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Living Legend | Chapter Ten: Avatars

Content warnings: uncensored cussing; canon events (including temporary major character death); threats of violence and murder; mentions of various hells and underworlds; Sarah being bloodthirsty again but who can blame her Media: Moon Knight S1E4 “The Tomb”; Moon Knight S1E6 “Gods and Monsters”; references to Primeval S3E3 Word count: 6,766

His head turned to the tomb’s entrance. “Layla, look! We won!” Steven declared, triumphantly holding the ushabti up for the woman in question to see. He whooped with joy. “And the ushabti goes to? Us!”

Sarah looked over to her new friend, both relieved to know she was alive and ecstatic that they had accomplished their mission, beating Harrow and preventing Ammit’s resurgence. But Layla’s face was dark, her eyes wet and red as if from crying. She didn’t look the least bit happy about their victory. Dread curled in Sarah’s gut. What the hell had happened to her to make her so upset?

“I had to go digging down old Alexander the Great’s gullet, but I found it.” Steven continued, not realizing that something was Not Right Here. But the moment Sarah thought that, he apparently did. “You alright, love?”

“Can he hear me?” Layla questioned.

“Alexander?” He asked, glancing over his shoulder briefly. “I don’t think so. God, I hope not.” He laughed nervously. Frowning deeply now, Sarah moved slowly away from it, preparing to defend Steven from Layla if she decided to attack- and unfortunately, as much as she hated to admit it, the murderous look on her face did give that impression.

“What happened to my father?” Layla demanded, seething.

“We’re discussing this now?” Sarah blurted before she could stop herself. “Not that I know anything about it, or that it isn’t something you should have closure about, but… here? Now?”

Layla advanced on Steven. “I’m talking to you.” He spluttered in confusion. “I’m talking to you, Marc!” She shoved him in the chest.

Steven’s eyes rolled back, and the next words out of his mouth came with an American accent. “Come on, let’s go, let’s go, let’s go, let’s go.” He urged, making for the entrance. “Sarah, come on.”

“No.” Layla caught him by the arm firmly.

“We have to go-”

“Marc, no.”

“-right now.”

“No. What happened to my father?”

“Stop. Listen to me. We need to leave right now. I will explain everything, I swear, but we have to go.” Marc insisted.

“Did you kill Abdallah El Faouly?” Layla demanded, stunning Sarah.

“Of course not! Of course I didn’t!” Marc’s immediate, vehement answer made Sarah doubt that he could be lying, but remembering how completely she had been deceived in the past, she didn’t dare believe him just like that.

Layla was silent for a moment, her emotions playing clearly across her face. “But you were there.”

It wasn’t a question.

“You were there.” She reiterated as Marc floundered for an answer.

“I-”

“Yeah, you were there.” She accused, her voice deadly low.

“I was there. Yeah, I was there.” He confessed, his own voice quiet and soft. With a pang, Sarah recognized his tone as one she’d heard before- that same tone she’d heard in Professor Nick Cutter’s voice on the rare occasion he talked about Stephen Hart’s death; that same tone she’d heard in Connor Temple’s voice after Nick’s death. It was one of guilt and grief and shame, and in that moment Sarah understood completely.

Marc Spector had not killed or meant any harm toward Abdallah El Faouly, but he held himself responsible for it, and it haunted him.

“How- How did he die?” Layla pressed, tears threatening to overflow.

“My partner got greedy and he… and he executed everyone at the dig site.” Marc admitted. That made perfect sense- probably, he’d tried to intervene, protect the civilians, but was unsuccessful, and for that failure he now blamed himself.

Layla turned away, her hand going to her face as Marc continued, confirming Sarah’s theory: “I tried to save him. I tried to save your father, but I couldn’t save him. And I-”

“No,” Layla agreed, turning to face him again with warring grief and anger on her pretty face. “but you brought a killer right to him!” She shoved him in the chest. “Right?”

“Yeah.” Marc admitted, voice thick with tears.

“Yeah.”

“He shot me too.” Marc revealed, further horrifying Sarah. “I was supposed to die that night. But I didn’t die that night, and- and I should have.” Layla turned away again, but Marc kept speaking. “I’ve tried to tell you since the moment we met.” Layla laughed mockingly, disdainfully. “But I just didn’t know-”

“Oh my God.” Layla uttered, exactly how she felt about that (hint: pissed off) obvious in her voice.

“I’m sorry.” He whispered.

“That’s… the reason that we met. You just had a guilty conscience.” Layla snarled.

Noises from the passage leading to the tomb’s entrance put an end to that conversation, drawing their collective attention. “They’re here.” Marc realized.

Layla and Marc started moving immediately, the former shedding Steven’s backpack. “There must be another way out.” Layla insisted.

“Go find it. I’ll hold them off.” Marc decided, grabbing a ceremonial axe out of the sarcophagus to defend himself with. “Sarah, go with her.”

“The hell I will!” Sarah snapped. “Look, your marriage dispute is none of my business, but I consider all three of you my friends- you, Layla, and Steven- and those psychopaths want me dead too. Besides-” she drew her pistol from where she’d concealed it, pointing it toward the entrance, “-I’ve got a gun, and I was trained by the best.”

Becker would lose his shit if he knew how much danger she was in (‘He thinks I’m dead. Oh God, he thinks I’m dead, and if this all goes to shit I really will be.’), but he’d also be bloody proud of her for defending her friends and the world from this threat, wielding a gun and his training against them.

“The hell?” The reveal clearly took him by surprise. “Look, still go with Layla- they won’t see you and if it comes to it, you’ll be able to take more of them out with the element of surprise. Go!”

Layla took the decision out of her hands, grabbing Sarah’s free arm and dragging her away as Marc took his place at the foot of Alexander the Great’s sarcophagus. “Come on!” He shouted, daring the cultists to attack him.

They spilled into the room, wielding guns with torches attached. Arthur Harrow in his bloody stupid grape onesie (she’d prefer him to wear a grey one) came swanning in, that bloody cane of death and destruction still in his hand. Marc lowered his axe, concerning Sarah. “Just you?” He queried, sounding surprised. “The rest is silence. I remember the first morning I woke up knowing that Khonshu was gone.” Sarah rolled her eyes. “The quiet was liberating. You’re a free man. And of course, with that freedom… comes choice. And right now, you have a very important decision to make.”

Marc nodded slowly. “Okay.”

Sarah held her breath. She knew that Marc would never hand over the ushabti when she and Layla weren’t in the line of fire, but what consequences would defying Harrow bring? Would he summon another jackal- or multiple? It took Khonshu’s incredible gifts to kill the first two, and with him trapped in his own ushabti, Sarah didn’t think that they could stop another assault of that nature. Even if he simply had his men fire on Marc, without Khonshu’s armor Marc was very mortal and would not heal. She adjusted her sweaty-palmed grip on her gun, watching tensely as one of Harrow’s cultists approached Marc, rifle still raised.

But the moment he was in range, Marc let out a war cry of a yell, attacking with his axe and taking out at least three cultists in rapid succession.

And then before she knew it, Harrow had produced a revolver and fired a single shot.

Layla smothered her own reaction with a hand clamped across her mouth, but Sarah could neither gasp nor cry out, finding herself breathless and paralyzed. Entirely forgetting her gun and entirely unable to use it, she could only watch in horror as Marc stumbled back, crimson blooming on his pale garments. Harrow advanced, raising the gun again, and firing a second time. Now Marc fell backward, landing in the water behind the sarcophagus with a loud splash. “I can’t save anyone who won’t save themselves.” Harrow announced solemnly, utterly uncaring that he just murdered at least two men.

He lowered his gun, and Layla seized Sarah, clamping one hand over her mouth as she dragged her fully behind the pillar. A sloshing sound “I’m sorry it had to be this way, Marc Spector, Steven Grant, whoever else might be in there.” Harrow said. “Sometimes we need the cold light of death before we can see reality.”

Abruptly, a cultist passed the pillar that the two women hid behind, and Layla lunged, taking the person down and knocking them out in mere moments. She settled him against the pillar and beckoned to Sarah, and the two women concealed themselves as they once more watched Harrow. He held up Ammit’s ushabti, prompting his cultists to kneel in reverence. “Who wants to heal the world?” He asked.

Sarah watched in horror as he held up his cane, which glowed that strange purple again as the head of it changed. One crocodilian head morphed and folded backward over the other, reforming the entire head of the cane into a single, much larger crocodile head. With that, he led his followers out of the tomb, leaving Sarah and Layla with the body.

The moment Layla was sure they were gone, she moved forward quickly, going to Marc’s side. “Marc. Marc.” She urged, touching his face.

But he didn’t stir, and as Sarah reached them, she took in the full sight of her friends’ corpse. His eyes were closed, no sign of Steven’s wonder or Marc’s anger on their face. Two matching crimson spots marked the fatal wounds on his shirt, which was soaked along with the rest of his clothes. On his chest was the golden scarab compass, which Sarah could only presume Harrow had placed there.

Layla cried silently, a hand to her mouth as she wept. Sarah barely even noticed, too absorbed in her own misery to notice anything else (to be fair, Ammit herself could’ve appeared and started wreaking havoc at that very moment and Sarah would not have noticed).

She was no stranger to loss and death. Her grandparents and great-aunts and uncles had passed in her youth. Marion Taylor’s death had marked the turning point in her life- well, one of them. Professor Nick Cutter’s had jarred her more than she had thought possible- her boss, her mentor, her friend; the man that had recruited her, that had believed in her, that had worked with her to create their wondrous brainchild that was the anomaly matrix. She had never hated anyone before that, not even her school bully Jane or her university bully Debbie, not even Marion. But standing at Nick’s funeral, she had reflected on how much more fitting it was that he was buried beside his best friend Stephen Hart instead of the empty grave bearing Helen’s name, and she had found herself hating Helen with a strong passion. Her desire to accompany Connor, Abby, and Danny in pursuit of her hadn’t been solely to be with her friends, but to protect them from that traitorous bitch Helen, but to stop Helen herself if necessary, in Nick’s name and to amend for her shameful oblivion to Helen walking among them in disguise (it didn’t matter that her perusal of Helen’s diary had been what tipped off Connor to Helen being Helen). And she had gone on all four search missions not only to locate her friends, but to find and destroy Helen.

Of course, that had landed her in this universe, where she was promptly saved by Marc Spector, and soon after befriended Steven Grant. And now in a few short moments, both had been brutally ripped from her, and she couldn’t help but blame herself for that too. If she had disobeyed Marc and remained with him, maybe she could’ve stopped Harrow and his cultists. Maybe she could’ve taken a bullet for them. Maybe she could’ve prevented this.

