The S.H.I.E.L.D. plane was small, fast, and lacking any of the amenities that make air travel bearable. Hard seats, minimal lighting, the constant hum of the turbines.
Hill sat across from him, scrolling through files on her tablet. She gave Toth just one long, appraising glance as he boarded the plane, then returned to her work.
He, in turn, examined the interior of the plane with the curiosity of a scientist who has found himself in an unfamiliar laboratory.
"It's amazing," he said, touching the window. "People have learned to fly without magic. Just mind and metal."
"You're always surprised," Anubis remarked. "Every few centuries, you show up, see what humanity has accomplished, and marvel."
"Because they never cease to amaze," he turned to him. "Do you remember when they invented the wheel? You said then, 'practical, but overrated.'"
- I was wrong.
"You're often wrong about little things," Toth agreed. "But you're almost always right about big things. It's an interesting balance."
Hill looked up from her tablet.
— Have you two known each other for a long time?
"Since the beginning of time," Thoth answered seriously.
"Roughly," Anubis added. "We're both Egyptian gods. The Pantheon is like a big family. Complex relationships, a shared history, plenty of room for debate."
— Did you quarrel?
"Once," He smiled. "Three thousand years ago. Because of the classification of souls in the afterlife. I believed the system needed reform."
"And I thought it worked perfectly," Anubis continued. "We haven't spoken for two hundred years."
"Two hundred years of fighting?" Hill put down her tablet.
"For the gods, that's about six months of hurt silence," Anubis explained. "Quite within the norm."
Hill looked at him with the expression of someone trying to rethink the concept of time.
— Who made peace first?
"He," they both said at the same time.
Then they looked at each other.
"You came first," said Thoth.
- You wrote the letter first.
— The letter doesn't count. It was just a polite note.
"You wrote seven pages in hieroglyphs on papyrus made from premium reed. This isn't a polite note, it's an apology, delivered by you."
Hill coughed to hide her smile and looked back at her tablet.
The plane was flying over the Mediterranean Sea, and the lights of ships were twinkling below.
Anubis looked at the water, thinking. Beside him, Thoth leafed through a small notebook—as tattered as Kate's, but much older.
"Tell me about the Firstborn," Anubis said quietly.
He put the notebook aside.
"I only saw him briefly. In the archives, when I discovered the theft. A dark figure, very tall. But not physically tall—tall in the sense of presence. As if the space around him were larger."
— Red eyes?
He looked at him sharply.
— Do you know about him?
"Stone mentioned a figure with red eyes that appeared to him in his dreams. I thought it was a metaphor or a magical effect."
"No. It's his way of communicating. He enters the minds of mortals who have access to the knowledge or artifacts he needs. He uses them, then discards them."
— Stone was an instrument.
— Like others before him, I suspect.
Anubis considered this.
"Why does the Primordial want to open the Hall of Two Truths? What will he gain from merging the worlds?"
"I don't know," Thoth answered honestly. "And that's what scares me more than anything else."
Anubis didn't often hear Thoth admit ignorance. That in itself was disturbing.
Cairo greeted them with heat, even at night.
After London, it was almost a physical blow - the thick, warm air, the smell of dust and spices, the noise of the city that never ceased, day or night.
Anubis took a deep breath and felt something he hadn't felt in a very long time.
House.
Not sentimental, not nostalgic. Simply – home. The land that remembered him. The sand that was his.
He stood next to me on the airfield and quietly said:
- Do you feel it?
— Yes.
— The Earth remembers us.
— The Earth always remembers.
Hill followed them out, already on the phone. She was arranging transportation, coordinating with local S.H.I.E.L.D. agents, and clarifying protocol.
"The car's waiting," she said, putting the phone away. "We have an operational base in the city. We can develop a plan there."
"First to the museum," said Anubis.
— It's three in the morning now.
— For gods, this is normal working time.
Hill sighed but didn't object.
The Cairo Museum looked different at night than it did during the day. Without the crowds of tourists, without an umbrella-wielding guide leading groups from exhibit to exhibit, the building seemed like what it truly was—a repository of millennia.
A local S.H.I.E.L.D. agent—a young Egyptian named Karim, who spoke English with an American accent and was clearly nervous in the presence of two gods—led them through the service entrance.
"The storage rooms are on level minus two," he explained, leading them through the corridors. "The security systems didn't detect any intrusion. No sign of a break-in. The artifact simply... disappeared. As if it had always been an empty cell."
