Trial of Anubis

٢٦ : WRAITH

       What was once a memory, caste from stone and sweat and who acted as a phantom of endless nightmares now stated Wraith down. A millennium of guilt began to cripple his chest from the inside out.

        A close inspection of Asemonekh had Wraith rethink his death; he wore the same black kilt, bandages and devilish smirk that would lure any woman from their temples. Wraith knew in his gut; the papyrus was the giveaway, but he couldn't allow himself to believe it. Only Wraith could've picked up on Asemonekh's dirty habit of chewing papyrus; he'd done it since they met and the stem never wilted or broke. Perhaps it was laced with hekka.

       Beside him, Anuka's grip went limp and the Blade of Duamutef fell. Unlike his Head Son, Anuka hadn't witnessed Asemonekh's death and had no memory of closure. Anuka staggered forward, "Akh-wan?"

       Asemonekh turned to his younger brother and looked down on him in pity. His voice, once chipper with the prospect of play, darkened as he removed the papyrus from his lips, "To think that Anapa gave you a second chance over me is disgusting."

       Anuka blinked in disbelief but quickly composed himself. He retrieved his sword and took an offensive stance, "If you do not stand with the Great Father, then you are against us. He still considers you a Son, you will always be his second hand."

       Asemonekh scoffed, "I was more than a hand to Anapa, I was the backbone of his Children when we were abandoned. Once I died, the entirety of his dream collapsed in a night. The Sons of Anubis became like the rest; weak and arrogant, besotted with those who refuse to walk among men. If Anapa truly is our Great Father, where is he now—why does he not strike me? Am I not a threat against Egypt?" he cast his hands wide. "Just like the Children he created; Anapa is afraid. I am Abraxas, I am the bridge between Child and God."

     He couldn't believe it, Asemonekh's words must've been a product of a Forbidden Art. Though, Anubis' words echoed; this was Seth's doing, it was a parasitic relationship—Asemonekh must've complied for Seth's essence to influence him.

         Wraith raised his Khepesh, "You are no Son of mine."

         He cocked his head, "Wahret of Thebesh, it's a bit late to proclaim your authority as Head Son, hm? Considering you left your Sons in limbo for years with little to no contact in between."

        Ziara cut in.

        She sifted sand between her fingers, "You've had a lot of time to plan your vengeance. Chigaru was your first attempt at a mind-slave, right? You needed someone who had access to the Sons of Anubis so you could manipulate Wraith, he was your end game. But it didn't go to plan, did it?"

         Behind her, Elijah cupped his mouth and cried.

          "Being the Head Son of Thoth, he was smarter than that and his mind rebelled. However, he held out longer than Patrick ever could," Ziara's bottom lip trembled. "You tried your best to control him from your prison and it drove Chigaru insane, though in his last moment of sanity he hung himself in a place which seemed obvious. You were too weak to breach Wraith's mind so instead, you found Patrick, but it made you vulnerable."

        The hairs on Wraith's nape stood when Ziara ran at Asemonekh. She threw a fistful of sand in his face, distracting him long enough to tackle him over the mastaba. They scuffled for a moment amongst the blood and bones before Ziara wound her legs around his neck and clenched.

       Instead of clawing at her legs or using an Art to break her neck, Asemonekh threw his head back and laughed, "Y–you would not protect Wahret if you saw him f–for who he is. You will never replace Rabiah, your best chance is to stand with me, I will actually value you."