Chapter Twenty-Three

Set agreed.

No surprise there.

He hadn't done it gracefully, and not without a reassurance of my getting some sort of punishment should I fail to solve his life's problems within a month. Offering him the option of keeping me and using me anyway he pleased was a good way to placate him, because he liked the idea of feeding my corpse to his crocodiles.

And so the first day of shadowing Set had begun.

I was given quarters right beside Set's, three stories up. The room was gorgeous to say in the least. Walls painted gold with sparkling white floors, a wide open window leaving to a balcony that overlooked the city beyond. The bed was massive, put against an accent wall of gold etched with hieroglyphics, the bed posts themselves about as thick as my waist, and sheets made of precious soft silks and cotton. A private bath opened up across from the bed, an open doorway leading to a clean facility with a chamber pot, a large round bathing pool with bathing oils and soaps sitting in a tray beside it. Thankfully there were no mirrors within. The only mirror was tucked away in a pot beside a tray of face paints.

Not wanting to deal with the trivial royal suite, I immediately set to work and found Set back in his throne room, looking down at a scroll. His long black hair fell over his shoulder like a black curtain, his eyes narrowed in serious concentration upon the inscriptions. Beside him in the pool, a crocodile had come to the surface, peering up at him with an eyeball that only blinked once for the duration of my stay in the doorway to watch him.

Something about the scene was beautiful. Set was a beautiful representation of his Egyptian bloodline, a desert god, a god of chaos, violence, bloodshed. If he was true to the curse of a god of chaos, however, he would be temperamental. It was a temperament that he wouldn't be able to control. Most fits of anger could be quelled with meditation, medicines, even sex.

However, a god of chaos could not be calmed once he was raged. His vision became red, his instincts animalistic. They became beasts, slaves to their rage and their predatory urges. He would see nothing, but enemy, prey, food even. It was a great power, but a painful curse. Gods of chaos could unintentionally kill those closest to them without even realizing it.

And yet here he was, a god of chaos, capable of immense violence, rumored to have taken advantage of such a thing, sitting peacefully at his pool side with a crocodile for a pet, of all things. Even I was wary of the reptiles. While they were among my favorite creatures, even I knew they could be fickle.

"If you are going to watch me, uncloak yourself. I do not want you sneaking about in my palace," Set said suddenly without looking up. I smiled briefly, dropping the cloak on my powers, not quite sure how he sensed me standing there. I came into the room quietly, my robes barely a whisper across the floor.

Set blinked, then looked up as I approached, but kept a good distance to respect his space and the privacy of his message.

"You remind me of Haket," he said abruptly, making me arch a brow, and he pointed into the water, "The albino crocodile I was gifted with by one of my children." As if reacting to his name being said, a white snout appeared above the water, followed by a pair of pink eyes blinking. I came over and sat on the edge of the pool, waited to see if Set would shoo me, but he didn't.

"You have a beautiful palace, and pets," I added, glancing at the crocs that eyed me suspiciously. Set looked back down at his scroll with a frown.

"They are not pets," he answered.

"Oh? Are they friends?"

"That's foolish. They are animals."

"Do Egyptians not value the creatures of their land?"

"We do."

"Hm."

"Did you not say you would remain silent and observe?" Set asked dryly. I smiled, closing my lips and making a locking motion over it and pretending to throw away an invisible key. Set eyed me for a moment, then looked back down at his scroll. However, the moment of silence was interrupted by a ripple of power. Almost immediately, Set shot to his feet and squeezed the scroll shut between his hands, causing it to vanish into thin air. I stood as well, feel the presence appear in the doorway, both of us turning to greet it.

Or rather, her.

I recognized Nephthys instantly, both from her likeness to Set and Ra, and her black attire. Nephthys was a beautiful female with skin as dark as night, her eyes the color of fire, and wearing an elegant black wig that fell in numerous braids down to her waist, with straight cut bangs, and an expensive beautiful gold crown about her head, glittering with rubies. She wore a black gown, sheer and form fitting with a single strap over her left shoulder, upon which fell several gold threads.

"Nephthys," Set greeted, but his tone was less than pleased. Nephthys barely spared him a glance, her eyes locking right on me, and her lip peeled back.

