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(Y/N) ran towards the house and forced the front door open, not paying any mind to the display of what the memory was about in the reflection of the door. Marc and Steven followed behind her like a dog following its prey, not wanting to lose her out of their sight, especially with that unreadable look in her face.

The alarm they heard before stopped blaring after (Y/N) walked through the door. Marc thought she just wanted to revisit a loving family memory and that's why she was so silent as he and Steven walked through the door too, but that wasn't what he was received by.

(Y/N) stood frozen by the entrance of the house, hands playing with each other nervously while her eyes flickered through the several people inside the house. When Steven noticed the scene, he too felt tense, remembering what he saw earlier today and the uncomfortable reaction (Y/N) had when her eyes set on it. Marc, on the other hand, didn't comprehend a single thing, and based on their reactions, he doubted it was any good.

(Y/N)'s feet dragged her into the living room of the home, Marc and Steven hot on her heels. She kept admiring the sight of her old home like it was made out of gold, all of her bad and good memories carved into the walls.

Malania was busying herself in the kitchen, her back against the three pairs of eyes that were staring at her from behind. The woman was too distracted in her own duties to even pay attention to the sound shoes squeaking through the house.

"Omm," (Y/N) whispered under her breath in Arabic, resentment dripping in her voice.

The door from where the trio came from opened again, a call from a masculine voice alerting Malania from her spot. She dusted herself off and whirled on her heel to greet Omar as he walked right past Marc, Steven and (Y/N) to smile at his wife.

"Baba," (Y/N) mumbled again, ignoring the glances Marc was giving her way.

Malania and Omar didn't greet each other with a kiss, instead, they just embraced in a sort of uncomfortable hug just before pulling away as fast as the action started. When Malania pulled away, she noticed something poking out of her husband's bag and her eyes flickered to him with a cold expression.

"What's this?" she asked, gesturing to the object poking from his bag. Omar's eyes widened when he realized she'd spotted it.

"Nothing — Just something for the kids," he winced at his excuse and saw how Malania grabbed it to inspection it.

It looked like a classic VHS tape, an old movie for a family to enjoy on a night, but the cover of the tape was what caught Steven's attention the most. 'Tomb Busters', it read out, the name sounded peculiarly familiar, though only Marc was the one to remember it.

Malania eyed her husband after staring at the tape. "I don't want my kids watching this none sense!"

"It's a silly movie, it's good for their age. It's one of (Y/N)'s favorites," Omar tried to defend with a tired tone. "Can we please not do this today, Malania? I didn't have the best luck back at 'work'."

"Oh, how surprising," Malania scoffed with a roll of her eyes. "If I'd taken your place instead, everything would be done already."

Omar lowered his voice to speak in Arabic. "It's not that simple. For something this ancient, we — "

Their conversation was cut off short when the loud sound of shoes stomping into the kitchen caught their attention, Rami and little (Y/N) running up to their parents to greet their father happily, the youngest being completely oblivious to the argument beforehand.

"In English, baba! You said we were learning English this week for movie night!" Rami exclaimed and nearly jumped onto his father's arms.

The young (Y/N) that was running behind her little brother had droopy and tired eyes along with strange marks and bruises all over her arms. Neither of them hurt anymore, but that didn't mean they were painful every time she stared at them in the mirror.

"Rami, (Y/N)," Omar greeted his children happily, any sign of anger disappearing at the sight of them. He leaned down and ruffled their hair enthusiastically, making them let out groans of protest.

Malania cleared her throat to gesture Omar to get a move on before moving back into the kitchen to fix dinner. Rami and (Y/N) waited for their father's instruction to sit back at the living room couch and start their traditional movie night.

"All right, (Y/N)," Omar pulled the box filled with several VHS tapes stacked in it and gestured his daughter forward. "It's your time to pick."

(Y/N) inspected the box and frowned, turning to Omar. "My pick isn't here."

"I forgot. I put it in a special place for extra safekeeping," Omar excused since he nearly forgot that Malania had removed the tape from his bag and he quickly stretched his hand out to grab it, nodding his head at Rami.

"Don't look," Rami joked to help his dad and covered his sister's eyes as she laughed along.

Rami removed his hands out of (Y/N)'s eyes and Omar now held the tape in his hands, a grin plastered in his face because he knew how annoyed Malania must be at the moment. He told the kids to sit back on the couch with him and they relaxed as the intro of the film rolled in.

Malania reluctantly sat back in the couch besides her husband after finishing dinner, and (Y/N), for a first time after a tough week, laughed along as the movie started.

Her smile was widening by every change of scenes that happened throughout the movie and neither did Steven or Marc comprehend why (Y/N) looked so scared to enter this memory in the first place, since everything looked well.

But those thoughts were put on hold when a loud and ground shaking explosion went off right through the house, knocking young (Y/N) forward as the ground and walls collapsed all around her and her family.

"Oh, God," Steven gasped and cupped his hands on his mouth while (Y/N) didn't dare to move a muscle.

