Afterlife

by Fairleigh, Lindsey

  As I drifted through the earth’s atmosphere, I honed in on the Sahara and the Nejeret Oasis deep in the heart of the desert. In seconds, I could see my people, a gently glowing golden mass, and knew I was close.

  My heart rate picked up as I took my first lungful of air in minutes. The closer I drew to the ground, the clearer individual figures became. I searched the dunes around the Oasis for Isfet and the Mother of All, but I couldn’t find them.

  And then I heard the scream, and I knew I was looking in the wrong place. They weren’t out in the desert any longer; they’d moved into the Oasis.

  I spotted them on the apex of one of the At bridges arching over the canal that bisected the Oasis, and I sucked in a horrified breath.

  Isfet was on her knees, and once again, the Mother of All had her fingers wrapped around Isfet’s neck. The burning crimson glow was brighter than before, and the inky fissures in Isfet’s skin had spread out over nearly all of her.

  The Mother of All was seconds from killing Isfet.

  I didn’t hesitate for a moment; I dropped straight down into the Oasis, aiming directly for the Mother of All. I slammed into her, breaking her hold on Isfet and ramming her into the bridge. Cracks spread out through the unbreakable material, fanning out around the Mother of All.

  She blinked and shook her head, dazed by the impact.

  I took advantage of the Mother of All’s momentary disorientation and leapt off of her.

  And dove straight into Isfet.

  36

  Touching the seed of the universe had charged me up, and I was overflowing with more raw, universal energy than I knew what to do with. But I didn’t need to know what to do with it, not so long as Isfet did.

  I settled into her, and it was unlike anything I could have imagined. Nik’s ba peeled away from mine and faded into the background. I could still sense him, but we were no longer merged. No longer one.

  And I could sense others—Mei, Joju, Lex, and Heru, along with a few souls I hadn’t expected. Anapa and Re were here, within Isfet, feeding her their intrinsic Netjer energy, and the twins were here, too.

  But it wasn’t enough. If the Mother of All managed to capture Isfet in her death grip again, if she held on for even a few seconds, it would all be over. Isfet would be obliterated, and all of us with her.

  Much to my surprise, I didn’t fade into the background with the others. Rather, I merged with Isfet, my fingers sliding into hers like slipping on a pair of gloves, my feet settling on the At bridge within hers, my mind—my thoughts—merging with hers, much as Nik’s had merged with mine not long ago. Isfet and I shared a connection she didn’t have with any of the others. It was like the threads of At and anti-At lacing my ba had formed a link between Isfet and me that was very similar to a soul bond.

  It took only a fraction of a second, and I was suddenly looking out at the world through Isfet’s eyes. And I saw the most unexpected thing: me.

  My body still stood before Isfet, but the brown eyes were devoid of life, the facial features slack. I watched, stunned as I—my body—collapsed onto the bridge. Without my ba, there was no reason for it to keep on living. It was a discarded shell, empty of life just like the thousands of other Nejeret bodies littering the Oasis. It was, once again—and probably for good, this time—dead.

  I didn’t have long to gawk, and I wasn’t in control of Isfet’s movements, let alone where she looked. And right now, she looked away from my body and straight at the Mother of All.

  The Mother was climbing to her feet, a diamond-encrusted hand on the railing. Behind her, golden Nejerets gathered near the edge of the bridge, Dom at the forefront.

  I wondered if the Mother of All realized what I’d done yet. Did she know I’d cut off her near-endless power source?

  The moment her sapphire eyes met mine—met Isfet’s—and I saw the outrage glinting in those gemstone depths, I had my answer. She definitely knew what I’d done, and she was not happy about it.

  Had I been in control of Isfet’s feet at that moment, I probably would have retreated a couple steps, pushed back by the avalanche of hatred pouring off the Mother of All. But I wasn’t in charge; Isfet was. And she wasn’t about to back down. She stood her ground, despite her fear of the Mother of All, impressing the hell out of me.

  The Mother of All slashed a hand through the air to one side of her, tearing a hole in reality. Through the jagged gap, I could see the rainbow flow of soul-energy in Duat.