"Who the fuck is this?" She demanded instantaneously. Her tone was rife with jealousy, but her eyes remained locked on me, not Set. Set frowned, looking at her, as if he were urging her to look back at him, but those burning embers remain locked upon me.

"No one," Set said at last, "He is none of your concern--"

"Don't speak to me unless I speak directly to you," Nephthys cut him off sharply, and she held her hand up in dismissal, "Answer me, whore, and I demand that you tell me what you are doing with my husband." Set was silent. He didn't show anger or fiery, and he didn't even try to argue with her. I glanced at him, but he was staring at the floor now, as if thinking about something else entirely.

"My name is St. John," I replied, watching her lift an eyebrow, "I am here to assist Set. I apologize for not having spoken with you first. I was given strict instructions to see Set immediately upon my arrival." Nephthys narrowed her eyes and approached me, giving a slow long stare from my feet to my head, and her expression could not possibly show anymore disgust.

"You are a foreigner. Look at you, you're as white as bone. And your eyes are unnatural. You are too dainty for Set. Leave my husband alone."

"I hold no interest whatsoever in your husband," I deadpanned. I waited to see Nephthys get angry, but after a long staring contest, her lips quirked up at the corners and she folded her arms over her chest, a look of triumph crossing her face. She finally looked at Set, who was still interested in the flooring.

"Ha! Even the ghostly foreigner won't have you. Nice try, Set, but I win once more," she said to him snidely, then she smiled at me, "Welcome to Duat, ghost. I should hope you plan to assist my husband in anyway possible. May inquire as to who sent you?" I frowned.

"Lucifer," I responded. Nephthys tsked, waved her hand dismissively again.

"Hardly my concern," she replied, then scanned me once more and sighed, cupping her cheek in her hand, arms still folded over her chest. Her posture was confident, exactly the sort of thing I would expect from a god. Her presence was overwhelming. But she was cruel. She was humiliating Set, and the god said absolutely nothing to her to correct her or to belittle her. While I was glad he respected his wife enough to listen to her, there was a fine line between obeying out of respect and obeying out of surrender. And everything about Set in this moment told me he had completely surrendered to his wife.

"It's unfortunate," Nephthys said after a moment, "Even you look like more of a male than my husband. Too bad. Next time tell Lucifer to send a true male."

"Why are you here?" Set asked at last. Nephthys looked down at her nails now, nails painted black and gold.

"I felt a foreign presence in your temple without my permission. My assumption was that you had forced yet another creature into having intercourse with you," she looked up now, meeting Set's stare, "Make no mistake, Set. If I can have no lovers, nor can you. But then, who would? I suppose my rage was unwarranted. I shall leave you and this ghost in peace. In the meantime, we will be having a meeting in the Sun Temple on the morrow. Do not hide from this one, Set. The other gods will not be pleased, and not nearly as kind as myself. You should be grateful that I am so kind to you."

"I am," Set replied without missing a beat, "My apologies. I will endeavor to attend." Nephthys rolled her eyes, then turned to look at me.

"Count yourself lucky. God of chaos he may be, but nothing more," she turned to rake Set with a less than approving glare, "I abhor violence." She vanished from her place in a column of black smoke. Following her departure was an awkward tense silence, in which Set and I both stared at the place where she had vanished.

"Are you not going to say anything?" Set asked at last, his voice thick with bitter hatred. I blinked, then turned to look at him.

"I will say nothing until the week is up. This week, I spend only observing and learning more about you," I responded. Set's eyes narrowed and he turned to face me. He stepped right up to me, his hand shooting out like a cobra, snatching the front of my robes and jerking me up against him, his lip curled back in a sneer and his expression a dark angry cloud of malice.

"Then I leave you with a good piece of advice, ghost, that you will not speak of any of this to anyone, not even your Lucifer. Should I discover you opened that pretty mouth of yours to anyone, you truly will become a ghost," he sneered, then shoved me back roughly and stormed out of the throne room.

I allowed him to leave without me, sensing he needed privacy to stew in his own self-loathing and anger. A wave of sympathy overwhelmed me, not pity, but sympathy. Even more so, a spark of fear as I realized that this was a situation I recognized all too well. Two great and powerful beings found one another, but one was powerful in terms of personality and the other more relaxed. Such a relationship made it easy for Nephthys to take advantage of Set. She used his power to suit her needs, she used his name to frighten those who threatened her. She isolated him from the world. She had him trained to know and recognize that he deserved nothing and should want for nothing, for he was unimportant to this world. Not nearly as important as her. While Set was certainly a powerful being, bearing a heavy curse, there was something inside him that refused to hurt Nephthys, despite her cruelty. Something in Set was decent enough to rein in his temper.