And like at Nick’s funeral, the numbing grief for the loss of a loved one (doubled now) melted into hatred for his killer.

Layla gasped and sobbed, kneeling over their body to rest her head on their chest, her tears joining the sweat and blood and tomb water already drenching it. Her entire being hot with rage, Sarah could now properly see and hear her, and her throat tightened. Layla’s tears were bringing Sarah’s out, and the tidal wave was quickly becoming a monsoon.

Her knees gave out in the storm, and she dropped to them beside her friends. Words failed her, and weakly she reached out to place a hand on their chest as Layla lifted her head from it. She watched as Layla leaned up, pressing a kiss to their forehead.

Sarah’s fingers found their way to the scarab, curling around it so tightly her knuckles whitened. “That bastard left this here like a fucking apology, like flowers.” Sarah hissed, chest suddenly heaving with a fresh onslaught of fury. “I’m gonna shove it so far up his arse he chokes on it.”

“Good idea.” Layla agreed, hoarse with tears and anger. “And then I’m gonna fucking kill him.”

Sarah lifted her head, and her dark eyes met Layla’s, and an unspoken understanding passed between them. Sarah’s friendship with Steven and Marc both was not the same as Layla and Marc’s strange marriage or her possibly mutual crush with Steven, but those four relationships were all special despite each being unique from the others, and the loss that the women felt was deep and real. Once, their respective feelings for Marc and Steven had caused discord simply because of the unknowns and misunderstandings about them, but now, those feelings united them in their grief and their desire for vengeance.

Sarah uncurled her hand, and the scarab lifted out of her palm, hovering with its wings out. Layla retracted her own hands from Marc and Steven’s body, and it slipped back into the water Harrow’s goons had dragged it partly out of.

Sarah watched them go, and prayed that Taweret would guide them to the Field of Reeds, or that they would find their ways- together or separate- to peaceful afterlives, no matter what belief system that fell under.

Perhaps they would find Abdallah El Faouly, and tell him of his daughter’s adventures. Perhaps they would find Nick Cutter, and keep him company.

Layla stripped nearly all the clothes from the cultist she had downed, and using his garments and their own the two women disguised themselves, covering their faces and veiling their hair to avoid being recognized too soon. Then they hurriedly pursued the cultists as they left the tomb, subtly mingling with the group and successfully climbing into the back of one of the four vehicles.

Sarah found it was quite difficult to act natural when she was boiling with murderous rage and also on the verge of a breakdown. She wanted to sob. She wanted to scream. She wanted to strangle. But she couldn’t do any of those things- not yet. As soon as they got ahold of Harrow, she and Layla could avenge Marc and Steven. If they had to fight their way through the rest of the cultists too, so be it. She had her gun and was pretty sure that Layla was armed also, and they both could physically fight if need be.

She suddenly found herself longing for the good old days- Jenny or Abby coming to the office with two helpings of takeaway for her and Nick who had forgotten that they had stomachs as they worked. A fresh wave of grief- this time, an old hurt- surged through her, and Sarah abruptly turned her head away, shutting her eyes to hide the tears as they formed.

The vehicles roared across the burning desert, jostling across the uneven terrain. After about forty-five minutes of stewing in silence, the caravan left the sand, moving onto a road and almost immediately coming to stop at a police checkpoint. Sarah tensed, discretely dropping her hand to her side so she could grab her pistol at a moment’s notice. “What are you doing on this road?” She could faintly hear a man querying in Arabic.

Surprising the women, cultists began jumping out of the vehicles, which startled the Egyptian officers into raising their guns warily. A cacophony of shouted Arabic accompanied it- the officers and Harrow, Sarah realized. Just hearing his voice had her clenching her jaw concerningly tight. She cast a glance at Layla, whose dark eyes were hard. “It’s alright, it’s alright.” Harrow continued in English, and Layla’s eyes twitched narrower. Sarah’s free hand curled into a white-knuckled fist. “It’s alright. It’s alright. It’s alright.”

“Show me your papers.” One officer ordered, this time in English.

“I don’t need to show you my papers.” Harrow replied calmly. The officer shouted in Arabic, too quickly and too muffled for Sarah to translate. “You need to show us your soul.”

A simultaneous flash of annoyance and concern went through Sarah, but before she could act Harrow had raised his cane and stabbed the ground with it. A ring of purple light briefly shot out, and a moment later an aura of the same color formed from the chests of each soldier, pulling skyward. The soldiers screamed and cried out, and as the auras faded they collapsed.

All except one- the man standing directly in front of Harrow.

Harrow removed his glasses and rested his hand almost kindly on the officer’s shoulder. “This is the face of a good man.” He announced. He plucked the radio off the soldier’s vest and switched it off before tossing it aside. “You don’t need this anymore.”

“Move the bodies out of the way.” The fake cop woman- Kennedy- ordered. Sarah glowered at her. More cultists got out of their vehicles as she added, “Let’s go! Clear a path!”

Layla climbed out of the back of the truck, offering Sarah a helping hand. Sarah took it, getting out as quickly as was safe, and the pair advanced slowly toward Harrow. He was easy to pick out of the moving group thanks to his dumb outfit. Layla pulled the mask down from over her mouth and nose and lifted the side of her shirt, unsheathing a knife she had concealed on her hip, and Sarah produced her pistol, using the loose and long cuff of her own shirtsleeve to hide as much of the weapon as she could.

But as they stalked forward, one of the dead police officers- notably male- picked his head up off the ground and said in a feminine voice: “Don’t do it. Layla, Sarah, wait. I am the goddess Taweret.”

Sarah stopped in her tracks. Taweret? “Layla, hold up.” She whispered, but the other woman didn’t listen, causing Sarah to frustratedly scurry after her.

The pair moved around the other side of one of the vehicles, closing in on the unsuspecting Harrow. “Layla.” Another soldier- this one with a mustache- suddenly seemed to revive, speaking with the same voice as the other. “It’s Marc who’s telling you to stop.” He (she?) revealed, holding up his (her?) hands pleadingly.

“What the hell is this?” Layla demanded, equally angered and confused. “He’s dead.”

“Taweret was known for being the goddess of childbirth and fertility, but she was also known to be responsible for guiding the souls of the dead into the afterlife.” Sarah whispered hurriedly. “She might be telling the truth.”

“Thank you!” Taweret (?) chimed in. “Yes, he’s dead. And I’m talking to you through dead people right now. So what? Listen, Harrow is too powerful for you two to stop him alone. If Marc- if he can return to life-”

That piqued both their interests immediately, and Sarah almost entirely forgot about Harrow. “What do you mean, ‘return to life’?” Layla demanded.

“And can Steven come back with him?” Sarah interjected.

Taweret groaned, the body she possessed sagging dramatically on the ground. “He is going to need Khonshu.” Taweret explained emphatically. “Break his ushabti- it’s in the Chamber of the Gods.”

“I know where that is!” Sarah realized, hope blossoming in her chest, beginning to fill that hollow place.

“And one of you can be my Avatar.” Taweret suggested.

“We’ll get back to you on that.” Sarah hissed, mentally slamming the breaks at the thought of that.

“Marc says wonderful things about you Layla, and Steven is sure you can handle this, Sarah.”

“No no no.” Layla refuted, scrambling to hide her knife. “We’ll fight him on our own.” She smacked Sarah’s gun hand, gesturing for her to conceal it again.

“It’s time to go!” Kennedy called out.

The cultists obeyed her decree, and Layla hurriedly covered her face once more. Sarah shoved the gun back into its hiding place and tugged Layla’s sleeve, half-running back to the vehicle they’d originally ridden in. They climbed inside as casually as they could, and moments later they were on the move again.

By some incredible stroke of luck, Harrow’s destination was none other than the Great Pyramid of Giza. Sarah’s heart soared when she saw it, but it wasn’t out of an Egyptologist’s love and fascination for the monument; rather, a hope that she could fulfill the task Taweret had set for them and bring her friends back to life so that they could all take down Harrow together and prevent Ammit’s rise.

As the cultists got out of their vehicles and followed Harrow toward the foot of the pyramid, Sarah caught Layla’s wrist and held her behind. Leaning in close, she whispered harshly, “I don’t want to be an Avatar any more than you do, but if lending my body to Taweret for a bit and making nice with Khonshu means Ammit stays in her ushabti and Harrow goes down, I’ll do it. I’ll do anything. With or without you, I’m freeing Khonshu, and if Taweret asks me to be her Avatar, I’m gonna accept.” She hesitated for a moment before adding, “I may not have been in love with either of them, but I owe Marc my life at least three times over and for a long time Steven was my only friend, the only good thing I had in my life. I have no issue with avenging them, but if there’s even the tiniest chance that they can come back… I’m taking it.”

Layla met her eyes. “They’re lucky to have you.” She said, and Sarah could tell that there was no bitterness or jealousy behind it. “I’m with you- all the way. I made up my mind on the ride. But don’t say ‘yes’ to Taweret; I’m Marc’s wife. It’s my job.”

Sarah softened, just a little, and she found herself wishing that she could’ve met Layla under better circumstances. “Let’s go. It’ll be suspicious if we hang too far behind.”

Layla nodded, and they moved quickly to catch up to the cultists. The group ascended the stair-like exterior of the Pyramid, pausing when Harrow did. At a place that seemed random to Sarah, he halted and stabbed the stone with his staff. A fissure opened before him, forming an entrance to the Pyramid. Harrow led the way, a tunnel continuing to carve ahead of them. The darkness was blinding at first, but Sarah’s eyes quickly adjusted.

The tunnel ended as it reached a massive chamber dimly lit by purple and gold. “Come,” Harrow said, “you won’t believe what the gods have hidden from mankind.”

Layla stopped, Sarah mimicking her, and they let the rest of the cultists march in past them. Sarah spared a moment to run her eager gaze over the interior of the chamber- ornate and beautiful in indescribable ways. “You’re judges, not warriors.” Harrow called out to the five people- Avatars- coming to stand against Harrow. One man with a suit and a receding hairline had a strange white glow in his palms, apparently some kind of power bestowed on him by the god he served. “This doesn’t need to happen.”

The Avatar crossed his arms before himself in an X shape, then flung them apart. The others on either side of him tensed jerkily, their eyes glowing white. Harrow reacted immediately by aiming the head of his staff at the Avatar, bright purple surging out of it. Layla grabbed Sarah’s hand and ran, heading off in search of the ushabtis.

Sarah cast one last glance behind her just before they entered a hallway, hoping desperately that whatever the Avatars were doing would be enough to delay Harrow.