"So it wasn't a physical theft," Anubis said.
"Magical movement," Toth nodded.
Karim glanced at Tot with an expression as if he wanted to ask a million questions, but decided better not to.
The storerooms were enormous—rows upon rows of shelves containing thousands of artifacts, each labeled, documented, and silent for millennia.
Anubis immediately felt emptiness.
Not physical. Magical. Where his canopic jar should have been, there was an absence—like a hole in the fabric of reality, a place from which something important had been torn.
He walked up to the empty shelf, dropped to one knee, and waved his hand through the air above it.
"She was here," he said quietly.
"When did you last see her?" Hill asked.
"One thousand nine hundred and twenty-two. When Carter excavated Tutankhamun's tomb, there was a huge frenzy around all things Egyptian. I decided it would be safer to place it here, under official guard." He stood up. "Naive, as it turns out."
"Not naive," Thoth countered. "This enemy simply thinks differently. He doesn't steal—he takes what he considers his own."
— Where does such confidence come from?
"Because that's all he took. There are thousands of valuable artifacts around, many with enormous magical potential. He took only what he needed. He knows exactly what he's doing."
Anubis scanned the adjacent shelves. He was right—everything else was untouched.
"The one," Karim finally decided to speak. "Sorry to interrupt. My name is Karim al-Rashid. I grew up in Cairo and studied Egyptology at university. And I want to say..." he paused. "It's an honor. To meet you. Both of you."
He turned to him, there was warmth in his eyes.
— Have you studied our stories?
"All my life," Karim straightened up. "My grandfather said the old gods weren't dead, just sleeping. I never believed him. And now..."
"Your grandfather was a wise man," Anubis said.
"He died three years ago," Karim said quietly. "I hope he found peace."
Anubis looked at him, this young man with intelligent eyes and quiet sorrow.
— What was his name?
— Ibrahim al-Rashid.
Anubis closed his eyes for a second. He had judged millions of souls over millennia. He couldn't remember them all—that was impossible. But sometimes...
"A gray-haired man," he said slowly, "who died in October three years ago. He was holding a rosary. The first thing he asked me was whether it was true that the pyramids were more beautiful on the inside than on the outside."
Karim froze.
"It's him," he whispered.
"His heart was light as a feather," Anubis said quietly. "He passed into the afterlife without fear. And he received the answer to his question about the pyramids."
Tears welled up in Karim's eyes. He quickly turned away, wiping them away.
Hill looked at Anubis with an expression that very slowly changed from professional skepticism to something else.
"You do remember them," she said quietly. "All of them."
"Not all," Anubis answered honestly. "But many. It's my job. To remember those others forget."
The silence in the storerooms took on a different quality after these words. Thicker. Warmer.
He was the first to break it:
— We need a plan.
They moved into S.H.I.E.L.D.'s base of operations—a small apartment in Cairo's Old Quarter, overlooking narrow streets and the mosque's minaret, from which the call to prayer would sound in a few hours.
Hill laid out the maps and data on the table. Karim brought coffee—real Egyptian, thick and sweet. Anubis took the cup and felt another pang of nostalgia.
"So," Hill began. "What do we know? The mandala is almost complete. The final artifact—the canopic jar of Anubis—has been stolen and will be used to complete the ritual. The center of the mandala is the pyramids of Giza. The enemy is an unknown Primordial entity. The goal is to open the Hall of Two Truths and merge the worlds of the living and the dead."
She looked at everyone.
— What did I miss?
"Time frame," Thoth said. "When will the mandala be activated?"
"It depends on the position of the celestial bodies," Anubis replied. "A ritual of this magnitude requires a certain astronomical alignment. That one?"
He was already drawing something on a piece of paper.
"Next alignment..." he counted, his fingers moving with incredible speed. "Thirty-six hours. Dawn the day after tomorrow."
"Thirty-six hours," Hill repeated. "That's not enough."
"That's enough," Anubis countered. "If we act correctly."
— What's the plan?
Anubis stood up and walked over to the map.
"The mandala is made up of nodes. If we destroy enough of them, the ritual won't be able to complete, even with the canopic jar." He pointed to the marked nodes. "There are three of us. Plus S.H.I.E.L.D. support."
"Four," Karim corrected. "I'm coming with you."