Set had found a way to control his curse.

In the form of self-loathing and a short leash held by his wife.

Or maybe that was how he justified Nephthys's treatment.

Or was Nephthys's treatment well placed?

That was what I was here to find out.

I stuck close to Set for the rest of the day, but he had completely recoiled into himself. He busied himself frequently with work. He was constantly reading scrolls, books, listening to messengers in his throne room, with a throne he did nothing more than stare at out the corner of his eye. He did not leave his palace once, but he would stop before the windows and stare out at the desert with a look of intense longing before he would continue on his day.

As night cloaked the land of Duat, I retreated to my quarters and came out onto the balcony to stare out over a city of lights, the Nile a peaceful whisper between the civilian lands and the temples of the gods. Stars twinkled and glowed in the night sky, a mist of silver upon black velvet, and the moon was a sharp wink of milk, preparing for the darkness of a new moon. The temperature had dropped significantly from the intense heat of the day, becoming quite chilly and giving me goose chills.

So far, I had learned quite a bit about Set and it was just the first day.

He was superb at pretending to be an all-powerful mighty god. He was intimidating with his massive height, his unblinking stare, his menacing snarl. He was a god of chaos, and even the other gods should tread carefully in his presence. His servants scurried away from him, in fear of being caught in nothing more than existing. His presence was incredibly hateful and deadly, and just standing in his presence could make one shudder.

But seeing him suddenly shut down with Nephthys told me that one of his first and foremost problems was his intense self-loathing. Listening to Nephthys poke and prod him with cruel commentary, questioning his masculinity, spitting at his feet in front of an outsider even. Nephthys had taken a panther from the wild and tamed him, but not to be gentle and loving. She'd clapped a collar of degradation around his throat and locked him in a cage of brittle self-esteem.

Set was broken.

But not unfixable.

My first order of business started at the root of all his problems. His self-hatred. His personal entrapment. I would have to observe further in order to determine exactly how to go about this. Sometimes, what worked for some, did not work for others.

I had encountered people like Set before; great, powerful, beautiful creatures brought down by centuries of hatred. They reduced themselves to the animals people claimed they were. They became feral, violent, angry, hateful, not just toward themselves, but others too. They could no longer cry out for help, because they had been taught their voice was silent. Their personal feelings did not matter.

And I had helped those creatures and I had seen countless clients leave that brothel, feeling more than just a sexual gratification.

One creature in particular, I remembered. A massive warrior, taller than myself, with a body so muscular that his veins stood hard against his dark skin. Yet, he lacked substance, as if he were starving himself. His ribs protruded, and while his muscles rippled, his bones stretched at his skin. His flesh was rife with scars, wrists destroyed from centuries of being shackled.

He was a former slave from the mortal realm, a demigod who'd been abandoned by both his parents. He knew of his god blood and he knew of his power, his incredible strength and his otherworldly beauty. Yet he'd fallen into a trap set by a foster mother he trusted with his very life, and she'd sold him to a mortal man. Said man had fetched a witch to cast a spell upon his shackles and he would never be able to remove them. Not unless it was by the hand of the owner.

His tragedy didn't end there, for he'd fallen in love with his owner's sister. And the mortal woman had played his heart and soul like a fiddle, winding him round and round her finger until he would have done anything for her. Such as assist her to escape her brother's clutches after he'd informed her he wished to marry her off. Together, the slave and the owner's sister had fled... and the sister sold the slave to compensate for no longer being wealthy.

He bounced hand to hand to hand until he returned to that first owner... and was hanged for his crime. Being a demigod, the hanging did not kill him, but it released the curse upon his shackles and he was freed.

Physically, anyway.

Emotionally, he was still a slave. Spiritually, he was still trapped.

He'd come to me twice in a row before I could open him up to the possibility of there being love for him. I knew not what happened to the former slave after he left that room at the brothel, but the hope that twinkled in his dark eyes warmed me and gave me hope for him.