Candlelight at the end of one of the corridors was a beacon of hope for the women, and as they got closer they could see the outlines of numerous ushabtis. “Khonshu will be represented by a bird of some kind, probably with a full or crescent moon as well.” Sarah apprised Layla, pulling the mask off her face.

Mimicking her, Layla reached the wall and crouched, checking the shapes of the ushabtis for one denoting Khonshu. Sarah went to the opposite side of the wall.

“I think it’s this one.” Layla announced after just a few seconds, and Sarah rushed to her side.

She peered at the figurine. “That’s him, that’s him!”

Layla took it carefully out of its nook, hand almost shaking. “How do I break it?”

“I imagine you just smash it.” Sarah suggested. “Throw it, stomp on it, hit it with a rock- something’ll work eventually.”

Layla nodded, but before she could act, a strange feeling settled in Sarah’s gut- a dread like she had never known, and that feeling of fearful awe she always got around the anomalies. “Whoa. Did you feel that?”

“That… feeling?” Layla queried, and Sarah nodded. “Yeah. Was that-”

“I think Ammit just rose.” Sarah whispered in horror. Her eyes turned down to the ushabti. “Smash that now. We’re out of time.”

She whirled around, but Layla’s hand closed around her wrist. “Where are you going?”

“Back to the main chamber.” Replied Sarah. “The Avatars may still be alive, just unconscious, or bound. Even if they’re not, there may be artefacts- weapons, maybe- that we can use, or perhaps the chamber itself holds power. Get Khonshu out and apprise him of the situation.”

She bolted back to the main chamber, tearing her arm from Layla’s grasp and ignoring the desperate shouts of her name. The sight that greeted Sarah was far from ideal. The five Avatars lay motionless on the ground, more than likely dead. Harrow and his cultists knelt before a monstrous giant.

Ammit was horrifying and beautiful; terrible and breathtaking all at once. She was vaguely anthropomorphic, in that way that all Egyptian gods were depicted, from her bipedal stance to her humanoid hands. Despite her distinctive crocodilian head, her skin- greenish and golden- was the only other reptilian thing about her. She lacked a tail, but a massive mane of braids bound together by bands of gold almost looked like one, though it seemed to have its own movement. She wore nemes like in all her iconography, and on the front of her garment’s bodice was depicted a golden snake- a cobra, from what Sarah could see. A paneled skirt of chainmail swayed with every turn and step.

Already Sarah could tell that she’d prefer the Pristichampsus.

“To whom do I owe my gratitude?” The demon goddess spoke, her deep, accented voice reverberating through the chamber, raising goosebumps on Sarah’s skin under her garments. It also raised confusion in her mind; she had thought that Harrow was Ammit’s Avatar in some fashion, but apparently not.

“Your humble disciple, my goddess,” Harrow rasped, “to whom you owe nothing.”

“Your scales lack balance.” Ammit noted.

“I understand. I had hoped my penance might correct my imbalance, but I see now that’s impossible.” Harrow responded. “I accept the scales regardless of the outcome.”

“They lack balance because of what lies ahead of you.” Ammit clarified.

“Then we must spare the world the pain I will cause. I willingly submit.” Harrow answered, voice wobbling slightly with tears. Sarah felt no sympathy for the man, rather feeling an admittedly sickening sense of anticipation at the thought of Harrow dying.

“What lies ahead of you is your service to me.” Clarified Ammit, and Sarah’s heart sank into the pit in her stomach.

“How may I serve you in death?”

“Your death is delayed.” Ammit told him, and Sarah felt sick. “I once relied on a servant whose scales balanced perfectly. In exchange, I was bound to stone for 2,000 years.”

“You’re breaking my heart.” Muttered Sarah sardonically, glaring up at the dark deity.

“But I have disciples all over the world whose scales balance perfectly, awaiting your command. They’re worthy, my goddess.” Harrow refuted. Sarah’s mood soured even further. She’d prefer a self-righteous, narcissistic, arrogant enemy than one like Helen or Harrow, who held no self-worth beyond their belief that their cause justified their twisted crusade.

“But you are the one who set me free. You are the Avatar that I need.” Ammit insisted. “Serve me, and you will find peace. Do not let the pain of the past control you.”

She rested her giant hand on his head, stroking his hair like a parent might a child. “As you wish.” He whispered, accepting his new role. Barely a moment later, his eyes glowed that shade of purple she’d never see the same way again. That same feeling from earlier coursed through her once more.

Sarah swallowed hard. The tables had really turned now. Where the hell was Khonshu? Preening? Something must’ve held up Layla. Gritting her teeth, she turned around and quickly ran down the hall again.

And skidded to a stop just in time to avoid colliding with Layla. “Thank God, you’re okay.” The Egyptian woman breathed.

“Smash the ushabti now – Ammit’s free and Harrow’s her Avatar.”

Layla nodded, and without further hesitation stomped on the ushabti, shattering it into dust. The dust on the floor of the passageway swirled and rose into a towering cloud that morphed into a great and terrible form.

Khonshu was a sight to behold.

In the hallway, he towered over both of them at at least ten, if not twelve, feet tall. His body was cloaked in robes of muted tones, and in his humanoid hand he held a great staff whose head was a shining crescent. His head was a massive skull- like that of a hummingbird or corvid, reminiscent of a plague doctor’s mask- that hovered above the collar of his garments. He had no eyes.

“I do not sense Marc Spector in this world.” He announced, his voice deep and chilling. His head swiveled, beak pointing down at them. If Sarah had to put emotions on a look cast by a skull, she’d say it was somewhere between accusing and inquiring. “He died fighting, no doubt.”

“Fighting your war.” Layla seethed, though she shook in fear.

“And it’s far from over.” The avian god remarked. “If Marc is truly gone, I am in need of an Avatar. Would you, Layla El-Faouly, protect the travelers of the night-”

“Are you joking?” Layla cut him off, enraged. “You turned Marc’s life into a waking nightmare. Why would I ever sign up for that?”

“Because you won’t win against Harrow and Ammit alone.” Khonshu responded, and Sarah had to admit that it was a fair point. He turned his eyeless gaze to her. “Sarah Page, will you protect-”

“Go fuck yourself.”

“…Modern women.” Khonshu grumbled.

“We’ll take our chances.” Layla spoke supportively of Sarah.

“Marc was in crisis over you, Layla. His lack of focus got him killed. You need a plan, little bugs. What I offer-”

“I don’t care what you can offer!” Layla cut him off again. “Marc didn’t trust you. I don’t trust you.”

“And neither do I.” Sarah agreed.

Layla stood straight. “We’ll work together without Sarah and I enslaving ourselves.”

“We must rebind Ammit.” Khonshu conceded.

“How are we supposed to do that?” Queried Sarah.

“Only an Avatar can do it.” Revealed Khonshu pointedly.

“We said ‘no’.” Layla hissed.

“Last time I checked, there were half a dozen or so out there.” Sarah indicated the chamber they’d left Harrow and the others in. “Go get one of them to do it.”

With an irritated sigh, Khonshu disappeared into a swirl of dust.

“I’m surprised Marc didn’t go mad listening that that bastard for so long.” Remarked Sarah. “Alright, what’s our game plan?”

Layla gave her a tentative look. “Should we smash the other ushabtis and hope they’re enough to stop Ammit?”

Sarah shook her head. “I recognized a few of them- Set, Apophis, not sure about the others. If we let them out, they might help for personal gain, but then we might have even more bad guys on our hands. Or they’d just leave and we’d still have to deal with them after. Or they might join forces with Ammit in revenge for being imprisioned. Other than Khonshu pissing off the Ennead, all those gods were bound to ushabtis for good reason. We can’t risk it.” She hesitated. “We could try to get Taweret’s help again.”

Layla nodded after a moment. “How do we do that?”

“Well, she communicated to us through dead bodies, so… find corpses? We could see if there’s mummies anywhere, or… or go back to the main chamber. The five Avatars we saw when we came in are dead, I’m pretty sure. I’m guessing the fresher, the better, since old corpses would’ve already had their souls escorted to their afterlives, even if it’s the Duat or Hell or Hades. The ones out there might be recent enough for her to talk through the officers on the road.”

Layla nodded. “It’s the best we’ve got.” With that, she ran, and Sarah was on her heels.

They quickly crossed paths with one of the Avatars- the suited man who had wielded white light against Harrow. He was crawling desperately against the sandy floor, clinging to life.

Sarah and Layla rushed to his side and pulled him to his feet, moving him quickly into a nearby passage. “Are you the ones who released Khonshu?” He asked.

“Yeah.” Layla panted. They set him against a wall. “Okay. Hey, hey! How do we stop Ammit?”

“This chamber is our most powerful place.” He panted. “From here, we need to imprison Ammit in a mortal form.”

“A body instead of a statue.” Layla realized. “She’d be vulnerable.”

“Can we use Harrow?” Sarah asked quickly, hoping a little meanly that the answer was affirmative.

“He is her Avatar; all the better.” The man confirmed.

“Okay, how do we do it?” Layla pressed.

“We need more Avatars than we have left.” He said, then collapsed to the ground despite the women’s best efforts.

“What? No no, no no no.” Layla spoke desperately, feeling along his neck for a pulse.

“He’s dead.” Sarah realized. “Taweret? Can you hear us?”

The man gasped, his body temporarily revived. “Sarah?!” He shrieked with Taweret’s voice, causing Sarah to flinch in surprise. “I’m so thrilled. We’re gonna have so much fun together.” She said excitedly.

“There’s no way they didn’t hear that.” Layla muttered, quickly returning to the mouth of the hallway. Rushing back, she pulled Sarah off the ground by her arm. “Harrow’s coming!”

They dashed down the winding passages together, but mere moments later the structure shook, and a chunk of the ceiling fell down, nearly crushing them. Abruptly, Layla stopped mid-stride, and Sarah skidded to a halt as she looked at her friend in confusion. Layla’s eyes glowed blue for a moment, and Sarah feared that Khonshu had claimed her as Avatar without her permission. “Oh! You’ve changed your mind!” Layla said- in Taweret’s voice, a broad smile on her face. “I would be delighted to accept you as my Avatar.”

“How did- nevermind.” Sarah prioritized. “Look, the Avatar you were possessing a minute ago, he said that we needed more Avatars than we had. Is it possible that Layla and I could both be your Avatars?”

Taweret-Layla frowned. “Two Avatars? I don’t know, that’s never been attempted before.”

“But Marc and Steven are two different people- at least, as far as I can tell- and they were both Khonshu’s Avatar. They shared a body, but when they shifted back and forth, their suit changed. Two Avatars.”

