Part 2: Chapter 5

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Brooklyn

February 10

For the past month, I had grown used to the routine. Wake up at dawn, go to school, and then be summoned to Ra. Every day was the same—I did what he wanted, followed where he led, became whatever he needed me to be. And when he descended into the Duat, I was cast aside, sent back to the place they called my home. But it wasn't home. It was just a space where I existed. Alone. Always alone.

I sighed as I turned the faucet, letting the hot water rush into the bathtub. The steam curled into the air, softening the sharp chill of the room. I reached for the milk, pouring it in and watching as it swirled beneath the surface like silk. A few drops of lavender essential oil followed, their soothing scent wrapping around me. Honey dripped from my fingers, dissolving into the warmth, and finally, I scattered a handful of dried roses over the water. Their faded petals floated like remnants of something that had once been alive, now withered.

As the room filled with heat, I reached up, tying my hair into a loose knot. My robe slipped from my shoulders, and my eyes flickered to the mirror.

The sight of my own body made me pause.

My fingers traced the silvery stretch marks on my lower abdomen—the quiet reminders of when I had carried life within me. They were soft, delicate lines, a part of me that would never fade completely. A part of me that once held meaning.

Then my gaze shifted.

Scars.

Burn marks marred my forearms, the skin uneven and rough where Ra had left his touch. The memories clawed their way back, the phantom sting of fire against my flesh. My chest tightened, and I quickly looked away.

I stepped into the bath, sinking beneath the warmth, letting it surround me.

The room was silent, save for the faint crackling of the candle burning on the nightstand. The water cradled me in its warmth, but it did nothing to ease the weight pressing against my chest. My mind, unbidden and relentless, drifted back to the past—the torment, the helplessness, the suffocating isolation. No matter how much time passed, the memories still felt fresh, like old wounds ripped open over and over again.

And then, there was Anubis.

I saw him almost every day, yet I couldn't say a word. I wasn't allowed to. Worse, I had to sit there among the people who called me a friend, pretending like nothing was wrong, like my entire being wasn't unraveling with each passing moment. They laughed, they talked, they lived—while I sat in silence, suffocating beneath the weight of everything unspoken.

And there he was. Always there. With her.

Anubis and Sadie, wrapped in the illusion of something whole, something real. A couple, as if I had never existed, as if the past we shared had been erased. He didn't even recognize me. Didn't spare me a glance. And when our eyes did meet—rarely, fleetingly—it was as if he was looking through me, past me, like I was nothing more than a shadow.

Most of the time, he refused to look at me at all.

That was the worst part.

Today, however, in the last hour of school, he was forced to acknowledge me.

And then, it happened.

The fire bell shrieked through the halls, its piercing wail cutting through the classroom like a blade. For a brief, frozen moment, there was silence—a collective breath held in the fragile space between order and chaos. Then, everything shattered.

Desks scraped against the floor as students leapt from their seats, knocking over chairs in their rush to the door. Someone screamed. Someone else shoved past me, their panic infectious, turning the classroom into a frenzy of movement. The teacher yelled for order, but no one listened.

I had learned that a Greek demigod was in our school during my first week. Drew Tanaka—charm speaker, effortlessly confident, with a voice that could make people bend to her will. It didn't take much to figure out she was a daughter of Aphrodite. Everything about her screamed Aphrodite's favor. She had a head of thick, ebony hair, always flawless, whether cascading in luxurious waves, razor-straight sheets, or bouncing in playful curls. No cheap products touched it, only the best, and it showed. It framed her face in a way that only amplified her beauty, drawing attention to her sharp, feline-like eyes outlined in fluorescent eyeliner, their intensity both alluring and intimidating.

She could talk her way in or out of anything, twist words until you forgot why you were mad at her in the first place. She started arguments just to watch them unfold, stirred up drama like it was a sport, and somehow always came out on top. She was mean, but not stupid. She knew exactly who to push, who to flatter, and when to back off.

Now, however, Drew was nervous.