But lending a skilled ear, providing advice, giving myself to him completely, would not necessarily work for Set. He would see it as pity and nothing offended a god more, or anyone really, but pity. He would merely begin to mistreat me in the way Nephthys mistreated him, in order to make up for the lack of power he felt.

No, Set needed a different tactic.

A smarter one.

I slept upon it, saw the look on Set's face over and over again through the night, the way he had gone from a tall, proud sunflower to a wilted weed in a matter of seconds. And the desperation to help him become intense. So much so that I woke up the moment the sunlight touched the horizon.

I woke and dressed in the garb Set's servants had brought for me. In order to better become accustomed to this land, I adopted the clothing. A sheer white shendyt with a brilliant red and gold stitched sash, and gold jewelry from bangles to a wide jeweled necklace. I drew my hair up off the back of my neck into a ponytail, brushing my bangs across my face as I paused to stare out over the city through the balcony again.

A city that glowed like gold in the sunlight, and thrived with the pulse of life. It blurred with the heat and the distance from Set's faraway palace.

Keeping that beautiful picture in mind, I left my quarters and retreated down to the throne room where I felt Set's presence. I felt another presence in there with him, but this one less significant, more along the lines of a lesser immortal. And it was confirmed upon my entry. Set was standing near one of the windows across the room, speaking in a low tone to the creature that stood a good two feet shorter than him, with the head of what appeared to be an aardvark and the body of a male, who was scribbling furiously on a scroll laid out on a stone tablet.

Set looked up briefly, back down, then did a double take and his silver eyes reminded me much of the stars overhead the night before, the way they twinkled. Even from this distance, despite his honed stoicism, I could feel and smell his desire cut through the air like a wave of heat, stronger than any desert outside. His thoughts were an abrupt loud series of pictures that involved grabbing me up and throwing me against the wall, forcing my legs apart, and burying his impressive cock so deep inside me that I could practically feel it even now as a chill race up my spine.

"Leave," Set said without breaking eye contact from me, but his words were directed at the creature taking notes on their previous conversation. Confused, the animal headed creature looked up.

"My Lord--"

"Leave!" Set's voice boomed off the walls and shook the room. The creature yelped like a struck puppy and snatched his supplies, racing from the room so fast, he nearly left a vapor trail. I watched him go, amused at his haste, before turning to Set, who continued to stare at me.

"My apologies for disrupting you. Should I take my leave--"

"Come with me," he said, holding his hand up and gesturing with his finger for me to come hither. I raised a brow at that, confused by his rigid tone and random commentary. His arousal still spiced the air like an autumn wine, sharp and sweet. I did not deny his request, however, and followed him through a door I had never noticed in the throne room. Hidden beside one of the open windows, he touched a panel on the wall and the gold blocks slid apart in a series of clicks and revealed a short hallway into a bathing room.

Immediate distaste for the mirrors surrounding the large bathing pool, but the rest of the room was quite beautiful with white gold designs and marble flooring with a massive vanity spread out before a large mirror that I avoided easily by keeping my eyes on Set. He went to the vanity, removed a basket from beneath and set it on top. He opened it and removed a small pot and brush, then kicked a stool out from under the vanity so it landed in front of him.

"Sit," he commanded. The urge to deny that command was instinct, but this was not the week for me to make changes in his life. Instead, I obeyed and sat down on the stool. Set paused to stare at me and I stared back, watching those silver eyes search my face before he crouched down in front of me. I watched him unscrew the top on the pot and dab the thin brush inside before he reached up and began to paint along my eyelids.

Frustrating process, I soon learned. Set frequently ordered me to remain still, look at the ceiling, stop blinking, stop staring at him. I resisted the urge to smile at that before he sat back and put away his supplies.

"You may look, if you wish," he said, stepping back. I smiled.

"I trust your talent."

"I could've drawn obscenities on your face."

"You didn't."

"How do you know?"

"Because you are not cruel," I responded. Set studied me for the longest time, then tsked and turned on his heel, leaving the room and I followed suit as we came into the throne room. A moment later, a familiar ripple of power pulsed in the room and Nephthys appeared beside the pool, the three crocodiles surfaced diving below upon her entry. Dressed in black garb, as was accustomed for a goddess associated with death, Nephthys cut Set a cold glare for a split second before her eyes glued to me, and widened slightly.

