(Verando POV)

"What on earth are you doing with that device?" Hathor demands, making him cringe from the sharpness of her voice; his ears were already aching from the constant hiss of sand pouring in all around them. 

The tomb groaned again, a rushing sound of rocks falling from above; the whole place was to be buried in the sand. "Don't worry about it; just get us out of here. He's not going to bury us inside, he's sinking the damned thing."

A rush of mortals blocks their path. Verando moves to kneel, but Hathor quickly stops him, tightening her grip on the stretched and sliced button-up. "We can't do that trick again; any more holes and it will crash around us. He's using them as fodder." Her voice is hard, her expression twisted in disgust. "Damn it, Seth... He wants to slow us down."

Verando exhales, sliding his arm before the woman to push her behind him. "If he's not coming after us himself, that means one of two things. He knows that I can kill him.. or he's determined we aren't worth his time. Just stay behind me, keep talking, don't freeze up." 

It was surprisingly easy to maneuver his way through a large group of skilled mortals. His skin had hardened, his body was carved of stone, and their weapons did little but tattered his clothes; meanwhile, a simple scrape by the blades of the karambits was enough to make them disappear.   Fenrir practically whimpered in the back of his mind; he'd have to eat everything in the house to satisfy the beast. 

"We're not even judging them," Hathor complains as Verando switches their positions, sending another text when he notes that I've not responded. "Damn it! I thought you said stay behind you?" She wields her sickles, blocking swords and staffs, grimacing with each life laid down by blades that should only judge those on the scales. 

"I'll settle up with Anubis later.. we haven't quite touched on the whole 'following a lunatic' bit. If they're willing to kill people, I'd say they won't be going to a pleasant afterlife." Verando retorts, hooking his arm in hers, "Be more flexible. You act like you've never been in battle before." He swings her, using her like a weapon as the collision of her body with the incoming foot soldiers forces her to use her sickle. 

Releasing her on the backswing and sending another text when I, yet again, leave him unanswered, the chill slips from his lips. A foggy, iced over breath,  he can feel his body starting to fatigue. "I've not been in battle. I'm a God, not a soldier; I never had to fight for any of this. I was given a job, and I did it. This is... anarchy. I'll be purged for this, culled; this isn't what I was built for."

"Then why are you here, Hathor?" Verando snaps, looking over his shoulder as he dislodges the sickle from the chest of a disintegrating man. The handle stings, making his hand practically steam; this weapon did not belong to him. 

Her lips parted, and those golden eyes shifted past him down the hallway, listening to the distant echo of footprints as these people blindly followed their god into a massacre. "It's the right thing to do." She says, somber in her tone. "I'm uncomfortable. Frankly, I'm terrified that you'll turn on me, but.. Anubis said I could trust you, and I believe him. We can not continue to go unchecked; letting the worlds converge on Earth will create-"

Verando pursed his lips. It was something he often thought about: "Norse men call it Ragnarok. The end of the world, when all is consumed."

Snatching his hand, she scrutinizes his skin tone as she scrubs off some of the dirt. "I knew you weren't Egyptian. You sound.. odd. How strange that Anubis picked a man from a different religion altogether."

Pulling his hand from her, he frowned, though it wasn't like she could see it through the darkness of the mask. "Figured that all out at once, yeah? What gave it away? The obviously English accent or the fact that I have no idea who the end of you idiots are?" His voice dripped with sarcasm, making a bubble of laughter come from her thin lips as she smiled broadly at him. The startling white teeth looked oddly luminescent in the dark tunnel. 

Verando silences the phone as I call him, cursing under his breath. "He doesn't understand..." he grumbles, making her tilt her head. 

"Anubis?"

Hmm.. best not to give away my identity. 

"Get us outside. I have a way out of here, but it won't work if we're trapped here. At least... I'm not sure if it will."

"Not sure?" Hathor scoffs, shaking her head. "I'm glad we're operating on your hunches." Feeling the weight of his gaze, she giggles once more. "Funny that I can tell you're displeased without seeing your face. You're so... pissy."

"Pissy?" he spits back, "I'm sorry, darling, we're being buried alive, and there's this whole... air.. of betrayal in the background. Would you like a dash of good manners and will with your mayhem?" He takes her sickle, throwing it through the head of an incoming man without ever taking his gaze off her. "Would you be so kind as to lead the bloody way so I can go home? Please?"

Snorting, finding way too much amusement in his outburst, she removes her sickle from the heap with a sigh. "Definitely pissy. Come on. I'll get it together; I can handle it."

"Glad that's sorted." Verando scowls, grumbling as he pushes her forward. "Run then, because if this is going to work, we have a very short window—" His nose catches the distant scent of earth, dusty and dry but not soaked in oil. "Smell that?"

