“Then follow me,” Nephthys demanded cryptically, leaving no quarter for further inquiries.
Isis took to the sky, trailing after her sister as a million questions surfaced in her mind. Can it be true? Is it possible that Osiris is still within my reach? Nephthys flew swiftly, and Isis was surprised when Mount Babel came into view. When Isis angled toward the base of the mountain, Nephthys banked until she drew close to her sister. Taking hold of her hand, she said, “The stars allow me passage now. If you hold on to me, the path will be clear.”
The sisters alit on the pinnacle of the mountain in the exact spot where Isis had woven her spell—the place she now held sacred, where she’d united with Osiris not a day before.
Nephthys knelt on the surface of the great adder stone and tucked her wings behind her back, indicating for Isis to follow suit. Gently, she pried open her sister’s hand and scooped the sand into a small pile between them, shaping it so that it had four sides and rose to a peak in the middle, forming a pyramid. “Do you have his true name?” Nephthys asked.
Isis nodded.
“Then we will use it to summon him back from the Waters of Chaos. Cast a spell, sister,” she urged. “Create a body for him from his dusty remains. The power of the cosmos will light the pyramid from within, and when it does, use your memory of him to shape his new form. Then, when we are ready, we will use his true name to guide him to it and your shared hearts will reunite.”
Isis began weaving the spell. She’d never done one like it before, and it took several attempts, but at last the cosmos responded. Light bloomed within the sand as she chanted, and her spell became a song. It was rich and full of the love she felt for Osiris. Music was such an important part of him that singing the spell felt right.
Nephthys joined her voice to her sister’s, and to Isis’s delight, she heard the echo of Osiris’s heartbeat. It was almost too faint even for her to hear, but it gave her hope. Hours passed as the women sang, and the sand shifted in response. It stretched and pulsed, forming the vague outline of a man, and then her song carved the planes of his chest, his strong arms, and finally, the angles of his handsome face.
When the grains settled and the light dissipated, she saw that the framework of her husband was perfect down to the last tiny detail, but he was not breathing. Instead of flesh and bone, the sand had hardened into polished stone, and she could not sense that his heart was any nearer than it had been when she started.
Collapsing, Isis panted. “What did I do wrong?” she besought.
“Nothing. We’ll just need some help for the next step.”
Seeing Isis slouching in defeat, Nephthys squeezed her sister’s hands then let go and stood. “Rest for a time. I will fetch Anubis. He will bake the stone with the fires of immortality and then the form will take on flesh.”
When Isis reached desperately for her sister, taking hold of her arm, Nephthys understood the reason. “I will only bring Anubis, I promise you.”
Isis nodded, now left alone with the burnished replica of her husband. Osiris’s hands were folded across his chest and his eyes were closed. She curved her body over his, brushing away some lingering grains of sand from his cheek and trailing her fingertips over the hard line of his jaw. She longed for him to wake, to wrap her in his arms and assure her that he wouldn’t leave her again.
Isis.
She jerked and realized she must have been sleeping, slumped over his likeness for a time. Had he tried to contact her?
Pressing her hands to the bronzed face, she spoke. “Can you hear me, husband?” she asked, full of bright-eyed, desperate anticipation. “Osiris?” she called. There was no answer.
A lone tear splashed onto his chest, and Isis swiped at her eyes. When she looked down at the spot where it had fallen, she gasped. The wet spots on his chest and bare shoulder had become warm, and the color changed to match Osiris’s own golden bronze tone. But to her disappointment, she watched as the soft spot she stroked with her thumb slowly changed back to polished stone. Try as she might, she could not replicate the miracle.
When Nephthys returned, Anubis just behind her, Isis spoke excitedly of her discovery.
“There is power in your tears, sister. Your connection to Osiris has allowed a teardrop to form from the Waters of Chaos.” Nephthys stepped aside, indicating Anubis should take her place. “Unfortunately, not even you could muster enough tears to give his form flesh.” Nephthys put her hand on Anubis’s shoulder. “You know what to do,” she told him.
“I have never done this before,” he said. “There’s no precedent.”
“Just because it hasn’t been done before does not mean such a thing is impossible,” she replied. “Allow the stars to guide you.” Nephthys remained unwavering even as he gave her a doubt-filled look.
Crouching down, Anubis placed a hand on Isis’s arm. “I’ll do what I can, goddess.”
“Thank you,” Isis whispered, and shifted back to give him room.
Anubis began chanting. His words resonated with power as he rebuked drought and darkness, storms and chaos—all the things Osiris was the antithesis of. While he did so, Isis fidgeted, clamping her hands together, pinching her lips, and fluttering her wings in a rhythmic pattern, as if to soothe the anguish she felt. When the fire took hold of Osiris’s form, she stood back. The heat of a thousand suns blazed, baking him, and through the flames, Isis saw the polished stone melt into soft flesh.
“It worked,” Anubis said with delight. When he lowered his hands, the flames banked and extinguished, but the flesh began to change back to stone in the same manner it had when Isis’s tear dried. Anubis lifted his arms again to bring back the flame. When it dissipated, his arms shook. “You’ll have to hurry,” he said. “Seth’s power continues to unmake him.”
“Only when the breath of life returns and he is in command of his body again can you let go of the immortal flame,” Nephthys explained. Then she urged, “Call him, sister. Now that he is flesh, the path is clear. Bid him return and graft his true self to this new body.”
“Osiris, my love,” Isis cried. “My heart calls to you. Come back to me. I summon you. Traverse the cosmos. Find me!”
Isis knelt, ignoring the heat of his body, and placed her palms on Osiris’s chest. Closing her eyes, she leaned over, relishing the feel of his soft hair against her cheek, and whispered his true name in his ear. Immediately she felt a jolt in her heart, and the piece of him that resided with her responded.
“He comes!” Nephthys shouted.