"My, my," she purred low, taking a few long slow steps toward me, her hand drifting up to touch her lips, as if she were toying with the idea of stealing a kiss, "Well, when you are not dressed like an alien, you cut quite the pretty picture, ghost." I gave her a bland stare, uninterested in her flirtatious statement. Instead, I looked to Set to see his reaction, but he held none. His expression was a mask of placid boredom.

"I was preparing for the meeting," Set said. Nephthys had drawn close enough to me to touch my arm, apparently having no respect for personal space, before she snatched her hand back and glared at her husband.

"Oh? Because it looks as if you are preparing to pamper this creature and have your way with him."

"I am not."

"Are you lying to me?"

"Never."

"Whatever. Enough with your extracurricular activities. We must see to this meeting immediately," she commanded, then turned to me with a slow, impish smile, "Outsiders are not allowed, but you may wander the palace at your leisure. Not that there is much to see. Set is a poor interior decorator. It's why, should we consummate our marriage, we do it in my palace. Perhaps you would be interested in seeing mine." It wasn't so much an offer as a command, and while Set certainly would've bowed to it, I simply smiled.

"Your offer is quite polite, milady; however, I am here for Set and only Set," I answered. Nephthys twitched. Her smile was hard now, her fiery eyes like smoldering embers before she snapped her head to Set, her hair swinging about her shoulders as she folded her arms over her chest. The pose was very stiff, very royal, and very angry.

"Let us go, husband," she said, then vanished. Set closed his eyes and vanished after her without a word to me. I waited until I was positive the two of them were gone before I began to do some exploring.

And Nephthys was correct, in terms of Set's palace decor. Despite the gorgeous golden artwork etched into the walls and columns throughout the palace, there was something oddly cold and unfeeling about the palace itself. The thin leather sandals I was given were the only sound upon the marble, whispers down the halls, making me wonder if I was the only one here. Until I felt the low, barely noticeable hum of lesser creatures.

Curious, I followed the source until I found myself in a very small, very sparse kitchen. A large wooden table that housed the vegetables and jars of grain and ale. An open hearth revealed a small smoking fire that vented up through a grate and boiled some concoction within a pot above. Herbs and such hung from the rafters of the kitchen, and a prep table was currently occupied by several knives and a sliced root vegetable and a plucked bird.

Standing near the table was the only cook in sight, a slight petite woman with her black hair sheared in a symmetrical bob, her make-up impeccable, her skin the color of copper, and dark eyes minding the pot. She wore a simple tunic with a dipping neckline and no sleeves. Upon my entry, she instantly stood to attention, then froze.

"Who are you?" She demanded immediately. I was beginning to learn that the people of this land really, really did not like outsiders. I inclined my head to her respectfully.

"My apologies. My name is St. John. I am here visiting Set. I meant no intrusion. Unfortunately, Set has departed for a meeting and I am afraid I've naught to do while I await his return," I explained. She studied me for a while longer, then appeared to relax slowly, but kept me within her line of sight as she moved to the table and take the vegetable to the pot. She returned to drag the bird carcass into position. She twirled a knife with expertise, something she made quite a show of in order to warn me she was capable of handling herself.

"May I ask your name?" I asked. Without looking up, she began to slice the meat with ease, laying the strips aside.

"My name is Anka." Her response was curt. I understood. I was a stranger to her.

"Anka," I repeated, watching her mouth twitch before she turned her back to tend to the stew on the hearth, "Are you the only cook here?"

"Does that concern you?"

"No. I am impressed that you can handle cooking for an entire palace on your own," I responded. Anka snorted as she gave the stew a stir and went to pour the strips of meat in before rinsing her hands off in a pot of water nearby.

"Tis simple feat. The only one I feed is Lord Set," she replied. I frowned.

"Are there not others in the palace?"

"Palace," Anka echoed my word, arching a brow before she turned to face me, placing her hands on her hips, "Does this place seem like a palace to you? Wherever do you come from where a palace exists such as this?" I shrugged.

"It is rather sparse, but I assumed Set just wasn't fond of heavy decor."

"Tell me, would you decorate your prison cell, Master St. John?"