  Before Isfet could even think about sealing the hole shut, the Mother sucked in a thick stream of soul-energy. I could practically see it reviving her, strengthening her.

  Isfet waved her open hand out in front of her—of us—sharply, and the interdimensional tear sealed like it was being zipped up. In Isfet’s thoughts, I could sense that she was preparing to do the same to any other tear the Mother of All made the very instant she made it.

  The Mother of All sneered and slid one of her feet back, falling into a common fighting position. “No matter,” she said, voice snide. “I got what I needed . . . for now.”

  She held her hands out before her, and a long staff formed out of At in her grip. She ran one hand along the entire length of the staff, and in her fingers’ wake, icy flames sprouted all along the otherworldly weapon.

  Through Isfet, I knew that if those flames touched her—touched us—she would be engulfed. We would be engulfed. And not even the vital energy stored in the seed of the universe would be able to save us from the Mother’s fire.

  “This won’t take long, daughter,” the Mother said. “And once I have disposed of you, I shall rebuild my empire from here.” She started to spin the staff, and I was surprised to see that she appeared to know how to use it.

  Panic surged within Isfet. She’d been prepared to battle the Mother of All using energy. Using the raw universal power that sustained her. But she hadn’t been prepared to fight like mortals. And worse yet, due to her extremely sheltered existence, Isfet had no idea how to fight like a mortal.

  “You should be proud,” the Mother of All said. “You will have achieved what you always wanted: eternal protection for this”—her lip curled—“this cesspool. I will transform this universe into a thriving hub and use it to create more universes. In time, I will be more powerful than ever before.” She advanced on Isfet. “Pity you won’t be around to see it happen.”

  With each step the Mother of All took toward us, Isfet backed up. She didn’t know what to do. She didn’t think she could win this, because she wasn’t a fighter.

  Lucky for her, I was. This was another of those moments that made me think that maybe, just maybe, destiny was a real thing. What were the odds that I would be an expert in the one skill category where Isfet was so severely lacking? Was it another coincidence? Or was it fate?

  Did it even matter? Not really. Not right now.

  “Let me take over,” I thought at Isfet.

  She seemed surprised at first, her eyes opening even wider. She’d known I was in there, but based on her shock, she hadn’t noticed just how there I really was. Front and center, best seat in the joint.

  She handed me the reins as she retreated, taking the backseat. I was suddenly fully in control of her body. And oh gods, the power. The torrent of energy she could wield dwarfed my abilities. No wonder I hadn’t been able to hold off the Mother of All for long on my own.

  Thankfully, I wasn’t on my own anymore. I was no longer just me; I was us—both Isfet and myself, as well as Nik and the others. I was all of us. And I was powerful as fuck.

  The Mother of All faltered, pausing her approach as her eyes widened.

  I wondered what she saw, how she knew that something had changed within Isfet. Maybe it was her eye color, like with Nik when he was actively possessed by Re or vice versa. Maybe the set of Isfet’s features changed, conforming to mine. I doubted I would ever know, and I supposed that, like so many other things, it didn’t really matter. I had more important things to worry about.

  Specif
ically, I had a god to kill.

  Eyes locked with the Mother of All’s, I stood straighter, halting my retreat. With a single thought, a sword appeared in my hand.

  It was an exact replica of Mercy, only this sword burned with the flames of a thousand—million—billion—colors. This sword was alive, its flames fueled by the infinite myriad of souls that made up the energy flowing through Duat. Because unlike the Mother of All, Isfet didn’t need to tear a hole in reality to draw on the soul-energy. She was the heart and soul of this universe, and as such, she had free access to the soul-energy. And the soul-energy was more than willing to help her.

  I raised my flaming sword and settled into a fighting stance, no flourishes and no frills. I was more than ready to end this, one way or the other, once and for all. Breathing deep and even, I took a step toward the Mother of All.

  She stepped back, seeming to do so unintentionally. It probably had something to do with the fact that the flames dancing along Mercy’s blade were just as deadly to the Mother of All as her flaming staff would be to us.

