text: Our goals never linger in the world’s mind. It’s our deeds that define us after death. And in my case, those deeds will be my doom. For those who don’t know, my name is Bassall and I am part of the royal guard. Tasked to protect the king of our peaceful land Treios. But this account is not concerned with my life as a warrior. But more so with what keeps me awake at night now and until my inevitable end. One night when I was on my patrol around the palace the alteration of my life occurred. The moon bright and blue flooded the city with its pure light. I was alone, taking the ordinary route like every night when I was to stand watch. A faint silhouette in the sky let me look up at the sky. There in the sky afront the bright moon, a figure approached. It floated gracefully towards the earth where I stood. Upon it drawing closer, I could see. A golden chariot, pulled by two majestic reddish-brown horses, carried a male figure. The authority in the strangers bearing let my spine stiffen. I did not dare to move nor turn away my attention out of fear that I might offend this noble visitor. Not a sound did the vehicle make and the animal’s hooves seemed to tread some invisible path in the air. Slowly the chariot came to a stop on the ground in front of me. The snorting horses with their jet-black mane needed a moment to calm down from their journey. With eyes like liquid fire, they looked at me once their legs would remain still. From behind them, out of the carriage stepped their master. The bronze skin showed a greenish tinge in the clear moonlight. Long, white garments floated in the gentle breeze. A magnificent girdle was wrapped around the abdomen, made of precious silk. Around his neck dozens of small pendants reflected the nightly shine, made of gold and jewels. The head was bare and bald, yet the black beard was artfully braided. It was a sight beyond fair and only my body being paralyzed by the man’s powerful demeanour, kept me from falling to my knees. “Are you Bassall, son of Meptuk?” The stranger asked in a voice both gentle and firm, pleasant to the mortal ear. Bereft of my voice, I nodded. But then remembered how to properly address such a person. “Yes, Sakraa,” I answered respectfully averting my eyes. Sakraa was the term our people used when addressing a person of high standing. Albeit I could tell. He was not just a person of high standing. He wasn’t even human. And as the man studied me for a moment, it dawned upon me whom I was facing. A disapproving sternness flamed up in the man’s eyes as he spoke again. “You can not fool me with your humble behaviour, Bassall.” With a motion of his hand the scenery around us changed. Gone were the chariot, the horses, the walls and palace. We were somewhere underground. The walls gave the impression of a cave. Brown, sandy rock crisscrossed by veins of white and red surrounded us. The great room was entirely illuminated by torches fastened to the walls. Despite the warm flames an eerie cold lingered in the place. In front of me on a high chair behind the bench sat the god which had brought me here. Apart from him, I saw no one else. Feeling a bit of courage rise at the sudden confusion I spoke up. “Where am I?” But my judge ignored me and instead boomed through the hall. “The trial has begun. I will call the first witness.” Witness, I hadn’t done anything wrong. And I certainly was not dead. With yet another wave of his hand, my judge summoned a column of light. Which after it had faded revealed a good friend of mine, who had died years back on the battlefield. I hadn’t been there when he had departed and my guts grew cold as I recalled the memory. “You have been called to testify against Bassall son of Meptuk, who faces judgement by the Gods.” My judge addressed the soul of the deceased, whom only looked at me with an expression of disbelieve. “Your honour,” my friend started but was cut short when the god spoke again. “Did or did not this man run from the battlefield as the fighting still raged on?” “He did, but...” Again, my judge silenced the witness this time by raising an eyebrow. Intimidated by the stare my late friend remained silent. “If I am not wrong, then the running from battle is an act of cowardice. Especially, when one’s own people still fight.” For a moment my judge directed his piercing eyes at me. With effort I suppressed a shudder. “Am I right,” he continued asking the witness. Yet instead of a single word, my friend took another approach. “The message he delivered saved the battle. He brought victory against the tyrant!” Defiantly the witness held the god’s stare, who seemed unsatisfied. “That was not the question. Your answer is not relevant.” “He is not a coward!” “Answer the question,” the judge said in an icy voice. “Is running from battle an act of cowardice?” My friend looked at me with mournful compassion before bowing his head in defeat. “It is,” he answered in a low tone. Without another word the witness was send back to wherever it had come from. Looming over me, my judge addressed me for the first time since the trial had begun. “Do you have anything to say, to your defence?” The gaze of his dark eyes burned itself into my soul as he dared me to speak. “I can’t be judged if I am not dead!” My voice was determined, yet I felt my legs slightly trembling. Leaning back in his chair the god’s features showed a faint, unsettling smile. “Let’s call the next witness, shall we?” He said with the familiar wave of his hand, whereupon another soul appeared. The face I now beheld turned the guilt I had felt before into hot rage. And I had to clench my fists in order to keep it inside. My judge once again explained the reason of the occurrence and the soul’s place in it. I didn’t listen, my thoughts were clouded and strayed through the mists of time. The old scars of my soul, long buried were ripped open again as memories of a bloody war entered my mind. A pointing finger, accompanied by the arrogant voice accusing me, brought me back to reality. “He betrayed me. Betrayed his land. By my honour, he is and always will be a traitor.” “You confirm that the accused did turn his back on the king to support another, who laid claim to the throne.” “He did not just support him. He built the rebellion from the very start. Traitors they are! Traitors all together!” Unable to contain my wrath I replied to the tyrant, who had almost destroyed our people. “You stole the throne! I supported the rightful heir to end your miserable rule leading us into doom.” “You are not permitted to talk without being asked,” my judge cut in with his cold voice. Once again, his eyes met mine, the anger burning in them reflecting my own. “How can you support him. You, king of the gods. You, who created the order of leadership.” I only managed to say as my world seemed to crumble. I almost expected lose the ground beneath