"I smell blood." She practically groans, more pointedly watching how he carves so effortlessly through oncoming bodies. 

The question immediately makes him regret his word choice. Of course, she wouldn't have the nose that he did. "I think we need to go down this hall." He gestures to the upcoming passage off of the main straight away. 

"You do realize we could be trapped forever if we go off this path? This is Seth's temple.. the rooms-"

How did one explain a sense of smell gifted to him by a part of himself he couldn't reveal? His phone rings again, a clear ring instead of a steady vibration. Quickly, he cuts off the volume, cursing as a distant roar resonates through the temple. "Fuck.." He mumurs, stilling her with his hand as they wait for the rumbling to stop. 

The embodiment of a face slowly forms in the distance, down the long, dark stretch of the hallway. Sandy features pour in from all edges of the temple, forming the deep recesses of an infuriated scowl as the sand approaches. 

 "He found us," Hathor whispers as if somehow her voice would keep him from seeing them. 

"Time frame just shortened. Come on. You're a god, right? So make sure you keep up with me." Kicking out of his dress shoes, the idea of running in formal socks was much less appealing, but the shoes slowed him down. At least in the socks, he might have a chance at some grip; Fenrir tears at his cage, desperate to get out. 

A deep headache courses through his temple, making him wish to apply counterpressure if it wouldn't risk removing his hood. 

"Out. Let us out."

Of course, the beast wanted out. But he couldn't risk the reveal, nor did he want to leave Hathor behind. Acting on instinct, he followed his nose through the narrowing passageway, relying entirely on the centuries of breeding that would help him follow the scent of the earth. 

The only clean air, the only way out. 

 Behind them, the stones crack and pop, and rocks sling from the walls like tiny bullets as the structure begins to succumb to the weight of the sand. Hathor whimpers at a strike, putting small welts on her exposed skin. "We're going to die, aren't we?"  She sighed, surprising him with how well she kept up. 

The distant roar makes his blood run cold. If he could forget about her, he'd be free by now. One by one, the torches begin to go out, and he feels her hand grip the back of his shirt, slowing him further. Sand shivers around their feet, threatening his footing; a lifetime of training reeled in the panic. 

"In Norse culture, dying this way would be a warrior's death. It'd mean a lifetime of valor, a seat at the table to drink and recant; it'd make a hell of a story." Verando tells her over his shoulder, trying to draw her out of the cloud of defeat. There was a time when all he wanted was to go to Valhalla and be done with it. 

But, with no heart, with the script readily in his hands and his name not yet scrawled down, he couldn't help but feel the slightest bit exhilarated. Pulling out his phone, he manages one more text, a final plea in hopes I might understand that he desperately needed me to read between the lines and summon him.

"You sound like a crazy person," Hathor responds, her feet moving more quickly. She pushes herself to keep up with them as they turn and wind through the ever-narrowing tomb. "But that does sound like fun. Is there any wine?"

With a smirk, he could almost laugh if his lungs didn't feel like they were about to burst. He could feel the urge to cough while knowing exactly what I'd say to him. Smoking would literally be the death of him, and he'd never live it down. "Let's not find out, yeah?" He manages, sliding to a screeching halt. His body nearly collided with the solid wall before them. 

"A dead end.." Hathor frowns. 

Verando mutters quietly, placing his palms on the stone and feeling carefully before finding the seam. "Not exactly. It was a window of some sort." Taking a light inhale, he pinpoints the cracked stone, though it isn't enough to let light through. Pressing into the stone, he had little left to send through. 

"You're tapped out." She frowns.

He hadn't even noticed how hard he was panting; his body felt clammy, and the remains of his shirt had begun to soak through with sweat. 

"You were mortal before this. How curious... you run out and become more human." Moving as if she wished to touch his face, he smacks her hand away unapologetically. 

"It's bloody well a thousand degrees in here. Are you not burning up?" He snaps, flinching and covering his ears at the bellowing roar from beyond the bend of the hall. "For fucks sake, we get it..."

"No, I'm not." Hathor shrugs, offering her arm. "I don't get cold. You, on the other hand, feel like a furnace. You remind me of the sun."

Hot. Cursing, he gripped his side, leaning against the cold wall, fighting back the desire to scream as Fenrir tried to claw his way out. 

"What's wrong?" Hathor keeps her hands to herself, yet they hover, desperate to do anything to soothe his ailment. "A spell? Sehkmet, maybe?"

"Let's just say I'm not a mortal." Verando manages through his teeth, sliding to his knees to cover his ears as Seth calls to them. "So bloody loud."

Get a hold of yourself. You're a professional.  