Marc hesitantly reached out to place a hand on her shoulder and rub it up and down, his eyes warming when he swore he saw how (Y/N) leaned an inch closer to his touch.

"They — " Steven thought his next words through. "Did you made it out?"

(Y/N) laughed drily, it wasn't out of humor, it was out of pure spite. "I wasn't that lucky," she told him. "My parents, Rami, neither of them survived the explosion. But somehow I did."

The scene in front of the trio was a terrifying sight. The once warm and welcoming home was turned into a rubble and dust filled space, dark corners all around as the pieces of the collapsed house creaked as some still held some sort of protection above (Y/N)'s head instead of falling all over her small body.

Her whimpers of fear were audible and she blinked a couple times to regain her consciousness, not paying any mind to her injuries but moving into her brother's unconscious form right beside her.

"Rami?" she called weakly. "Come on, we have to get out."

There was no response, and she shook his body to wake him up but when she reached out to secure his head, her palm got stained with a red substance, the same that covered her parents's bodies a few feet away from her.

"Did you know who caused the explosion?" Steven questioned carefully.

"No. My father had a lot of enemies, I always guessed it was one of them who succeeded in their plan," (Y/N) answered honestly. "I didn't have no one else to confirm it or not so I thought that was the only answer."

"(Y/N)," Marc called her name out softly to distract her from the sight. He knew how hard it was to recall those memories you try too hard to dig in, and he wanted to aid her in it.

But before she could speak to respond to his call, a rumble shook the weak structure where they were standing, just as (Y/N) remembered the day happened. The fallen building creaked and this alarmed the trio, who didn't know where else to go.

The structure creaked once again before it gave up on its weight and crumbled all around them, Marc, (Y/N) and Steven all bracing for an impact or somehow waiting for some of the rubble to fall on them when they were knocked off their feet and fell on what seemed to be a bed of sand.

(Y/N) dusted the sand in her clothes and her eyes glanced all around her, the place she was standing in being completely different to the house they were back a few minutes ago. It looked like they were on the outside in the middle of the desert, pitch black darkness all around them with not even the moon to illuminate.

"Get off me!" Steven'a voice rang through her ears as he pushed back to remove himself from Marc's grip and urged forward to aid (Y/N) up to her feet as she continued to dust herself off.

Steven finally took a look at the scenery. "Where the hell are we now?"

The look on Marc's face meant it was no good, a sense of guilt flushing his eyes entirely. (Y/N) saw how smoke was coming out from afar but the one thing that made her and Steven stop was the several corpses all thrown across the sand. Tents and boxes were around them, but everything looked to be abandoned because there was no sign of life besides the three watching the memory.

"Oh, God," Steven eyed the place and Marc slowly stood up from the sand with that look never leaving his eyes. "Harrow said you were a mercenary. That you killed hostages."

"And you believe that?" Marc asked seriously.

"Yeah. Wouldn't put it past you," Steven answered with no hesitation, not seeing the way Marc's shoulders dropped at that.

(Y/N) kept walking towards the rest of the bodies on the sand, some having their eyes open because of the shock and others held their eyes closed like they were taking a nap.

"Turns out going AWOL in a fugue state gets you discharged from the military," Marc began explaining, being left behind. "Didn't have a ton of options after that, so I went work-for-hire for my old CO Bushman."

"The job was to raid an Egyptian tomb," he continued. "But Bushman changed the plan, called for no witnesses, and I couldn't live with that."

(Y/N) tried to not focus on the bodies that much but then she recognized a familiar scarf laying around the neck of one of them, the symbol of a scarab sewed into a part of the red scarf. She instantly knew who it belonged to, she recalled how she even helped her friend in finishing the gift.

"Is that?" Steven frowned too, eyeing the body.

"Doctor El-Faouly," (Y/N) finished in a shaky voice. "Layla's dad."

Abdullah El-Faouly had been there for her ever since the death of her family, aiding her with a home where she could stay for the meanwhile until she found a place to live. The fact that (Y/N) was now seeing his body after losing him a long time ago was sick and gave her a twisted feeling in her stomach.

(Y/N) turned back to look at Marc, once again another secret being hidden from her and Layla, who deserved to know more out of the two of them, but when she saw the immense guilt and regret drowning his eyes, she didn't know what to say.

"I tried to get them all away," Marc said. "But we didn't make it. Clearly."

(Y/N) wanted to know more. "What happened to you?"

Marc didn't utter a verbal response and pointed towards the Egyptian tomb not that far away from the fallen tents and the desert cemetery. A trail of blood mixed with sand led all the way to the entrance of the tomb, marks of a body being dragged along the sand showing in the sand. (Y/N) noticed Marc's slight discomfort and tried to offer the same type of reassurance he gave her back at the house.

Steven, Marc and herself all entered the tomb to see the trail of blood growing larger until they spotted a younger, weak and fragile Marc Spector dragging himself up into the staircase of the tomb to support himself up and finally remove the hand that was restraining his wound out. It was completely drenched in blood as well as his arms and forehead, mixing in with the sand and sweat that too covered his body.