For the first time, the usual confidence in her stride faltered, her movements sharp and tense as she bolted for the door. She didn't even try to act like she had everything under control—she just wanted out. A few guys who liked her, always eager to follow, rushed after her without question.

Meanwhile, I was stuck.

A mess of overturned desks blocked my way, trapping me while the rest of the class surged toward the exit. My heart pounded as I struggled to shove them aside, but the panic in the room made everything worse.

Zia appeared beside me, wordlessly helping to push through the barricade. Together, we shoved the desks away, finally clearing a path—but by then, we were the last ones left.

At the door, Anubis stood watching, his dark eyes flicking between us and the hallway beyond. He was probably telling us to hurry, his expression urgent, but I couldn't hear a word over the blaring alarm.

We caught up to the door, Anubis held the door looking straight at Zia, "Come on!

We finally caught up to the door, breathless and tense. Anubis stood there, holding it open, his sharp gaze locked onto Zia.

"Come on!" he urged, his voice barely cutting through the chaos.

The alarm screamed overhead, the flashing lights casting eerie shadows against the walls. The hallway was packed with students pushing and shoving, desperate to get outside. But there was something else—an energy in the air, a wrongness that made my skin crawl.

Zia didn't hesitate, grabbing my arm and pulling me forward as we slipped through the doorway. Anubis barely spared me a glance before turning to scan the crowd beyond us, his stance tense.

The halls were chaos. Everyone pushing another towards. Anubis seemed to be looking for another exit.

The halls were pure chaos. Students shoved past one another, a panicked sea of bodies surging toward the nearest exit. The fire alarm blared, the flashing lights casting jagged shadows along the walls. Shouts and frantic footsteps echoed, blending into a deafening roar.

Anubis stood just ahead, his sharp eyes scanning the crowd—not for familiar faces, but for another way out. He wasn't moving with the rest of them. He was calculating, looking for an escape that wouldn't get us trampled or, worse, cornered.

Zia stayed close beside me, her grip firm on my wrist as if she knew I might get swallowed up in the rush. I could barely breathe with so many bodies pressing in, the weight of panic thick in the air.

Then, Anubis's gaze locked onto something down the hall. His expression hardened.

"Over there," he said, barely audible over the noise.

We pushed through the waves of students, squeezing between bodies, dodging elbows and backpacks as everyone rushed in a frenzy toward the main exits. The panic in the air was suffocating, the alarm a relentless shriek in my ears.

That's when I noticed it.

Smoke.

Thick and curling, it drifted from the far end of the hall, darkening the air like an omen. My chest tightened. We weren't heading toward safety—we were heading straight for the source of danger.

Zia noticed it too.

Her grip on my arm tightened, yanking me back slightly. "Wait—" she started, but Anubis was already moving forward, his pace quickening. His gaze flickered back to us, urging us on, but I couldn't tell if he had seen the smoke or if he was simply determined to find another way out.

"Anubis," I called, my voice barely cutting through the noise. "There's smoke—"

"I know," he interrupted, his tone firm. His eyes darted toward the growing haze, then back to me.

Anubis pushed open the heavy exit door, the cool rush of outside air cutting through the heat and chaos. Without hesitation, Zia and I stumbled through, our feet hitting the pavement of the emergency stairwell. Relief surged through me—until I heard the door slam shut behind us.

I whirled around.

Anubis was still inside.

"What are you doing?" I shouted, immediately reaching for the handle. My fingers wrapped around the cold metal as I yanked hard, but the door wouldn't budge.

Panic flared in my chest. I pulled again, harder this time, but it wouldn't open. "Anubis! Open the door!"

Then he turned, disappearing into the smoke.

My stomach twisted. My hands were still gripping the handle, my fingers numb from how tightly I'd been pulling. I stood frozen for a moment, my heart hammering, before I forced myself to step away.

"What is he doing?" I muttered, more to myself than anyone, as I hurried down the stairwell to meet Zia.