She tilted her head. “Well, we could try it. But I can’t promise you anything.”

Abruptly, Layla’s body sagged, and in her real voice she panted out, “Okay, okay- temporary Avatars.”

Layla’s body jolted upright again, Taweret speaking through her once more. “Yes, of course! Oh, your father is going to be over the moon when he hears!”

Layla’s body dropped again. “My father?” She questioned tearily.

Taweret seized control again, seeming strangely content despite the present danger. “Yes! I met him when I took him to the Field of Reeds.”

“What?”

Taweret pushed Layla out of control again. “Are we doing this or what? I have a fabulous costume in mind.”

Dust rained down on them, and Sarah frantically shoved Layla’s body backward a tad, following to avoid the crumbling structure. “Okay, my conditions: you let me go when this is all over, you heal any injuries I may obtain, and you give me the capability to do what we need to to stop Ammit and Harrow. Deal?”

“Deal!” Taweret shrieked. “Layla, how about you?”

“Works for me.” Layla panted.

Sarah lifted her chin and declared, “I accept the role as Avatar of Taweret.” In her head, she added, ‘But give the more power and protection to Layla, please.’ Layla repeated her spoken words, and in the next moment everything changed.

Sarah’s entire body felt electrified, felt like it was soaring high on dopamine and serotonin like all the good things in life rolled into one with a dash of adrenaline. A foreign power that felt like a less ominous version of Ammit’s rising filled her, and her body tensed without her permission. Her head was thrown back, a bright white light filling her vison as her eyes glowed.

Abruptly regaining control of herself, Sarah stumbled forward, and as her body impacted a wall of stone, it broke on contact. She and Layla staggered out of the passageway, and looking down at themselves they found their bodies clad in Taweret’s ceremonial, protective armor. Their bodices were a deep scarlet leather, and their breastplates, trousers vambraces, sabatons, greaves, and upper-arm cuffs were shining bronze fabric. A cream-colored panel skirt hung in the front and the back. Leather of a matching color bordered the breastplates and scarlet leather. Around their necks were Egyptian wesekh collars, scarlet and bronze with large scarlet scarabs in the middle. Though Layla’s short, curly hair had come loose, Sarah found her own inky locks suddenly plaited into traditional Moroccan twist braids, bronze beads scattered among them.

“Amazing.” Sarah breathed.

Layla reached back hesitantly, feeling for something on her back, and a moment later as she extended her arms, beautiful reddish-bronze metallic wings were revealed. Sarah gasped, reaching behind herself and drawing a matching pair forward.

“Hey, Taweret… love the outfit.” Sarah admitted.

“Eee! Thank you!” The goddess’ voice came from above, and both women snapped their heads up to look at her. Taweret stood before them, far less imposing and terrifying than Khonshu. She seemed only a few feet taller than Sarah and Layla, and her overall demeanor- aura, perhaps- was friendly and nonthreatening. She was bipedal, but very clearly a hippopotamus, although her hands were anthropomorphic. She was dressed in colorful garments, an ornately decorated sun disk between her twitching ears. Black braids spilled down around her shoulders and ended in gold metal.

“Taweret….” Sarah breathed in reverential awe. “You’re incredible.”

“Oh, you’re very kind.” Taweret replied, grinning as much as a hippo could. “Come along now, dearies. Ammit and Harrow have already caused a lot of damage. Khonshu is doing what he can to stop Ammit, but Harrow and his followers are beyond his capability, and the Moon Knight is only one body.”

A moment later, she vanished from sight, leaving her two Avatars confused and concerned.

“‘Moon Knight’?” Sarah quoted, exchanging a glance with Layla.

“I guess Khonshu found another Avatar.” The Egyptian woman replied. Glancing down at her wings, she asked, “You think these will carry us in the air?”

Sarah gave her an impish grin. “Only one way to find out.”

The grey jumpsuit/onesie Sarah muses she’d like Harrow to wear is a UK prison uniform.

#primeval #moon knight #living legend #sarah page #marc spector #steven grant #layla el faouly #arthur harrow #khonshu #ammit #taweret #scarlet scarab #avatar #queenclaudiabrown

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blackladisdestrcz · 2 years

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Sleduji - watching Moon Knight S1E4 (Playstation 4 Pro/Disney+)

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itsmoonknight · 2 years

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youtube

This episode is an Emotional POWERHOUSE!! // Moon Knight S1x5 Reaction! Sean & Dustin are DIGGING while watching S1E4 of Moon Knight! Hit up https://ift.tt/opZrOdS to watch the UNCUT ... via YouTube https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=RRs1cA6MtBw

#moon knight #mcu #Youtube

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twitchygifs · 2 years

Photo

#moon knight gif #Moon Knight S1E4 #Oscar Isaac gif #Oscar Isaac Moon Knight Gif #Favorite scene

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crispychrissy · 2 years

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Appropriate reaction.

→ Oscar Isaac as Steven Grant/Marc Spector in Moon Knight S1E4: “The Tomb”

#moon knight #episode 4 #moon knight spoilers #taweret #goddess #scream #marc #steven #hi #hippo #egyptian goddess #ending scene

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moonspectors · 2 years

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moon knight s1e4 / moon knight (2016) #9

#moon knight #marc spector #marvel #marvel comics #mcu #moon knight headers #moon knight icons #comics #oscar isaac headers #oscar isaac

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piepeloe · 2 years

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Moon Knight S1E4

That was freaking amazing! I don't think the MCU has ever done anything like this before. Very unique and different.

This ep especially felt like you wouldn't know it was Marvel if it weren't for the logo at the start. I do wonder if that won't make if difficult to make more seasons or to integrate it into the wider MCU. So far there hasn't been a single reference except maybe a bus ad for the GRC.

Anyway, glad we got more Steven, glad he made a move, glad he told Marc to shove it. Still not wild about Marc and Layla's romance or that whole subplot with her dad. Also bit miffed we don't know more about the third persona.

Intrigued that Khonshu has lots of company, lots of other gods that are statues. This cannot be good?

The entire trip into the tomb was delightfully creepy. This kind of adventure isn't something we've seen before, but it was done very well, the music really added to the tension.

Then there's the ending in the 'hospital'. Fantastically weird and creepy and I am dying to know more!

#moon knight #spoilers #moon knight spoilers

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pyroclastic727 · 3 years

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So You Want To Watch Star

but don’t know what episodes to watch!

That's completely understandable! Star is the type of show where the first season and a half feel like an entirely different show from the godsend that is the second half! So here's your guide on how to get to the good part.

On the fence? This show features an incredibly queer narrative told through straight people, along with showing the complexities of racism, classism, capitalism, privilege, and love, and how those tie together. It's heaven for people who love to analyze and learn from cartoons, as well as simps for healthy adorable romance. As a She Ra and Owl House fan...it's worth the watch.

My Rating Scale!

1 - You’ll probably feel better if you skip this.

2 - It’s okay. Won’t kill you to watch it, won’t kill you to skip this.

3 - You might get some seratonin. No promises tho.

4 - The Good Shit. Highly recommended.

5 - This is going to blow your fucking mind.

6 - asdjfkshdks

S1E1 - Star Comes To Earth/Party With A Pony - 3. It’s bad but unfortunately you gotta watch the pilot.

S1E2 - Matchmaker / School Spirit - 1

S1E3 - Monster Arm / The Other Exchange Student - 2.

S1E4 - Cheer Up Star / Quest Buy - 2

S1E5 - Diaz Family Vacation / Brittney’s Party - 1

S1E6 - Mewberty / Pixtopia - 2. Mewberty has an important plot point.

S1E7 - Lobster Claws / Sleep Spells - 1, 2.

S1E8 - Blood Moon Ball / Fortune Cookies - 3, 2. BMB is plot-essential.

S1E9 - Freeze Day / Royal Pain - 2, 1

S1E10 - St. Olga’s Reform School for Wayward Princesses - 3. Plot.

S1E11 - Mewnipendence Day / Banangic - 1, 2. Banangic’s ending is kinda cool if you like details.

S1E12 - Interdimensional Field Trip / Marco Grows a Beard - 2.

S1E13 - Storm the Castle - 3. Plot-essential.

S2E1 - My New Wand / Ludo in the Wild - 3.

S2E2 - Mr Candle Cares / Red Belt - 2, 1. Fan service in the first one.

S2E3 - Star On Wheels / Fetch - 3.

S2E4 - Star vs. Echo Creek / Wand To Wand - 3, 4. Introduces a main plot point.

S2E5 - Starstruck / Camping Trip - 2, 1.

S2E6 - Starsitting / On The Job - 1, 3.

S2E7 - Goblin Dogs / By The Book - 1, 2

S2E8 - Game of Flags / Girls’ Day Out - 2, 1. Watch Game of Flags for the plot point.

S2E9 - Sleepover / Gift of the Card - 4, 3.

S2E10 - Friendenemies / Is Mystery - 4.

S2E11 - Hungry Larry / Spider with a Top Hat - 1.

S2E12 - Into the Wand / Pizza Thing - 4, 1. Plot point.

S2E13 - Page Turner / Naysaya - 4.

S2E14 - Bon Bon the Birthday Clown - 5. This episode is the turning point in the whole series.

S2E15 - Raid The Cave / Trickstar - 4, 1.

S2E16 - Baby / Running With Scissors - 4, 3.

S2E17 - Mathmagic / The Bounce Lounge - 2, 1.

S2E18 - Crystal Clear / The Hard Way - 3, 4.

S2E19 - Heinous / All Bets Are Off - 3, 1.

S2E20 - Collateral Damage / Just Friends - 1, 5.

S2E21 - Face The Music - 5.

S2E22 - Starcrushed - 5.

S3E1 - Return to Mewni/Moon The Undaunted - 4. Start of a movie.

S3E2 - Book Be Gone/Marco And The King - 4, 2 but you gotta watch it.

S3E3 - Puddle Defender/King Ludo - 5.

S3E4 - Toffee - 5. End of the movie.

S3E5 - Scent of a Hoodie/Rest In Pudding - 5.

S3E6 - Club Snubbed/Stranger Danger - 5. Rip shippers

S3E7 - Demoncism/Sophomore Slump - 5.

S3E8 - Lint Catcher/Trial By Squire - 5. Plot point.

S3E9 - Princess Turdina/Starfari - 5. Introduces plot.

S3E10 - Sweet Dreams/Lava Lake Beach - 5.

S3E11 - Death Peck/Ponymoniun - 1. I skipped.

S3E12 - Night Life/Deep Dive - 6.

S3E13 - Monster Bash - 5.

S3E14 - Stump Day/Holiday Spellcial - 4, 1.