"Is that what this place is? A prison cell?" I asked. Anka said nothing for the longest time. She stared at me, then turned back to the stew, spinning the wooden spoon inside. Her dark eyes seemed to grow haunted as they searched the pot, as if hoping to find an answer laying within the dark broth before she sighed, closing her eyes and setting the spoon aside.

"Why do you visit Lord Set? Did Nephthys send you? Horus? No," she paused to look me head to toe before meeting my eyes, "You are not the type to make company with them. So, is it Nyx who sent you here? Are the Greeks bored once more and wishing to haunt my lord?" I could barely hide my surprise at the mention of Nyx's name.

I'd not heard it in so long. Rumor had it she had become part of the Greek pantheon with her brother, Erebus. She had become their goddess of night, and Erebus their god of darkness. Together, they had breathed countless lives into the Greek pantheon. They were mischievous, trouble makers really, at least from what I could remember. However, the last I had heard of them, they had gone into hiding to avoid the wrath of their own creations.

"Nyx?" I asked. Anka glared at me.

"The Greek slut."

"I'm afraid I don't understand."

"So you do not know Nephthys, Horus, or Nyx."

"I do not." My words were not enough to appease her. She glared at me further, trying to read me. I could feel the air between us crackling with her rage and suspicion. I reached forth, delved into the open thoughts rushing through her brain. It was mostly flashes of images, of memories. All of them involved Set.

In one image, Set was standing at the end of a corridor before an open window, leaning back against the sill as a large male shadow loomed over him, their lips locked in a furious kiss. The male's features were indistinguishable, almost as if he were a blur, in a way that meant Anka probably did not remember the exact appearance of the male. She did, however, remember the way Set had melted against the window sill, his hands reaching back to catch himself, but the larger male caught him instead and slammed him hard up against the wall.

Set gasped, his cheeks flushing and his lips parting in a protest, but the male captured his lips once more, reaching up to run his fingers through Set's hair before fisting it tightly. Set moaned and his eyes slid shut as he surrendered himself completely to the male before him.

The image warped and pulled apart to reveal another one where Set sat in a brightly lit corner of an extravagant room. He sat upon his bed with his back to the wall, his arms wrapped around his knees, drawing them to his chest as he stared straight ahead. His spirit was broken. It was crystal clear. He looked pale and sick, terrified and hurt and angry and miserable.

Another image flashed by of Set being pinned face down on a bench beside a hot bath, another male behind him, rutting against him hard and raking his nails down Set's spine. Set snarled in pain, struggling to wrench the male off him, but when he spun to attack him, the other male grabbed him and threw him into the bath. Set gasped, splashing and struggling to get up as the other male bounded in after him and forced his head under the water.

Another image of him standing in the center of a faceless crowd, a crowd that was roaring with laughter. I recognized the male who had attacked him at the tub in particular grinning from ear to ear, chest puffed out in pride, hands on his hips. Set stood there stone cold, unmoving, his expression closing off on the pain, and his silver eyes glowing passionately with hatred.

Blood splattered that image, followed by another of Nephthys taking Set into her arms and hauling him against her. Set was stiff as a board as she embraced him, kissing him and pawing him. Set stood in silence until Nephthys snarled and shoved him away. Her words were nothing more than unintelligible cruelty, and Set took it with a blank stare.

The images were followed by more of the same, many of them involving Nephthys, the male who had attacked him in the bath, blood soaking desert sand, sand storms roaring up at the sky, until it became dark.

"Why are you here?" Anka asked at last, narrowing her eyes. She had become suspicious of my delving into her mind. I pulled out before it could arouse any further suspicion and smiled.

"I am here to assist Set. He is in pain and I can help," I said. Anka tilted her head curiously, folding her arms tightly over her chest now. She stood in silence, then stoked the fire before she approached a small table in the corner of the kitchen. She gestured to the seat across from her, which I took with a grateful nod. I sat down as Anka fetched a couple of drinks, bringing them to the table before she sat down.

We sipped in silence. I could tell Anka was attempting to determine whether or not my words were truth, whether or not I meant to harm Set or to truly help him. From reading her, however, it was clear she was fiercely loyal to her lord and master. I caught very brief surface images of her as a child and Set swinging her into his arms, soothing her when she wept and conjuring gifts of dolls and make-up.

