The reed barque glided forward without sound, without oars or wind—propelled only by the silent current of the black river and the faint glow of its own hull. The light from the craft was pale, cold, almost lunar; it illuminated the cavern walls in shifting silver and deep indigo, revealing glimpses of carved reliefs that had not seen living eyes in millennia. Jackal-headed rowers—ethereal, translucent—bent and rose in perfect rhythm, their movements more memory than muscle.
Kael-Ankh stood at the prow, Spear of Montu planted beside him like a sentinel. The weapon's black acacia shaft absorbed the light rather than reflected it, making it appear as a void in the shape of a spear. Senet stood to his right, Bow of Neith already half-drawn, arrow nocked but not loosed. Meret paced slowly along the starboard rail, khopesh resting on her shoulder, eyes scanning every shadow. Nefertari leaned against the stern post, sistrum in hand, bells silent for once—listening. Ptahhotep sat near the center, staff across his knees, the purified Was fragment at its head glowing faintly white-gold.
No one spoke for the first hour. There was no need. The weight of the Duat pressed against their lungs—cool, thick, smelling of natron, old incense, and the metallic tang of distant blood. Every breath reminded them: this was no longer the living world. The rules had changed.
The first gate appeared without warning.
One moment the river flowed between smooth cavern walls. The next, the channel narrowed sharply, and a colossal serpent blocked the way.
It was not the Apophis proxy they had fought above. This guardian was older, purer—scales the color of polished obsidian veined with silver, body thick as five men abreast, coils filling the passage from floor to ceiling. Its head alone was larger than the barque; hood flared wide in threat, eyes twin moons of liquid gold, slit pupils fixed on the intruders. A sun-disk rested between its brows—not Ra's, but a darker, inverted corona of black flame. Fangs longer than swords dripped venom that hissed and smoked on contact with the river's surface.
The serpent did not strike. It simply spoke—voice like stone grinding against stone, yet clear in every mind.
"I am Mehen, the Coiled One, Watcher of the First Gate. None pass who do not know my name and my nature. Speak, or be devoured."
Kael stepped forward, heart steady despite the pressure of those golden eyes.
"You are Mehen," he answered. "Companion of Ra, encircler of the sun-barque, protector against the serpent of chaos. You coil around the barque every night to shield it from Apophis's coils. Your name means 'the coiled one,' and your nature is both guardian and boundary. You allow passage to those who are true of voice and do not carry the taint of disorder."
The serpent's hood flared wider—assessing.
"Correct. Yet words are cheap in the Duat. Prove your worth."
A ripple passed through the coils. The serpent's body tightened, blocking the passage completely. The river current slowed, then stopped. The barque drifted to a halt mere cubits from the guardian's jaws.
Senet drew her bow fully—arrow aimed at the serpent's left eye.
Meret shifted into a low fighting stance, khopesh ready.
Nefertari lifted her sistrum, thumb brushing the rods.
Ptahhotep rose, staff glowing brighter.
Kael raised a hand—stay.
He drew the scroll fragment of the Book of the Dead from his belt—the excerpt Ptahhotep had entrusted to him.
He spoke—not to the serpent, but to the gate itself, reciting the Negative Confession in full, voice clear and unhurried.
"I have not done iniquity.
I have not robbed with violence.
I have not stolen.
I have not slain men or women.
I have not stolen grain.
I have not purloined offerings.
I have not stolen the property of the gods.
I have not uttered lies.
I have not carried away food.
I have not uttered curses.
I have not committed adultery.
I have not lain with men.
I have not made anyone weep.
I have not eaten my heart.
I have not attacked any man.
I have not been a man of deceit.
I have not stolen cultivated land.
I have not been an eavesdropper.
I have not slandered anyone.
I have not been angry without just cause.
I have not debauched the wife of any man.
I have not polluted myself.
I have not caused terror.
I have not transgressed the law.
I have not been wrathful.
I have not shut my ears to the words of right and truth.
I have not blasphemed a god.
I have not been a man of violence.
I have not stirred up strife.
I have not judged hastily.
I have not pried into matters.
I have not multiplied words exceedingly.
I have not done evil or ill.
I have not cursed a king.
I have not polluted the water.
I have not spoken scornfully.
I have not cursed a god.
I have not acted with arrogance.
I have not defrauded the offerings of the gods.
I have not stolen the bread of the dead.
I have not taken the milk from the mouths of children.
I have not driven cattle from their pastures.
I have not snared the birds of the gods.
I have not caught fish in their marshes.
I have not held back water in its season.
I have not built a dam against running water.
I have not quenched a fire when it should burn.
I have not neglected the times of offering to the gods.
I have not interfered with the cattle of the gods."
Each line rang against the stone. With every denial, the serpent's coils loosened fractionally. The black flames on its sun-disk flickered, then steadied.
When Kael finished, silence fell—absolute.
Mehen lowered his head until his golden eyes were level with Kael's.
"True of voice," the serpent rumbled. "You may pass. But know this: deeper gates demand more than words. The serpent of chaos waits in the seventh cavern. He has grown strong on Nekht's offering. The balance trembles."
The coils parted.
The barque glided forward.
As they passed beneath the serpent's hood, Mehen spoke one final time—soft, almost gentle.
"Guard your heart, Awakened Ka. It will be weighed again at the end."
The gate closed behind them with a sound like distant thunder.
The river carried them deeper.
The second cavern opened—walls carved with scenes of Ra's nightly journey: gods spearing serpents, Isis weaving protective spells, Horus standing at the prow with spear raised.
Senet lowered her bow slightly.
"That was… too easy."
Meret snorted. "It won't stay that way."
Nefertari touched Kael's arm. "You spoke like you believed every word."
"I did," he said quietly.
Ptahhotep nodded. "That is why the gate opened."
The boat moved on—into darker water, colder air, the blue orbs dimming as though the Duat itself were pressing closer.
Kael tightened his grip on the Spear.
The first gate had fallen.
Six more waited.
And somewhere ahead, Nekht's rite continued—Apophis stirring in chains of shadow.
They would reach him.
They would end him.
Or die trying.
System Notification – First Gate Passed
Resonance Boost:
• Anubis's Silent Vigil: 58% → 71% (Negative Confession + guardian recognition)
• Thoth's Quill of Insight: 45% → 59% (precise ritual application) New Passive Unlocked: True of Voice – +15% success rate on verbal/diplomatic challenges in the Duat; minor resistance to deception-based heka
The river flowed deeper.
The darkness thickened.
They pressed on.