S3E15 - The Bogbeast of Boggaba/Total Eclipsa the Moon - 2, 5.

S3E16 - Butterfly Trap/Ludo, Where Art Thou? - 5.

S3E17 - Is Another Mystery/Marco Jr. - 5, 3. Marco Jr. is disturbing.

S3E18 - Skooled/Booth Buddies - 5.

S3E19 - Bam Ui Pati/Tough Love - 1, 5.

S3E20 - Divide - 5.

S3E21 - Conquer - 5.

S4E1 - Butterfly Follies - 4.

S4E2 - Escape from the Pie Folk - 4.

S4E3 - Moon Remembers/Swim Suit - 5.

S4E4 - Ransomgram/Lake House Fever - 4, 5.

S4E5 - Yada Yada Berries/Down By The River - 5, 1. Watch the last 5 minutes of Down by the River.

S4E6 - The Pony Head Show/Surviving the Spiderbites - 4.

S4E7 - Out Of Business/Kelly's World - 4, 1. Only watch Kelly's World if you don't feel like crying at the sight of Kellco.

S4E8 - Curse of the Blood Moon - 5. Bring tissues xo

S4E9 - Princess Quasar Caterpillar and the Magic Bell/Ghost of Butterfly Castle - 5.

S4E10 - Cornball/Meteora's Lesson - 3, 5.

S4E11 - The Knight Shift/Queennapped! - 5, 1.

S4E12 - Junkin' Janna/A Spell With No Name - 5, 1.

S4E13 - A Boy and his DC-700XE/The Monster and the Queen - 5.

S4E14 - Cornoration - 5. No that's not a typo.

S4E15 - Doop Doop/Britta's Tacos - 5, 4.

S4E16 - Beach Day/Gone Baby Gone - 5. Starco shippers come get your food

S4E17 - Sad Teen Hotline/Jannanigans - 5. I would recommend watching this and the subsequent episodes all at once.

S4E18 - Mama Star/Ready Aim Fire - 6, 5.

S4E19 - The Right Way/Here To Help - 6, 7. Yes I broke my own scale deal with it.

S4E20 - Pizza Party/The Tavern At The End Of The Multiverse - 6.

S4E21 - Cleaved - 6.

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rebel-ezra · 3 years

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NAVIGATION

a little something so I can pin it, please don't rb! :)

basic information:

name: marit

age: 21

sexuality: bisexual

pronouns: she/her

languages: dutch, english, german (kinda)

letterboxd

serializd

interests include: star wars, star trek, criminal minds, 911, 911 lone star, shadow & bone (grishaverse), lotr & the hobbit, percy jackson, YA fantasy & science fiction books, fashion, art, poetry

sideblogs:

writing

star trek

what I'm watching, new seasons I'm waiting for & currently reading and physical tbr under the cut:

currently watching:

star trek lower decks (s2e7)

the bad batch (s3e13)

911 (s7e5)

fool me once (s1e4)

star trek discovery (s5e3)

waiting for new seasons of:

andor, the book of boba fett, moon knight, percy jackson, 911 lone star, star trek strange new worlds

recently finished:

ahsoka, the mentalist rewatch

currently reading:

on earth we're briefly gorgeous

recently finished:

convenience store woman, defy the night, defend the dawn, renegades series

physical tbr:

a magic steeped in poison, the invisible life of addie larue

feel free to interact with me :)

#about me #pinned #navigation

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tepkunset · 2 years

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Moon Knight S1E4 was alright. Couldn't see shit for half of it though. But otherwise I'm excited for what is to come next with the obvious inspiration from the Lemire and Smallwood run.

#disney moon knight

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queenclaudiabrown · 5 months

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Living Legend | Chapter Nine: The Missing Tomb

Content warnings: canon events and triggers, including gore. Uncensored language. Media: Moon Knight S1E4 “The Tomb” Word count: 4,472

They drove back across the sand the way they’d come. Silence had reigned since the women had explained that Khonshu was gone. “We can’t lose more time. Harrow must be headed back to the tomb.” Layla said. “Look, if he is, we’re gonna need Marc, yeah?”

Steven responded vehemently. “No.”

“‘No’?” Layla repeated, casting a look at him.

“No. See, the thing is… we made a deal, Marc and I, that when he was done with Khonshu he would disappear for good.”

“You guys made a deal that he would just disappear from my life?” Layla began. “And you didn’t think that maybe I should’ve been… made aware of that?”

“Oh.” Steven seemed to realize the implications of the deal, which Sarah guessed had been made before he met Layla. “Well… hadn’t he disappeared from your life already?”

“Steven!” Sarah hissed, taken aback. “Not nice!”

“Yeah. I mean, whatever.” Layla responded, clearly fighting back her emotions. “His suit was his best feature, wasn’t it? Didn’t even have that anymore. Plus I know him. He’d wanna lone wolf this whole thing. It’s not happening, we’re not gonna do that.”

“We are not.” Steven agreed, and Sarah got the impression he was rubbing it in Marc’s face. “It’s just you and Sarah and me and the open road.”

No sooner had he said that did Layla slam on the brakes, causing Steven to nearly eat the dashboard and Sarah to almost somersault into the front seat.

“We’re gonna go on foot from here.” Layla announced.

“Yeah, alright.”

“Whatever you say.” Wheezed Sarah, shakily lowering her arms from where she’d planted them against the seats in front of her, stopping herself as she had pitched forward.

They got out of the truck, and they donned their bags. They entered the comparatively narrow canyon in the massive rock formations, the cool shade a welcome relief from the scorching sun. Birds cawed as they flew overhead, and the odd mountain goat could be seen lurking up above.

Layla was the most comfortable and confident, having grown up in this country. Sarah relied on her past experiences in Egypt to help her manage the terrain, and poor Steven was still quite drained and had never actually made it to Egypt- not as himself, anyway- so he was struggling quite a bit.

They left the winding chasms and emerged back into the hot light once more. Finding themselves on a rock formation at least a dozen meters off the ground, they could see Harrow and his cult’s campsite. “There they are. Let’s keep moving.” She led them down a narrow and unpleasant path on the side. “It looks like they’re already inside. We’ll need to find another way to beat them to Ammit.”

The campsite was indeed deserted when they reached it, save the camels- which Steven awkwardly greeted as if they were people. Still, they remained on alert in case any cultists had remained behind or returned for any reason. They spotted more tent structures situated very close to the mouth of their cavernous destination. “Let’s check for supplies.” Suggested Layla.

The three of them went into separate tents, and Sarah was able to locate a torch, a multitool, and several spare batteries. Rejoining the others, she was glad to learn that equipment for their descent had also been gathered. Sarah helped Layla get into hers, but had to relieve herself before the other woman returned the favor, leaving her to handle Steven’s gear.

Sarah returned to find Layla stepping away from Steven, their cheeks pinkened. She eyed them suspiciously, but said nothing, and within a few minutes she was geared up. “I’m gonna go down first.” Layla decided.

“Okay. Yeah, great.”

“Before I belay.”

“Thank you. What’s- What’s ‘belay’?” Steven questioned timidly.

“She, uh, she’s gonna fix the ropes so they’re steadier. Or something like that.” Sarah explained.

“I still can’t tell when you’re joking or not.” Layla laughed, clipping the rope to her harness. A moment later, she was descending. Steven leaned over to watch her go, but a few seconds later he quite literally punched himself in the face.

“Er… what?” Sarah questioned as Steven swore in pain.

“I guess Marc can control parts of the body even when I’m in control.” Steven mused, evading the question.

“Yeah, that’s interesting, but… why did he punch you?”

“Er…” he looked at his feet. “I kissed Layla.”

Sarah facepalmed. “You are the biggest sodding idiot I’ve ever met.”

“I also told her that Marc was pushing her away to keep her safe from Khonshu.”

“My previous statement still applies.”

A moment later, Steven yelled, and Sarah took the hand off her face in time to see him kick himself backward into the hole- likely Marc operating the legs. Sarah ran to the edge and peered down. “Steven? Are you alright?”

“Yep, I’m fine.” He called up.

Relieved, Sarah clipped herself to the rope and lowered herself down, landing carefully behind Steven. “Oh, wow, look at you.” Steven breathed, looking at the rock sculptures and hieroglyphs behind Layla.

The Egyptian turned to see what he was looking at. “Oh, yeah, there’s…. Gorgeous, aren’t they? They’re just, like, been standing guard for centuries.”

“Bastet.” Sarah presumed, noting the feline shape of the stones.

“Right?” Steven replied to what Layla had said. “Like, I can’t, I can’t even- so if they sprang to life right now and asked me a riddle for passage, I’d be thrilled.” He said excitedly. “I’d shit myself, but I’d be thrilled.” He amended. Sarah snorted, but didn’t disagree. “What’s this?”

“What’s what?” Sarah asked, looking away from the hieroglyphs to see what he was inspecting- something drawn in the sand on a rock near the ground.

“Did you do that?” He asked Layla, not accusingly.

“What? Oh. Yeah, it’s, uh, it’s for my father. He would’ve loved to be here.” Layla replied.

“Oh yeah? Big history buff, is he?”

Sarah winced. In the chaos of Harrow’s numerous murder attempts and shows of power, Marc and Layla fighting, Marc being generally evasive, and Marc and Steven switching back and forth unexpectedly, Sarah had lost track of who knew what. Steven apparently hadn’t gotten the memo that a) Layla’s father was dead, and b) Marc was possibly connected to it, if not responsible for it.

“Oh, so much worse. Archaeologist on a mission.” Layla replied. They moved deeper into the tomb. “And to him it was a dream worth dying for. And he did.”

Steven stopped, realizing. “Oh… I’m so sorry.”

“Yeah, no, it’s fine, really.” Layla brushed it off.

“Yeah.”

“It’s fine. Happens.”

“I bet that he’d be positively beaming right now, standing in the proof of it.” Steven told her.

Layla smiled, perhaps indeed somewhat comforted by his words. “Yeah. I think so.” She blew out a breath. “Well, it’s not such a bad way to go, is it?” She exchanged looks with them. “Let’s find out?” She suggested, almost a tad excited by the prospect.

“Yeah.” Steven murmured, less enthusiastic, as she headed down the passage again. “Yeah, let’s find out.”

Sarah playfully bumped his arm with hers as she passed. “Relax. Forget about the possibility of impending death and destruction and try to enjoy this dream come true.”

He only muttered under his breath in response.

“Strange.” He observed a few minutes later, studying the yellowish walls that seemed to glow green under their blue-tinted torch beams.

“It’s a maze.” Layla noted.