The Marc from the staircase groaned loudly and held the gun in his hand tightly, placing the barrel of it below his chin while taking deep breaths. The sight of him was overwhelming that (Y/N) tried to look away until she saw the statue right above him and connected the dots. The statue standing above Marc was no other than Khonshu's, the bird beak and the crescent moon staff being his most recognizable features.

"What a waste," Khonshu's powerful voice rang through the tomb.

Marc froze and lowered the gun. "Huh?"

"I feel the pain inside of you," Khonshu spoke again. "Ah. Hmm."

"What the hell are you?" Marc asked into the air.

"I am the god Khonshu, in search of a warrior."

"A warrior," Marc scoffed a laugh. "Well, good luck with that."

"To be my hands, my eyes, my vengeance," Khonshu explained in his booming voice. "To be my final word against the evildoers. To bind your very being to me and eradicate only the worst, those who deserve it. Do you want death or do you want life?"

"I don't know," Marc stared at his bloodied hands, too much conflict inside a poor man.

"Your mind, I feel it. Fractured. Broken," Khonshu said with awe. "Most fascinating."

"You are a worthy candidate to serve me during this time. In exchange for your life, do you swear to protect the travelers of the night and bring my vengeance to those who would do them harm?"

"That sneaky old vulture," Steven breathed out, his eyes never moving from the scene. "He was manipulating you from the start."

"Yeah, well, he kept us alive," Marc argued weakly.

(Y/N) couldn't believe he said that. Khonshu had really made his life a living hell. "But at what cost?"

"Marc, he was taking advantage of you," Steven backed her up.

"Or it was just a way for me to keep being what I've always been," Marc never removed his eyes from his other self on the floor. "A killer."

After not receiving a straight up answer, Khonshu repeated his question once again. "Do you swear to protect the travelers of the night and bring my vengeance to those who would do them harm?"

Marc swallowed. "Yes."

"Look," Steven pointed behind Marc's shoulder, and (Y/N)'s eyes set on the Scales slowly turning to a stop, her and the boys' hearts all placed on one side. "The Scales. Have we done it? Have we balanced them?"

"Then rise," Khonshu's voice interrupted again, and (Y/N) turned back to see what was happening.

Marc's eyes began to glow into that familiar white color and the mummy wraps began to cover his arms and chest before completely enveloping him, the chest plate with the crescent moon being part of the last details. The energy flowed through Marc's body and he was finally able to stand on his knees instead of leaning against the staircase, the mask and hood covering his head entirely to transform him into his avatar.

"Rise and live again. As my fist of vengeance," Khonshu announced. "As my Moon Knight."

The sound of creatures screeching right behind her made (Y/N) remove her eyes from the scene in front of her and look behind her shoulder to check where was the noise coming from, and the confusion rising to Steven's features meant that he was also hearing them too.

"Are those. . ."

"Come on, Marc. Let's go."

The trio ran back to the outside of the ship that was sailing them through the Egyptian Underworld, the sight of the goddess Taweret still surprising to (Y/N) even though she had already seen her before. The sky was still an illuminating purple and orange, but that didn't seem to be any reassuring because of the way Taweret was eyeing the sand worriedly.

"Taweret, what's going on?" Steven asked first.

Monkey creatures were running through the edges of the boat while crying out, strikes of purple light were dropping into the sand like an unusual rain and Taweret looked back to answer his question with an uneasy look.

"Fear is spreading in the upper world," Taweret explained. "Unbalanced souls are being judged or condemned to the sands before their time. Oh, this is bad. This is evil."

"Harrow," Marc muttered under his breath.

"You see why we have to go back?" Steven urged, looking up to the hippo goddess.

"Even if I could send you back up there, you'd just be returning to a body with a bullet in it. You wouldn't be able to heal."

"Can you send a word to Layla?" (Y/N) suggested, thinking it was the only way until now, even if she didn't like it very much.

"Please," Steven pleaded. "Help us free Khonshu."

"Are you sure you want to be with Khonshu again?" Taweret asked with deep curiosity, looking at Marc in particular. "Seems like you really want to get away from him."

"I did, but this is our only shot," Marc answered confidently. "It's the way it's gotta be."

"Please, Taweret you have to help us," Steven didn't back down, and (Y/N) knew that if someone was going to be successful in convincing a god, it would be him. "Please."

Taweret paused for a second before shaking her head. "What the heck?"

She stomped over to the row of the boat and held on it tightly. "Osiris is not going to like this, but his gate is the only path back."

With all of her strength, she redirected the boat to turn back around with the row and the strong impact nearly knocked (Y/N) off her feet. Taweret kept her paws on the row and turned back to face her and the boys with a desperate eye.

"Get back inside! You don't have long," she reminded. "Get those Scales balanced."

i used google translate for the words in arabic so please correct me if they're wrong, i would appreciate it <3

-see you soon, bex