"You are mortal," Thoth remarked, not rudely, but simply stating the point.
"I am a mortal who knows Cairo better than any of you," Karim replied. "And who knows every artifact in this museum. If we need information about key points, I will be of assistance."
Anubis looked at him. Young, educated, motivated. And brave—that was obvious.
"Okay," he agreed. "But you stick around. And you do what you're told."
Karim nodded, trying to hide his relief.
"Shall we split up?" Hill asked.
"No," said Anubis. "That makes no sense. If the Primordial detects us, separation will be a vulnerability. We move together."
— Then where do we start?
"From the first node," Anubis pointed at the map. "The Old City. Khan al-Khalili. There's an artifact there—the bronze Eye of Ra amulet, sold at a collector's market in the 1930s. I can sense it from here. It's already activated and pulsing."
"What do you mean, pulsating?" asked Karim.
"It means the local ghosts have already begun to act restlessly," Anubis replied. "Residents of the area are likely noticing strange sounds, cold spots, perhaps visions. They're chalking it up to stress or their imagination."
Karim frowned.
"I've heard from local agents that something strange has been happening in Khan al-Khalili in recent days. Shopkeepers are complaining about mirrors being broken for no apparent reason, and one merchant said he saw the shadow of his deceased father."
"The nodal point is active," Toth confirmed.
"Excellent," Hill began gathering her equipment. "We'll be leaving in twenty minutes."
Khan al-Khalili was another world at night. The tourists had dispersed, and most of the merchants' stalls were shuttered. Only the teahouses and coffee shops remained open, illuminated by warm lights, from which came the sound of voices and the aroma of hookah.
The narrow streets of the old market have witnessed centuries of history. Every stone here bears witness to history—the Crusades, Egyptian rulers, French conquerors, and British colonists.
Anubis walked through them as if they were familiar territory. Because it was indeed familiar—even though the streets had changed, even though the goods had changed, something underneath remained the same.
"Here," he stopped at a closed shop. "The artifact is inside."
"How do we get in?" Hill asked.
Anubis looked at the castle, then at Karima.
— Do you know the owner?
"My family has been buying spices here for thirty years," Karim replied. "I know all the merchants in this neighborhood."
"Then we'll officially return tomorrow morning. But for now..."
He placed his hand on the lock and sand seeped into the mechanism. Click.
"Gods don't need keys," Karim muttered under his breath, repeating the words he had heard in London.
Inside, the shop was filled with goods—spices, fabrics, souvenirs. But on one of the shelves, among the usual trinkets, stood him.
A bronze amulet in the shape of the Eye of Ra, no bigger than a fist. Inconspicuous, unremarkable. But pulsing with dark energy.
Anubis came closer, and the air around the artifact became noticeably colder.
"It's been active for several weeks," Toth said, studying it. "A standard nodal structure. It feeds off the fear and disorientation of those around it. That's why the locals see ghosts—the artifact tonically thins the boundary between worlds."
"Can I help?" Karim asked, looking over his shoulder.
"Here, take this," He handed him a small crystal from his pocket. "It will neutralize any residual magic when we deactivate the artifact."
— What exactly should I do?
— Hold it and don't drop it.
- This is all?
"It's more important than it seems," Thoth answered seriously.
Karim clutched the crystal tightly.
Anubis extended his hands over the amulet, and golden light began to flow from his fingers. He recited the deactivating runes, his voice quiet, almost inaudible.
But something went wrong.
Instead of fading, the amulet flared brighter. Dark energy exploded from it in a wave that threw Anubis and Thoth back.
Hill grabbed her gun, even though she knew bullets were useless here.
"What happened?" Karim shouted.
"A trap," Thoth whispered, rising. "He knew we were coming. He reinforced the nodal points."
Darkness began to rise from the amulet—not smoke, not fog, but darkness. Dense, living, taking shape.
The shape of a person.
A very tall man with red eyes.
Not a physical being. Projection. Magical echo.
"Anubis," the creature said, and its voice was just as Thoth had described—layered, ancient, strangely familiar. "Guardian of the Dead. I finally see you in person."
"Not personally," Anubis replied, rising and not taking his eyes off him. "You're a projection."
"For now, yes," the creature agreed. "But soon, no. When the mandala is complete, I will be able to enter this world fully."
- This will not happen.
