Shezmu's eyes were wide as he took in the surface of Delmak. His pilots had informed him that they would be landing shortly, and that the final preparations were being made.

Ever since the safe departure of his very temporary human and Tok'ra guests, Shezmu had been keeping his eyes glued to the viewscreen.

From his place beside him, Apophis could be seen doing the same. The corner of his lip would twitch from time to time, and he had an indecipherable expression on his face.

Shezmu itched to know how his guests had managed to provoke such emotion from the god, but held his tongue. There was much work to be done, and he needed Apophis' full attention and commitment.

The ship slowed in its descent, tearing through one final layer of dark, greenish clouds. The planet's surface was now fully revealed, and he could not help his horrified exclamation.

"Light of Atum, what has he been doing?!"

Not one piece of vegetation was visible, either covered or eradicated in favor of cold metal and unforgiving industry. Tall towers and pipes continuously spat out fumes, only adding to the miasma above.

Most startling of all, however, were the hundreds upon thousands of spaceships covering almost every inch of visible land.

"Building, of course." replied Apophis, no doubt amused by Shezmu's dismay.

"Building?" he echoed, horrified. He knew Sokar had acquired the means to usurp the System Lords, but this went beyond even his darkest fears.

Not even during the golden age of Ra, when the Goa'uld were at the height of their power, did any single individual possess such a large fleet.

Apophis nodded, ignoring the wary glances directed his way by Seshem and the rest of the bridge's crew.

"You would not know, given your absence, but Sokar and Ptah formed a rather questionable alliance a few millennia ago."

"Ptah? The old coot?" Shezmu scoffed in disbelief, even as he began piecing together the puzzle.

Ptah was a figure as equally revered as he was ridiculed. He was the father of most Goa'uld technology, which also happened to include their spaceships. Not many wanted anything to do with him, however, given his reputation as a mad scientist.

That, and his superior knowledge regarding nearly every piece of technology available. Ptah had even gone so far as to genetically modify and train his own branch of Jaffa, each bearing the strength of ten men and the proficiency to take out a Ha'tak with a mere Glider.

One had to be a fool to openly challenge him over property or domain.

"Indeed." Apophis confirmed. "What you see before you is the result of that alliance."

Shezmu could feel the ship gently touching down, and the slight tremor running through the floor as magnetic clamps locked it in place. An unfamiliar sensation welled up in his stomach at that, one that he had not felt in a very long time.

He had not set foot on another planet in over five millennia, let alone spoken to people not his own. Dealing with the aftermath of Sokar's demise seemed a magnitude more daunting than disposing of the tyrant himself.

An arm then brushed against his own, for the briefest of moments, and Shezmu's nervosity faded away.

He was truly fortunate to have such a perceptive First Prime.

"My Lord, we're ready to commence the transmission."

Shezmu rubbed his temples in contemplation. In the few hours since their invasion of Delmak, his Chiefs had managed to secure various strategically valuable sites. They were steadily gaining ground and inching ever closer to Sokar's palace – the only place yet to pose any sort of significant resistance.

It was hardly surprising, in his opinion. Much like under the Goa'uld of his own time, the Jaffa and slaves only served out of fear and delusion. Remove the oppressor, and all that remained was an unorganized and confused band of people, who knew not what to do with their newfound freedom.

Regardless of how cruel or dystopian their original way of life had been, most would swiftly submit and adapt to whomever else possessed the most power and authority. In a twisted way, even that was considered better than wandering around aimlessly with no purpose or sense of order.

Shezmu recalled the early years in the Garden's history, before the founding of Aaru. It had been a time of scarce resources and misery, when his people had yet to work out the quirks of their new habitat and limited existence. Even he had briefly fallen into a state of depression, before squaring up and devoting himself to his role as a god more profoundly than ever before.

"My Lord?"

Seshem broke the silence once more, forcing him to abandon his frequent habit of daydreaming. She stood opposite him, only a few feet away from his throne. Her amber eyes were filled with worry, something he had been noticing more often as of late.

"Forgive me." he replied, before motioning toward Apophis. The Serpent Lord eyed him curiously, approaching Shezmu slowly as he was beckoned to do so.

"Stand with me. We shall speak to the people of Delmak together."

Apophis could barely blink before a yellow light encompassed them both, projecting their image into the air high above the ship.

"Jaffa! Slaves! All loyal servants of the Goa'uld Sokar, hear me! I am Shezmu, leader of the forces currently occupying your world."

