The first thing I noticed about Ra's guards was not the gold.
It should have been the gold. Their armor was hammered plates of it, each section etched and inlaid with bands of lapis lazuli, the kind of craftsmanship that whispered millennia of refinement. They were sun-forged perfection. Any mortal would have been blinded by the sheer radiance of it. But that wasn't what caught me.
It was their stillness.
The way their falcon heads turned in unison, eyes fixed on me and Hecate as if we were prey that had strayed too close to the nest. Their movements were deliberate, economical—birdlike. And beneath that gleam of gold and gemstone, I could smell the faint undercurrent of divinity that was utterly alien to me. Old. Older even than Olympus.
"Great," Hecate muttered beside me, her tone dry as desert sand. "Birdmen."
I coughed into my hand, suppressing a laugh. "Show some respect. They might pluck your eyes out."
Her lips twitched, though she didn't look away from them. "I'd like to see them try."
One of the guards stepped forward, the sun catching the curve of his beak. He raised a hand in silent command, and the meaning was clear enough: come with us.
I exchanged a look with Hecate. She arched her brow. I sighed. We followed.
Their footsteps echoed in strange harmony, boots striking stone with a measured rhythm that reminded me of a heartbeat. The air shimmered with heat, though there was no sun above us here—only the impression of one, pressing against my skin, suffocating and endless.
Hecate broke the silence first. "How exactly are we supposed to get to the Duat? Don't tell me you expect me to be carried like some sack of grain. Because that is not happening."
For the first time, one of the guards spoke. His voice was deep, resonant, and metallic, as though passing through a hollow bronze throat.
"No," he said simply. Then, with a flourish that was far too graceful for a man in a solid plate, he drew a knife.
It wasn't ordinary bronze, nor gold. It glimmered with something deeper—etched hieroglyphs running the length of the blade, glowing faintly like fire caught beneath water. He held it upright, then with a clean slice through the air, the world in front of him split open like parchment being torn.
A rift. A door not of wood, nor stone, but of nothingness, revealing something vast and burning beyond.
The edges glowed gold, hieroglyphs dancing along its rim, writhing like a living script. Heat licked out of it in waves, dry and parching.
The guard motioned toward it with the knife. "Enter."
Hecate gave him a look that could have frozen rivers. "You expect me to walk through a hole in the air carved by a glorified letter-opener?"
I bit down on my lip to keep from snorting. "Ladies first?"
Her glare snapped to me. I raised both hands in mock surrender.
The other guard, apparently done with our antics, stepped through first without hesitation. His form vanished into the brilliance beyond.
Hecate groaned under her breath, muttering a few choice curses in tongues that hadn't been heard on mortal soil in centuries. Then, shoulders squared, she strode forward and stepped into the rift.
I followed the remaining guard at my back.
The world peeled away.
Heat and brightness swallowed me whole. The air tasted of dust and spice and sunlight distilled into something so sharp it scraped my throat raw. Then suddenly, my feet struck solid stone again.
I opened my eyes.
And I forgot to breathe.
Before me stretched a city—vast, ancient, radiant. The Duat was not some desolate underworld of shadows and ash, as mine was. No, this was alive with glory. Towers of sandstone and limestone gleamed beneath a golden sky, painted walls alive with hieroglyphs that shifted like they were breathing. Palms swayed though there was no wind. The scent of lotus blossoms carried faintly on the air, mingling with incense smoke that curled up from braziers.
And everywhere, gods walked.
They shifted as they moved—one moment human, the next lion-headed, jackal-headed, ibis-headed. Some glowed faintly with the radiance of the sun, others radiated an unsettling stillness like statues come to life. Their eyes, always, followed us.
I felt… giddy.
Not in a way I'd ever admit to aloud, of course, but—these were legends older than Olympus, myths whispered on the banks of the Nile long before mortals in Greece had carved their first prayers into stone. I had studied their names when I still walked among mortals. Anubis, Horus, Bastet, Thoth—shapes I recognized and countless I didn't. Here, they were alive, breathing, magnificent.
