Bundi's hair had turned completely white. It was like a gentle layer of snow had settled upon their cranium. There's was nothing gentle about them now. Their body rocked back and forth and quiet whispers escaped from their lips, twin to the creak of shipwreck.

"Bundi," Moriah said, his voice was soft and he stumbled when he walked. "Please, call Nole here... let him help you... my... my powers aren't working."

"No... no he can't know. We can't let him know. He will ruin us. The plan, the kids. I have to keep them safe," they hissed.

Moriah kicked weakly as Bundi picked him up and placed him in a bag on their waist. Then they left. They hid themself amongst the camouflage of the bushes and the mud. Not a sound left their footsteps, not a whisper left their lips. Moriah pleaded weakly with them the entire way.

The dusk sun burned a powerful orange above the tree tops. Everything was on fire. Bundi felt the tug in them, in their gut, in their bones. They wanted to light their body on fire and run through the dry underbrush. They wanted to destroy everything.

The trees broke and Bundi was thigh deep in grass. The clearing was completely empty, except for one figure. Her black hair cascaded down her shoulders as she turned to face him. A woman, by herself. Her nails were long and black, and the only noises she made where the hisses; from the grass brushing up against her skirt and from the snake curled around her shoulders.

Bundi felt no fear, this was their destination. Everything had led up to this moment. The woman reached out and cradled their chin. She dragged her fingers gently along their jawline. She was their opposite, their bane. She was life, and they were death. This was the moment where they would either be joined or rip each other to pieces. This moment was a living script, the spoken, drunk, husky voice of a storyteller in the dark; you have two wolves inside you. She had him by the throat.

"Perfect," she whispered, her voice quivering from the raw emotion she bit into.

"Perfection is an illusion," Bundi replied, sweat dripped down their brow. "We're seeing what we want to see."

Her lips pulled back into a smile until the whites of her snake's fangs were showing. The green beast slithered along her arm like a moist breeze on a summer night. The snake licked Bundi's nose and their mind went blank. They could only stare into the snake's eyes, helpless.

Apophis leaned in close to Bundi, until her cold breaths brushed against their neck. "You know what must be done." 

"Bundi," Moriah struggled, "Bundi this is wrong. Think about what you're doing. Remember Antaeus, remember what happened to him."

Apophis pulled a knife from the folds on her cloak. It had a worn leather handle and an inscription upon the blade. Only one of them knew that the knife had a twin. Bundi gripped it, feeling the sweat running down their arm soak into the handle. They started hyperventilating as the bond between Moriah and Bundi strained.

Moriah thrashed, and escaped the confines of the satchel where Bundi had trapped him. Everything moved, Bundi twisted on their heels to catch him. Apophis robs buffeted out like an orchid. Her snake jumped forward, fangs extended; and it was the snake that caught him. She wrapped her body around the struggling mara and squeezed until he was still.

Her tongue flicked against Moriah's ear, and she told him why this must happen. Moriah's eyes widened and went blank, and he appeared to grow older in the snake's coils. Wrinkles appeared under his eyes and silver hairs dotted his forehead and spine. A single, glowing tear squeezed itself from his eyes and fell to the ground.

Moriah's knees shook, and he turned toward Bundi. "Do what she says."

Bundi was crying, but they no longer had enough control to know why. They crouched down in the grass and pressed on of their palms against Moriah's body. With they other, they clutched Apophis's knife. Bundi wondered what it would feel like, when it cut through Moriah's body. Neither of them were afraid to find out.

Apophis laid her hand on their shoulder.

Then she screamed, letting out a wail of pain like a cat in the night. The knife was kicked out of Bundi's hands and their forehead hit the dirt. It smelled of dry grass and sweat.

There was another figure standing above him, another woman. She was clad in pure white gown. Her only accessories were a snarl and the sword she wielded in her hands, the tips of it doused in blood. She lowered the blade, and rested on hand on her hip.

"Hello darling," Percy growled.