“It’s a-maze-ing.” He joked in reply.

“No, like, there are six paths.” Layla explained.

“Yeah, yeah, yeah. Right, six points.”

“What would they be shooting at?” Layla queried, crouching down off to the side.

Sarah stepped up behind her and shined her own torch beam down at the bullet casings Layla was looking at. “How old would you say those are?” She queried.

“Pretty recent. Harrow’s guys, I’d say.”

They stood up, exchanging concerned looks, and turned their attentions back to Steven, who was drawing with his finger in the sand covering a slab of stone up to their thighs. Upon further inspection, Sarah saw that it was the Eye of Ra. “This whole structure… is a symbol.” Steven was musing.

“That’s the Eye of Horus.” Layla said.

Sarah frowned. “I thought Horus’ eye pointed to the right and Ra’s was to the left, like this one.”

Layla shook her head. “No, it’s the opposite.” Sarah shrugged. Maybe it was another little difference between her world and theirs, like the Ennead discrepancy.

“Look at that.” Steven said, as the symbol shone green on the ceiling above the slab.

“What?”

“Wow, that’s bonkers.” Sarah commented.

“Right?” Steven agreed. “It’s the royal symbol- protection in the afterlife.”

“I mean, like, the resources needed to build this thing….” Layla trailed off, and the three seemed to reach the same conclusion at the same time. “Her final Avatar was a pharaoh.”

“Whoa, a bloody pharaoh!” Steven gushed in excitement.

“So, what, you think it’s a map?” Layla theorized.

“Yeah, well… right, so the Eye of Horus is also the eye of mind, yeah?”

Sarah nodded. “Right. It’s supposed to represent health, wellbeing, protection, that sort of thing.”

“Representing the six senses- six points.” Steven continued. “So you got the eyebrow that denotes thoughts. Pupil- sight, obviously. This point here is, uh, hearing.” He touched the corresponding points as he listed them.

“Touch is here, and smell here.” Sarah joined in, pointing to those places.

“And this long line ending in a spiral… is the tongue.”

Layla nodded. “The Avatar would be Ammit’s voice.” She reasoned.

“That’s right.” Concurred Steven.

“So, we find the tongue point of this place, we find the ushabti.” Sarah summarized.

They came almost immediately after to a much larger chamber, which was several stories tall and open. An altar was present, and mummies- likely of the pharaoh’s servants- in the wall on one side.

“Oh, wow.”

“Oh! Heka priests, judging by their masks and ceremonial stance.” Layla recognized, shining her torch above the mummies to show the drawings there.

“I think you’re right.” Agreed Sarah. “But that’s not what these mummies are.”

“The heck’s a Heka?” Steven questioned. Sarah whirled on the spot and shot him an incredulous and genuinely shocked look.

“Sorcerers of their time.” Layla replied for her. “They’ve been down here for centuries. These must be some of the unlucky souls who crossed their path.”

“Right. An impressive sendoff.” Steven said. Turning his torch to the altar, he abruptly gagged and covered his mouth. “Oh my God, oh God. Is that fresh blood? Isn’t that little chunks of meaty bits?”

Sarah tensed, directing her own beam to the same place that he and Layla were looking. Abruptly, an image flashed into her head- a trail of her own blood on the alley floor, the night too dark for it to be immediately recognizable as red and blood. She inhaled sharply, turning her head for a moment as she collected her wits.

“Oh, yeah.” Layla confirmed grimly. “Oh. Sarah, come here.”

Reluctantly, Sarah complied. Crouching beside Layla, she took in the sight of several canopic jars gathered at the base of the altar, their lids shaped to represent different deities- mostly Anubis, which made sense. Horrifyingly, several of them were smeared with fresh blood as well.

“Canopic jars.” She told Steven, standing up. “Some… may have been recently filled. I don’t want any more information on that.”

“Let’s keep moving.” Layla suggested, unsettled now.

“Yeah.” Agreed Steven and Sarah in unison.

However, Steven came to a halt almost immediately, prompting them to do the same. “Um, just a minute. Uh, just a minute. Uh… I’m just, like, just saying what I see, and I see lots of bones and blood going that way.” He indicated out the doorway, the same way they’d intended to go. “So I’m just thinking, like, what if there’s maybe another- um, there’s like another- there’s an opening up there. You see that?” He shined his torch on what seemed to be a passageway on another level of the chamber.

“Yeah.” Layla confirmed.

“Should we check it out?”

“Yeah, let’s check it out.” Agreed Layla.

“Alright.”

“Alright. You go.” She urged.

“Me?” Steven asked, flabbergasted.

“You.”

“Yeah, alright. Yeah.” It was obvious to both women that he really didn’t want to prod around up there.

Sarah forced herself to move. “C’mon, I’ll go with you.” She crouched beside the wall, clasping her hands to make a foothold for him to step onto to better lift himself up onto their target platform.

“What’re you doing?” He questioned.

“Helping you. You step on my hands and go up first, and then you can pull me up, yeah?”

“Er- well, alright, yeah.” He agreed. Reluctantly placing one foot on her joined hands, he reached upward, and she hoisted him as he clawed at the wooden platform to pull himself onto it. “Alright, yeah. I did it, I’m up.” He announced in a whisper a moment later.

“You good?” Layla asked.

“Yeah. Your turn, Sarah.” He turned around, reaching both arms down.

“Do you need a boost?” Layla offered.

“I’m fine, thanks.” Sarah replied, wrapping her hands around Steven’s arms below the elbow, his hands clasping her arms in the same fashion. After a moment, the edge of the platform was digging into her stomach, and she let go of Steven with one hand to plant on the wooden boards and assist her in pulling herself up. “Alright, I’m up.” She called down to Layla.

Standing, the pair immediately trained their lights on the hieroglyph-covered wall. “So, according to the ancient texts, Ammit should be bound to an ushabti- those statue thingies.” Steven began. He turned around, his torch’s beam catching on the long strips of fabric hanging from the ceiling and swaying lightly in the air.

“How’s it looking?” Layla called up.

“It’s looking amazing.” Steven replied in a slightly horrified wonder as he turned his attention to the table (possibly altar) set up on the platform. Sarah’s eyes traced over the items on it and immediately looked away as she repressed the urge to vomit. “I mean, this… it looks like a freshly-filled canopic jar, and snake skins, and self-regeneration-” Steven began describing exactly what she’d seen.

“Steven.” Layla interrupted. “Steven?”

“Yeah?”

“The exit?”

“Yeah.” He realized, getting back on track. Sarah cast one last reluctant glance at the gory table, shuddering at the human arm and still-wet vermillion blood she saw there, and followed Steven. “It’s mental.” He muttered. Peering through a curtain-like arrangement of cloth strips, he drew back a moment later. “Yeah, yeah, yeah. We can go this way.” He confirmed excitedly.

Sarah breathed a sigh of relief, but before she could voice it, the silence was broken by a gunshot in the distance. The sound startled all three and put them on high alert. Sarah tossed her torch from one hand to the other, her dominant hand going to the pistol tucked into the back of her waistband. A few more gunshots were fired off.

“Harrow.” Layla realized.

“What are they shooting at?” Steven wondered, equally baffled and worried.

“Probably whatever the others were shooting at.” Sarah suggested. “Those bullet casings we found- someone was here before us and they shot at something, which we already knew, but whatever it was, we didn’t encounter it. Unless…” she shot a third look at the table of offal.

“Unless what?” Steven pressed, not understanding her train of thought.

“Unless those Heka priests are out there and we just missed them.” She blurted, heart suddenly pounding. She did not want her innards to be put into canopic jars in this horrible place.

A sudden eerie clicking, clucking, tapping noise from the chamber’s entrance kicked up all their anxieties another notch. “Hide! Hide!” Steven urged, switching off his torch.

Layla did the same as she and Steven made to conceal themselves, but although Sarah shut hers off also, she took a wary step toward the edge of the platform, only to see a vaguely humanoid figure creeping into the chamber, like Gollum or one of those foul future predators. Horrifyingly, it was dragging an even more humanoid shape. Terrified, she scurried backward, but kept it just barely within her sight as it dragged its victim toward the altar in the middle of the chamber and heaved the person up onto it.

A moment later, the Heka priest plunged a blade into the cultist’s gut.

The night before had shaken Sarah more than she cared to admit, with the violence and death all around her, directed toward her and her friends, committed by her and her friends. But the ritualistic killing of that man was not like the night before. It wasn’t the actions of the deluded and greedy believing they were doing right; it wasn’t an adrenaline-driven act of desperation and survival and self-preservation. It was a sickening pagan practice that Sarah was in equal parts intrigued and horrified to witness. She tried to detach herself from her emotions (namely her fear and empathy) and view the gruesome spectacle through the lenses of an Ancient Egyptologist who should really be fascinated by a real-life Heka sacrifice happening before her eyes. But Sarah was an empathetic person by nature, and watching someone be butchered and dissected- even someone who was a psychopath and a complete nutter- wasn’t something she could detach from. Regrettably, she could not tear her eyes from the gruesome spectacle.

The Heka priest continued making its awful noise as its gory ritual continued, and Sarah could see Layla edging carefully around the altar, which she had had no choice but to hide herself beside. Fear muffled her disgust and horror, and dread at the thought of Layla being caught and subjected to the same cruel fate made her hands shake.

Clucking loudly now, the priest abandoned its task, slowly moving around the side of the altar in the same direction that the apparently unaware Layla was. Had it heard her? Seen her? Smelled her? No matter the reason, it was about to discover her.

But even as Sarah opened her mouth to shout a warning to her friend and distract the priest, it abruptly jumped up onto the altar. It jumped again, and again, rapidly ascending the layers of the tomb chamber- right toward Steven.

Steven shoved to his feet, wordless noises of terror coming from his mouth. Sarah backed up and moved rapidly toward Steven, her eyes just barely catching blackened fingers between the floorboards of the platform as the Heka priest made its way toward the edge. A few moments later, it had reached the edge, and its arms came up over the top, ready to climb up and claim Steven and Sarah as its next sacrifice.

Something abruptly shattered, and the priest halted, dropping back to the floor a moment later. “Run!” Steven called to Layla, who had presumably created the diversion. “We’ll find you!” The sound of running feet down below confirmed that Layla was fleeing, but as Sarah dared to take a glance over the edge once more she realized in horror that the Heka priest was pursuing her. Steven moved in Sarah’s peripheral, shoving the table off the platform in an effort to kill the priest. “I squished it. I squished it.” He repeated, both to reassure himself that he had done it and saved Layla and in surprise at himself.