"You think you can stop me?" There wasn't anger in her voice, but something akin to genuine curiosity. "You, who've been hiding behind the bar for centuries?"
"I was hiding," Anubis agreed. "But not anymore."
"Commendable. But useless." The projection tilted its head. "You know what interests me about you, Guardian? You're the only one who can stop me. And you're the only one I can't control through dreams."
"Because I am the god of the dead," Anubis replied. "Fear of death has no effect on one who is its conductor."
"Exactly," the creature nodded. "So I won't try to control you. I'll just take you out."
The amulet exploded.
A wave of darkness swept across the shop, shattering shelves and knocking over merchandise. Anubis created a shield of sand, Thoth erected a barrier of golden light.
Hill grabbed Karima and pinned him against the wall, shielding him with her body.
"GO AWAY!" Anubis shouted.
"We're not leaving!" Hill replied.
- That's an order!
— I don't have your signature on the employment contract!
Despite the situation, Anubis almost laughed.
He struck the floor with his staff, and golden lines spread across the ground, forming a grid of light barriers.
"This will slow her down!" he shouted. "But the artifact must be destroyed!"
- How?!
"Your canopic jar is gone, but your power is here! Use it directly!"
Anubis understood. Without the artifact as a catalyst, it would be more expensive. Much more expensive. He uses his own energy as a source.
But there was no choice.
He stood up straight, allowing his form to begin to transform. Not completely, only partially. His eyes flashed yellow gold, his skin darkened, his features sharpened.
"MY NAME IS ANUBIS," he said, his voice rolling through the shop like thunder. "SON OF OSIRIS. GUARDIAN OF THE SCALES. AND THIS DARKNESS HAS NO PLACE HERE."
He lowered his hands onto the amulet.
It was like grasping hot metal with his bare hands—pain shot through him from his fingertips to his spine. The darkness resisted, pressed, tried to burn him away.
But Anubis held on.
"GO AWAY," he whispered to the darkness. "GO AWAY INTO WHAT YOU ARE."
The amulet began to crack.
The projection of the Primordial distorted and trembled.
"This is not the end, Guardian," she hissed. "You can break this knot. You can break all the knots. But I have the canopic jar. And dawn will still come the day after tomorrow."
"Let's consider it then," Anubis answered through the pain.
The amulet exploded.
Not darkness, but light. Golden, dazzling, purifying.
When the light faded, Anubis held a handful of cold ash in his hands.
The shop was a wreck. Shelves were overturned, goods scattered. Gray dawn shone through the cracks in the broken shutters.
Hill peered out from behind cover, slowly putting away her weapon.
Karim looked as if he'd lived ten years in the last ten minutes. But he held the crystal tightly.
"That's it?" he asked quietly.
"One knot out of six," Anubis replied, lowering his hands. "Five remaining."
"And thirty-four hours," Hill added, checking her watch.
Anubis looked at the destroyed shop, at the ashes in his hands, at his allies - the intelligence agent, the god of wisdom, the young Egyptologist.
Outside, Cairo was waking up. The first sounds of the adhan floated from the minarets. The smell of fresh bread from the bakery. The honk of a taxi.
Life went on. For now.
"We need breakfast," Anubis said. "And a plan for the next five nodes."
"Breakfast?" Hill looked at him. "Now?"
"I haven't eaten since London. Gods eat too, Hill." He walked out of the shop onto the night street, already brightening. "Karim, where do they make good ful medames around here at this hour?"
"Two blocks away," Karim answered, stunned.
- Excellent. I'll treat you.
He walked next to me, his white suit, as always, perfectly clean, despite everything that had happened.
"Do you always eat after a battle?" he asked.
"It's not after the battle. It's between battles. The difference is important."
Hill walked behind, typing a report for Fury as she went.
"What should I write about the shop?" she asked.
"Robbery," Anubis answered without hesitation. "We'll leave an envelope with money. Enough to cover the damages, plus extra."
- This is not standard S.H.I.E.L.D. protocol.
"It's an honest act," Anubis countered. "The man is innocent; his shop was destroyed by the gods. He should receive compensation."
Pause.
"Agreed," Hill said. "I'll charge it as an operating expense."
They walked through the awakening Cairo, four very different beings united by a common goal.
Ahead were five nodes, one stolen artifact, the mysterious Primordial, and thirty-four hours.
But first, breakfast.
Some things remain constant, even when the world hangs in the balance.