Simon leaned back against the dark wall. His glasses were smeared with grime and dirt, blurring his vision. He would have liked to clean them, if only on the fabric of his equally filthy shorts, but it was no easy job with his hands being bound together at the wrists. Nevertheless he somehow accomplished the task, but as he rubbed, searing pain exploded throughout his left arm and he winced in agony, momentarily abandoning his cleaning endeavours to feel for the injury.

  Over the past few days, his arm had swollen to almost twice its normal size, the skin hardened until it was firm as diamond, and the black deformation spread toward his chest as though it were attempting to reach for his heart. He couldn't see the black rash, product of an ancient curse, in the darkness, but now that he knew what it was he felt tainted and somehow sick.

  Simon finished his futile task quickly, then he slid the glasses back onto his eyes. The improvement was barely noticeable, and to his annoyance, most of the dirt had now coagulated in one particular place, making it a blind spot.

  Sighing, he threw his head back, and it collided with the damp mudbrick wall. The cell in which he had found himself after his fallout with Set was like a small birdcage; an ancient thing, made out of rusty metal and barely wide enough for him to stretch his legs. He had slept, or rather passed out after two days without any rest at all, sitting up. Not that he needed sleep. For almost half a week now, he hadn't moved much more than a few inches in his tiny prison.

  Simon had spent the first day of his imprisonment screaming indignantly to be let out this instant, the second day, too exhausted to scream, wishing that someone would come to rescue him, and the third day, which was today, beginning to see the error of his ways.

  If he had had nightmares about his cousin stealing his fame before, the thoughts that plagued him now were infinitely worse. After three days in the dark, the only thing to occupy the time his thoughts, he had finally begun to accept that Anubis' vision had shown him the truth after all. It wasn't as though this realization brought any relief however; if anything, Morgan's treachery had made him more eager to go home than ever.

  After a while, however, he had begun to consider why he felt so betrayed.

  The words he had so unwittingly blurted out before now haunted him in his dark cell: He's still your family. Your own flesh and blood.

  All those times he had thought Morgan wanted to do him in, hadn't his cousin actually been trying to protect him? Long suppressed memories flooded back, including the expensive ornate vase Simon had broken when he was ten, and the window he had smashed at the age of thirteen. Both times, and many more, Morgan had taken the blame instead of him, and he hadn't even paused long enough to thank his cousin, or own up to what he had done. And hadn't Morgan given him that ridiculous, blue striped bush-hat so he wouldn't get a sunburn? And hadn't the boy tried to dissuade him from pursuing the old map's instructions?

  Stolen from its original source, this story is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

  Simon remembered the whispered conversations he had sometimes overheard between Avrak and Morgan, and couldn't help wondering how much his cousin had known. Or how much Avrak had known about the pendant himself. Had he guessed what would happen if it was used, had he used it himself? And if he had known and told Morgan, why hadn't he told him, Simon, too? The longer he thought about it, the more examples for his own deficiencies started to crop up in his already overcrowded mind.

  And then, he finally had to admit it: Morgan had always tried to protect him – so what had changed now? Why had he done what he had done?

  Simon stretched his legs, trying to get them to circulate blood again, and immediately hit the wall of his cell. Against all odds, he was still hoping someone would come to rescue him, but so far no one had. He was sure he would have known if either of his former companions had showed themselves, mostly because he would be dead then. As long as they didn't, Set only ever came down into the basement of the temple to croon, or taunt him with his own death.

  At that moment, as though in reaction to his gloomy thoughts, light flickered to life on the narrow staircase leading downstairs, and a slender figure in a vermilion-red cloak entered the room. Set's nose wrinkled at the sight of him, and he came over to him, stepping over the damp earth of the dungeon gingerly.

  Simon blinked in the unfamiliar light of his torch, blinded by its brightness. When he opened them again, he felt strangely drawn to the flame, and the warm it spent.

  “So,” sneered Set, who wore a slender leather armour now that hugged his thin frame tightly and gave him the look of a sinister twig.

  The god produced out of his pockets a small loaf of bread and some water in a flask. Simon threw both of it back out through the bars as soon as they hit the ground of his cell. Set's lip curled.

  “Your choice,” the god said maliciously, “Just don't expect me to stop when you keel over later.”

  And he was gone again in a swish of screamingly red cloak, and so was the warmth and light of the torch.

  Simon sighed and rubbed his stomach soothingly as it rumbled with an angry cry for food. A man of good health could do about fourteen days without food, and he wasn't going to show any weakness until then.

  And the hunger wasn't even the worst – the cold was infinitely worse. It was just like being back in the Duat, though this time without the protection Horus' warmth provided. He didn't even have the Infinity Key to give him light any more. Set had taken that from him before he locked him in, and Simon found himself wishing he had given it to Nefertari when he'd still had the chance. Not only because of his unpleasant lodgings, but also because he couldn't help wondering... Hadn't Nefertari and Horus kidnapped him for his own sake? Where would he be if it wasn't for them? Dead, most likely, killed a hundred times over, first by the chimaeras, then the rogue trackers, then the apophi... Why hadn't he listened to his instincts for once? Had he surrendered the Infinity Key he wouldn't be in a situation like this right now; in fact, he might actually have some friends for a change.