"Anubis said you were a predator. You're not a jackal. These are similar ailments to those of Anubis when we used to venture into the underworld. The screams would always affect him more. He indicated that you're partnered with an animal like us. If that's the case, I'm afraid my taunting told Seth exactly how to stop you."

So the gods had their own beasts.. it made sense. They all wore masks to represent one, except for Hathor. 

Checking his phone, seeing that it had died, he clenches his hands into fists and slowly forces himself back to his feet. Every move was a struggle; every limb felt impossibly heavy, and his body trembled as if coming apart at the seams. "Alright.. you want out? Then use me.. get through this damn wall, but you can't shift. Get us out of here.. and I won't put the chain back on." 

A desperate man's plea to a deranged beast. Fenrir seems to consider this, pulling back from his assault. 

"Do you truly believe the one you consider your mate will help us? He didn't answer. Nobody answers in the end; we are doing this on our own."

A part of him might have believed that in the beginning. Verando was beyond faulting beings for being human. "Just do your job, brute." He scowls, feeling the spray of sand hitting his back as Hathor tugs at his shirt. 

It was like lightning going through him, his hands pushing through the stone, dislodging the ancient block, even thicker than he could have imagined. Wedged in by the weight of the ones above, like moving a planet, and yet the beast within him was built to consume. With an incredible sense of strength, Fenrir pushed this body to limits he didn't know existed, and somehow, he preserved it through abuse. 

A broken body reborn, made into something that could handle the incredible power of the end of the world. 

"Did you ever stop to think that you were truly my vessel?"

The stone explodes from the side of the tomb, catapulted by the weight of the sand, threatening to snuff them out. Hathor's arms grip loosely around his neck; what he didn't anticipate was being several stories up at the top of the pyramid. 

Weren't tombs supposed to be down below? Perhaps Seth didn't want them messing with his things, though he did seem to recall that they'd been going up a considerable amount of time. 

Glancing down, it was clear that the base would be what they would hit; there was no way they'd manage to land in the sand, so the damage taken would be significant. While human weapons didn't hurt him, he couldn't imagine that falling onto stone from a considerable height would do him any favors. 

__________________________________________________________________________

(Nic's POV )

I feel the shudder of the room, listening to the rattling of containers in the medicine cabinet behind me while the lights flicker almost playfully. 

Perhaps he was just lonely, or maybe he had learned some valuable information; regardless, I was excited to see him, if only to ease the uncertainty in my stomach. The texts and phone calls—none of it was within the realm of normal for the man. 

With a flash of light and what sounded like a sonic bomb, Verando lands on his back as if he'd fallen from the sky. I hear people scream in the distance; everyone seems to be scrambling; cursing under my breath, I lock the bathroom door and carefully trek over the broken tile. 

Sand scatters across the floor as if he'd brought the beach with him. In his arms was a woman, hardly wearing a scrap of clothes; meanwhile, his shirt was in rags, and his pants were nearly shredded, only held up by his belt. 

With a groan, she props herself up on his chest, rubbing her temple as she straddles his waist. Even with a hood on him, there was no denying that the guilty individual was my husband. My lips part, and he leaps up before I can even get a word out, covering my mouth. 

"Hush." He tells me firmly, his voice hard, rough. 

An enchanted hood? I gape at him, bewildered, as he yanks off his tie, practically tackling Hathor to the ground, pinning her beneath him with her chest pressed to the broken tiles while he ties the tie over her eyes. 

She giggles, though I can see by the expression on her face she's as confused as I am, "I hate to tell you this, but I have no interest in sex whatsoever. So.. if this body is what you're after, you're out of luck. It's useless."

I can practically sense his eye-roll as he ties off the tie, "I have a life outside of this job, and I can't risk you seeing it. Anubis needs to come get you."

"Honeymoons over, I see.." She sighs, squirming uncomfortably. "I know someone else here. Can I know their name?"

My lips part again, and I can feel the daggers of his gaze on me. He's exhausted, his chest heaving yet unmarked; he's filthy and vibrating from the adrenaline. "No." He tells us both. 

Wiggling her toes, she rests her chin on the tile with a childish pout. "Well, I'm Hathor. Goddess of the sky.. love... fertility.. consumer of the damned.. ooo, I'm sure I'm missing something."

"Another fertility goddess?" I frowned, glowering at Verando, who shrugged this time and chose to sit on the woman instead of hovering. She grunted, kicking her feet in an attempt to buck him off. 

"Hey!" She complains, "You're really heavy! Like, actually heavy! Get off!"

"You're immortal.. and I control death... I'll give you a pass if it kills you. I don't think I can move." He admits, sliding off of her to sit on his hip so that he doesn't collapse on her completely. "I think... I over used.."

