The next few weeks passed in tense anticipation. Anubis continued to work at the bar, but every night after closing, he patrolled the cemeteries and hospitals of New York City, monitoring the flow of souls.

  The problem persisted. Every night, he found two or three lost souls, disoriented and frightened. Something or someone was disrupting the natural cycle of death and rebirth.

  And the mysterious figure never appeared again.

  It was an ordinary Thursday evening when a man Anubis didn't expect to see walked into the bar.

  Nick Fury, Director of S.H.I.E.L.D., in his signature black cape and eye patch, walked straight to the counter like he owned the place.

  "Whiskey. Double," he said, sitting down. "And not the cheapest kind of crap."

  Anubis raised an eyebrow, but began pouring.

  — Director Fury. Didn't expect to see you here.

  Fury looked at him in surprise.

  - You know who I am.

  "I am a god who has lived on Earth for five thousand years," Anubis replied dryly. "I know many people. Especially those who protect the planet from extraterrestrial threats."

  "Fair enough," Fury took the glass. "Then you understand why I'm here."

  — The Destroyer incident.

  - Exactly.

  Anubis continued polishing the glasses, waiting.

  Fury took a sip, looking at Anubis appraisingly.

  "You hid quite well. Years, decades, centuries. Not a single trace, not a single piece of evidence. And then you decided to take action against the Asgardian weapons in the center of the city."

  “I had no choice,” Anubis answered calmly. “People were dying.”

  "Noble," Fury nodded. "But now you're on our radar. S.H.I.E.L.D. tracks supernatural entities, and you, my friend, definitely fall into that category."

  - I don't pose a threat.

  "You're a god with the ability to control sand, who managed to hold out against the Destroyer for several minutes. Forgive me if I'm a little disturbed."

  Anubis paused, putting down his glass, and looked Fury straight in the eye.

  "Director, I've been here since before this land had a different name. I've seen civilizations rise and fall. If I wanted to do harm, I've had five thousand years to do it."

  "That's a good point," Fury agreed. "But times are changing. The battle in New Mexico showed us we're not alone in the universe. Other threats are coming soon. Bigger threats. And we'll need all the allies we can get."

  Anubis realized where this was leading.

  - You want to recruit me.

  — I want to know whose side you will be on when the real war starts.

  "On the side of the people," Anubis replied without hesitation. "Always have been, always will be. But I am not a soldier, Director Fury. I will not join your organization, wear a uniform, or follow orders."

  "What if I asked you to be a consultant?" Fury leaned forward. "No strings attached, no formality. Just knowledge. You've lived for millennia. You know things we can only guess at. Magic, ancient civilizations, other gods."

  Anubis considered this. On the one hand, he wanted to stay out of the conflict. On the other hand, Fury was right—something big was approaching. He could feel it.

  “I’ll think about it,” he finally answered. “But no promises.”

  This tale has been unlawfully lifted without the author's consent. Report any appearances on Amazon.

  "That's all I ask," Fury finished his whiskey and stood up. "Keep in touch, Mister... what's your real name?"

  — Anubis. Just Anubis. Although clients call me Andy.

  "Well then, Anubis," Fury said, heading for the door, then turning around. "One more thing. We've been monitoring unusual activity throughout the city. Lost souls, anomalies in hospitals and morgues. Is this your doing?"

  Anubis tensed.

  — Are you following me?

  "We monitor all supernatural events," Fury answered evasively. "What's going on?"

  Anubis hesitated, then decided that a little truth wouldn't hurt.

  "Something is disrupting the natural order. Souls can't find their way to the afterlife. I'm trying to help them."

  - And you know what causes this?

  - No. But I'm working on it.

  Fury nodded.

  — If you need help, call.

  He placed his business card on the counter and walked out, leaving Anubis lost in thought.

  Sarah walked over, holding up the card.

  — SHIELD? Seriously? What do they want from you?

  "It's hard to explain," Anubis took the card. "But it seems my quiet life is becoming less and less quiet."

  That same night, after the bar closed, Anubis went out on patrol again. But this time, he didn't go to the cemetery, but to St. Vincent's Hospital, one of the largest in the city.

  He materialized in the morgue, using the shadows to remain unnoticed. The smell of formaldehyde and death filled the air, but to him it was familiar, almost comforting.

  Show yourself, he urged mentally. I know you're here.

  The air trembled, and they appeared—three souls, recently dead, drifting without purpose.

  Anubis began the ritual, but this time he focused on one of the souls - a young man who died in a car accident.

  “Tell me,” he asked softly. “What do you remember after death?”

  My soul trembled.

  — I... I saw the light. But then something got in the way. A shadow. It... it pushed me back.

  "Shadow," Anubis repeated. "Describe it."

  "Dark. Very dark. With red eyes. And she spoke a language I didn't understand, but it scared me."

  Anubis frowned. Red eyes. An ancient language. It was beginning to sound familiar, but he couldn't place it.

  He finished the ritual, conducting the souls, and was left alone in the silence of the morgue.

  What kind of creature is this? And why would it block souls?

  “Interesting questions,” said a voice behind him.

  Anubis turned around sharply, the sand already forming into a weapon.

