty throne of Osiris. The queen of cats gives us a mischievous smile. My host doesn't have the heart to return it. She doesn't try to stop the tears from filling her eyes.
"Oh, don't be sad," Bast chides. "Cats don't do regret."
"But aren't you-aren't you dead?"
As much as Osiris is.
"That all depends." Bast gestures around her. "The Duat is in turmoil. The gods have gone too long without a king. If Set doesn't take over, someone else must. The enemy is coming. Don't let me die in vain."
"But will you come back?" Sadie's voice breaks. "Please, I never even got to say good-bye to you. I can't…"
Oh, the unpacked trauma in this sentence. Sometimes I wish we didn't have to use mortals like we do. We ruin lives, we break families. I know well enough that everything the House accuses us of is true. But our pantheon has no choice. Our world has no choice. If I've learned one thing over the eons, is that the right choice is rarely the easy one.
"Good luck, Sadie. Keep your claws sharp."
Bast vanishes, and the scenery changes again.