He reached down into the bowl beside him, grasping hold of the dead symbiote within and raising it above his head.

"Your god is dead, by my hand! From this day forth, you shall no longer suffer a life of agony and despair. Indeed, from this day forth, you shall serve me and see your world led into an age of peace and prosperity!"

Shezmu brought his arm down, taking hold of the symbiote with both hands. He clenched it firmly, holding back a wince at the look of horror on his First Prime's face, once she understood what he was about to do.

After a moment of hesitation, he tore it in two, before biting viciously into the upper half and devouring it whole. The process took more than a moment, and he took no pleasure in the raw, bitter taste filling his mouth.

It had been a very long time since Shezmu last indulged in the ancient Goa'uld practice, and he did not miss it in the slightest.

"Beside me stands my brother, Apophis, who shall be acting as the ruler of Delmak in my stead."

The other half of the symbiote was handed to Apophis, who now stared at him in a mixture of shock and glee. Apophis then proceeded to devour it, too, and wiped his cheek clean with his arm.

"The blood of your former master runs through our veins." said the Serpent Lord, revealing the true purpose of the cannibalistic ritual. "By right of conquest, all that was once his belongs to us! Serve us well, and you shall be greatly rewarded."

As they voiced their final platitudes and farewells, Shezmu could only hope he had made the right decision. It was a mighty gamble, delegating command to someone most certainly not worthy of his trust.

Yet, it could also be a step in the right direction.

Sokar had truly been a man with a one-track mind, thought Shezmu, as he strode down something which could barely be called a street.

There was little in the way of infrastructure, at least outside of huge, towering facilities designed to produce the greatest army the galaxy had ever seen. He had yet to find a single home, a paved road or anything that was not industrial in nature.

All he could see and hear were the thousands of slave laborers still hammering away at whatever they constructed – the few close enough to catch a glimpse of him walking by quickly doubling their efforts in fear.

The fact that many of his own Jaffa stood guard amongst them, some in the midst of restraining and subjugating remnants of Sokar's forces, did not help the idea of a peaceful invasion. It was a notion Shezmu would have to change in time, once order had been established.

For now, there was a much more pressing matter.

Following his and Apophis' announcement, the two lords had decided to assemble a squadron of Jaffa and join the offensive. The palace would not capture itself, and apparently Medes had been struggling more than anticipated.

For the first time since his promotion, the Chief of Defense had contacted the bridge and requested reinforcements. Curious to find out what might have caused one of his most talented subordinates such trouble, Shezmu felt it best to aid him personally.

Seshem, now covered from head to toe in golden armor, walked proudly by his side.

"Ah, there it is." she said; voice muffled by her helmet. "Look, my Lord! On the top of that hill, we're not far away now."

He followed her outstretched finger, and spotted the palace. It was large, as expected of any mighty Goa'uld. From afar, Shezmu was reminded of the many temples Ra ordered to be erected throughout his domain.

Unlike the temples of Ra, however, Sokar's chosen residence appeared far more sinister in nature. Much like a ziggurat, it boasted tall, twin staircases leading up to the palace gates. Several torches were spread out across its walls, dimly lit and enveloping most of the structure in a noxious, pinkish haze.

"Beware the many traps and devices within." said Apophis, who until now had been trailing after them silently. It was strange, considering the god had never been one for discretion or humility.

The information was nevertheless welcome, and Shezmu raised an arm to bring the squad of marching Jaffa behind him to a halt. They had reached the base of the palace, where many of his men were already stationed on high alert.

"M-My Lord!" exclaimed one of the warriors upon noticing him. The man approached him hastily; a tired yet desperate expression on his face. "We've been pushed back entirely!"

"Calm yourself, child." he replied. "I require a briefing on our current situation."

"That's just it! We tried getting inside, it's just… They're just too many! A-And now, Chief Medes decided to launch a last-ditch infiltration mission to get behind enemy lines. We've not heard from him in over an hour!"

Shezmu sighed, running his hands through his hair exasperatedly.

Medes, for all his genius, was an overachiever. In his ambition, he often failed to notice the hundreds of people looking up to him for leadership. He worked best alone, from a position of knowledge and control, playing his enemies for fools while guiding soldiers and operatives to safety.

That was one of the reasons why he had been made Chief of Defense, over any other position.

"We must go after him, my Lord." said Seshem, much to the pleasure of the other Jaffa, and the chagrin of Apophis.

