Cassandra followed Yan Sen across the endless desert, heat waves shimmering around their silhouettes. The sun-bleached sands stretched in all directions, vast and unforgiving.
Suddenly, she broke the silence with a hesitant question.
"Master, about my parents… When the time comes, can I bring them with me?"
Yan Sen's lips curled into a rare, gentle smile. He nodded.
"Yes. I have a student named Luda. She brought her siblings—and grandparents—to a village nearby."
Cassandra absorbed this quietly, the promise of protection easing her heart. They continued forward, the slow wind carrying their footsteps.
The House of Mystery—Yan Sen's refuge—stood close by most of the time. It moved only when missions demanded, always hidden in the shifting sands.
As they walked, the world around Cassandra began to shift. Colors dulled, edges of her vision blurred, and a sudden cascade of flashes burst across her mind—fragments of a future refusing to stay hidden.
Sand spun wildly, twisting into a rising vortex.
From its heart, a dark figure emerged, towering and relentless.
Set.
Her breath caught in her throat, heart pounding like a distant drum. The visions overlapped chaotically, shards of possible futures fracturing in her mind.
Wide-eyed, she stepped back instinctively, tugging gently on Yan Sen's arm.
Back in the present, her pupils dilated sharply, eyes full of urgent focus.
"Something dangerous… is coming," she whispered.
Yan Sen's smile deepened—amusement flickering in his ageless eyes.
"So, you can peer at the divine now. Interesting."
Noting the tension tightening her gaze, he reached out, his voice calm and steady.
"Don't worry. Nothing will happen."
But even as he spoke, the desert before them shifted. The sands rippled unnaturally; a small whirlwind stirred, growing into a dust storm that rolled steadily toward them—a curtain of churned earth and wind.
Cassandra's lips pressed into a firm line, her senses sharpening with every flutter of the rising storm. The weight of that dark future settled heavily upon her.
And beyond the swirling dust, the silhouette of Set took form—an impending force of destruction moving steadily closer.
A towering figure emerged from the swirling dust—a towering humanoid with the head of a black jackal, tall ears alert, and a long snout that marked him unmistakably as Set, the Egyptian god of chaos. His fiery golden-orange eyes burned with divine fury, and his ornate golden armor, inlaid with turquoise and lapis lazuli, shimmered with ancient power.
In his grasp was a massive khopesh, etched with glowing red symbols, radiating menace. He leaned forward aggressively, one clawed hand poised to strike, the other tightening around his weapon.
Set's voice rolled out, heavy with disdain.
"You mortal—dare kill my champion."
Before the god could finish, Yan Sen's voice cut through, cold and absolute."Just shut up."
Suddenly, Set's words faltered—his voice vanished, strangled by an unseen force. A flicker of fear crossed the god's eyes as he regarded the unyielding mortal before him.
He lunged, khopesh swinging in a deadly arc.
But Yan Sen was already ahead."Half Death."
The power hit Set's legs. His limbs buckled as numbness spread, and he stumbled, struggling to remain upright.
"Half Death."
Now Yan Sen's voice came again, harsher, striking the arm holding the khopesh. The weapon fell as Set's grip went slack, his arm useless and cold.
Horrified, Set's divine nature kicked in. With brutal force, he tore off the deadened arm and summoned regeneration. The flesh knit and reformed instantly—but still, the sensation of control eluded him. His limbs remained lifeless.
Yan Sen's glare burned like fire. With a slight wave of his hand, he said, "I don't care if you are Set, the Egyptian god of chaos. Annoy me again, and I will kill you with a single word. Now get out."
A flicker of real fear flashed through Set's eyes. Without another sound, he vanished in a furious swirl of sand, retreating from the mortal who dared to silence a god.
Cassandra's breath caught at the name—Set. The god of chaos itself had come for them. A shiver of horror swept through her, but as she watched her teacher effortlessly silence a divine being, awe replaced her fear. Yan Sen's power was unlike anything she had ever imagined.
Without a word, Yan Sen gestured for her to follow.
"Come on."
They pressed onward through the shimmering desert heat, and soon the House of Mystery appeared ahead—a fragile silhouette, like a mirage rising from the sand.
While elsewhere inside a quiet cottage, three figures sat, sensing the shift in the currents of fate.
The Maiden, youthful and fair, with long light brown hair and warm brown eyes, exchanged looks with the others.
The Mother, her skin pale but lined with wisdom, hair streaked with gray, echoed worry in her steady brown gaze.
And the Crone, frail and sharp-eyed, her pale skin and long nose giving her the weight of ancient knowledge.
A heavy silence filled the room before the Crone broke it, voice rough with dread.
"That fool, Set… he's met that monster."
The Mother shook her head, voice low but firm."He's lucky to have come away alive."
The Maiden softened, hopeful."Maybe... maybe he's not as bad as we thought."
The Crone scowled, dark eyes narrowing.
"No. That monster is dangerous. We'd do best to keep far from him."
They all understood the truth simmering between their words—a shift had occurred. The Mother's voice rose with resolve.
"We must find Thoth. The prophecy has changed."
Their fears were well-founded. The god Set was shaken, unwilling to leave his fortress, his ego and ambition shattered by the encounter. The ancient prophecy—once certain that Set would slay his brother Osiris—now has been completely ripped apart, rewritten by the brutal hand of fate.
The Three appeared in an instant, shimmering into existence within the vast, ancient library of Thoth, the Egyptian god of wisdom and prophecy. Shelves carved from obsidian stretched endlessly, filled with scrolls and artifacts, the air heavy with the weight of millennia.
Thoth looked up from his latest record-keeping, a reed pen poised above parchment. His serene face broke into a warm smile as he saw the visitors.
"Welcome, Fates, to my library."
The Maiden offered a small, respectful smile; the Mother returned it with quiet dignity. The Crone nodded curtly, eyes sharp and assessing.
Thoth's gaze sharpened with curiosity, sensing an urgency beneath their arrival.
"What brings you here?"
He knew fate itself would not summon three such powerful beings without reason.
The Mother spoke, voice steady but grave.
"The prophecy concerning Osiris's death has changed."
The Crone's tone carried a cold finality.
"It is no longer valid."
A ripple of shock pulsed through Thoth's ancient heart. The prophecy had long foretold Osiris's death at the hands of someone close—most whispered it was either Horus or Set, with greater weight leaning toward Set. Yet no one dared speak openly of it, for Osiris's love for Set was well-known.
Confused and unsettled, Thoth asked,
"What has happened?"
The Maiden's voice was measured but urgent."Set has suffered a devastating blow—spiritually and physically."
The Crone scoffed with dark certainty.
"He challenged someone beyond his reckoning. His mind is broken, irreparable. The path foretold can no longer unfold."
Thoth's mind raced. Set was the only one fit for the prophecy—the destined slayer of Osiris. To hear that Set was shattered in body and soul was unthinkable.
A heavy silence hung before Thoth's voice broke the stillness, filled with disbelief.
"Who—what force could break that arrogant god so completely that even the ancient prophecy itself is undone?"