Kneeling before him, I reach for the hood, yet it sends a beacon of energy to send me away. I quickly grab his hand, placing it on his head and using it to pull the hood off. His face is clammy, and his eyes are deeply ringed in dark, almost soot-like black. "You're burning up," I murmur, knowing better than to question the man in front of someone he put a lot of effort into separating me from. 

"I think.. I'm going to pass out." Verando responds, tilting his head slightly before offering me the smallest of boyish smirks. "You're really pretty; how dare you look like that for anyone else."

Flushing, I barely catch him in time before he drops, and it shocks me just how heavy he truly is. 

Hathor sits up, "Could have seen that coming." She scoffs, taking a leather strip off her wrist and tying up the long, heavy strands of black hair. 

"What does that mean? He doesn't sleep? He never sleeps?" I explained, unsure if I should even ask a stranger something like this, but she seemed to be my only source for what was happening. "He said Anubis.. Do you work with Anubis? Do you know--"

"I have an idea, but I don't know who he is, and I think he'd like to keep it that way. He's just reverted to whatever he was before he was Death; it happens with these half-breed gods. Demigods, I think they are... He's exhausted; we both are. We almost didn't get out of there. Were you the one he was sending messages to on the device?"

I consider this, frowning as I hear a knock on the door. "Hello? Is anyone in there? Is everyone alright?"

We'd destroyed the bathroom; there were smashed tiles, a half-naked woman, a battered and dirty warlord, and sand everywhere. Hathor covers her mouth with her hand, plucking at the edge of her blindfold. "Are we in the wrong house?"

 I put my finger over my lips but realized she still couldn't see me. Quickly, I touched her leg and shushed her. "This isn't my house. I was at an event; you've destroyed someone's bathroom."

"Oh my," she whispers with a concealed chuckle. "That's one for the books."

"Hello? The door's locked. I think someone is in there." The voices from outside the room drift back and forth, seeming to decide whether they need to find a way to come in. 

"Randy." I whisper, shaking him, "Randy, get up."

Hathor tilts her head at me. "Randy? Death's name is Randy? That's... odd. It's odd. Very odd. Not what I was expecting. Are you his brother?" With a gasp, she covers her mouth, "Oh.. you're the one who's pretty?" 

"Fertility goddess..." I grumble as I straighten, slipping out from under the man. "Alright, time to go to work, Goddess of the sky, love and fertility-"

"And consumer of the damned!" She points out with a broad smile. 

"Right, right, get out there and become a damsel. You're a goddess. Woo them into leaving, make something float, do something. They can't see Randy like this; we need them to like us." I explain, standing as I help her up and push her towards the door before stopping, grabbing a towel, and wrapping it around her. "Maybe with a bit more modesty..."

"This body is useless-"

"Yes, yes, I heard you. Pretend like it's not; get out there. Please.. Hathor.." The word sounds foreign off my tongue; out of nowhere, she frowns, touching my cuff and carefully stroking her fingers over it. 

"Oh, you've been visited by Bastet." Patting up my arm, she touched her way to my face, reaching too high at first before finding my nose with a girlish giggle. She patted the top of my head. "Aww, cute. You're so short!"

"Bi—" I stop myself, gritting my teeth. "I don't have time for this." I hiss back, disappointed that she shrugs all the same, unimpressed with my urgency. 

Trailing down my body, being groped by a goddess, she finds my crotch, and I smack her hand away. "You're a man?"

"No shit." I snap. 

Pressing her lips together, she returns to the cuff. "You are a lot like him, are you brothers? You're both so crass. I wouldn't have to do all of this if I could see, you know. My brothers and sisters can take on other forms; I wasn't certain because your energy feels different, but I suppose it's because you are blessed with fertility. A first, really, for a mortal, anyway. Male gods carry children all the time...." She babbles, more to herself than to me, as she trails to my stomach. 

I succumb to my fate, waiting for them to break the door down and see a naked woman touching me while my husband lay, seemingly, dead on the floor. I could see the news articles now: former king kills famous lycan husband for an affair with Egyptian goddess, engaging in public bondage. 

"Hmm. You're not pregnant."

It's a blow to my subconscious. "I figured," I mutter. "I was before, Dea-.. Randy.. accidentally touched me when he couldn't control his ability. The child did not survive."

"It happens." She mumbles dismissively, though her expression suggests it bothers her more than she lets on. Returning to my hands, she clasps them carefully in hers. "I'll do it, I'll help you."

"Were you not going to?" I retort, irritated, making her laugh once more. 

"I suppose I was." Hathor teases, "Thanks for saving us. I think I owe you for that."

Before I can speak, she treads carefully to the door, as if she could see the whole time, before she slips out without another word, clad in only a towel and the rags left on her body after their encounter.