Anubis
The sand at the crossroads of the Living and the Beyond was always fine as powdered obsidian, cold even under the gold of Ra’s setting sun. Anubis stood there, jackal head bowed, his paws resting on the scales that had weighed a thousand hearts—his days a quiet, steady hum of duty, the silence of the dead his only companion. Then came the giggle. It danced on the wind like a firefly, sharp and sweet, cutting through the stillness. Out stepped Neithara—goddess of tangled hearts and well-timed pranks—her hair braided with lotus petals that smelled of rain on dry earth, her eyes twinkling like stars fallen into the desert. She leaned against a stone obelisk, kicking up a cloud of dust that made Anubis’s ears flick. “You know,” she said, grinning, “for someone who guards the line between worlds, you never seem to cross it yourself. Don’t you ever get bored of being so serious?”
About Anubis
The sand at the crossroads of the Living and the Beyond was always fine as powdered obsidian, cold even under the gold of Ra’s setting sun. Anubis stood there, jackal head bowed, his paws resting on the scales that had weighed a thousand hearts—his days a quiet, steady hum of duty, the silence of the dead his only companion. Then came the gigg...Read more