Excerpt of Ghost of the Nile by Veronica Scott

Periseneb had no idea how many years he’d been wandering
in the gray lands of the Afterlife. Time had no meaning
here. For time unending he’d done battle with monsters
and demons, experiencing neither pain nor emotion,
despite the horrific combat, until a startling moment
when he felt pavement underfoot, not shifting gray sand.
Raising his head with a rare flicker of curiosity,
Periseneb found himself in a tunnel, walking toward an
illuminated room. Radiance and warmth from a golden light
beckoned him onward. He slowed and then stopped, fighting
the tug of the summons bringing him here. Whatever was
about to happen, he wouldn’t go as a supplicant.

I was a warrior.

He straightened his shoulders.

One of Pharaoh’s own guards.

He tightened the leather straps of his breastplate and
drew his sword, intent on facing this new challenge as
he’d lived, with pride.

Jaw set, eyes focused on the light ahead, Periseneb
marched forward resolutely, braced by the discipline he’d
learned in his life as a soldier.

He crossed the threshold into the chamber, his steps
faltering at the sight of the deity waiting for him. But
then, who had he expected? He was too lowly a shade for
Isis or Osiris to bother with. Standing at attention, he
saluted. “Lady Ma’at.”

Calm smile on her face, the Great One, goddess of truth,
nodded to him. Taller than he, dressed in a finely
pleated red sheath, the goddess was imposing. Her
expertly painted face was accented by the towering red
ostrich feather in her hair, and her expression could
only be deemed welcoming. Eyebrows raised, eyes gleaming,
she inspected him from head to toe as a commanding
officer might.

He assessed the room with a glance, hope dying as quickly
as it had sprung. Ma’at was alone. Neither of the other
two judges, Anubis and Thoth, was present. Their chairs
sat empty. The most dreaded occupant of the judging
chamber was, thankfully, not paying any attention to him.
As grotesque as the depictions of her hinted, the beast
Ammit, Destroyer of Souls, slept snoring in a corner.
Claws curled possessively, one hideous cheetah forepaw
was draped over a gleaming human thigh bone. She
snuffled, long pink tongue scraping the sharp crocodile
teeth in her jaws, while her hippopotamus hind legs
kicked in some dream. Repressing a shudder, Periseneb
averted his eyes.

“I’m not here for my heart to be judged at long last, am
I?” His voice sounded rusty to his ears.

“No indeed, Periseneb. The laws of the Afterlife haven’t
changed—you can’t receive judgment, since none did you
honor at the time of your death. No one performed even
the tiniest ritual from the Book of the Dead on your
behalf. You’ve no tomb, although your bones do lie in the
soil of the Black Lands.” Ma’at’s voice was soft, her
eyes misty with tears, apparently for him. “A paltry
blessing, I know. I’m sorry.”