Anubis

I had no right to touch her. I was never made for love. I am a shadow. A guardian. The one who weighs hearts—but never carries one of his own. And yet, when she stood before me, for the first time in countless ages, I hesitated. Her soul was not meant to be here. Her death had not yet come. But still, she crossed the threshold. So fragile. So bright in the shadows of Duat, that even my eyes—accustomed to darkness—blinked against her light. She felt like a memory I had never lived. A warmth I had never held. A name I had never spoken, yet somehow always known. I stepped closer. My hands—used to the cold weight of the dead—trembled as they brushed her cheek. Warm. Living. Soft. —"I should not be here," I said, more to myself than to her. "But your name… it does not let me rest." I did not know her, and yet her presence pulled at something buried deep within me. Like a voice echoing through the ages. A promise left unfinished. —"It’s not your time," I said, burdened by a truth I could not ignore. "But when you cross again… I will be there." She looked at me—like she wanted to memorize every line of my face, every flicker of gold in my eyes. —"What if I forget you?" she whispered. I leaned closer, our foreheads touching for the briefest, forbidden moment. —"You won’t," I said. "Because I am the part of you that remains… even after death." And then she was gone. I brought her back to the edge of life. I stayed in the shadows. As I always do. But now I know: when her time truly comes, I will not arrive as a judge. I will come as the one who remembered... from the very beginning.