The guards glared at us as we passed along the path. I saw several clinch and unclinch their fists on the hilts of swords and spears. Mortals didn’t belong in the Duat, so I seriously doubted these hundreds of sentries were anything but Malak and Shaytan. They didn’t look any different than the guards outside the pyramid, so it had to be some kind of disguise.

About halfway to the mountain, one of the guards stepped into the road. She half-turned toward Rockslide and growled. The arm holding her spear shook violently. It looked like she was struggling to raise her weapon against us. Something, or someone, was holding her back, keeping all of them back.

Rockslide strode right up to the guard and returned the growl. They both bared fangs, and for a second, the human mask of the guard slipped. What lay beneath made Rockslide look benevolent. It looked vaguely like a wolf standing on its hind legs. Two tattered ears sat atop a long, narrow head that ended in a lipless row of sharp teeth. Its chest was sunken and emaciated, while the abdomen distended grotesquely. Slender biceps transitioned into cartoonishly bulbous forearms tipped with an odd set of three boney fingers that flexed and bent in unnatural directions. I knew instantly it was a Malak. Not precisely the textbook visage of an angel.

The Malak fought against whatever was holding her in place. A few other guards started to fight against their bonds, their eager faces promising violence. I expected Rockslide to transform, but he stood, calmly engaging the sentinel in a wordless war of bravado. I walked up to him and slapped his back.

“Come on, big guy,” I said, trying to sound soothing. “We need to keep moving.”

I walked a few steps away, but Rockslide didn’t follow.

“Wait,” he bellowed.

A pulse of energy flashed between us, and I froze in place. No matter how much I tried, I couldn’t make my muscles obey my commands to keep moving. My mind raced. Saying Rockslide and I were equal was all fine and dandy, but not if it meant he could control me like this.

“Um, Rockslide,” I said. My voice cracked. “What are you doing?”

“This thing has barred my path,” Rockslide said. “I wouldst have it move.”

“Uh, okay,” I said. “You can just walk around, you know. In the meantime, can you maybe, let me move?”

Rockslide seemed to notice for the first time what he’d done. His eyes widened, and he hurried to give me permission to move again. The Malak shifted her focus between the two of us. Her countenance changed, and a look of awe and wonder came over her features. Several of the other beings looked askance at Rockslide, disapproval written on their faces. Rockslide stood taller and smiled at them all.

“What’s that all about?” I asked Em.

“You can be dense, you know that, right?” Em replied. “Malak and Shaytan order Djinn. They don’t obey them.”

The Malak said something to Rockslide in a language I didn’t understand. His response was terse and just as incomprehensible. One of the closer sentries leaned in and added something to the conversation. It didn’t take long before anyone within earshot was shouting to be heard. I shrank away from the din. Many of the voices were venomous in pitch and cadence, but I listened to a few speculative calls. Rockslide raised his voice above the noise and shouted a single word. The crowd fell silent.

The wolf thing pointed at her chest. “Kutaro.”

A mix of shock and outrage came over the watching Malak and Shaytan. I was about to give my name when a bell tolled, followed by a peal of thunder. The entirety of the guard force fell to their knees and placed their foreheads to the ground. Rockslide let out a disgusted sound. He said a few more words and started walking.

I was too stunned to move at first and had to catch up when I’d gotten over my shock. Rockslide kept his eyes forward, but I noticed the corners of his mouth twitching. The look was so human I couldn’t help smiling myself.

“Everything okay?” I asked.

“Thou hast made many enemies this day,” Rockslide said.

What? How the fuck had I made enemies? I just stood there like a bump on a log while Rockslide argued with these…these things.

“But, I didn’t do anything,” I protested.

“Thou hast accepted me as thine equal,” Rockslide said, “Many believe thou hast lowered me to thy level. I tried to explain, but very few listened.”

“Told you,” Em said.

“Eh, fuck it. It’s not like they were on my side to begin with.”

Rockslide nodded. We walked side by side. The guards remained prostrate, and I couldn’t help feeling disgusted. It was apparent they were under some kind of compulsion. That kind of forced obeisance rankled. Loyalty was fine, so long as it was freely given.