  Eyes locked with the Mother’s, I stretched my neck first to one side, then to the other. I took another step toward her, and she backed away again. The corner of my mouth lifted.

  Fear flashed through the Mother of All’s sapphire eyes, and her diamond features hardened into a grim expression. And then she disappeared in a flash of blinding white light.

  “Shit,” I hissed, spinning around and around, trying to look everywhere at once.

  She was going to sneak up on me, that much was certain. But when? Where?

  I scanned the crowd of Nejerets, knowing full well that the Mother of All wouldn’t appear somewhere expected. And she certainly wouldn’t appear where I was looking. Knowing her, she would appear right behind me and strike before I’d even had a chance to realize she was there.

  In my thoughts, I could hear Isfet screaming for me to hand the reins back over to her. She was in a full-blown panic, and all she wanted to do now was run. Her sole purpose in existing was to protect this universe, and in her mind, if she stuck around here, she would be facing certain death. It was as good as handing the universe over to the Mother of All.

  But running wouldn’t do us any good. The Mother of All would find us, in time. And when she found us, she would end us. We couldn’t afford to flee; we had to stand and fight. If we died, so be it; at least we would have given it our all.

  I took a deep breath and shut Isfet’s mental voice out. In her current, panicked state, she was a distraction, and I needed to concentrate.

  I stopped scanning the crowd and looked at Dom. He was standing at the edge of the bridge, his focus razor sharp. He nodded infinitesimally, and it took me a heartbeat to puzzle out what he was trying to tell me with that single gesture.

  He would be my eyes. He would look where I couldn’t. All I had to do was trust him.

  I exhaled a shaky breath, then stood up straighter and returned Dom’s nod. The Mother of All wouldn’t expect me to be relying on another’s eyes. She didn’t understand what it meant to trust someone.

  I flipped Mercy in my grasp so the tip of the blade was pointed down at the bridge, my eyes never leaving Dom’s. My breaths became long and even, and my heartbeat slowed. My hair rustled in the cool night wind, stray strands tickling my neck and cheeks.

  Seconds turned to minutes, and still I stared at Dom, barely daring to blink.

  In a flash, his eyes shifted to focus on something beyond my left shoulder.

  At that exact second—that exact instant—I flicked my sword blade up between my left arm and my waist and thrust Mercy back as hard and as fast as I could. The flames dancing along the blade licked at my skin, but they didn’t burn me, because the soul-energy didn’t want them to.

  When Mercy’s blade met resistance, I gritted my teeth and pushed harder, cutting through the Mother of All’s diamond skin until the resistance was gone. The blade had broken through to the other side of the Mother’s body.

  Isfet’s need to flee became overpowering, and she wrested control from me. We stumbled forward until she tripped on a crack in the bridge and sprawled out on her hands and knees. Her fall gave me a tiny window of opportunity, and I took control back.

  I scrambled to my feet and spun around. I needed to see . . . to know. Was it over? Was it finally over?

  The Mother of All stood near the far end of the bridge, Mercy protruding from her middle. She stared down at the sword skewering her body, paralyzed by shock.

  I stood frozen in place. The flames dancing along the blade didn’t seem to be doing anything to her. That couldn’t be right. They should have been burning her. Consuming her. Destroying her.

  But so far as I could tell, they weren’t doing a damn thing.

  Until the Mother of All lifted her head, and I could see the rainbow luminescence of burning soul-energy drowning out the usual blue of her eyes. It was burning her up from the inside out. From the soul out.

  The Mother of All sucked in a breath, and the scream she let out on her exhale would haunt me for the rest of my existence.

  It was the sound of a god dying.

  And it almost—almost—made me feel bad for her. Almost.

  37

  The Mother of All burned for days.

  Three times, the sun rose and fell, and Nejerets moved around throughout the Oasis, cleaning up after the destruction caused by both the Netjers and the Mother of All and clearing out the bodies—mine included. They set up a massive pyre, and the column of smoke that reached high into the sky was nearly as dark as the shell surrounding Aaru had been.

