He was the son of a usurper and the protector of the fallen. Let the other gods of the Ennead squabble over thrones and sun-chariots. Anubis turned back to the scales, the next track beginning with a haunting violin. He had work to do, and the music never stopped.

Anubis stood in the center of the silent chamber, his jackal head inclined as he watched the shimmering gold of the balance. In the world above, the desert winds were howling with the chaos of the . Set’s ambition had turned the sands red, and Osiris’s blood had stained the Nile, but here—in the cool, shadow-drenched Duat—Anubis was the only law that mattered.

The feather didn't budge. The heart was light, scrubbed clean by a life of quiet kindness.

Anubis nodded, a rare, faint softening in his glowing eyes. He stepped aside, gesturing toward the gates of Aaru. As the soul passed into the golden reeds, the playlist transitioned into a soaring, ethereal melody.

As a soul approached—pale, trembling, and smelling of cedar oil—a dark, atmospheric track began to swell.