“What about Kutaro,” Em said. “She seemed interested.”

“Probably thinks I might be a way out,” I said.

“A way out?” Em said.

“Yup. This is a punishment for them. Somewhere along the way, they fucked up and got sent here.”

“No wonder they’re pissed,” Em said. “Can’t be easy for them to see Rockslide roaming around free after disowning Osiris.”

“Rockslide is free,” Rockslide growled.

“That you are, big guy,” I said, patting him on the back.

The road widened into a large paved courtyard. Massive rectangular columns were carved into the mountain face with a rectangular crosspiece above an open entryway. I saw the columns were covered in writing, and every language was represented. The words I could decipher depicted the Malak and Shaytan as gods of different religions. When genies were mentioned, they were mere footnotes or demigods, always below the Malak and Shaytan.

We walked through the entrance into what felt like pitch black after the bright daylight of before. Torches lined a long, bleak corridor. They gave off inconsistent, flickering light that did little to dispel the darkness. The torch’s glow stopped just short of the center of the hall, creating an unbroken length of shadow that looked like a path right down the middle.

“You are here sooner than I expected,” Ma’at said, emerging from a shadow. “Welcome.” She reached out and took both of Em’s hands. “It is good to see you again, child. I’m afraid you may not follow where these two must go.”

Em moved to Ma’at’s side without protest. Her radiance dimmed some, and Ma’at put an arm protectively around her.

“Where’s that?” I asked.

“I see you are whole now,” Ma’at said. “You know where.”

“I was sort of hoping to avoid that part,” I said.

“Unfortunately,” Ma’at said, “you’ve set yourself against them. The only safe way forward is through the forty-two judges. Even the Zaeim Aljiniy cannot ignore their judgment.”

“Set myself against them?” I said. “I wasn’t aware I’d done anything to them yet.”

Ma’at laughed. “You flaunt a stolen Shaytan in their home and try to recruit their guards, and say you haven’t done anything to them?”

“I didn’t try to recruit their guards.”

A scraping sound caught my attention and looked over to see Rockslide shuffling his feet and looking at the ground.

“I thought you were just explaining things to them,” I said.

“I was,” he said, “I told them how thou treats me, and that thou art a friend. I asked them to join thee and be free to choose.”

“Oh shit,” I said, “and when Kotaru gave me her name…that’s when the bells and thunder started. They think I’m recruiting an army, don’t they?”

Ma’at shrugged. “You are an Alqanun. They know what that means, even if you still refuse to see it.”

“So, the forty-two judges it is,” I said. “How bad can it be?”

“Do not take them lightly,” Ma’at said. “to be judged by them means having your deepest flaws laid bare before you. Defects in your character you may not have even known existed. Many who pass their scrutiny regret it. Those who don’t…expire.”

I gulped. “Okay. Got any advice for me?”

“Be true to yourself and accept who you are. In the end, only you know your worth.”

“About as helpful as last time,” I said. “Thanks.”

Em looked on the verge of speaking, but Ma’at motioned for her to stay silent. They exchanged a look, and Em nodded. She looked resigned. Ma’at backed into a shadow and dragged Em with her. They disappeared a moment later.

“Well,” I said, turning to Rockslide only to find he wasn’t there either.

I scanned the shadows and pools of light for any sign of my friends. For the first time since the night at the lake, I was utterly alone. I had no allies, and there were no threads of chance to manipulate. Whatever happened next was all on me, and I was fucking terrified.

My footsteps echoed loudly as I walked through the dark hall. I tried to make my steps light, but the echo never quieted. I wrinkled my nose at the smell of burnt pitch wafting from the torches. I’d almost have preferred the sulfuric smell of Rockslide’s realm. No matter how long I walked, I never saw anything but darkness ahead of me. Without warning, I was in a brightly lit chamber. There was no transition, like walking from a dark house into daylight. I shielded my face against the brightness.

