Free Shadow Blade by Seressia Glass

Ma’at. The god Thoth stood nearby to record the result. In the shadows waited Ammit, the Devouress of the Dead. If the heart was heavier than Ma’at’s feather, Ammit—with the head of a crocodile, forequarters of a lion, and hindquarters of a hippopotamus—would devour the heart, ensuring that the dead would die a complete death.
    Kira stopped before the mural. Ma’at, her patroness, perched atop the scales to ensure their balance. Ma’at, with the curved white ostrich feather adorning her headdress, holding the scepter of rule in one hand and the ankh, the symbol of eternal life, in the other, the goddess who personified that which is right: Order, Truth—the things Kira desired most in life.
    Closing her eyes, Kira centered her being, clearing her mind, preparing herself to go before the goddess.
    On a soundless rush of air, the heavy panel pushed outward, then slid to the right, revealing her most private room. She called her extrasense, concentrating until it gathered in her right hand. Stepping inside the climate-controled space, she touched her hand to a spirit lantern waiting on a simple wooden pedestal beside the entrance. The pale blue light reflected and magnified against the concave mirror, spreading throughout the small chamber and slowly revealing its contents.
    A large black silk cushion lay in the center of the tiled floor. Before it stood an acacia table, not quite three feet high, ornately carved with hieroglyphs. Three objects sat atop it: a sistrum, a golden statuette of winged Ma’at, and a gilded mirror. Beyond the table were more objects precious to her, artifacts of ancient Egypt given to her as gifts, for safekeeping, for services rendered.
    She closed her eyes for a moment, letting the peace of the chamber settle into her pores. Her nights chasing Shadows always ended here, giving her a chance to purge her mind and soul in order to find solace in sleep. Most times it even worked.
    Keeping her mind carefully clear, Kira approached the table, bowed low, then sat cross-legged on the pillow. The mirror gleamed at her even in the pale light. The surface was as still and dark as a pit, though highly reflective. It was, for all intents and purposes, an ordinary mirror. Once her extrasense touched it, it became much more: an instrument that allowed her to communicate with her patroness and perform a modified version of the Weighing of the Heart.
    For the ancient Egyptians, the heart was the source of intellect and the center of personality, moral awareness, emotions, and memory. It was the heart that revealed a person’s true character.
    Every battle with Shadow, every brush with Chaos, left a minute trace, a shadow in Kira’s soul. It had been a gradual accumulation. She wouldn’t have noticed if it hadn’t been for a casual remark made by Bernie a handful of years ago—or perhaps, she now realized, not casual at all—about an unusual flash of yellow in the brown of her eyes. She’d known what it meant: she’d been tainted by Shadow. Never too much, never unchangeably. She always made her way back to the Light. Still, the changes were enough to make her worry, and she didn’t like to worry. Finding Balance helped.
    Tonight wasn’t about weighing her soul. She already knew it was heavy.
    Resting her fingertips on the mirror’s edge, she exhaled from deep in her belly. Her extrasense welled up, charging the mirror with a violet swirl of energy. The color faded but the energy remained; the Veil opened. She pulled the torn bloody fabric from her pocket and placed it on the silky black surface, fighting against falling through the Veil again. Successive touches usually didn’t have the same intensity, but a murder—particularly this type of murder—could linger.
    Her fingers shook as she smoothed out the pale cloth with its rusty brown spots. She shouldn’t have left Bernie. She should have stayed beside him until the Gilead team arrived. She should have tried to read more from him. She