Horus
When our vision finally clears, we see Face of Horror and the snake-headed giants far above us. They are lugging their golden load up the side of the monument, merely steps away from the top.
"No," We try to rise, but our avatar is sluggish.
Then, out of nowhere, a magician catapults into the midst of the demons and unleashes a gale of wind. Demons go flying, dropping the capstone, and the magician stricks it with his staff, stopping it from sliding. It takes me a moment to realize the magician is Desjardins. His forked beard and robes and leopard-skin cape are singed with fire, his eyes are full of rage. He presses his staff against the capstone, and its golden shape begins to glow; but before Desjardins can destroy it, Set rises up behind him and swings his iron rod like a baseball bat.
Desjardins tumbles, broken and unconscious, all the way down the pyramid, disappearing into the mob of demons. I can feel Carter's heart twist.
I don't liked Desjardins, but no one deserves a fate like that.
"Annoying," Set says. "But not effective. This is what the House of Life has reduced itself to, eh, Horus?"
The intent behind his words stings me more than it should. This is what's left behind from our truest legacy: a bunch of mortals ready to banish us at a moment's notice. They turned their backs on us. Magicians are fighting by my side now, yes, but for how long? Once we win, where will they lock us? How painful will the death of our hosts be? Yet, here I am, fighting by their side. A true leader doesn't give up on his people. I am the king of the gods, I am the pharaoh of the House of Life. And so, my duty is to protect them from chaos, to protect them from isfet. This starts with protecting the world from Set.
We charge up the slope. Weapons clash once more. We fight back and forth as gray light begins to seep through the cracks in the mountain above us.
My godly senses are never wrong and so I pass on the information to Carter: two minutes till sunrise, maybe less.