“C’mon, we need to go!” Sarah urged, seizing his hand and yanking him toward the exit they’d found. They ran, and all Sarah could do was pray to whoever was listening that Layla would be alright.

On and on they went, until the path narrowed, and then opened again, spilling into a large room with a sarcophagus in the middle. “Oh my days.” Steven breathed. “First ones in. Tomb fit for a pharaoh.” Their torchlights swept across the chamber, illuminating hieroglyphs, statues of various sizes and characters, and more that Sarah couldn’t even begin to describe. “Thutmose II… Nefertiti… it’s gotta be one of the big’uns.” His excitement- elation, was clear in his voice, and reflected just as strongly in Sarah’s heart and mind. Abruptly, he stopped, and Sarah frowned and looked over her shoulder to find him staring down at a puddle.

“Marc?” She guessed.

“Yeah. He’s right cheesed off at me.”

She raised her eyebrows. “For kissing Layla?”

“Yep.”

“Gotcha. I’ll let you two sort that out.”

“What’re you gonna do? Try and drown us now?” Steven queried a moment later. He began moving again. “Yeah. Oh wow, look at that. All these relics. Sarah, come look.”

She removed her gaze from the walls and ceiling and followed him toward the sarcophagus. “Macedonian? No. What? No way, that’s not right. That can’t be right.”

“It is, though.” Sarah realized, inspecting the same writings he was. “It is. It’s Macedonian, which means…”

“The only pharaoh… but, I mean, he insisted on calling himself Egyptian.” Steven continued, struggling with the same mind-boggling conclusion that Sarah had already reached. “But…” He stood up from where he had crouched and moved closer to the ornate head of the sarcophagus. “Sarah, I think we’re looking at the long-lost tomb of-”

“-Alexander the Great.” They finished in unison. They exchanged an awed glance, their eyes wide with mutual glee and fascination, then returned their gazes to the head portion of the sarcophagus lid. It was similar, of course, to most like it, but Sarah still traced over every detail with her eyes like it was the first time she’d ever seen even a picture of one. The represented headdress was remarkably preserved, shiny and golden in the light with an ornate cobra in the middle above his head, blue painted onto the snake’s hood. The color of the shaped face was still intact- if a little dusty- and detailed with gold. The braided beard, also outlined with gold, was unscratched and unchipped.

“It’s beautiful.” Sarah remarked, hesitantly letting her fingertips run over the engravings and carvings and lines and ridges of the coffin. Dust collected unpleasantly on her sweat-damp fingertips, but she barely even noticed, too engrossed by what lay before her- every Egyptologist and probably many archaeologists’ wet dream- to care about anything else. Her hand reached the face, the pads of her fingertips tracing across the carved full lips. “They’re smooth, even after all these centuries. Minimal damage to anything. Compared to other tombs I’ve seen, there’s not even that much dust. I mean, I’ve seen more collect in a single year than what’s on ol’ Lex here. It’s incredible.” She turned her eyes to Steven. “We need to open it and look for the ushabti. I doubt they’d just leave it lying around.”

Steven nodded in agreement. He braced his hands against the edge of the lid and rapidly began drawing in breaths to hype himself up, but after a moment shoved away from it. “Everything inside me is like, screaming not to open this thing.”

“Best case scenario, he wakes up looking like Rami Malek and helps us on our quest.” Sarah joked.

“Alright, alright, alright.” He blurted out a moment later, earning a confused frown from Sarah. She realized after a few seconds that it was probably Marc’s input again.

“C’mon, we’ll do it together.” Sarah suggested, placing her hands near the feet, making eye contact with him across the coffin. “On three, yeah?”

“Yeah.”

“One… two… three!”

And together, their combined strength shoved the cover of the sarcophagus out of place, leaving it balanced across the middle yet still granting them access. Inside, Alexander the Great’s body was mummified, a number of important items on his bandaged form. The smell was unpleasant to say the least, but he was remarkably well-preserved.

“Oh, man.” Steven spoke, completely awed.

“I can’t believe we’re seeing this.” Sarah agreed.

“No, well, if you’re gonna hide it for all eternity, you’d probably put it in a place where the average looter wouldn’t think to look.” Steven said. After a moment, he blinked and looked up at Sarah. “Ushabti- any guesses?”

She frowned, peering down at the pharaoh’s corpse. “I mean, it could’ve been hidden among any of the ceremonial items entombed with him.” She suggested. She leaned closer to his exposed feet and shined her light over what she could see. “If any jars or vessels were put in with him, it might’ve been hidden in one of them, or even put on his body before he was mummified.” She cast a wary look at Steven. “I really don’t wanna unwrap a corpse.”

He made a face. “Blergh, neither do I.” A thoughtful frown covered his features, and his gaze moved back to The Great’s head. “Alexander was the voice of Ammit.” He said. He nodded to himself, shuffling in place, and reached for the mummy’s head. “Alright, I’m gonna try something, I’ll do something here.”

“Steven. What the hell are you doing?” Sarah questioned as he began unwrapping the pharaoh’s face.

“Sorry. Oh, God, so sorry. Sorry, Mr. Great.” Steven began profusely apologizing to the corpse. “Er, I’m thinking that maybe-” the bandages around the corpse’s jaw tore, and a moment later an unpleasant cracking sound followed. Steven tore the entire facial covering off, revealing a skull underneath. “-I’m thinking that maybe the ushabti’s in his mouth.”

Sarah tipped her head, considering. “You may be right. It’s worth a shot, anyway.”

Steven nodded, and his fingers pried at the mummy’s closed mouth. “Alright, open up.” Abruptly, the jaw entirely detached, and Sarah made a muffled noise of revulsion, bile rising in her throat. “Oh, sorry Mr. Great. Sorry. Couldn’t be more sorry.” He continued, gingerly reaching into the now much bigger mouth, fingers probing for the ushabti.

“Do you- Do you want me to do that?” Sarah offered hesitantly.

“Nope, nope, I’m already knuckle-deep here.” Steven returned, and Sarah shuddered. The visual was unnerving enough. Within a few moments, Steven’s arm disappeared into the corpse up to the rolled-up sleeve of his shirt, and Sarah pressed a hand over her mouth as bile rose in her throat. Steven wasn’t faring much better, turning his face away and gagging. However, after a few long moments, Steven turned back to the corpse, concentration etched into his features. “Hang on, I can feel something.” A moment later, he extracted his arm, and in his hand was a small stone figurine of none other but the demon goddess herself.

“You got it.” Sarah breathed, unable to tear her eyes from the ushabti. “Holy shit, Steven. Holy shit! You did it!” She threw her arms around Steven, the sarcophagus between them ignored.

“I couldn’t have done it without you.” He told her sincerely, earning a joking eye-roll from Sarah as she pulled back.

Neither of them knew how badly their luck was about to go.

The symbol Steven draws is the Eye of Ra, but since it’s the Eye of Horus in the show (look up the difference if you want). Since the Ennead was also slightly incorrect, which I’ve previously mentioned, I’m just writing it in as a difference between universes.

The Rami Malek comment is a reference to the first Night At The Museum movie, although he appears in most of them.

#living legend #moon knight #primeval #sarah page #steven grant #layla el faouly #alexander the great #queenclaudiabrown #ushabti #heka priests

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queenclaudiabrown · 5 months

Text

Living Legend | Chapter Eight: Secrets and Stars

Content warnings: canon events and triggers of media used, uncensored cussing, violence, etc. Media: Moon Knight S1E3 “The Friendly Type”, Moon Knight S1E4 “The Tomb”; references to Primeval S3E3, Primeval S3E5 Word count: 2,681

They acquired themselves a vehicle after collecting the bags, and Layla drove while Marc sat beside her and Sarah laid down in the backseat. She took two paracetamol dry, hoping to avoid overdoing it, and applied an instant ice pack to where Bek had hit her. The bruises were doubtlessly already forming.

“I really liked that jacket. Oh well.” Marc muttered and tossed the item in question into the backseat, careful to avoid accidentally hitting Sarah in the face with it.

“What was Harrow talking about?” Layla asked, her voice brokering no argument or evasion.

“Everything that comes out of his mouth is a load of rubbish, if you ask me.” Sarah grumbled truthfully. “‘Running from something’- the man’s bonkers, which I already knew, but being an Avatar and all that- shouldn’t he be, I don’t know- more likely to suspect a supernatural reason for me having to fake all my records?”

Momentarily diverted from interrogating Marc, Layla asked, “What’s that supposed to mean?”

Sarah sighed. “It’s a long story, and you wouldn’t believe me if I told you. But I’m not some criminal with a dark past. I was a researcher, and my life took a turn. I nearly died and Lagaro helped me start a new life. The finer details aren’t relevant. I should’ve bloody known better than to go back to the British Museum.”

“Your turn, Marc. What was he talking about?” Layla returned to grilling her husband.

“What do you mean?” He mumbled, as if he could avoid the subject.

“He said I had a right to know.”

“I have no idea.” He lied. Well, Sarah though he was probably lying.

“I never told anyone why I really moved.” Layla said. “I mean, but he knew, he just saw right through me.”

“I don’t know honey, he’s just trying to mess with you. You know, he’s trying to get in your mind.” Evasion tactic as it was, Marc’s words were true. “No, don’t let him do that, you know? He’s got this idea that he can see the true nature of people or some… baloney like that. If that were true I don’t think he’d have a bunch of homicidal maniacs as his disciples, would he?”

“So it’s not true, what he said about you and-?”

“No, no, it’s not true.” Marc told her. “Of course not. No, he’s just trying to divide us. Don’t let him get in your head.”

“Every time I learn something new about you, I think, ‘That’s it. There can’t possibly be any secrets left between us.’ And then something else pops up, and it’s like I’ve not known you at all.”

“Yeah. You haven’t.” Marc said coldly. “You don’t.”

Sarah didn’t have the energy or the guts to try and interject on either’s behalf. Instead, she shut her eyes and tried to rest but not sleep until they reached their destination.

Layla brought the vehicle to a halt somewhere in the desert. Mountains surrounded them, but no buildings, and the sky was open for them to see the moon and stars.

They gathered around the bonnet of the vehicle, all three of them frantically trying to assemble the puzzle. Having chugged three bottles of water consecutively during the drive to alleviate the dehydration side of her throbbing headache, Sarah eventually had to step away to relieve herself.

“I’m not getting any whole constellations. It’s just little pieces and fragments.” Marc reported as she returned. He slammed the pieces down onto the bonnet angrily. “This is gonna take forever.”

“Marc… we need Steven.” Layla told her husband, whose head was in his hands. “He understands all of this. I really think it’s worth giving him a shot.”

