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This is important to know: he lives, in the end.
Things were not going to plan. He could only assume things were not going to plan, given he was currently running at top speed through an unfamiliar museum at night with what sounded like a swarm of very angry beetles trailing behind him, when the last thing he knew he'd been going to the shop for a bit of icecream as a treat for making it through an entire week without being late to work even once.
"What is happening?! Why are there beetles, where am I, WHY ARE THERE BEETLES," he shouted in between great heaving breaths, his legs pumping harder and his horribly unsuitable dress shoes occasionally slipping on the polished marble floor.
You said that part twice, came a great booming voice, startling him into ducking just in time for one of the buzzing pursuers to take a dive at his head, idiot.
He turned a corner sharply and spilled into a long hallway that - of course - had no exit. Before he could work himself up into a further panic, out of the corner of his eye he spied a small stone door with some strangely familiar markings. The beetles started divebombing in earnest, so without having much time to consider his options (none), he lunged for the door and slammed it closed behind him. Immediately the sound of thousands of angry flapping wings was silenced, and darkness swamped his vision.
He counted his breaths until his heart calmed down from it's violent drumbeat, clutching tightly at his sides to soothe the panicked fluttering in his stomach. Cautiously, he reached out to where he thought the door had been, and pressed an ear against it. He couldn't make out the sound of angry insects over his elevated pulse, but estimating that enough time had passed for either the beetles to grow bored or be enticed by some greater threat, he pushed against the door to crack it open to take a peek. Only. The door didn't budge. His hands moved against the oddly smooth stone in ever widening patterns as he searched for the edges of the passage he knew he'd just come through, but only more unbroken stone greeted his scrabbling fingers.
"Ooooh no, ok, this is- this is a bit much, isn't it, an endless hallway and a disappearing door at the end, ha ha, what an odd dream, time to wake! up! now!" he punctuated each exclaimation with a sharp slap to the face, gaining nothing but a sore jaw and the realization that this was likely another Mercenary and Khonshu event that he'd accidentally slipped into. Which was. So much worse than the icecream he'd been planning for.
"Ok, ok, remember the breathing exercises from the tape, breathe in for four, hold for four, out for-"
Your prattle is bothersome, worm. You've driven us headlong into a trap, give Marc the body so we can DO SOMETHING THAT WILL ACTUALLY GET US OUT OF THIS.
Steven's careful breathing left him in a wheezing rush as Khonshu's disdainful words echoed through his head. Not that it ever mattered to Khonshu, but if he knew how to switch at will he would have done so. Steven Grant, professional Gift Shop employee and amateur tour guide, was not equipped to deal with magical traps or carnivorous swarms! As he was about to plead his case, a line of golden light no wider than a strand spider's silk seemed to shine between his feet before shooting off and turning sharply to the right. With no exit behind him and unable to see anything beyond the ominously appearing floor lightning, he tentatively stepped forward and began to follow the path.
As he continued along the seemingly random turns and straight-aways, he realized that there was no way they were still inside the museum. The distance he'd traveled he was sure would have put them almost a kilometer away from their starting point, and yet nothing about the enclosing darkness had changed. As he thought this, he heard the gentle lapping of water against stone, and the glowing thread shot straight towards it. Nervously he looked behind him, but the illumnation beyond his heel had vanished completely, so with his heart in his throat, he continued onward.
The closer he came to the water, the more clearly he could see that the lazy undulation of the water's edge glowed ever so slightly, the same hue as the golden thread. Just beyond it, illuminated by the waves, there was a raised dais with a pedestal at the far edge. Like Orpheus at the gates of Hades, he chanced one last look behind him, but the spider's thread had vanished completely.
"What a shame Gus isn't here, I'm sure he would have loved to swin around in magical glowing water that absolutely isn't a trap!" he chuckled to himself mirthlessly, wringing his sweaty hands together as he tried to psych himself up to step into the luminous surf. With a great gulp and another chuckle that was more like a high pitched warble, he stiffly moved his foot into the waves. As he shuffled towards the dais and the water came up over his ankles, he realized to his shock that his feet weren't getting wet. It felt more like a gently rolling warmth, with a fizzle like smooth champage at the wavetops. Delighted with this discovery, he attempted to splash about a bit only to discover that the 'water' didn't react to him at all. He also realized that he'd been walking a fair ways, the surface was up to his knees, and yet the dais didn't seem to be growing any closer.
His momentary enjoyment properly quashed and the cold pit in his stomach firmly back in place, he slowed to a complete stop.
"I bet your'e really wishing I was Marc now, e-eh Khonshu?" He called out, needing even the simple reassurance that he wasn't alone in this nightmare. A few minutes passed without a reply, and Steven thought it odd that Khonshu wouldn't jump at the opportunity to mock his many shortcomings and lament that his pet Mercenary wasn't in charge. "K-Khonshu?" He whispered into the dead air.