"You are very loyal to Set," I said, making her blink and look up, "He must have treated you very well for you to feel this way. Are you more than a cook? Perhaps a child?" Anka's eyes widened for a moment before she cleared her throat and looked away.

"He is as close to a father as I have ever had," she confessed, stroking the rim of her cup, staring at the table sadly now, "My father was killed before I was born. My mother was a priestess in one of Set's temples, and she gave birth to me upon the steps. We lay dying when Set came forth and rescued us. Since then, he has given us salvation and immortality... and so much more." She took a deep, shuddering breath before peering at me.

"Are you truly here to help him?" She asked. I nodded.

"I have promised to help him in all things, in anyway I can. It would be extremely helpful if you could tell me just a few things in order to further my knowledge of him and his endeavors," I explained. She stared at me for a while longer, then looked down.

"He is a good god, he is. He never chose to become a god of chaos. It was simply what fate has dictated, and why so is ever a mystery to me. Set is a kind god. He is so intelligent, so full of ideas. While so many fear the desert, he does not. He loves the sands, loves the heat, love the clear skies, both day and night. He is fascinated by anything and everything around him. He is truly a good god, and I wish desperately for you to keep this mind during your stay here, for there are many who wish to sully him. In every way."

"His only flaw is that he loves far too easily," Anka murmured, rubbing at her arms now, as if the thought chilled her, or perhaps, some of Set's none-too-kind lovers, "All it takes is kindness and affection and his heart is won instantly... and his heart is so fragile, and so broken. I cannot remember a single consort who has truly returned his love. Even Nephthys breaks him every chance she has." The way she spoke Nephthys's name said exactly how she felt about the goddess.

"Has he loved anyone since Nephthys?" I asked. Anka shrugged.

"I am unsure, for he no longer shows what he is thinking. He is only angry. Even towards me, he has begun to close himself off. He no longer promises to find me the best husband, no longer protects me when Nephthys lashes out, and he no longer comes in to speak with me. He wanders the halls at night like a ghost. He is but a shell of who he once was."

"He's in pain," I said, and Anka nodded.

"I can no longer remember a time when he was not in pain," she said softly, then looked up and met my eyes, "You say you are here to help him... Please. Please help him. I am a feared that I will lose yet another father." I smiled.

"I have helped thousands upon thousands of creatures in my lifetime, Anka. I have never once failed, and I do not intend to with Set." Anka swallowed, giving me a nod. We finished our drinks and I departed for the throne room to await Set's arrival, which came nearly at sunset, several hours later.

A ripple of power pulsed in the room and I stood up from my place at the poolside as Set took place in the throne room, without Nephthys. Set looked positively exhausted. It was more than physical as well. There was a deep emotional exhaustion too. He didn't notice me right away, not until I moved and he stiffened, stopping in place.

"Good evening," I greeted, "Did your meeting go well?" Set glared at me.

"Well enough," he snapped, then scanned me from head to foot, then back up at my face again, "You actually stayed." I inclined my head.

"I promised to remain for a month. I may be silent now, as I am simply observing... In a week, you won't be able to ignore my presence as you have just now," I responded. Set stared at me. I could see the gears turning in his head, questioning the truth behind my words, questioning my reason for staying, and then suddenly he shut down and his eyelids drooped further with exhaustion. There was an immediate deadness in those eyes.

"So you say," he responded flatly, "I am returning to my quarters." I inclined my head.

"Understandable. Have a good night, Set." His expression became confused, mildly irritated, and he vanished. I watched him go, then sighed. It was going to be difficult to make him see kindness as simply that; kindness. In his eyes, from what I've seen and heard from Anka, Set saw kindness as a way to achieve that which someone wanted. It was not from the heart; it was born in greed. It was a weapon.

And he saw my kindness as a weapon, a tool to use in order to sway him to agree with Lucifer. In his eyes, I was not helping because I cared.

Unfortunately for him, each and every creature I had ever helped held a special place in my heart. In the beginning, I had attempted to keep a distance from them, but it only made it all the more difficult. The point was to help them make a connection, and they couldn't establish that if I was unwilling, so I reluctantly opened myself up to everyone I helped. The connection was made and the healing could begin.

I had never worked with a creature as old as Set, however. Someone who had plenty of time to destroy themselves and those around them. Plenty of time to suffer with a broken soul, a broken heart.

And plenty of time to give up hope.