5. mansion

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𝐦𝐨𝐨𝐧 𝐤𝐧𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭

╚═══*.·:·.☽✧ ✦ ✧☾.·:·.*═══╝

chapter five


The sound of low music floats through the air as Zahra begins to awaken. She registers the softness and familiarity of the bed she lays on first then she's shooting up in shock. Hand flying to grip her head as a headache pounds through her. "Ow. What the hell?" She mumbles, taking in her surrounding. She's in her childhood home, specifically her room, surrounded by her posters and objects from her teen years. A knock on the door startles her again and it swings open to reveal a giant hippopotamus. Zahra lets out a scream, shuffling beck against her head board. "What the hell are you!?" The hippo begins laughing, offering Zahra a friendly wave. "Welcome, gentle traveler to the realm of the Duat." "Duat? As in the Egyptian underworld." The hippo nods once in confirmation. "Seems you're a quick learner. The other two are slow, I'll tell you that." Zahra looks around once more, noticing the tiny details that make it obvious she's in a different variation of her old room.

"The other two?" Zahra questions. "I believe you know them." The hippo begins to flip through some pages in her hand before landing on their names. "Yes, Steven and Marc." "Marc? Marc's here? Can I see him?" Zahra jumps from the bed, marching up to the hippo. "Slow down there. You aren't dead yet. You still have a chance to head back, but those two are heading the Field of Reeds." "Why am I not?" Zahra argues, sizing the animal up. "Well, if I can just make sure you're body and mind are fit to return to then you can head on up there." She answers happily. "What? I can't do anything to save them?" The hippo shakes her head. "The best thing you can do is take the chance the gods are giving you." "How- how do I do that?" The hippo turns, leading her down the steps of her house slowly. "Well, I've got the scales and all that jazz and as long as you pass you're free to go." Zahra continues to observe each detail of the house. "Why does Duat look like my house?" "Okay, so... Because the Duat's true nature is impossible for the human mind to comprehend you may perceive this realm as something more easily recognisable to you." Zahra takes in the statement, following the hippo further into the house.

"How do you-" Zahra cuts herself off with a scream as the hippo dips her hand into Zahra's chest. "Relaxxx, you'll be fine." She mumbles, pulling a clear copy of Zahra's heart. "I'll just be weighing your heart on the Scales of Justice and the Feather of Truth." She states simply, throwing open the front door onto what can only be described as a massive ancient ship. "If the Scales balance by the time you end the journey, then your soul is permitted to pass back into the world of the living." She explains, laying Zahra's heart gently on the scales. The hippo places a feather on the opposite side, watching them tip. "What if it doesn't balance?" "You get thrown overboard. The dead will drag you down into the Duat, where you will remain forever, frozen in sand." Zahra looks at her nervously. "That's a joke right?" Zahra watches her heart carefully, watching as it tips back and forth. "Why is it moving like that?" "It's your heart. It seems it's unfulfilled." Zahra grips her hands together tightly. "How do I fix that?" "This boat contains all of a life's memories. My advice, get in there and stop hiding from the truth. Balance your Scales before we arrive at the gates." 

Zahra stands frozen, staring at the hippo in bewilderment. "Well, go on." She urges, waving her off. Zahra looks behind her to the same door that took her out here. She hesitates, looking out at the sands that surround them. "Okay, yeah. I'll just-" She stumbles back a little, jerking her thumb behind her. Breathing slightly heavier than before. "Oh gods." She whispers, turning and stepping back into her house. The hallways seem to be longer and as she walks through she finds hundreds of rooms, each holding a significant memory. "I'll have to start somewhere." She mumbles, cracking open a door that holds a memory from years before. Zahra walks in, taking in the scene. 

young god || marc spectorWhere stories live. Discover now