In a whirlwind of nauseous darkness, Disease and I were flung from the Throne Room.
The ground rumbled and stilled. Laughter rattled in Her chest, through the perpetual grin of Her horse's skull. I opened my eyes.
A long, dim, wood-paneled room. Wasted, dark-ey(more)ed women and children seated around a table laid with every sinful thing to eat.
I turned to Disease. Her rasp reverberated inside my head.
She gestured with Her whole curvaceous, nude body toward the table.
The women and children didn't look up at me as I stepped toward the table. I sat gingerly, careful not to muss my dress, aware that She was watching.
The women and children sat eyeing the heaping, steaming plates before them. None of them moved to grasp the gleaming forks lying on thick napkins.
I reached for mine, my stomach clenching with hunger. A tremor rattled the crystal glasses on the table.
Silence, as my fork parted the folds of an espresso-cream layer cake.
Eyes flicked up to me as I opened my lips to taste, finally, after years on the scales, weighing myself against Anubis's feather-
A flutter on my tongue. A skitter in my belly. Fork quivering, stilled.
Something crawled out of my mouth, down my neck and arm. A cockroach.
And then my mouth was filled backwards, as waves of cockroaches scuttled and poured out, climbing over one another, dropping egg sacs in the crevasses of my teeth in their frenzy to vacate the sullied vessel. They swarmed the table, devouring everything. The women and children watched soundlessly, until only bones and desire remained on the platters. Without a word, they began to cram the insects into their mouths, crunching, licking their fingers.
Disease clapped Her hands and brayed.