BEAUTY AND THE BEAST

Chapter 1: The Altar of Death

In the shadowy realms of the underworld, where the line between life and death blurred into a mist of forgotten memories, Anubis stood silently. His jackal eyes gleamed with an eternal vigilance, ears attuned to the ceaseless cries of souls. Many souls passed through his care, their journeys guided by the god who watched over the dead. But there were some whose screams rose above the others, desperate, angry, and unwilling to move on. These were not the usual mournful whispers—they were howls, echoing like wolves in the night, suffused with bitterness and regret.

Anubis turned towards these souls, drawn by the intensity of their wails. He moved through the fog of the afterlife and found them—a tormented group, once proud, now broken. They were the souls of those sacrificed to the Minotaur, victims sent unwillingly into the labyrinthine prison, their lives snuffed out to appease a monstrous creature born of the gods' wrath. Their suffering lingered even in death, their hearts aflame with the desire for vengeance.

They wailed as they crowded around Anubis, voices filled with a sorrow so deep it seemed to shake the underworld itself.

"We will not pass into the afterlife!" they cried. "We were taken too soon, butchered for the whims of a king and fed to the Minotaur! Let us return! Let us take revenge!"

Anubis regarded them with solemn eyes, his voice a low rumble in the dim light.

"Your time has come, and you must cross into the afterlife. It is not your place to return to the world of the living."

But the souls would not relent, their fury swelling with each passing moment.

"We will not rest until the King and the Minotaur are dragged to the Valley of the Dead! Let us claim our revenge, or let us rot here for eternity!"

Anubis knew their pain, felt their rage. Their deaths had been unjust, sacrifices made in the name of fear and power. Yet, as the god of death, he was bound by the sacred laws. Life and death were not his to command, and he could not meddle in the affairs of the living or the dead beyond his charge. Dragging the Minotaur to the afterlife was beyond his reach, for such a task would disturb the balance of the realms, and that was forbidden, even for him.

"Your cries will not be ignored," Anubis finally said, his deep voice heavy with the weight of divine knowledge.

"But I cannot bring the Minotaur to you. The gods have ordained that each being's fate is their own."

The souls were inconsolable, their anger rising like a storm. They pleaded, begged, their voices growing hoarse from their demands. At last, Anubis relented—not in breaking the laws, but in offering them hope.

"I cannot bring the Minotaur to you, but I shall go to him," he declared. "I will descend to the mortal world, not as a god, but as one of them—a young man, one who will willingly offer himself to the labyrinth. I will find the Minotaur, and I will decide whether the time has come for him to meet the fate you so desire."

The souls fell silent, their cries of rage replaced by a tense, expectant stillness. Anubis, with the approval of the gods, prepared to walk among the living once more. He would enter the human world, not as the guardian of souls, but as bait for the beast that had claimed so many lives. Cloaked in the guise of a mortal man, he would offer himself as a sacrifice, just as the Athenians had done before him.

And so, Anubis stepped from the underworld, the cries of the wailing souls still echoing in his ears. His mission clear, he walked towards the labyrinth, where the Minotaur awaited, unaware that a god was coming to face him, not for judgment—but for justice.