[ There is a shattered thing inside of him, a chasm of agonizing doubt and pain. Something has torn itself to pieces within him, left him mad and bereft and barely clinging to the scraps of sanity and motivation. Injuries are both ancient and new, and her touch in their Communion is both a balm and something he has likely never felt before.

It does, however, feel like the way he would reach out to his own child. The way he yearns to hold Anubis in his arms and kiss his small hands, his fat fingers and palms until his child giggles and coos and looks at him with his beautiful, dark eyes that knew no lies or pain. He wants to return to his wife and son, he wants to go back. He cannot.

If he chooses Yima, he knows he will embrace his despair and fall into her arms for comfort. It will be like -- it will be like running away. ]

Let me try, [ he asks of this strange woman, who will not loathe him for his decision. ] I don't think you're wrong, Yima. I truly do not.

[ He was not made for good things, he knows now. He is a god of war. Fighting is in his nature, as much as disorder is. ]

You have my faith. But, I must go to my punishment, and keep my promise. If I fail in that -- you will have me.