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Arthur wasn't surprised when he opened his eyes and saw Tawaret's boat before him. And what was there to be surprised about? Where else could he go after death except the Egyptian Duat?
He felt no pain when the goddess removed the stone heart, made of translucent travertine, from his chest. And what pain could compare to the anguish of having failed and never being able to build an ideal world, a safe world for those vulnerable and in need of help and protection?
Arthur would like to say he wasn't afraid when the scales carrying his heart tipped downwards, instantly outweighing Maat's feather of truth and sealing his doom. But he had long ago forgotten how to lie—especially to himself. When the sand figures with the faces of those whose lives he had taken clambered aboard the longship, and he saw their sightless, cataracts of eyes and mouths gaping in silent screams, it was terrifying to the point of nausea and trembling knees. Arthur only hoped that, when he was dragged into the sands of Duat, he would manage to retain at least a shred of dignity and end it quickly, without groveling into fruitless pleading. And also that eternal nothingness would be better than the inescapable guilt of his failure. He almost expected the end.
What he didn't expect was the appearance of a translucent male figure, seemingly woven from moonlight, between him and the twisted souls of the Duat. Monsters with familiar faces shifted from foot to foot behind it, as if hesitant to approach.
"Remember me?"
Arthur remembered. Strictly speaking, he shouldn't have even intervened then: after all, it wasn't about night travelers—it was just a gang of robbers who had chosen the house of a young family for their business. Arthur managed to save the woman with her five-year-old daughter and newborn son, who had locked themselves in a bedroom on the second floor. The man, who had stayed downstairs to meet the robbers in a frantic attempt to protect his wife and children, was gone. There was no point in even checking his pulse: he had been shot point-blank, and blood was covering half the living room.
"You saved my family."
The man extended his hand, and Arthur automatically returned the handshake. The touch caused the figure to melt, leaving a tingling sensation on his skin, like that which occurs during a thunderstorm. And at that very moment, the monsters, still standing at the very edge of the deck, crumbled into fine dust.
There was a crunch of sand behind him, and Arthur looked back.
This time, a fragile girl's figure stood between him and the monsters of Duat—still a teenager, thin and awkward. Only her gaze revealed the passing years—the gaze of a grown woman she had never had the chance to become.
"Remember me?"
Arthur couldn't forget, even if he wanted to. How old was she, thirteen, fourteen? A real lamb, big-eyed, with disproportionately thin and long legs—they looked like they were about to give way at any moment.
...In torn shorts and bloody underwear. The man... The creature that climbed off her... Arthur squeezed his throat, even after his trachea had long since cracked under his fingers.
"You avenged me. And you saved all the girls who might have followed me."
She smiled—and suddenly, in two leaps, she was right up to Arthur. She rose on tiptoe and, placing her hands on his shoulders, kissed him on the cheek. Arthur didn't feel the weight of her palms, but her kiss was like a ray of sunshine, sending waves of warmth across his skin. He closed his eyes. A hot drop trickled down his cheek, followed by another. It was strange: he hadn't cried in so long that he thought he'd forgotten how. He believed he'd completely lost the ability to feel...
When he opened his eyes, there was no one on the deck before him—only two sand dunes were being blown away by the wind.
The new monsters were behind him again. This time, a woman of about forty stood in front of them.
"Remember me?"
It wasn't murder, it was kidnapping: her daughter's ex and his friends were very unhappy about the breakup. She and her daughter were ambushed as they were returning from a party, dressed up and happy. The mother was simply hit in the temple with a brass knuckle. They probably didn't even intend to kill her—but how much does it take to take someone's life? By the time Arthur arrived, her daughter was already being dragged into the car, her arms pinned, her mouth covered with a hand, and she couldn't scream—she could only stare with desperate, pleading eyes.
Arthur dealt with the attackers quickly, checked her mother's pulse—no chance—and crouched down next to the daughter, who had fallen helplessly onto the pavement. Only when he hugged her did Arthur belatedly realize what a complete idiot he was: who could possibly be comforted by a strange man in bandages and a mask with glowing eyes, and now covered in blood? But the girl immediately clung to his chest, sobbing, shaking, and clinging to his suit so tightly that Arthur didn't have the heart to leave her until the police and ambulance sirens were already blaring nearby.
"You saved my daughter. She met a worthy man, gave me a granddaughter... Thank you for her life."
The woman approached and stroked Arthur's cheek. Her touch was like a gentle sea surf, washing away all the bitterness of the past day.
Many came after her—Arthur quickly lost count. They took his hands, stroked his shoulders, hugged him—and their touches, their kisses, and their embraces were like a salty sea breeze and snowflakes melting on his skin, the spray of a waterfall and warm summer rain. And not a single monster of the Duat could lay a finger on him.
When Tawaret’s hand fell on his shoulder, Arthur looked up at her with difficulty, realizing how pathetic, how broken and helpless he looked. But there was no disgust or contempt in the goddess’s gaze; on the contrary, she was smiling and seemed to glow from within.
"Look!" She pointed to the scales.
Arthur was surprised to find the scales level. Opposite his heart, on the same bowl as Maat's feather, lay a scattering of wheat grains, brought by caring hands.
Then the sands of the Duat parted, and Arthur saw the sun, the glimmer of a distant river, and endless fields of reeds bathed in golden rays.