The Rise of the Goddess

77 | I HAVE LOST THE BATTLE

The distant roar of a ship's engine cut out. Ahmen slipped deeper into the shadow of a pillar, his attention fixed on the opening leading from the corridor into the courtyard to where the mirror stood, innocent, quiet.

Since Sethi's arrival, the mirror had become Ahmen's sole occupation. As his flesh work to knit itself back together, he sat before the mirror through the scorching days and lonely nights, waiting, patient, vigilant, dispatching Marduk's warriors before they even knew where they were. Then, two nights ago, the mirror fell silent. Its abrupt somnolence unnerved Ahmen. He waited as the days and nights passed, his uneasiness growing, paired with dread.

He cut a quick look up at the night sky, its stars far brighter than before. The shield remained, though only a faint glimmer coated the canopy, a shadow of its former glory. A short while ago, within the mirror's reflection, the shield had flickered and dimmed. He had stood and scanned the sky, waiting for the shield to return to its former state, willing it to have been the tinkering of Thoth. But it did not. Instead, it continued to dim. And now—

A heavy tread came from the furthest end of the corridor, determined, purposeful, heading straight for the courtyard. Ahmen tightened his hold on his weapon, his instincts hauling on him, warning him to stay back.

Sethi emerged from the corridor into the starlit courtyard, his chest and arms splattered in blood, the jihn once more in his possession. The weapon's bleak presence slammed into Ahmen. Along its dark blades, ripples of pale blue light undulated, the symbols flaring each time the light passed over them. He braced himself for its onslaught, for the despair, the rage, the guilt. It came, insidious, sliding between the cracks of his mind. He resisted, willing himself to bear it.

Sethi came to a halt just before the mirror, his chest rose and fell, his breathing ragged. He turned and scanned the courtyard, the fractals against his chest moving, seamless. A glint of tears sheared through his eyes.

He reached into the folds of his kilt and yanked something free. The dull gleam of gold caught Ahmen's eyes. Sethi set it on the ground beside the mirror. He stared at it for a heartbeat, redolent with grief and regret.

"I have lost the battle," he rasped. "It is over."

The jihn's symbols ignited. With a roar of anguish, he threw his head back, the muscles of his chest and arms taut from his inner battle. The fractals on his chest ceased their rotation, then juddered back to life, erratic. The jihn's light seethed toward the portal, seeking relief from the lingering oppression of the shield. Sethi lowered his head. Darkness poured into his eyes. He slammed his palm against the mirror. Its surface rippled. The stars' reflections faded as the portal coalesced into Meresamun's suite in—Ahmen blinked. He eased nearer the pillar, clenching his teeth, enduring the brutal, grinding accusations of the jihn's subdued presence. Dread slinked along his spine. That was not Perev—

Sethi pushed his arm in up to his elbow. Light poured over him, bathing the courtyard in pale white light. He plunged into the opening, his profile streaming into a sleet of light before it surged into the portal, leaving nothing but the residue of his presence behind. A heartbeat passed, enormous, loaded with the weight of Sethi's departure. The portal's light faded. Darkness slid over the courtyard. Silence.

Ahmen eased out from behind the pillar and went to the mirror. Gone was the portal's destination. He glared at the mirror, blameless in the faint light of the stars, hating Marduk for his cunning. His reflection glared back at him, an ugly mess of half-healed flesh and half-exposed tendon and muscle. He bent to collect the item Sethi had left behind. From beneath a thick coating of congealed blood, a pair of golden serpents entwined a stave. He rubbed the blood away from their faces. Istara's pendant glinted back at him in the starlight, mournful.