"It is waste of time and effort. I would have the palace destroyed from orbit."

"Yes, you would. And what exactly have your tactics earned you, Lord Apophis?" snarked Seshem. "A fall from grace, a disfigured face… Why, I could even write poetry of your failure."

"Silence, both of you." hissed Shezmu, hoping to prevent his fragile alliance from falling apart embarrassingly early. Apophis was already growling with barely restrained anger.

"I am not leaving anyone behind, nor do I believe Medes has been compromised."

The warrior, who had been looking cautiously between Seshem and Apophis during their exchange, straightened up and bowed.

"Very well, my Lord. In that case, what are your orders?"

Shezmu granted Apophis command of Medes' squadron, to make up for Seshem's scornful remark. He did not believe the Serpent Lord would squander his trust just yet, and he was interested in observing Apophis' military prowess.

Meanwhile, he signaled to the handful of Jaffa beside him to ready their weapons.

The first few energy blasts could be heard, and soon enough the sky lit up in a haunting display of bright, yellow light. If it were not for the pained screams and yells accompanying it, as well the pungent smell of ozone, it might have even been beautiful.

"Now!" he ordered, and the sudden, combined force of twenty staff weapons impacted against the palace walls. Tons of stone blew apart instantly, creating an opening large enough to comfortably pass through.

A once grand, yet eerie courtyard now played host to the most horrifying carnage Shezmu had witnessed since his banishment. Flesh was being burnt and torn asunder, and all he could see were his soldiers – the very same he had sworn to protect – brutally slaying their enemies or dying an agonizing, drawn-out death in a pool of their own blood.

His ambush proved successful, however, as he and his men quickly joined the fray. Several of Sokar's Jaffa were caught by surprise; struck from behind and shot down mercilessly. One particularly unfortunate Jaffa had stumbled within reach, alive despite the gaping hole in his chest.

Shezmu grasped hold of the warrior's head, frying his brain with a short discharge of electricity from his Kara'kesh.

In the distance, Apophis roared; the god's form an embodiment of the chaos his mythos perpetuated. He had already stormed the gates, drawing most of the attention to himself and his troops, which only added to the effectiveness of the ambush.

Shezmu was pleased to see him in the front lines, battling fearlessly like the Goa'uld of old.

Many of his kind had grown into cowards over the ages, too comfortable with their power and status. In the time of Apep, when the Goa'uld first set out into the stars, they had no choice but to war and conquer with their bare hands – the thought coinciding with his fist smashing violently into another Jaffa's unprotected face.

Back then, there was little technology to aid them, and even fewer slaves to act as meat shields. It had required strategy and perseverance, and not an inconsiderable amount of bravery. Sadly, such notions seemed beyond most of them now.

A loud, rumbling explosion caught his attention, and Shezmu held his balance as the ground began to shake. He grinned viciously upon seeing Seshem lead her forces through the opposite wall.

Two ambushes were better than one, and together, their added reinforcements began to slowly mow down Sokar's ever-diminishing troops.

His First Prime soon joined him, and they stood back to back encircled by mutilated bodies and approaching enemies.

"Well, well… You've been busy." she said jokingly, parrying an overhead blow sent her way.

"What took you so long?"

He could practically feel her glare, as he did every time she was teased.

"Someone…" she began, punctuating the word with a blast to her opponent's leg, "…couldn't be bothered to coordinate their ambush!"

Shezmu laughed; a sound which came out far colder in the midst of battle.

"Seshem, surely you know me by now! It is all part of the plan!"

"There, that should be enough." said Shezmu, having finished healing a rather grievous wound on one of his warriors' shoulders.

He sighed, looking around and taking in the massive number of casualties this relatively minor skirmish had caused. His soldiers were well-trained, that he knew, but they had rarely applied their skills in practice before.

Sokar's forces, on the other hand, were much used to war and conflict. The tyrant had been steadily expanding his reach, conquering worlds and amassing both Jaffa and several new underlords.

"Th-Thank you!" gasped the healed man, clutching his now intact shoulder in amazement.

Shezmu nodded, and motioned to a small group of Jaffa nearby.

"Search the battlefield." he ordered. "There may be more survivors amidst the rubble. See to their medical needs and have those fatally injured brought to the sarcophagus."

"At once, my Lord." they chorused, hurrying to comply with his command.

With the exception of soft footsteps, a deathly silence had now filled the courtyard. Quite literally, thought Shezmu, as he stepped over and around numerous corpses.

