Anubis nodded, a rare, faint softening in his glowing eyes. He stepped aside, gesturing toward the gates of Aaru. As the soul passed into the golden reeds, the playlist transitioned into a soaring, ethereal melody.
The scales of the Hall of Truth did not care for the politics of the living or the divine. They only cared for the weight of a heart against the feather of Ma’at.
He adjusted his headphones, the modern relic a strange contrast against his ancient collar. A low, rhythmic hum pulsed through them—the steady beat of his own curated .
The soul looked up, terrified. Behind the god, the Great Devourer, Ammit, shifted in the shadows, her crocodile jaws snapping at a stray thought of guilt. Anubis reached out, his obsidian fingers gentle as he extracted the heart.
“Step forward,” Anubis’s voice was a tectonic shift, deep and vibrating.