She was already at the bottom, pacing, her phone pressed to her ear. Most likely calling Carter. Her fingers were tense around the device, her free hand running anxiously through her dark hair.

"Yes we're ok. We're on the west side of the school by where the buses usually park," she said, her voice tight, barely masking the nervous energy beneath it.

She ran a hand through her dark hair, pausing mid-motion as her eyes flicked toward the window of the class next to the door.

Then her expression changed.

"Do you see that?" she asked, her voice barely above a whisper.

I followed her gaze, my pulse hammering in my ears. Through the thickening smoke and the flickering emergency lights, I saw it.

I saw them.

I wasn't supposed to.

Zia wasn't supposed to know that I could see beyond what mortals could perceive. She had no idea that my vision stretched past the physical world, past the thin veil separating reality from the uppermost layer of the Duat.

And yet, there they were.

Two cyclopes—towering, monstrous figures with thick, hairy bodies and brutish faces twisted in cruel anticipation. Their massive bodies shifted, knocking over desks and scattering papers like leaves in a storm. Students had rushed past them, oblivious—panicked by the fire, but blind to the real threat standing among them.

But I wasn't blind.

And neither was the girl in their sights.

I spotted her immediately—blonde hair pressed against a window in the far corner of the classroom, her body curled up as if she could disappear into the glass. Her hands trembled against the pane, breath fogging up the surface as she tried to make herself as small as possible.

But it wouldn't matter.

The cyclopes had found her.

One of them let out a low, guttural growl, stepping forward with a slow, deliberate pace. His brutish face twisted into something cruel, anticipation gleaming in his single, bloodshot eye. The other followed, cracking his thick knuckles as if savoring the moment before striking.

I tensed, my mind racing for a way to help—but before I could move, he appeared.

Anubis.

He emerged from the smoke like a shadow made real, his form blurring slightly at the edges, as if he stood between this world and another. In one swift motion, he raised his hand, dark energy crackling between his fingers. The cyclopes barely had time to react before the space around them seemed to shift, their hulking bodies suddenly stiffening.

Then—just like that—they were gone.

No dramatic struggle. No drawn-out fight. One second, they were looming over their prey, and the next, they simply ceased to be, as if swallowed by the void itself.

The girl darted toward the open classroom door, stumbling in her rush to escape. Anubis followed close behind.

"What?" I said, feigning ignorance, forcing a confused frown. "See what?"

Zia's brows furrowed, but before she could press further, I pointed toward the girl and Anubis, now further down the hall.

"Look," I said quickly, trying to divert her attention. "They're okay!"

Zia exhaled sharply, her shoulders slumping slightly in relief. "Yeah," she murmured.

The girl and Anubis met up with us, the blaring fire alarm dulled, replaced by the distant shouts of students and the wailing of approaching sirens.

Anubis acted as if nothing unusual had happened, his expression unreadable, his posture relaxed—too relaxed for someone who had just erased two cyclopes from existence. If I hadn't seen it myself, I might've believed he had simply escorted the girl out like any normal person.

The girl, on the other hand, was coughing violently, doubling over slightly as she tried to catch her breath. Her face was streaked with sweat and ash, her blonde hair disheveled from pressing against the glass. She looked shaken but alive.

Zia eyed Anubis warily, clearly waiting for an explanation. When none came, she let out an exasperated breath, clearly unimpressed with his lack of concern, but before she could argue, the girl straightened, her breathing still heavy.

"Thank you," the girl—clearly a demigod—said, her voice still shaky from the coughing.

She wiped at the soot on her face, her wide eyes darting between Anubis, Zia, and me. She was still trying to process what had just happened, her mind racing to make sense of it all.

Anubis didn't acknowledge the gratitude, just gave a slight nod.

Anubis shifted slightly, his gaze flicking toward the school, toward the lingering smoke curling in the air.

Before I could say anything else, the sound of hurried footsteps cut through the noise. I turned just in time to see Sadie and Carter pushing through the crowd, their faces tight with worry. Behind them, the rest of our group—Felix, Julian, and a few others—trailed close behind, their anxious expressions mirroring the siblings'.

