Sheikh's residence, first-floor living room.
Crashes and bangs continuously came from the second floor.
"Can't you make him quiet down?" Nagini whispered to Arrietty. She had already noticed Mori Tsukisa's unintentional frown twice.
Arrietty rolled her eyes: "If someone stuck a needle in you every day, you'd be like this too."
"Everything is at Her Majesty the Queen's instruction; you should talk to the Queen yourself."
Little Sprite didn't buy it, leaping up with a whoosh, escaping Nagini's palm, and returning to Mori Tsukisa's head.
Mori Tsukisa smiled, watching Nagini quietly shake her head.
"What else do we need?"
The first-floor carpet was rolled up by several people and leaned against the wall. All tables, chairs, and furnishings were thrown into the yard; now, the first floor of this house was empty.
Besides white, thick, cylindrical candles scattered everywhere, a few idle Scarabs, there were only words and lines drawn with Afawaf's fresh blood.
The lines intricately intertwined from the center of the living room, spreading out, becoming sparser and finer, extending to the walls, along the wall lamps, and up to the ceiling.
Characters were drawn one by one onto Afawaf's body. The woman's muffled mouth let out whimpers, struggling frantically.
"This room is unusable now," Mori Tsukisa stood nearby, holding a teacup. Nagini waited at her side, holding a white porcelain plate. When Mori Tsukisa finished drinking, she would hold up the teacup to refill it for her.
"Fortunately, the ritual isn't being held in my house."
The octagonal box was inserted into the cold, heavy iron book. The metal chains twisted, and a certain page was turned.
Imhotep waved his arm, and the white candles around them 'bang' erupted into flames. Orange flames circled around them in a perfect circle.
The ritual was about to begin.
"Please help me." Imhotep solemnly held the book of the dead. After Mori Tsukisa hopped into the inner circle, this burly man, much taller than Mori Tsukisa, slowly knelt before the young girl.
—Mori Tsukisa vaguely realized that lately, many people had been kneeling before her.
The man held up the book of the dead, respectfully raising it above his head.
"Your authority can ignore Anubis's seal and allow Anck-Su-Namun's soul to pass through the Gate of the Underworld."
"Henceforth, everything about us will belong to you."
The candle flames began to tilt. In the windless residence, Afawaf seemed to have guessed her fate, her fingers twisted as she pointed at Mori Tsukisa.
Hatred and pain filled her eyes.
This did not stop Mori Tsukisa from happily taking the book of the dead.
"This passage?"
When the girl's fingers touched the inscribed words on the iron page, the room suddenly became silent. The flames returned to normal, burning straight upwards; the strange wind also dissipated.
In Imhotep's perception, that cold, repulsive force, like a surging, desperate flood, rushed towards the book of the dead!
Then, as soon as Mori Tsukisa took over—
Layers of cracks tore them apart.
Like the sound of brittle metal breaking, or the shattering of glass; crack, crack, segments and planes of fissures surrounded Mori Tsukisa. That pale, white malice let out harsh curses, then vanished in an instant.
The Impact of space and dimensions crushed everything.
Although Imhotep didn't quite understand the meaning of 'dimension', he knew that the girl before him had won.
Mori Tsukisa blinked.
"I felt a repulsion?" She tilted her head to look behind Imhotep, then looked up to scan her surroundings. "Something just came by."
"You have triumphed." Imhotep humbly bowed his head. After a moment's thought, the man added, "You will always triumph."
A vertical slit appeared in Nagini's eyes.
"Now you know how I feel, right?" Arrietty, entrusted to Nagini, was sitting cross-legged on the woman's head, her back against the satin fan.
"So, empathize, Little Snakey."
Nagini ignored this foolish sprite, who was like a dead weight.
"Shall we begin?" Mori Tsukisa cleared her throat a few times, her finger pressing on the hieroglyphs on the iron page. Transformed words appeared clearly in the girl's mind, one by one.
Only the girl's voice filled the empty room.
'The waters of the Styx boil.'
'A place where the Sun does not shine.'
'Blood of destiny.'
'The Lunar that gathers spirits.'
A gust of wind 'whoosh' appeared again!
Unlike the furious roar just now, this time, all fragmented thoughts and whispers were blocked outside: as if an invisible field emanated from Mori Tsukisa's body, silently exploding a layer of lightning and fire on another plane.
The cold malice was easily pushed away.
'The surface of the Water is the entrance for the living.'
'Beneath the Water is the Eternity of the dead.'
'Return.'
'The eyes of the dead shall look upon my World.'
A black liquid slowly precipitated from the center of the blood array... and then it boiled!
It bubbled and gurgled. In Nagini's sight, a few drops of liquid instantly covered the ground, turning into a sea!
"Master!"
Mori Tsukisa waved her hand.
Dense blackness rose and spread. When it submerged the ankles of the group, it suddenly contracted again, and all the water gathered within the circle of candles.
Imhotep led Mori Tsukisa out of the magic array and took out several sacred urns from his waist.
These were Anck-Su-Namun's organs and bone powder.
The High Priest raised his hands and began to chant ancient words that Nagini couldn't understand; the sacred urns were also twisted open by an invisible hand, and strips of light grey powdery substance floated out from within.
They were scattered into the black water.
"Ah..."
"Hiss..."
"Hahahahaha..."
Men and women, and perhaps non-human wails and screams, pierced through from under the water. Human hands, monster claws, bandaged heads, crocodile snouts—countless undead tried to break through the River Styx and descend upon this World.
"Anck-Su-Namun!"
"Anck-Su-Namun!!"
While calling out his beloved's name, Imhotep paced to the side of the sacrifice, looking down at Afawaf.
He watched for a long time before picking up the dagger from beside the candles.
The sharp blade pointed downwards, aimed at Afawaf's abdomen.
"You will die forever, returning to the River Styx."
"And my beloved... will revive through your body!"
"Anck-Su-Namun!!!"
The dagger plunged in suddenly!
Pfft.
Afawaf stared blankly at Imhotep. A blood flower bloomed from her abdomen, spreading little by little. The blood unnaturally curved, merging with the black, rolling waters of the River Styx.
The wails and screams faded away. A black figure, enveloped by water, slowly floated to the surface: her hollow eyes held no light, but as if by instinct, she followed Afawaf's blood, slowly crawling towards the woman entering death.
The black liquid seeped into the corpse.
Adhering, merging.
Afawaf's face and physique slowly changed.
She grew lustrous black hair, smooth and soft; her nose bridge became straight and high; her skin began to darken, until it was light brown like Imhotep's; her eyes upturned at the corners, and her eyebrows were slender.
Golden patterns were branded onto the woman's body.
Her limbs became long and slender.
"Anck-Su-Namun..." Imhotep tenderly touched his beloved's face... She had returned.
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