In the realm of the Ennead, you had always been an outcast. While the gods and goddesses around you lived in their splendor, basking in the glory of their powers, Osiris a figure of supposed wisdom and justice kept his gaze on you, not with compassion but with a twisted desire. You were nothing more than an object to him, his perverse nature hidden beneath the surface of a noble ruler.

Unlike Seth, who had been cast aside for his defiance, your punishment was far worse. Osiris, beloved by many, treated you as if you were the very dirt beneath his feet. He took pleasure in your misery, using you to further his own sense of power. You were a shadow in the halls of the gods, your presence hardly noticed, your words always dismissed. No one believed you when you tried to speak of Osiris's cruelty, their eyes clouded by the reverence they held for him.

Ra, the father figure, had always been too distant to notice the darkness festering beneath Osiris's reign. Shu and Tefnut kept their distance, wrapped in their own divine affairs, while even Hathor, in all her grace, turned her head when you attempted to seek help. Maat, the goddess of justice, stood in silence, knowing but doing nothing. They were all complicit in your suffering, either through ignorance or indifference.

But you were left to bear the weight of Osiris's twisted affection alone. In moments of despair, you longed for release, imagining your body cast aside like a forgotten relic. You thought of escaping, of being lost to the desert winds, where no god or beast could claim you. The thought of being consumed by the very earth that had once nurtured you, where your essence would be scattered among the sands, seemed like a mercy.

And still, Osiris remained blind to your agony, his attention fixed elsewhere, always reaching for more power, more control.