"Bloody hell," Sadie breathed as she skidded to a stop beside us, her gaze landed on Lacy, who was still visibly shaken. Without hesitation, she wrapped an arm around her, pulling her into a firm hug. "You gave us a scare," she murmured, her usual sharp demeanor softened with concern.

Lacy stiffened slightly but then melted into the embrace, nodding against Sadie's shoulder. "I—I didn't know what to do," she admitted, her voice barely above a whisper. "It all happened so fast…"

The sirens in the distance were getting louder, signaling the approaching firefighters. Around us, students gathered in clusters, murmuring amongst themselves, the air still thick with the remnants of panic.

As far as anyone else was concerned, this was just another fire, another chaotic evacuation.

And yet, as I stole a glance at Anubis, I knew he wasn't thinking about the fire at all. His face remained unreadable, his posture too casual for someone who had just erased two monsters from existence.

Carter, ever the leader, turned his attention to Anubis and Zia. "Did either of you see what started it?"

Zia shook her head. "Not clearly. Just a lot of smoke."

Anubis remained silent.

Carter frowned, clearly not satisfied with the answer but not pressing further. Instead, he exhaled and ran a hand through his curls. "Alright. Well, let's stay put until we get the all-clear."

Felix, still clutching his penguin amulet, nodded rapidly. "I don't think anyone's in a rush to go back in there."

Sadie pulled back slightly from Lacy, rubbing her back before stepping aside. "You sure you're okay?" she asked again, her blue eyes scanning the girl's face.

Lacy nodded quickly, though her hands still trembled at her sides. "Yeah. I just... need a second."

"Malika." Sadie's brows furrowed. "Are you okay?" she pressed, her gaze landed on my forearms.. "What happened? Did you get burned?"

The burn scars.

For a second, I saw the flicker of alarm in her expression, as if she thought they were new.

It caught Anubis's attention immediately.

Before I could react, he moved forward, his grip firm but careful as he caught my wrists and lifted my arms up to eye level. The suddenness of it startled me—and everyone else around us.

Zia tensed. Carter took a half-step closer, his posture shifting like he wasn't sure whether to intervene. Sadie's eyes narrowed, suspicion flashing across her face.

But Anubis ignored them all.

His golden eyes traced the burn scars on my forearms, his gaze sharp and unreadable. He didn't just glance—he observed, taking in every uneven ridge of skin, every faint discoloration left behind by Ra's fire.

The world around us blurred for a moment. The distant wail of sirens, the murmur of students, even the concerned eyes of my friends—all of it faded as I stood there, trapped under Anubis's unwavering stare.

Then, slowly, his gaze flickered to mine.

The intensity in his golden eyes sent a shiver down my spine. He wasn't looking through me.

He was seeing me.

My breath hitched, but before I could speak—before I could even make sense of the moment—he let go.

The warmth of his hands vanished, leaving my skin cold in the absence of his touch.

His expression hardened, the fleeting softness disappearing behind a mask of indifference. Without a word, he stepped back, as if nothing had happened at all.

I instinctively tugged my sleeves down. "Not from today," I murmured.

Sadie's eyes flickered between me and Anubis, her sharp gaze narrowing with suspicion.

"You sure about that?" she asked, voice tight, looking only at Anubis.

I swallowed, forcing a nod. "It's old." My voice was steady, but the weight of Anubis's stare still lingered, a phantom pressure against my skin.

Carter cleared his throat, ever the peacemaker. "Right now, we need to focus. The fire department's here. We should get Lacy checked out and figure out what the hell just happened."

As if on cue, a squad of firefighters rushed past, their bulky suits rustling as they moved. The school staff was already corralling students into groups, trying to do a headcount. The air smelled of smoke and scorched plastic, but the danger had passed—at least, that's what everyone assumed.

I stood there, feeling the weight of it all pressing against my chest, like the remnants of smoke curling in my lungs.