Sarah scanned over the pieces with fresher eyes, but her headache wasn’t helping. She shook her head. “Even I can’t put all this together. Steven was always better at this end of things than I was, and I can’t think straight right now.”

Marc cast a glance up above the roof of the vehicle as Layla pressed him. “Marc, we can’t wait. It’s okay, just let go.” He exclaimed in frustration, wrenching at one of the side mirrors as she continued, “We don’t have time.”

Marc tore off the mirror and snatched the pieces and roll of duct tape off the hood. “What are you doing?” Layla questioned as he walked away.

Sarah watched him go until eventually he paused, holding up the mirror and throwing the other items to the ground. “Alright, go ahead. You’re in.” He told his reflection tiredly.

Sarah only had the back view, but she could see the infinitesimal shifting in his posture and body language. “Cheers, thanks a lot.” Steven’s English-accented voice reached her ears a moment later, and most of the tension tight in her back, neck, and shoulders released. “Alright, yeah.” He got down on the ground, quickly assembling the fabric. “Here we go.”

Layla approached him slowly as he continued muttering to himself, seemingly in awe at how quickly and simply he was handling the situation. Maybe it was because the last time she’d seen him, he’d gone from a terrified nervous wreck to an enthusiastic but inexperienced combatant, only to abruptly switch over to Marc minutes later.

“Steven?” Layla queried, crouching beside him. Sarah came around her other side, sitting down on the sand crisscross applesauce. Steven’s head snapped over to Layla, and he just gazed at her for a moment. Sarah’s tired and sore eyes flicked between them, wondering if Steven was beginning to develop a crush on his other side’s wife.

“Egyptians invented modern navigation.” Or maybe not. Or maybe it was a terrible attempt at flirting. He tore off a piece of tape with his teeth as he continued to work. “There’s not a lot of landmarks in the desert-”

“No, they built or had someone build most of them.” Sarah interjected.

“-so, they came up with a way to get about using the sun and the stars.” Steven continued. “It’s bloody genius, isn’t it?” He sat back, holding up the completed star-shaped star map. “Et voilà.”

“Whoa.” Layla breathed, reaching out to touch it.

“It’s French.”

“I know.” She laughed, but not mockingly. She turned to look at him, but paused, and from what Sarah could see she wore the same expression on her face that Steven had worn looking at her.

Oh no.

With a pang, Sarah thought of Jenny; specifically, two conversations she had had with her old friend on two momentous days, the day that Nick Cutter had died and the day that Jenny herself had as well, albeit briefly, before leaving the ARC. The first one had been rather lighthearted, and Sarah remembered hoping that her friend wouldn’t get her heart broken if Nick’s interest in Jenny wasn’t like Jenny’s interest in him. She’d gotten her heart broken anyway when Helen murdered Nick just hours later.

The second conversation was much briefer, when Sarah had innocently inquired about the origin of a torn picture of who she had thought was Jenny. Horrified, her friend had told her that the photograph found in the late professor’s belongings was not of her, but of Claudia Brown, the specter of a lost love that seemed to haunt the Scotsman with Jenny’s face and Jenny’s voice. Rattled by the realization that she had once been someone else, Jenny had been unsettled the rest of the day, and Sarah knew that it had been a major contributor to her decision to leave the ARC. Sarah hoped she had found happiness and love without asterisks.

It was a damn shame that she was watching something quite similar happen all over again. Steven and Marc shared the same face, and the same voice give or take an accent. It was clear that they both cared very much about Layla despite seeming to be two separate people, but Layla’s growing feelings were far more complicated than the men’s. Was she drawn only to the Marc she saw in Steven, or was the pull an entirely separate feeling? Sarah resolved to stay out of it if she could, but prayed that they would be able to resolve the matter with far less tragedy than her other friends.

“So what do we do with it?” Layla asked, bringing Sarah back to the present.

“Well, I’m not sure, but if- wait, hang on a minute.” Standing, Steven held up the star, letting the vehicle’s lights shine on it. “You see that? You see those little pinpricks there? That’s a constellation.”

Standing up, Sarah peeked at it over Layla’s shoulder. “We should be able to triangulate the stars into coordinates, right?” Layla realized.

“Took the words right out of my mouth.” Agreed Sarah.

“Let me just scan it….” Layla produced her tablet, a camera function activated as she held it up to read the constellation.

“Well, um, actually- unfortunately, it’s not that simple.” Steven admitted.

“Ammit was entombed literal millennia ago, right?” Sarah queried rhetorically, realizing. “Stars drift, so this isn’t accurate. Unless we have a way of seeing the night sky from that night, we have no way of knowing where the tomb is according to this map.”

Steven’s gaze was suddenly drawn to the crest of a sand dune, away from either woman. Instinctively, Sarah looked that way, but saw nothing. “Khonshu?” She guessed.

“Yeah.” Steven replied, looking back over at them for a moment. He gestured to them, and they headed up the dune.

“Can he help us?” Sarah asked.

Steven didn’t answer her, looking around. “Khonshu?” He called. A moment later, he asked, “How?”

The still air moved into a breeze that started picking up into a wind, and sand swirled around their feet. Then Steven spread his arms, face pointed to the sky, and his Avatar suit- the actual suit, not Marc’s fancy mummy robes getup- formed around him. “Steven, what are you doing?”

“Turning back the night sky, apparently.” He replied. He looked behind him, ostensibly at Khonshu, and raised both hands as if in surrender. “Yeah? Like this?” He apparently verified with the moon god. A moment later, he began to move his arms, as if wiping a rag across a window.

Sarah gasped as the literal night sky began spinning, its domed shape obvious as it spun like a globe west-to-east. The sky, purple and blue and filled with the stars, moon, and Milky Way, raced overhead, turning back one night at a time. Glowing lines appeared in the sky- the paths of the moon over the centuries.

“Oh man! This is mental!” Steven voiced.

At last, the sky slammed to a halt again, but not the way it had been before they started moving it. “This must be it.” Sarah breathed, still in awe of what she’d just witnessed.

“This is surprisingly painful.” Steven informed as Layla stood up, holding up her tablet. Sarah observed that many stars were much bigger and brighter, and Orion especially shone blue and red.

“It’s working.” Layla reported. Sarah reached into her jacket pocket and produced her phone, snapping off as many pictures as she could.

“It’s working. Yes, good.” Steven muttered, straining with the apparent effort of holding the night sky two thousand years behind. A few moments later, he dropped to his knees. “I can feel my energy leaving me.” He groaned, and the mask of his suit disappeared, along with the glow of his eyes. What was happening? Was Khonshu draining him of power to maintain this event, or was something else at play? “Oh God, I don’t know how much longer I can do this.”

Worried, Sarah ducked her head and looked at the screen of Layla’s tablet. “We’re almost there, just a few more seconds.”

“Coordinates found.” Layla’s tablet announced. “29 degrees North, 25 East.”

“That’s it; we’re good!” Sarah cried.

Steven let out a groaning breath, collapsing onto the sand as the wind died out and the sky abruptly snapped back to the modern night. Layla and Sarah each grabbed him, pulling hm to his feet. But to their dismay, he pitched forward again, unconscious. “Steven! Steven!” Sarah cried, dropping to her knees beside him. She rolled him onto his back and patted his face, but he didn’t wake.

Layla joined her on the ground, equally distressed. “Steven! Marc! Come on, come on. Where are you? Marc! Come on.”

And so two women sat beside the one body of (at least) two men, despairing and frightened under the starry Egyptian sky in the moonlit Sahara sands.

“Not again. Please, not again.” Sarah breathed, not even realizing that she was repeating the same words Connor Temple had said as the team had desperately worked to revive Jenny from her frozen state.

“Steven, wake up! Come on! Wake the hell up!” Layla all but snapped. Looking to Sarah, she said, “We’ve got to get him back to the car.”

Sarah nodded, and she picked up his legs while Layla grabbed the open front of his zip hoodie. Light erupted behind her, illuminating a look of terror on Layla’s face, and the sound of an engine reached their ears. “Harrow’s nutters?” Sarah guessed.

Layla didn’t even have time to nod as gunshots rang out, striking the sand around them and sending up little grainy clouds. Sarah yelped in surprise and fright, and Layla reached over Steven’s unconscious form to yank her to the ground. The Egyptian herself dropped to her back, still holding onto Steven as she rolled all three of them down the tall dune.

The shooters’ vehicle pursued them, driving down the hill of sand, thankfully without running any of them over. Layla pushed herself up, looking between their vehicle and their enemies’. “Stay here; stay with him.” She ordered breathlessly, taking off in a run downhill before Sarah could respond.

Sarah remained hunkered down, hovering over Steven to shield him- from bullets, if need be- as she watched Layla go. Reaching their vehicle, she hid herself behind it, slipping around to the back and climbing inside the cargo bed. The other truck drove around theirs, searching for people with their bright lights. As said lights moved toward Sarah and Steven, Sarah panicked, but dropped to the ground on her back beside Steven and shut her eyes, forcing herself to slow and regulate her breathing as she played possum.

“Looks like they’re dead.” One man said in Arabic.

A moment later, another man was shouting. “Turn, turn! There she is!” As the blinding headlights of the truck moved off Sarah and Steven, she risked opening her eyes, and was met with the image of Layla standing beside her borrowed vehicle, holding in her hand a flare that burned vermillion. It was brighter than anything else around them, even the half-hidden moon far above them.

They began firing at Layla, who took cover beside the truck. Sarah could see the magenta glow of the flare shining under the vehicle as the other truck approached. Beside her, Steven groaned quietly, eyes opening blearily.

And then Layla was crawling out from under the opposite side of the men in the truck, another crimson-ended stick in her hand as Steven sat up. Eyes still fixed on Layla, Sarah took his hand and helped him stand, and they both hurriedly stumbled down the dune toward the vehicles. Layla hurled the second flare at the cargo bed of the other vehicle, and yellow flames and white sparks erupted out of it as something in the back ignited and exploded.

Layla turned to see Sarah and Steven both watching only a meter or so away. “What?” She asked flippantly, as if what had just occurred was nothing unusual or spectacular. For a moment, Sarah felt a pang. She was sure that Abby and Danny would’ve liked Layla, maybe even Becker.

“You are damn lucky you’re not dead.” Sarah said as she turned to Steven. “I’m not losing any more friends.” Fiercely, she threw her arms around him, pulling him tightly to her. “No more friends.”

Steven reciprocated the embrace. “Don’t worry, love, I’m not going anywhere.”

#primeval #moon knight #marc spector #steven grant #sarah page #layla el faouly #khonshu #queenclaudiabrown

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