Terminal

As soon as the deity disappeared behind those cavernous jaws, a ripple proliferated through the fields of grain in an ever-expanding circle of brown. Every head of cabbage across the fertile crescent turned into a shriveled husk in an instant without the care of his intimate attention.

Then, it was the palms, and then the trees themselves. Every piece of flora under the shadow of the moon slowly dried out, and turned into little more than kindling. The land of Egypt was now under a ticking clock. No future existed, without the ability to grow more fruit and vegetables.

Ghurab 'Aswad registered the ensuing chaos with the impassive stature of a man accustomed to the cruel pragmatism of war. His eyes were glassy and lipid, and he could not look away; for this is the consequence of the new hope he had incorporated into his heart of hearts. This was the end result of the cause he had engendered. This is what happened when you angered the gods.

Xantheaa stepped over, close to him, and sat near to his side. "It is a horrid sight," she nodded, solemnly. "I do not relish the thought of one day being thrust into your position."

He could simply crow, softly—His corvid mannerisms almost resembling the tepid wails of a juvenile sob. He drank it all in with the grace of a character several times his actual age, and more in line with his biological age. Then, at long length, he eventually spoke.

"It was as I expected. This is the due cost for the boon of wisdom that was endowed upon me."

He swallowed hard, and continued to stare at the ruinous devastation below. "The worst part– is that the very moment I was imbued with Knowledge, I saw it all in my mind's eye. I had a choice, to acknowledge the truth, and cast away my unconscious tethers, or be consumed by the very potent illumination within my heart. And I knew that this would come to pass, and I decided that it would be a small thing to relinquish in exchange for so grand and terrible a gift…"

Then, he finally tilted his head so that his monocular eye could regard her face more clearly; despite the fluid that had gathered to mar his sight. "But, I didn't know how it would feel, to see it with my own eyes. Why should I care?! Aren't they all figments of my imagination? Shouldn't the knowledge of the truth of this world wash the guilt away?!"

The haunting, pale whiteness that surrounded that golden ring of his iris carved through every emotional defense she had built to protect herself from the possibility that he had been somehow altered by the spell. It didn't matter who he had become. She could tell by those eyes which cut through her so starkly like a sickle through a sheaf of wheat, and burrowed deep into her heart, that he was just as in need of care as the former crow had ever been. The metal aureate circle adrift within an ocean of milky white seemed so hollow, so empty, even with the gleaming light which poured from his pupil like the flame of a welder's torch.

Xantheaa reached over with her left talon, and delicately smoothed the ruffled feathers of his crown, in a soothing gesture. Then, she nodded, and turned back to the sight of decimation currently on display, far below the fathoms of cloud and atmosphere into the shadowy depths below. "It could not, and dare I say that it should not decrease your pain. For it is not of Knowledge that we seek to overturn the hands of fate alone, but your stores of empathy which resonate within your heart of hearts. You care for these figments as truly as if they were real, because it is your true, and natural purpose. So, cherish those moments of anguish! They are a reminder of who you were, and are, and evermore will be!" She proclaimed, valiantly. "Your love for creation is just as true and genuine as mine, and if it should diminish with such a meager thing as truth unveiling blinders from the edges of your vision, then it should never have been truly you, to begin with!"

Thrall nodded, affirming his support for her sage wisdom, as he strolled over, and knelt down close to his side to charge what he newly regarded as his equal. "Hold fast onto this pain, lest thou might maroon thyself within the boundless depths of omniscience. Remind us once more, who is't that ye didst claim thou art?"

He stuttered, caught off-guard by the question "Eh-'Aswad?" he proffered, meekly.

"No! Try again!" Xantheaa chided, playfully mussing his crown again, with the scuta near the middle digit of her anisodactyl tarsus.

He laughed, "Yow! I get it, I get it, alright? Just cut it out, will you? You're marring my plumage, already!" She relaxed, and waited expectantly.

He cleared his throat, and spoke with the full volume of his chest behind it. "My name is Ghurab 'Aswad, most loyal servant of the Goddess of the Underworld, Nephthys—Who is the greatest, and most powerful Neter on the face of Geb.—Which makes me the most powerful, and greatest subject in Egypt by proxy!"

He climbed to the fullest stature that he could manage, spread his wings wide, and held his beak high in the air as he proclaimed with all his might, "It is my right, my privilege, and my duty to purvey and disseminate her will as I see fit, and I will do so with much joy and zeal! You are all just sacrificial pawns along the way to achieve that which I desire! Let all the earth crumble under the wrath of Apophis, if that be the way forward into that delectable vengeance that I am charged with finding by the powers of the Goddess of Justice, Ma'at herself! She has judged the world, and found you all lacking! I will have your sight trouble my countenance, no more!"

Thrall and Xantheaa's eyes locked with one another, as they witnessed their companion's powerful curse, fueled by all the emotion that he could foster, and it bent the fabric of the air around them as he spoke. The more he raged, the more the world trembled at his rebuke, with the powers of words wrought unbidden into the small space, until it was full to bursting.

Even Ma'at could hardly believe her eyes, as this simple utterance forged a most potent hex; nearly on the scale of what the sphinxes might manifest, but even they had need of an interminable rhyme, in order to control their great power! The air bulged, and warped, ahead of him; and space bowed outward in concert. By the time he had finished speaking, it was almost ready to explode with the most potent spell he could muster.

'Aswad panted breathlessly, with his wings still outstretched; waiting awkwardly for someone to say something. "Haha," he chuckled. "How-how was that? Better?"

"Ghurab…" Xantheaa mustered, carefully. "What have you done…?"

"What?" he asked, quickly dropping his limbs to look at her.

Then, Thrall unfurled all six of his wings, and dove mightily into the path of the flaming meteorite that 'Aswad had summoned. It was massive, the likes of which the earth had never seen in all the years of Egyptian history. Before that flaming wreckage, he looked like atlas holding the globe on his shoulders. "Graaagh!" He screamed, as the forces of heat upon reentry scalded the feathers on his back. He wouldn't be able to stop it, of course—not unless Ghurab recanted his hex—but he could slow it down, while they figured the quandary out.

"Release it!" Ma'at screamed, unwilling to see her work undone in the flash of an eye.

"By the goddesses!" Xantheaa shrieked, diving after her angelic charge. "Thrall, no! What were you thinking?! Ruach!" and a sonic boom fired in her wake as she instantly accelerated to subsonic– supersonic– no, hypersonic speeds! It was the fastest she had ever traveled in her life, imaginary or otherwise. The air crackled in fury as the laws that bound them were torn to shreds by her powerful will to be reunited with her other half.

"Did- I did that?!" 'Aswad shouted, in disbelief.

Ma'at gripped the handle of her was, and screeched at him; "Don't make me use this! I will, if you do not release that hex right now!" and he did not doubt her for a single second. She had just used it on her own husband, after all.

"What- how, I thought you needed to—?!"

"NOW!" she squealed, aiming the forked end at his throat.

He simply broke out in a cold sweat, and recited. "Pain is lost and time forgotten, I have thought my country rotten, so I spake a word monotonous to wash the fates begotten. It is passed, and over, let peace last, moreover."