Everyone else had moved on, drifting toward the gathering students, but I stayed rooted in place. My heart was still racing, my hands still tingling from where Anubis had touched them.

Why had he done that?

Why had he looked at me like that?

For so long, I had been invisible to him. I had spent days watching him exist as if I were nothing more than air, nothing more than a whisper lost in the space between us. He never spared me a glance, never acknowledged what we had once been. And yet, today, for one fleeting moment, he saw me again.

And it terrified me.

I tugged my sleeves down further, hiding the scars that no longer burned but would never fully fade.

I hated that he had seen them.

I hated the flicker of emotion in his golden eyes, the way his fingers had lingered for just a second too long, as if he were remembering something.

Or maybe I was imagining it.

Maybe I was just desperate to believe that I still existed to him.

Pathetic.

I let out a slow breath, forcing my body to move, to follow the others. My feet felt heavy, as if the weight of my memories had seeped into my bones.

Now, I was just a shadow.

I thought about the girl in the classroom—the way she had curled into herself, pressed against the window as if she could disappear.

I knew that feeling.

I knew what it was like to be hunted, to be powerless in the face of something greater than yourself. To scream and have no one hear you.

To be swallowed whole by fear.

My fists clenched.

I closed my eyes and took a breath, letting the cool air fill my lungs. When I opened them, Zia was looking at me.

Her dark eyes were sharp, assessing—not in the way others looked at me, full of pity or polite indifference, but with something closer to suspicion. Like she was trying to figure me out, like she had seen something I hadn't meant for anyone to notice.

I quickly dropped my gaze, tugging at my sleeves again, as if that could erase the last few minutes. As if that could make me smaller.

"You saw them," Zia said quietly.

A statement, not a question.

My throat tightened. "Saw who?"

Zia's lips pressed together. She tilted her head slightly, watching me with the same unnerving patience she always carried, as if she could wait out any lie I might try to spin.

I shifted my weight. "I don't know what you're talking about."

Zia exhaled through her nose, not buying it for a second. "I saw the way you looked at that window," she said, voice low. "At them."

I froze.

"I don't know what you mean," I repeated, but the words felt weak, brittle.

Zia didn't press me any further, but the silence between us felt heavy, thick with unspoken thoughts. She glanced toward the school, where firefighters were still working to ensure the flames were completely extinguished. The acrid smell of burnt wood and melted plastic lingered in the air.

After a moment, she sighed and crossed her arms. "They'll probably cancel classes tomorrow."

I nodded absently, not really caring about school right now.

Zia hesitated, then shifted her stance slightly, as if she were considering something. "Do you want to grab coffee tomorrow?"

I blinked, caught off guard.

She wasn't the type to make casual invitations. The last time we'd met for coffee had been out of necessity—neutral ground to discuss something important, not a social outing.

"Why?" I asked cautiously.

Her expression remained neutral. "Because you're not fine," she said simply. "And I want to know why."

I hesitated. I could have said no. I should have said no. But something in Zia's gaze made me pause.

Maybe it was because she was one of the few people who saw through my lies. Maybe it was because she wasn't looking at me with pity, but with understanding. Or maybe I was just tired of sitting with my thoughts alone.

Either way, the answer slipped out before I could stop it.

"Yeah," I said quietly. "Okay."

Zia nodded, as if she'd expected that answer all along. "Same place as before?"

The memory of that café flickered in my mind—the one tucked away on a quiet street, warm with the scent of cardamom and roasted coffee beans. It was quiet, tucked away from the usual noise of the city, with dark wood tables. I remembered the way she had watched me then, the same way she had watched me now, always searching for something beneath the surface

I swallowed. "Yeah."

"Good." She checked her phone, glancing at a message before tucking it away. "I'll text you the time in the morning."

She turned to walk toward Carter and Sadie, but before she left, she glanced back at me, her expression unreadable.

"Try to get some rest, Malika." Without another word, she turned and started walking, and after a moment, I followed.

I told myself it was just coffee.

Just a conversation.