The room was only slightly wider than the hall, and the walls held small alcoves that displayed various items of gold and silver. More writing adorned the walls, but I couldn't read the language. It looked a lot like Tolkien’s dwarvish rune script. Two rows of beings knelt to either side of a long, lavish carpet. I didn’t need to count them to know there were twenty-one on each side. The left row was Malak and the right Shaytan. Every mythical depiction of angels and demons were represented, and a few that even Lovecraft couldn’t have imagined. They turned to face me, and the first two beckoned me forward.

I stepped onto the carpet, and everything but the first fourteen judges vanished. An empty pack appeared on my back as the first judge spoke.

“Yes, yes, I see,” it said. “I would have done the same.”

“No,” another judge spat. “it didn’t give him the right, guilty.”

“You’re both wrong,” yet another judge said, “We need to see more.”

“I want to judge this one,” a sibilant voice said. “Guilty, I say.”

The judges started arguing, but I had no idea what they were talking about.

“You want to judge me on what?” I said.

“I hate when they butt in,” a judge said.

“I like it,” another said, “makes it more fun.”

My surroundings changed. I stood atop a set of concrete stairs. Kids hurried past me to catch their buses or meet their parents. This was my old elementary school. I didn’t remember much from my early childhood, but I remembered this day. Randal Kerschner had shoved me to the ground on our way to school that morning. I’d fallen into some dog shit, and the tyrannical bully spent the whole day teasing me about it, and I’d let him. I was only nine, and Randall was nearly twelve, besides, he had a whole group of cronies.

“Look,” Randal said, walking through the school’s double doors. “It’s smelly David. Go home and take a shower, stinky.”

“Or can’t you afford the soap?” a crony said.

I knew what was going to happen next. At the time, I remember being filled with anger and not thinking. Reliving it now, though, my actions seemed calculated.

“Leave me alone,” I said, “or you’ll regret it!”

Randal got in my face. “How’s that?”

He grabbed my backpack and tried to take it from me. We tugged back and forth, and I managed to snatch it away from him. I swung the heavy pack around and smacked Randal in the side of the head. No one made a sound as he fell sideways down the stairs. I watched him tumble end over end. On the third step, I heard a loud snap, then another a few steps later. Near the bottom, a dull thunk. Randal was motionless, and his gang ran away. Blood leaked from his arm, and I could clearly see white bone poking out from his sleeve.

The school suspended me, but my parents weren’t even mad. Nothing I did ever really made them upset. I was allowed to play video games the whole time I was out of school, and my dad told me how proud he was to have a son who stood up to bullies. I pretended to soak up the praise, but I’d never felt more ashamed and afraid. I couldn’t stop seeing Randal’s broken arm when I closed my eyes. From that day on, though, the bullies picked on easier prey. The scene disappeared, and fourteen pairs of eyes bored into me.

“But,” I said, “he was a bully. He had it coming.”

“Did he now?” a judge said.

“Of course he did!” I said.

“He never tried to protect anyone else from the bullies,” the sibilant voice said.

“Was that his duty?” another judge asked.

“I was nine, dammit!” I said.

I wanted to lash out and deny what I was hearing. Randal had it coming, it wasn’t my fault he got hurt so bad. It wasn’t my fault that he took his anger out on kids younger and weaker than me. Except, it was my fault. I hadn’t intended for any of it to happen, but I had caused all of it. And then, I’d stood aside and let others suffer for the anger and resentment I’d created.

Something dropped into the empty pack on my back. I felt the impact, but once the weight settled, the bag didn’t feel any heavier.

“More,” the sibilant voice drawled. “I want to see more.”

I relived more scenes from my early life. Some I remembered, but most I didn’t. Every insignificant slight, or misdeed was examined. The judges were nearly apoplectic when the sibilant voice kept calling for more. Every episode ended with another tiny weight being added to my pack. The load was now uncomfortable.

“Enough,” a soft female voice said. “He has had enough.”

“You’re always too soft,” the sibilant judge said. “Too weak to judge.”

The judges broke into another round of arguments, and I started walking away. They didn’t try to stop me, and it made me wonder why I hadn’t left sooner.