I felt like a boy again, walking into the temple library, hungry for secrets.
I wondered, briefly, what time this was. Egyptian mythology was never linear, never clean. The gods were eternal, cyclical, reborn again and again. Was this the Old Kingdom? Middle? Did it even matter here in the Duat?
Hecate walked beside me, her expression caught somewhere between fascination and annoyance. "They're staring."
"Of course they are," I murmured, unable to look away. "We're foreigners."
"You're gawking," she said.
"Quiet, I'm having a religious experience."
Her snort was soft, amused despite herself.
We wound our way deeper into the city, past towering pylons carved with scenes of gods smiting enemies, past statues that seemed to watch us, their eyes painted with kohl and lined in gold. At last, we came to it—the Great House.
Its facade rose higher than any palace I had seen, its columns thick and brightly painted, lotus and papyrus motifs winding around them in endless repetition. Gold gleamed at every edge, sunlight reflecting so intensely it seemed the building itself was aflame. At the top of the steps, more falcon-headed guards waited, spears crossed.
Our escorts led us forward. One slammed the butt of his spear against the stone.
"Greetings to Lady Ra, Pharaoh of the Egyptian gods," he intoned. His voice echoed down the grand hall. "We present Lord Hades and Lady Hecate of Greece."
The throne room stretched wide, a monument to sun and eternity. Polished sandstone walls gleamed like burnished gold, etched with hieroglyphs that glimmered faintly in the light of countless braziers. Colossal columns, carved with lotus and papyrus motifs, rose like living trees, their capitals opening into sun disks that seemed to capture the sky itself.
The ceiling soared high, painted in deep lapis and adorned with constellations, reflecting the endless heavens above. Shafts of sunlight poured through narrow clerestory windows, striking the polished floor in blinding golden beams that danced among incense smoke curling lazily from gilded censers.
Tapestries of white, gold, and crimson hung between columns, embroidered with the deeds of gods and the endless journey of Ra across the sky. Every surface shimmered with life, every shadow seemed to move with quiet purpose, as if the hall itself were awake and watching.
At the far end, upon a raised dais, stood the throne: carved from a single slab of black obsidian, inlaid with gold and lapis, the back shaped like a pair of outstretched wings. It radiated authority, the air around it vibrating with power, as if the sun itself had taken a seat.
And at the end of the hall, upon a throne of lapis and gold, she sat.
I froze.
Ra.
At least, that's who the guard had said. But not the Ra I expected.
She was not a hawk-headed man crowned with a solar disk. She was a woman—blonde hair braided and bound in gold rings, her skin luminous, her eyes radiant as the sun itself. Her dress was sheer linen, flowing and regal, her collar heavy with jewels that caught the light and refracted it like a rainbow. Every inch of her radiated authority.
When she moved, it was like watching sunlight ripple on water.
I blinked, awkwardly raising a hand. "Uh. Hello?"
A goddess of the sun, Pharaoh of the Egyptian pantheon, and I greeted her like a mortal boy caught sneaking into a temple.
Smooth, Hades. Very smooth.
Her lips curved faintly, like a sunbeam finding a crack in the clouds.
"Lord Hades," she said, her voice warm yet carrying an undercurrent of fire. "Lady Hecate. Welcome to the Duat."
I cleared my throat. "Forgive me if I seem… surprised. I had always heard Ra spoken of as… well. Male."
Her laughter rang like golden bells, rich and amused. "The sun takes many forms, Greek. I am Ra, and Ra is me. Does that trouble you?"
"No," I said quickly, then winced at how much like a boy blurting an excuse it sounded. "Only… unexpected."
Her eyes gleamed like molten amber. "Ah, then you would truly be scandalized to see me when I join with my brothers. Amun, Atum—we have been one before, and in those moments I wear a man's face." She leaned closer, lips curling in a grin equal parts radiant and wicked. "Between us, I make a rather handsome god when I do."