my feet and to fall into bottomless darkness. But the god only regarded me with reproach. “It is not him, who is on trial. This is about *your* sins.” A last glance into the face of the soul, who had once been my king, revealed the tyrant’s satisfaction at my misery right before he too vanished again. This time I was not asked to defend myself. Without a word the third witness was summoned. I was not surprised at the next witness I faced. The last two witnesses' functions had shown me where this was going. And a sense of still certainty took hold of my soul. The kind of state of mind that lets the criminal seem calm as he faces the noose. This time my judge went straight to asking the question that would confirm the blackness of my character. I entertained the idea that he too was getting tired of the process. But too heavy was my heart to find any joy in the thought. For the trial had awakened many memories locked away by time. “Did Bassall son of Meptuk, murder you in the dark of night?” The god’s voice echoed through the room. The addressed man seized me with his cold eyes before nodding firmly one single time. “Do you have anything else to add,” the judge continued towards me. I didn’t turn away from the dead man’s gaze. The next words I spoke were not meant for the god. I am not even sure they were meant for the man I had killed so long ago. Perhaps it was just my rational sense rambling in order to assure my heart of the righteousness of the deed. “I do regret taking a life. But I do not regret the deed itself.” My voice sounded more confident than I felt. Yet the familiar rage shimmered through the guilt the longer I locked eyes with the witness. My legs grew weak when the soul was sent back to the land of the dead, only my strong will kept me standing. “Are we done now?” I asked the deity boldly, only halfway concealing my weariness. I was aware of the futility of such a question, but I feared I might break down if I was supposed to endure more. Everyone has things he wished had not been done. There’s nothing more painful than being called out on those failures. “Bassall, son of Meptuk,” he boomed again with authority. “You have been found to be a coward, a traitor and a murderer. Do you have anything to say for yourself?” I closed my eyes for a moment upon reflecting on the truth in those words. Bowing my head, I only muttered. “No, your honour,” a heavy stone had formed in my stomach and dragged me down to the cold, stony ground. I grinded my teeth as I awaited my sentence. “Then I sentence you hereby to death. Your fate lies now in the hands of Anubis.” Out of nothing the ground started to shake, when from beneath something broke through the earth’s surface. With a spinning motion, too quick for the mortal eye to perceive, appeared another deity. Standing right next to me, the jackal headed god took a pair of scales. With long steps he strode to the bench, placing the instrument on it. A feather was placed in one of the scales. Cutting his yellow eyes to me, Anubis approached. I swallowed hard but unnoticed as his hand reached out and pierced my chest. Taking my heart without causing me any pain, Anubis placed it on the other side of the instrument. For a moment nothing happened, then the feather sank down. And yet, right before remaining still. My heart heavily burdened by my conscience, outweighed the feather. A clattering sound echoed through the hall as the scale carrying my heart hit the bench. Four eyes pierced my very being, a snarl turned the jackal’s face into a grimace. “Guilty,” he growled. At that moment my warrior’s sense suddenly perceived a presence behind me. Whipping around I saw; the jaws of a crocodile greeted me with a broad smile. The wide eyes showed two slitted pupils gleaming with glee. The thick lion mane concealed most of the body facing me, the front legs showed sharp and crooked claws. I would die there. Right there and then. Like lightning, the thoughts crossed my mind, urging me to act. For even if the courtroom was closed and thus a cage. I had still my sword and my wit to find a way out. Swiping her tongue around the vicious teeth, Ammit opened her maw. I faced gaping emptiness, a realm devoid of sense, emotion or sanity. Every hair on my body stood up as a shiver covered my entire body, resulting in a violent trembling. Hopelessness suddenly paralyzed my spirit. Cold despair I hadn’t felt in the darkest of times in my life. Its arms reaching for my soul to drag me into the depths of Ammit’s stomach. Or where the stomach was supposed to be. Wails of agony made my ears ring and the stench of rotten flesh stung my nose. Accompanied by the typical rusty smell of blood. Perhaps if it wouldn’t have been for that reek I might not have been freed from my state of numbness. With one motion I drew my sword and jumped on top of Ammit’s head. Thrusting my blade through her jaws I forced her maw shut and to the ground. Fixated by the blade she continued launching at me with her hideous claws. The crocodile tail lashed around violently trying to hit me as well. But it was useless, I was in the dead spot and out of her reach. Looking at the two gods observing the fight I pleaded, “I am not trying to escape my fate. I know I will pay, just not today. I can’t die now!” Beneath me Ammit still growled and spat, while the others cast each other meaningful glances. Desperately I waited for an answer to either break free or be forced to accept my doom. By the time Ammit finally managed to throw me off, not Anubis nor Osiris had spoken a word. Taken by surprise I was unable to soften the impact and lost consciousness upon hitting the ground. I awoke outside with the full moon in the sky. Next to me the palace’s walls reached into the sky. I rubbed the back of my head, where a dull throbbing made itself noticeable. When the next guard took over and relieved me of my duty, I became aware of my missing sword. The realisation hit me like a rock, it hadn’t been a dream. A lie I had told myself after waking up to calm my irrational sense. But it hadn’t, remembering how Anubis ad taken my heart I made attempts to find my pulse. There was none. Had I escaped the gods? Or was it just a cruel joke from their side? Without a heart, I couldn’t die. I would be on their mercy until they decided to take me. The full moon fills me with dread. Once the light had felt pure, but now he seems to leer at me every night. Waiting for me to beg. In my dreams I see the dark abyss in which death is wafting in the air. And I think I might go mad from the knowledge of my fate. More often than not I long for it. For a soul corrupted by madness can not fear nor feel its annihilation. Coming home I took a moment to observe my sleeping daughter. After her mother, my wife was murdered she had lost everything. I am the only thing she has left. For her sake, I have to endure.