She is not the only one to be drawn here. Not the only one which the gods choose to speak to. Other filter in. Had they been dead all this time too? Had they been reborn, to do as what was required by those far greater then themselves?

The last to come was a lioness. It was this one which the Egyptian bows to respectfuly as she speaks. رؤية باستيت. (Vision of Bastet.) She does not know this woman. Does not know if she speaks her words and knows her ways. Yet the respect is offered there anyhow, for the creature who wears the face of the gods. As herself, of Anubis.

There were a great many gods. Some much more powerful then others. Bastet was high among them.

Yet these greetings are quick and fleeting. Pulled by strings they were, twisting and turning through corridors, deep further and further into the heart of the gods temple. Eventually, she comes to a sit, her body feeling like jello, her head spinning. Her movements were not her own. The chill touched her soul. The ceiling glows. And then - leave, run and so the puppet does. Those who had come along with her long forgotten in the face of her new life's mission.