  And the whole time, Isfet—and all of us within Isfet—stood at the foot of the bridge and watched the Mother of All burn. Isfet wasn’t willing to look away until the last embers had died out and ashed away. I didn’t mind one bit.

  When the sliver of a moon rose on the fourth night, the last remnants of the Mother of All blew away in the desert breeze. She was gone. Finally. Forever.

  “There’s something I want to show you,” Isfet said, speaking aloud, but I could sense that her words were aimed at me.

  She bent her knees, then jumped, launching herself away from the earth at an impossible speed. Within minutes, we were closing in on the seed of the universe.

  Isfet slowed as we drew near the seed, and had I been able to speak on my own, my voice would have been stolen by what I saw.

  Iusaset still wound around the seed of the universe, a protective, sustaining ball of silver roots. But the seedling had changed. It had grown. It wasn’t a mere seedling anymore.

  It wasn’t exactly a great tree yet, either—it was somewhere in between—but it was a whole hell of a lot bigger than it had been before. And unless I was mistaken, it seemed to be growing still. Right before my eyes, its silvery trunk slowly thickened, its branches gradually stretching out farther and farther, shimmering bronze and gold leaves sprouting along the way.

  “As the soul-energy burned the Mother of All,” Isfet explained, sensing my confusion, “it channeled her stores of energy into Iusaset, and Iusaset used that energy to nurse the seed. In time, the tree will become so great that it will absorb Iusaset as well. When that happens, it will be ready to fruit . . . ready to form new universes.”

  I couldn’t speak, exactly, but I could at least think at Isfet. “It’s amazing,” I told her, the only thing I could think to say.

  “It is all because of you,” Isfet said, speaking not just to me, but to the handful of other souls residing within her as well. “Because of all of you. Without everything you did, all of your sacrifices, either the Mother of All would have destroyed this universe and everything in it or she would be ruling over it herself, twisting it into something cruel and evil—a tool to enslave others. To use others. To destroy others.” Isfet was quiet for a moment. “I would repay you, if you would allow it.”

  I could feel the others perking up from deep within Isfet, eager to hear her proposal. “How?” I thought at her, speakin
g for them.

  “I cannot give you your physical bodies back,” Isfet started, “but the tree can. You could be as you were before—you and any others you choose.”

  In the background, I could feel Lex and Heru’s excitement. They would still have a chance to raise Reni and Bobby. They would still have a chance to watch their children grow into whoever they would become as mature Nejerets.

  “You will be free to continue your lives on earth among the humans, to help them rebuild,” Isfet said. “But if you choose to do that, there is one thing I would request in return.”

  “What?” I thought at her.

  “You, daughter, must watch over that world and your people,” she told me, specifically. “I will be busy tending the tree, so it will fall to you to protect ma’at. You must use your immense power to prevent further damage to the universal balance, for the greatest threat to ma’at is and will always be your kind—energy beings with eternal souls.”

  “Oh,” I said, not overly fond of her proposal. I wondered if creating another Aaru wouldn’t be a better option—that way we could isolate all of the unruly Nejerets like Carson and his sycophants, leaving ma’at more or less safe.

  “I will not create another Aaru to contain the Nejerets,” Isfet said, her voice a soft whipcrack responding to my thoughts. “The damage caused to ma’at by losing touch with so many immortal souls at once would be catastrophic. Besides, that was the Mother of All’s way; it will not be mine.” She fell quiet for a moment, letting me process her offer. “So tell me—do you accept my proposal?”

  How could I not, with Lex and Heru practically begging me to agree. It was emotional blackmail of the highest degree.

  “Alright,” I thought at Isfet. “I accept. I’ll do it.” In the back of my mind, I realized I’d just committed to becoming the goddess humanity believed me to be. And, strangely, the prospect didn’t really bother me anymore.

  Because I no longer doubted my abilities. Because I didn’t fear my power or the responsibility that came along with it. Because I wouldn’t be doing it alone. I had one hell of a team, and so long as they were by my side, I could do anything. We could do anything.