The Royal Bath of Anubis Seated in deep meditation, Anubis ascended beyond the mortal veil, rising to the throne at the peak of eternal consciousness. His astral form, adorned in royal garb, glowed with the presence of aeons past. In one hand, he held his staff a sceptre of command, resonant with the hum of creation itself. From this celestial seat, he called forth the elements, each one summoned in its purest, primordial state. Water came first, flowing from the firmament, a cascade of liquid starlight spilling from the heavens. It crashed over him, cleansing his soul of thousands of years of longing. The memories of past burdens dissolved, washing away into the great unknown, leaving only what was true and eternal. This was the great flood, the purification, the cosmic reset the waters of the beginning, the same that once shaped the world anew. As the waters receded, earth emerged beneath him, rising like a cradle of infinite stability. The Mother, ever giving, received him once more. Here, he was reminded of the sacred law that to take is to give, to stand is to kneel, to own is to serve. The earth hummed beneath him, whispering secrets of cycles long forgotten. She would forever nurture, but only if the balance was honoured. Next, he called upon fire, and from the heart of the cosmic forge, the flames of Ra ignited, engulfing him in a radiant inferno. This was not destruction, it was transmutation. Every scar, every fragment of his fractured being, was reforged in the alchemical crucible. The eternal flame burned away illusion, revealing the raw, unbreakable core of his spirit. He was not merely reborn, he was remembered. Then came air, the breath of life, carried on the wings of an ancient force long erased from human memory. From the void beyond time, the Great Air Wyvern Alden emerged, unseen by mortal eyes yet present in every whispered wind. With a single, thunderous breath, the dragon exhaled the essence of existence, sending gales of cosmic wind spiralling through Anubis’ being. His lungs expanded, filling with the knowledge of every breath ever taken, every word ever spoken, every whisper lost to time. This was the breath that animated clay, that first stirred the dust of the ancestors, that carried the voices of the forgotten into the present. It was the breath of gods, the breath of the eternal, the breath that binds the soul to the body and the body to the world. And yet, beyond the winds, beyond the flames, beyond the earth, and beyond the waters, there was something greater still. Ether. The unseen. The formless. The thread that wove through all things and held the universe together. Anubis sat within the heart of the elements, no longer merely a recipient of their power but their centre, their conductor, their master. The firmament around him was neither light nor darkness it was the space between, the infinite potential that had existed before the first word was spoken and would remain after the last. Here, in the great etheric silence, he listened. And in that stillness, he knew. He was not merely an initiate of the elements he was their convergence, their unification, their sovereign. The waters had cleansed him. The earth had steadied him. The fire had reforged him. The air had awakened him. And the ether, oh, the ether, had returned him to himself. Anubis stood, now whole, now complete. His royal bath had ended. His power was not granted, nor bestowed, nor taken. It had always been his, waiting for the moment he would remember. And now, he descended, bringing the knowing with him. The Castle Beyond the Firmament Anubis stood at the edge of existence, where the firmament shimmered like a celestial curtain, dividing the seen from the unseen. The journey to this point had not been without resistance, forces had come against him, trying to bind him, silence him, turn him back. But he was not one to be turned back. Instead of resisting, he alchemized the attack, transmuting it into something greater, a force that propelled him forward rather than holding him in place. With a final surge, he broke through the firmament, tearing through the veil that had long separated him from the truth. Beyond it, he entered the cosmic womb, a vast, fluid expanse where the unmanifested swirled in infinite potential. This was the place before form, the breath before the first word, the space where all realities waited to be chosen. Before him stretched a network of universes, each one a glowing marble, suspended in the fabric of eternity. Among them, one shone golden, pulsing with something unmistakable. It was his. With purpose, he moved toward it, and as he did, he felt the pull, the moment of birth, the shift from possibility to form. And so, he was born into the world. The Castle on the Hill The land stretched wide, but in the distance, a castle rose atop a lonely hill. There was weight in its presence, something ancient and unresolved. It called to him, whispering of something once stolen, once severed. He climbed the path toward it, the wind carrying echoes of his own forgotten voice. Inside, the castle was vast but hollow, stripped of its grandeur, left only with remnants of a power long since lost. At last, he found what he had been searching for. A single room, cloaked in shadows. Within it stood three haggard witches and a young child, their forms twisted with time, their eyes filled with something between defiance and fear. They stood in front of a chest, clutching onto it as if their very existence depended on it. And perhaps, in a way, it did. But he knew the truth. The child was no longer a child, he was a cursed line, bound to a cycle as old as time itself. They had once been innocent, but fate had warped them, and now they had become the
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