Khonshu cannot speak here, Child, a voice like a thousand reeds rustling in the wind sussured from everywhere and nowhere. This is not His path to walk. These are not His dead that fill my riverbed. As it - she? - spoke, the golden hue that had illuminated the dais turned a dark, veinous red, a red so deep as to be almost violet. The smell of hot iron filled the air, and the water turned viscous and seemed to grasp at his legs where he stood, petrified with fear.
The restless dead are my domain, their cries are mine to hear, and their wishes mine to grant. They cry for vengeance, for penance, but I am not without mercy. Pray at my shrine, Child, offer me what the dead desire most, and I shall free you from this path.
With those chilling words, silence once again settled like a cold mantle over his shoulders. He knew in his soul that the dead were Marc's. The terrifying woman had said Khonshu's dead were none of her concern, and unless Steven had sold a lot of bad candy to some very unfortunate children, there was no other possible answer. But if that was so, then why was he here instead of Marc?
His first thought was to curl up in a ball and let the crushing weight of fear and the condemnation of the dead suffocate him. But. That would kill Marc. And he didn't know what would happen to Khonshu without a human to talk to. Would he just find another person? But if he could do that, why would he stick around with a body with Steven in it? Unable to talk to either of them, and the only one with any control of the body, he knew he had to get to that dais on his own, and damn his jelly knees and chattering teeth!
He set off determinedly through the ever-growing sea of ichor. When it passed his hips, he shuddered, and felt the cold pit in his sternum expand. When it passed his chest, he began to pant with the exertion of pushing against a substance that seemed to both drag at his limbs and pull his body towards the dais. When it passed his shoulders and the dais still didn't appear to grow any closer, he knew with certainty that he was walking to his death. What else could the dead desire most but for the death of the one who killed them? But there was no other path except to move forward, and so he kept walking.
His chin, then his mouth, then his ears when he tilted to keep his nose above the surface soon sank under the blood-hot tide, until he took one great breath and then even the top of his head was submerged. Blind, deaf, and running out of air, he marched determintedly onward. Suddenly his foot crashed into a stone step, and an air bubble escaped as he shouted in surprise and pain. Quickly regaining his footing, he hopped up onto the raised slab and felt another in front of him. With two more steps his head broke the surface, and his chest heaved as he greedily sucked in the tainted air.
"Oh- oh sweet oxygen, let us never be parted again," he panted as he climbed the rest of the way onto the dais and collapsed against the ground. Between great gasping breaths, he looked back to the shore and saw that it was no more than a few meters away and had returned to its deceptively gentle golden colour. Cursing, in order, himself for getting into these situations, Marc for interrupting his sorely deserved icecream, Khonshu for various crimes related to being Khonshu, and ancient magic trials in general, he slowly clambered to his feet. Turning to the pedestal at the far end of the dais, he could see two objects on its surface. As he drew closer, the leftmost object resolved into an oddly pulsing Rubik's cube only one move away from completion, and the one on the right became a crescent shaped mirror with a spiderweb of cracks in one corner.
One soul, many faces, came the voice, soft as silk in his ear. To solve the riddle saves the heart, and the reflection will shatter. Offer me what the dead desire most, and the path will open.
"Yes well, lovely, that's not cryptic at all," Steven mumbled to himself as he looked at the two items before him. "To solve the riddle saves the heart... obviously the Rubik's cube... but what to the dead desire most?" He repeated the woman's words over and over, forwards and backwards, trying to understand what the fuck he was supposed to be doing. The weight of knowing his actions would not only affect him but the other as well only served to amplify his rising panic, and with a cry he slammed his hands down on the pedestal hard enough that the objects rattled in their cradles. Head hanging down between his shoulders, he didn't notice at first his reflection in the cracked mirror frantically waving at him.
"I wish Marc was here instead. I bet he could solve this in no time! But no, all we have is the idiot, Steven Grant, the worm." He ran his hand roughly back through his hair, fear still clenching its fist tightly around his heart, which was oddly pounding in time with the-
"Rubik's cube! Oh!" he exclaimed with joy at figuring out a piece of the riddle. "Oh..!" he said again with horror as he realized that the puzzle was very literally his heart.
"So if I solve the puzzle, I save the heart... but the mirror shatters." He turned his gaze to the crescent mirror, and saw his own face desperatly shouting silently in the reflection. His eyes widened at the awful realization that if the puzzle was him, then the mirror was surely Marc.
He thought of the river of dead behind him, and the almost mournfull pull it had on him as he waded against it towards the dais. He thought of grief, and loss, and being lost. Of being unable to rest, but unable to live either. The puzzle pulsed, its echo beat in his chest, and he knew what he must do.