At the far end of the courtyard stood the palace doors, now unprotected by enemy forces. The grand entrance was framed and engraved with hieroglyphs, and as Shezmu traced one of the lines with his fingers, he noticed a particular passage – the likes of which he had not seen for eons.

'Hearken, mortal, and be warned. Herein lies the sixth chamber of the Duat, the Kingdom of Osiris, Lord of the Underworld.'

"The Duat?" asked Seshem; the top of her leonine helmet peeking over his shoulder in curiosity. "I thought it was only a legend."

He shook his head, while Apophis scoffed disdainfully. "There are no such things as legends, woman. Sokar was once a servant of Osiris, much like your own master."

Unhappy about that piece of lost history coming to light, Shezmu focused his emotion into his Kara'kesh, and sent a wave of kinetic energy at the tightly shut doors.

They buckled and caved, but remained whole nevertheless.

"Is it true, my Lord?" asked Seshem, appearing not angry, but shocked at the revelation. Osiris did not have a particularly endearing reputation, what with his cruel judgement and unfair treatment of both Jaffa and humans.

He had been the kind of deity to take pleasure in mindless slaughter, all the while posing as a judge of the dead. Unfortunately, he very rarely deemed his victims worthy of a merciful end, preferring to repeatedly murder and revive them as a form of eternal punishment.

Another blast of energy struck the doors, this time strong enough to blow them completely off their hinges.

"That was a long time ago. Before I realized that our way was not the only way."

The trio made their way inside the palace, surrounded on all sides by Jaffa. Shezmu's warriors had insisted on it, and nothing he said could change their minds.

It was almost amusing, he thought. For all of their respect and obedience, there were some things even he could not preside over.

The entrance hall was surprisingly bright, all things considered. Light shone from all directions, tinted red by the various gems and crystals adorning almost every surface. The floor was sleek and golden, in line with traditional Goa'uld architecture, and each step they took seemed to echo on forever.

A sudden snap had them jumping in surprise, though Shezmu and Apophis would deny it vehemently, if asked. One of the more trigger-happy Jaffa sent a blast down the hallway, which splashed uselessly against a wall before dissipating.

On the bright side, they now knew the corridor had an end.

"I have a bad feeling about this." said Seshem, and no sooner than the words left her lips did a set of transportation rings drop down from above. Shezmu was shoved aside by his First Prime, and sent painfully crashing into the floor alongside Apophis.

"No! Watch out!" he yelled, all in vain, as two of his men were caught between the device.

With impotent fury and sadness, he could only watch as the poor soldiers were steadily crushed again and again; the many descending rings striking them repeatedly until they were fully severed in two.

After an agonizingly long time, the rings finally receded; the accompanying light dying out to reveal a single figure.

It was a woman, dressed in naught but a light, violet gown. Half her head had been shaved clean; every inch not hidden behind long, dark hair instead covered with tattoos of rather morose hieroglyphs.

As virtually every Jaffa aimed their staff weapons toward her, a sick and twisted smile spread out across her pale face. Shezmu could feel both Seshem and Apophis stiffening beside him, the former gasping at something she had seen.

The newcomer's left arm had been stripped bare of all flesh, leaving only a slack limb of bones hanging uselessly against her side. The joints had been replaced with metal, fusing each individual bone together.

"Greetings." she spoke, in a raspy whisper. It was a voice which sent chills down everybody's spine; the result of having screamed one's throat raw under the most excruciating of torture.

"I am Nitocris the Third, Divine Adoratrice to the mighty Sokar, he who is Lord of Restau."

Giving Shezmu no time to process her words, Nitocris tilted her head to the side, locking eyes with an ashen-faced Apophis. Somehow, her smile managed to grow even wider.

"And welcome back, my dear Lord. I have looked forward to continuing our sessions. The sarcophagus has been misspent in your absence, and my chambers so silent without your screams."

With everyone shocked still at what they had just witnessed, no one reacted when the demonic priestess reached down and grasped hold of her skeletal hand. She bent it backward until it snapped, releasing a dark mist into the hall.

Shezmu felt himself immediately growing dizzy; unable to stop himself from hitting the floor shortly thereafter. The last thing he heard before losing consciousness was the sound of frenzied weapons fire, along with Nitocris' crazed, maniacal laughter.

At the very least, he finally understood what had inspired such undying, uncompromisable loyalty from the final bunch of Sokar's Jaffa.

Nitocris would not be an easy foe to overcome.