  A woman stood there. Tall, with jet-black hair and eyes the color of the midnight sky. She was dressed in an elegant black dress, and an aura of antiquity emanated from her, similar to his own.

  "Who are you?" Anubis demanded.

  The woman smiled.

  "Don't you recognize me, Guardian? Even though... how much has passed? Three thousand years?"

  Anubis looked into her face and suddenly a memory struck him.

  "Sekhmet," he breathed out. "Goddess of war."

  "Sekhmet," she nodded, making a theatrical bow. "Though I prefer Susan these days. Fewer questions."

  - What are you doing here?

  “The same as you, I suppose.” She approached, her movements graceful as a predator. “Observing this world. Trying to fit in. Though I must admit, you’re doing a better job. Bartender? Brilliant.”

  Anubis didn't relax, the sand still swirling around his hands.

  - You were following me.

  "Perhaps a little," Sekhmet admitted. "I heard you spoke out against the Destroyer. It was... unexpected. Old Anubis never interfered in other people's affairs."

  — People change. Even gods.

  "Obviously," she stopped a few feet away from him. "But I'm not here to talk about the past. I'm here to warn you."

  - About what?

  Sekhmet's face became serious.

  — About what blocks souls. I know what it is. Or, rather, who it is.

  Anubis straightened up.

  — Speak.

  — His name is Ammut. Eater of the Dead. Remember?

  Anubis went cold. Of course he remembered. Ammut was a creature from Egyptian mythology, a demon who devoured the hearts of sinners whose souls were deemed unworthy.

  But Ammut wasn't real. It was a metaphor, a concept, not...

  "He's real," Sekhmet read his thoughts. "He's always been. We just kept him locked away in the Duat, in the afterlife, where he couldn't do any harm. But something changed. Someone freed him."

  "It's impossible," Anubis whispered. "The seals we cast were created by the entire pantheon. No being could break them."

  "And yet they're broken," Sekhmet pulled something out of her pocket—a photograph. "This was found in a Cairo museum two weeks ago. Take a closer look."

  Anubis picked up the photograph. It was an ancient papyrus covered in hieroglyphs. But these weren't ordinary hieroglyphs—they glowed with a dark light, distorted, twisted.

  "Dark magic," he recognized. "It's a ritual of liberation."

  — Exactly. Someone found a way to summon Ammut back to the world of the living. And now he's blocking souls, preventing them from entering the afterlife. He's... he's storing them up.

  - For what?

  Sekhmet shook her head.

  "I don't know. But nothing good will come of it. Ammut is hunger, endless hunger. If he's stockpiling souls, then he's planning something big."

  Anubis clenched his jaw.

  — Where is he?

  "I'm not sure. He's hiding, moving around. But I sense his presence in the city. He's here, Anubis. And he's stronger than before."

  Anubis handed the photograph back.

  "Why are you telling me this? Why don't you just stop him yourself?"

  Sekhmet smiled, but without humor.

  "Because I am the goddess of war, not death. This is your province, Guardian. You are the judge of souls, the one who knows the Duat best. I can fight, but only you can send him back."

  - What if I refuse?

  "Then Ammut will continue to grow stronger, feeding on trapped souls, until he becomes powerful enough to break through to the world of the living completely. And when that happens..." She paused. "You remember the old stories. You know what he did to sinners."

  Anubis remembered. Ammut didn't just kill. He erased existence. Completely. No afterlife, no rebirth. Simply nothingness.

  “When do we start?” he asked.

  Sekhmet smiled, this time with relief.

  "Tomorrow night. I'll perform a tracking ritual, try to find his lair. Meet me here at midnight."

  - Agreed.

  She started to walk away, then turned around.

  — Anubis? It's good to see you again. Even under these circumstances.

  - And you too, Sekhmet.

  As she disappeared into the shadows, Anubis was left alone with his thoughts.

  Ammut. Devourer of the Dead. A creature from the darkest depths of Egyptian mythology.

  It wasn't just a threat. It was a disaster in the making.

  He pulled out his phone and looked at Fury's business card.

  Maybe I really do need help, he thought.

  But first he needed to know more. To understand what he was dealing with.

  Anubis materialized back in his apartment above the bar. A small, austere space—a bed, a closet, a desk. But under the bed was a safe, which he hadn't opened for almost a century.

  He opened it now.

  Inside lay artifacts from his past: amulets, scrolls, weapons. And in the very center, a small statue depicting himself in classical form: a human body, the head of a jackal.

  Anubis took the statuette, feeling its weight.

  "It's been a long time since I was you," he whispered. "But it seems the past refuses to stay buried."

  He placed the statuette on the table and began to prepare.

  Tomorrow night he will go hunting.

  On the hunt for a demon from his own mythology.

  And this time there was no hiding. This time, Anubis would have to become who he once was.

  God of the dead. Judge of souls. Protector of the order between life and death.

  He looked out the window at the sleeping city.

  Hang in there, New York, he thought. Your bartender is becoming a god. And this is going to be... interesting.

  In the shadows of his room, sand began to swirl, forming ancient symbols on the walls—protective runes, sigils, invocations to powers he hadn't used in centuries.

  Anubis was preparing for war.

  And somewhere in the darkness of the city, Ammut felt it and smiled.

  The hunt has begun.