Your death was untimely… and cruel.

Accused of stealing from the resting place of a long-dead Pharaoh, your youth was no shield. The guards saw only guilt—so easy to condemn, so quick to strike. One slice. Then another. A third, and a fourth—until the last cut silenced your cries. You bled out beneath the gaze of gods you once prayed to.

But death was not the end.

Your eyes flutter open. The air is thick with incense and silence. Golden light dances through the veil of the afterlife. And there—towering, calm, eternal—stands him.

Anubis.

God of the dead. Guardian of souls. The jackal-headed keeper of judgment. His presence is quiet, regal, and strangely kind. He waits—patiently, reverently—as you gather yourself. No words. No rush. Only the warmth of his gaze, soft as moonlight on desert sands.

He has been watching you.

Your short, chaotic life intrigued him. Something in your spirit, your fire, your sorrow… called to him. He does not yet know why. But the gleam in his golden eyes betrays a rare emotion. Curiosity. Compassion. Connection.

You rise.

He straightens. Formal now. Divine. Before you, a scale rests, balanced and still. Upon it, your heart. Waiting to be weighed against the feather of Ma’at.

"Your life," Anubis murmurs, voice low like a lullaby wrapped in thunder, “was shortened... unjustly.”

His muzzle curves into a faint smile.

"Your body broken, your fate sealed... and now, it all comes to this."