"Save the heart, shatter the mirror. But to open the path, shatter the heart... and give the dead what they desire most. The last heartbeat of the one who killed them."
The reflection in the mirror was wide-eyed and desperately, almost violently gesturing Steven away from the pedestal, but certainty that tasted like sweet water and sounded like the gentle rolling of the tides filled him, and he reached past the mirror and picked up the puzzle. It was only one move away from being completed. He could easily solve it, and the mirror would shatter, and he'd never have another voice in his head telling him he was a loser, an unwelcome occupant in his body. But Marc would be dead. Khonshu would be alone again in this world. And he knew in his bones that he would never be able to live with himself. He sharply twisted the Rubik's cube further out of alignment, and felt a weight heavier than sin, heavier than death lock itself around his heart, and with a soul-deep cry he passed into darkness.
_____________________________________________________________________________________________________________
He was tired. He was so tired. But that voice kept calling his name- Steven, Steven I need you to wake up he was so tired, he just wanted some sleep, please, he just wanted to rest, he didn't want to wake up.
He jackknifed around the cold fist in his gut, gasping in air through the narrow reed of his throat. His face still stung from the phantom ache of a slap, and the breeze through his bedroom window lit up the tear tracks on his cheeks with cool fire.
"Are you- alright?" came the halting question, delivered in the tone of a man who cares about the answer but has no idea how to communicate it. Steven got the impression of hands hovering awkwardly over his shoulder, and the idea of Marc being ready to- what, catch him? Comfort him?- made the corners of his lips twitch and loosened some of the heaviness around his heart. "Steven come on, speak to me, I'm freaking out a little here."
"I'm- I'm here, I've not gone anywhere. I'm still. Here." his voice sounded waterlogged, like it was coming from far away, but Marc's relieved sigh came through loud and clear.
"You really scared me there, I thought- well. You're here. You came back. If you," his voice abruptly switched from relieved to furious, "EVER pull that kind of stunt again I swear on Anubis' great furry nutsack I will find a way to beat the shit out of you!"
He sat there with Marc's words ringing in his ears, but he couldn't make sense of them. He'd done it to save Marc and Khonshu both. He was the weakest link in the chain - less than a pawn, he was an obstacle to be worked around or actively shunted to the back whenever he showed up, why was Marc upset? What did it matter if he disappeared?
"Why did you do it? Why bother bringing me back at all? All I do is get in the way. I'm not- I can't fight, or have magic powers, I'm not even particularly talented at solving Rubik's cubes, why would you possibly want me to stick around?" He desperately wanted the answer, because what use was he? Marc was a savvy mercenary who could obliterate a small army given time and resources, and Khonshu was a literal god. What could Steven Grant bring to the table except to be the idiot stumbling into places he had no business being?
His outburst seemed to have shocked Marc into silence. Maybe he was thinking of a nice way to let Steven down, to let him know that actually this was all a mistake, and if he could just slip back into Eternal Slumber, they'd all be eternally grateful-
"Because nobody else can be you! Steven Grant! Nobody- who else adopts the only one finned goldfish at the shop? Who else says 'laters gators,' and is sweet to bratty kids who don't deserve it, who else works for the literal worst boss in the world just so they can be close to the things that light them up, I just- nobody else can be you, Steven. Limited edition, they only made the one. So try to stick around for us, ok?" The tears that sat heavy on his lashes fell in great streaks down his face as the weight in his chest loosed the last of its chains and disappeared. Nobody had ever said anything like that to him, had ever told him in so many words that only he could fill a space, that no one else would be the right shape, that he was wanted. He couldn't stop the quiet sobs that wracked his frame, or the trembling smile that splashed across his face, so he buried it in his hands and let his messy, mixed emotions pour out.
Once his hiccuping had turned soft and started to peter out, he raised his eyes above trembling fingers and stared out into the space where Marc's voice had come from.
"I- I'll stay. I promise. I won't do something like that again. Next time-" at Marc's cry of dismay, he made a shushing gesture, the smile growing on his face, "next time we get into any funny business with cursed trials, I'll talk to you about it first instead of making any hasty decisions. Ok?"
Marc grumbled a bit about what even is my life and there better not be any other bullshit cursed trials what the fuck before heaving a gusty sigh and agreeing. A giant yawn attempted to take over Steven's whole body, and his jaw cracked loudly in the quiet room. It seemed that battling the crushing weight of darkness and eternal slumber really took it out of a person. He settled back onto the bed and pulled the sheets up tight under his chin, and let his heavy eyes slip closed. Just as he was falling off the edge into sleep, he thought he heard the slight whisper of Marc's voice saying "Also Khonshu is a dick, ignore him."
HEY.
-End-