The Throne Room hummed with spectral life.
Spirits drifted about like sentient mist, flowing between the thrones and columns, whispering to one another in half-formed languages. Some clung to the light-chained pillars, inscribing invisible sigils in the air. Others passed through the glowing flora twined around a throne, tending to blooms that pulsed with forgotten souls. The room was alive. Not with chaos, but with the quiet murmur of purpose.
The thrones stood vacant, as they often did, their presence alone enough to anchor divine law. But near the tall, jagged windows at the chamber's end, where the light fell in slanted beams of pale gold from a sky no mortal had ever seen, stood a solitary figure.
Thoth.
The ibis-headed god of knowledge and hidden truths wore a robe of silver parchment, etched with moving ink that whispered equations and invocations. He stood still, hands clasped behind his back, his beaked head tilted slightly as though listening to something far beyond the chamber…perhaps to the stars themselves or to the secret turning of time.
Light from the windows scattered across his form, catching the metallic sheen of his attire and outlining him in reverent glow. The spirits did not disturb him. They circled at a respectful distance, bowing subtly as they passed.
Then, the hooded figure arrived.
He was shrouded in a cloak of dusk and walked without footfall. The hood shadowed his face, on his right index finger was a ring which had ancient etching on the rims, in the middle stood a blue gemstone. Spirits paused in their drifting tasks, some freezing mid-motion and silence fell as he approached Thoth.
"There is progress?" Thoth asked, knowing very well the answer to the question he sought.
"Yes, my Lord," the figure answered, "her vanity vanishes as her curiosity peaks. She has more questions."
"She would not have been vain if you had warned her properly," he turned around and the figure bowed slightly.
"I warned her in her dream, my Lord, so did the witch. We tried—"
"You did not try hard enough," Thoth boomed, "we cannot lose this one, subtleties do not pass the message."
"Yes," the figure agreed, "she is vital to the cause."
Thoth went silent for a moment.
"And her guardian?"
"He's engaged, but she has not told him yet."
"Will she?"
"Yes, my Lord," the figure rose his head, his black eyes becoming visible, glowing like gems as the light rays fell on them, "she will."
"And then he shall know his path, just like you did," Thoth said.
"I lost my seer, Lord," the figure said, in a cold voice.
"But you didn't lose your purpose," Thoth replied, "now you must prove yourself. Keep a close watch on the seer and the guardian. I shall tell you what to do when the time is right."
The figure bowed, turned around and walked out of the room, as the spirits continued to hover and go about their engagements.
***************************************
Asim opened his eyes, still dark and shiny, sharply, but did not stir in his bed. After a few seconds, he blinked slowly, and the color in his eyes diffused back into his normal green eyes.
He sighed and sat up at the edge of his bed, wiping his brow with his left palm. He picked up his phone; 7:45pm.
Can you do this? He asked himself, not like he could back out, because he practically begged for this role. What if he made the same mistake? What if he failed to train the new seer and her guardian?
He walked to his kitchen, picked an empty glass from the counter, filled it with tap water and gulped it down like he had just been in a desert.
Technically, he was. The Egyptian god of knowledge never bothered to leave his throne room and move to colder regions of the earth.
He thought about the seer and closed his eyes, his mind teleporting to her living room, where she hugged a small pillow as her phone rang continuously, and she equally ignored it continuously. There was suddenly a knock and she looked sharply to the door.
Asim looked to the door as well. It was the guardian.