I cleared my throat, the sound scraping awkwardly in the vast golden chamber. For a moment, I felt the weight of all those eyes—Ra's, her falcon guards, the nameless divinities lining the hall. They looked at me as though I were a curiosity, some rare beast dragged out from the shadows to stand blinking in the sun.
It was enough to make me shift uncomfortably.
"I…" My voice caught, and I forced it steady. "I appreciate your welcome, Lady Ra. But forgive me—my first concern must be my family. My siblings. Where are they?"
Her golden eyes softened, though only slightly. She leaned back in her throne, fingers drumming lightly on the lapis armrest. At a flick of her hand, an attendant—slender, robed in white, with the jackal-headed visage of Anubis—stepped forward.
The assistant's voice was low, smooth as polished stone.
"The goddesses—Lady Hera, Lady Hestia, Lady Demeter—are currently in the baths. They were… most grateful for their cleansing after their ordeal."
Hecate smirked faintly at that. "I can imagine."
The attendant inclined his head before continuing. "Lord Poseidon is resting in Lady Imhotep's wards. His wounds were deep, but her craft is… considerable. He will recover."
Relief loosened something tight in my chest. Poseidon was many things—boisterous, arrogant, infuriating—but he was still my brother. Hearing he was safe eased me more than I cared to admit.
But the assistant wasn't finished.
"As for Lord Zeus…" The pause was delicate, deliberate. "He is currently… occupied. In his chambers."
My stomach sank. "Occupied?"
The attendant cleared his throat. "With several of our goddesses."
A flush of heat that had nothing to do with the Duat's burning air spread across my face.
Of course. Of course Zeus would turn a sanctuary into his personal brothel. The world could be crumbling, Typhon could be clawing his way across the heavens, and Zeus would still be… Zeus.
Ra's expression darkened. For the first time since I had entered the hall, the warmth in her eyes faltered, replaced by something sharp and cold.
"Some gods," she said, her voice low and simmering, "cannot control their desires. They mistake sanctuary for indulgence. It is… tiresome."
There was no mistaking the note of contempt in her tone. My respect for her grew a fraction in that instant.
I coughed, trying to cover the embarrassment clawing at me. "Well. That sounds… like him."
Hecate rolled her eyes. "Sounds exactly like him."
I decided not to linger on the subject of my brother's anatomy. Instead, I inclined my head toward Ra.
"Regardless, I thank you for taking them in. Whatever their flaws, they are my family. And without your protection, I fear…" My words trailed off. I didn't need to finish. We all knew what Typhon was capable of.
At the mention of the name, a ripple passed through the hall. Even gods here in the Duat flinched, their animal-headed forms flickering uneasily. Ra's gaze sharpened, focusing wholly on me.
"This creature," she said slowly. "This Typhon. Is he who devastates your land?"
"Yes," I said. My throat felt dry. "He rose from Tartarus, a storm of fire and madness. His fury is… boundless. The last I saw, he had taken root upon Olympus itself."
Hecate added, her voice clipped, "He is not merely a beast. He is a god-killer. And he will not stop until the world burns."
For a moment, silence weighed heavy, broken only by the faint crackle of braziers.
Ra's gaze lingered on me, measuring. At last, she inclined her head. "You have spoken the truth. I have felt his shadow even here, pressing against the borders of the Duat. That is why I offered your kin sanctuary. Not from kindness, but necessity. When storms of that magnitude rage, all realms are threatened."
I bowed my head slightly. "Even so, my thanks. I do not take such generosity lightly."
"Nor should you," she said. Then, after a pause: "Do you seek counsel? Aid in striking this monster down?"
The question was blunt, but there was no mockery in it.
"Yes," I admitted. "Any wisdom you have. We fought him once, and he… he nearly ended us. I would not see my people crushed again."
