The sun had barely cleared the eastern hills when Kael-Ankh and his companions reached the dry wadi Nekht's tablet had marked. The landscape here was harsher than the fertile Nile banks—red-brown rock cracked by centuries of heat, sparse thorn acacias clinging to life, the air dry and tasting faintly of salt and old stone. A narrow cleft opened in the cliff face ahead: black stone steps descending at a steep angle, worn smooth by feet long dead. No railing, no markers. Just darkness swallowing light after the first dozen treads.
Ptahhotep paused at the edge, staff planted firmly.
"This is one of the true mouths of the Duat," he said, voice low. "Not the symbolic tombs or painted chapels of the living. This is a physical gateway—older than the pyramids, carved when the first gods walked the black land. The word 'Duat' itself means 'the hidden place' or 'the place of darkness.' In the oldest Pyramid Texts it appears as dwꜣt—'the realm of the stars that set below the horizon,' the underworld mirror of the sky where the sun travels at night. Later it became the full domain of the dead: caverns, rivers of fire, gates guarded by serpents and demons, fields of reeds for the justified, lakes of flame for the damned."
He pointed down the steps.
"History remembers many names for it: Amenti in the west, Imhet in the east, Rosetau 'the mouth of the passages.' Every nome had its own local entrance—caves, wells, abandoned quarries. But all led to the same realm ruled by Osiris, navigated by Ra's night barque, patrolled by Anubis, recorded by Thoth."
Senet adjusted the Bow of Neith across her back, eyes fixed on the descending stair.
"How many gates?"
"Traditionally seven," Ptahhotep replied. "Each guarded by a serpent or demon, each requiring a name, a spell, a gesture. Fail, and the soul is devoured or trapped. Succeed, and you reach the Hall of Two Truths."
Meret spun her khopesh once, the blade catching faint light.
"And Apophis waits somewhere in there?"
Ptahhotep's face darkened.
"Apophis—'the Great Encircler'—is older than the gods themselves. In the oldest myths he is the primordial serpent of chaos, coiled in the waters of Nun before creation. Every night he attacks Ra's sun-barque as it passes through the Duat, trying to swallow the sun and plunge the world into eternal darkness. Set stands at the prow, spearing him; other gods aid with magic and blades. The battle is eternal—Apophis is never truly killed, only repelled until the next night."
He looked at Kael.
"Nekht seeks to summon a true avatar of Apophis here—at this gate. If he succeeds, the serpent's chaos could spill into the living world. Crops would wither, rivers turn to poison, order itself unravel. That is why we descend now—before he completes the rite."
Nefertari's fingers brushed the sistrum at her belt.
"Then we go in, break his toys, and come out again."
Kael nodded.
"Together."
They descended.
The steps were steep, forcing single file. Torchlight from Ptahhotep's staff cast long shadows that danced like living things. The air grew cooler, damper, carrying the faint smell of natron, incense, and something metallic—old blood or copper.
After two hundred steps the passage leveled into a wide corridor carved from living rock. Wall reliefs appeared—faded but vivid: Ra's barque sailing through caverns, gods spearing a colossal serpent, Osiris enthroned with crook and flail, Isis spreading protective wings.
The first gate loomed ahead: massive black granite doors flanked by two coiled uraei—rearing cobras with sun-disks, eyes of polished obsidian.
A voice echoed from the stone—deep, resonant, neither male nor female.
"Who dares enter the hidden place?"
Kael stepped forward.
"Kael-Ankh, Awakened Ka, bearer of fragments, defender of Ma'at."
The doors did not move.
"Speak your name of power."
Kael drew a breath and recited the first line from the Book of the Dead scroll.
"I am the one who has come forth by day. I know the names of the gods who dwell in the Duat. I have not done iniquity…"
He continued the Negative Confession—slow, deliberate—each denial ringing against the stone.
The doors groaned open.
Beyond lay a vast chamber lit by floating orbs of pale blue light. A black river flowed through its center—smooth, ink-dark, reflecting no stars. On the far bank rose a second gate, guarded by a jackal-headed figure twice the height of a man: Anubis himself, or his greater echo, obsidian fur gleaming, golden eyes fixed on them.
The god spoke.
"You carry my mark, child of two worlds. Yet the heart must be weighed."
Anubis extended one massive paw. A golden scale materialized—left pan holding a red jasper heart, right pan empty.
"Your heart, Kael-Ankh. Step forward."
Kael walked to the scale. The others watched, tense.
He felt no fear—only clarity. Anubis's Silent Vigil fragment pulsed in his chest, cool and steady.
The jackal-god lifted the heart amulet from Kael's neck—now glowing softly—and placed it on the left pan.
The scale tilted—then balanced perfectly. The feather of Ma'at (alabaster, perfect) appeared on the right pan and held level.
Anubis inclined his head.
"True of voice. You may pass."
The heart returned to Kael's neck, warmer now.
Anubis gestured to the river.
"The barque waits. But beware—Nekht has already reached the third cavern. His rite begins. Apophis stirs."
A reed boat materialized on the black water—Ra's night barque in miniature, crewed by faint glowing figures: lesser deities, jackal-headed rowers, falcon-headed warriors.
They boarded.
The boat moved without oars—gliding silently downstream.
Caverns opened on either side: lakes of fire, fields of reeds, halls of knives. Demons hissed from shadows; serpents watched with burning eyes.
Kael felt the fragments resonate—Horus's vengeance burning, Isis's healing ready, Thoth's insight mapping every threat.
Senet stood at the prow, arrow nocked.
Meret gripped her khopesh.
Nefertari's sistrum hummed softly.
Ptahhotep clutched the Was fragment.
The boat rounded a bend.
Ahead, in a cavern lit by red-black flame, Nekht knelt before a massive stone altar. The Apophis proxy—larger now, coils thick as tree trunks—writhed above him, red eyes fixed on the group.
Nekht rose, smiling.
"You came. Good. Witness the end of order."
He raised the black-iron was-scepter.
The serpent roared.
Kael gripped the Spear of Montu.
"End this."
They charged.