For a long moment, she said nothing. Her golden eyes seemed to blaze, as though searching my very soul for weakness. Then she sighed, a sound like wind across desert dunes.
"Lord of the Underworld," she said softly, "I cannot give you what you ask. Not now. My words will not help you. My presence will."
I blinked. "Your presence?"
She rose from her throne, and when she did, it was as though the sun itself had taken human form. Light spilled from her, so bright it burned in my eyes, and every god in the hall bowed their head instinctively.
"I will come to you," Ra said, her voice ringing with solar fire. "When the moment comes. I will speak with you then, face to face, not across thrones. For now… you must rest."
And just like that, the fire dimmed. She sank back into her seat, eyes lidded once more.
"You have traveled far, through terror and loss. The Duat is a sanctuary. Take comfort in it, if only briefly. My attendants will see you to chambers fit for your station. There, you may reunite with your kin."
Dismissed. But not coldly.
I inclined my head, forcing my voice steady. "Your hospitality honors me. Thank you."
Hecate gave the faintest of bows, more out of politeness than reverence.
Ra waved a hand. "Go. Sleep. Tomorrow, perhaps, we will speak some more."
🙛🙚🙛🙚🙛🙚⯡🙘🙙🙘🙙🙘🙙
I woke with a start, though I wasn't entirely awake. Or… perhaps I wasn't entirely me.
The first thing I realized was the suffocating weight pressing down from all sides. My thoughts were not my own, and yet, they clawed at me through someone else's. The voice was smooth, cold, relentless. Oceanus. That wretched, endless current of a god, had wormed his way back into me.
"You shouldn't have returned," I growled, fists clenching inside my chest as if they could punch him out of existence.
"Oh, Poseidon," he cooed, a mockery of amusement curling his voice. "You are weak. You always have been. You cannot even hold your own body against me."
I roared, feeling the power of the sea itself rise behind my eyes. Fists collided with phantom fists, a storm of sound and motion echoing within my skull. I could feel the crushing pressure of his will, a tidal force pushing me under, yet I refused to drown.
"You will not control me," I snapped, forcing myself into a forward motion. My mind cracked like ice under pressure, yet still I lunged, trading blows with the invisible, tidal figure of Oceanus that mirrored me. Every strike sent shockwaves through my consciousness.
"You've already lost," he hissed, his voice slithering into the corners of my mind. "I am eternal. I am the ocean that devours worlds. You… are nothing."
"Not anymore!" I screamed, letting a surge of my own power flare, a violent blue light that shattered the murky water of my mind. My body rocked, shaking from the effort of wrestling an entity that was older, stronger than me. But my determination… my anger… it became a weapon all its own.
And then—someone else arrived.
I didn't see them at first. I didn't hear the sound. But the moment they stepped into the storm inside my mind, the tidal waves froze mid-crash. Oceanus hissed, a sound of surprise and fury I had never imagined hearing.
"You!" Oceanus spat, backing away as though invisible chains had seized him.
The presence was overwhelming. Power that did not belong to the ocean, to the sky, to Olympus. Something older. Something primordial.
"You cannot stay," the voice intoned, deep and resonant, echoing against every corner of my being. I felt it like the weight of the world pressing down, and yet… comforting. "Your time is not yet finished."
Oceanus roared, thrashing, trying to push back against the unseen force. But it was futile. The Primordial reached into my consciousness like a hand through water, and Oceanus… he faltered. I felt him shrink, fade, the tides of his presence forced back into nothingness.
For the first time, I could breathe. Truly breathe.
The Primordial turned their attention to me, and though I could not see them in form, I felt the intensity of their gaze pierce through my mind. Then, a hand—a hand of warmth and pressure, not cold like the sea, but alive—placed itself on my head.
"Wake," the voice commanded, and I felt the weight of it sink into my bones. "It is time. Your time. You must rise. You must do your work. Your siblings… they need you. The world… they need the god of the—"