Cleo's body trembles with a mixture of exhaustion and urgency, her limbs heavy and weakened from the mental onslaught she endured. As she tumbles onto the ground, a cloud of dust billows around her, swirling in the air like a phantom veil. Coughing violently, she expels clumps of sand from her lungs, each gasp for breath a painful reminder of the supernatural forces that had ensnared her mind.

Marc, his heart pounding in his chest, rushes to her side, his eyes wide with concern and disbelief. He kneels beside her, his hands trembling as he gently grasps her arms, searching for any sign of injury or distress.

"Cleo... what the hell just happened?" He asks, his voice filled with a mix of fear and confusion, "Are you alright?"

Cleo nods, her voice rough and strained.

"It's Anubis," She manages to say, her words laced with exhaustion, "He had me trapped... We need to get away from here, Marc. We need to go."

"Then let's go," Marc repeats, his voice determined, ready to face whatever challenges lie ahead.

But as he attempts to rise and take a step forward, Cleo's grip tightens on his arms, her fingers digging into his skin. Her eyes, filled with a mix of desperation and resolve, lock onto his, holding him in place.

"There's something... something I need to tell you," She starts, her voice quivering with urgency, "Your deal with Khonshu... it isn't over. He still has you in servitude."

Marc's world comes crashing down around him, his mind reeling at the revelation. Fear grips his heart like a vise, squeezing tighter with each passing second. He can feel his body trembling, his breath coming in rapid gasps, as his mind struggles to process the weight of Cleo's words.

"What?" He breathes, his voice barely above a whisper, "No, no, no, no... that's not possible. It can't be... it's over. My deal, it ended. You hear me? I'm not his fist of justice anymore!"

But even as he speaks, doubt begins to seep into the depths of his being. The memories of his time as Khonshu's vessel, the pain and the sacrifices, resurface with vivid clarity. The weight of his past actions presses upon him, threatening to crush his spirit.

Marc's breath grows labored, his chest rising and falling in erratic patterns. Panic sets in, his mind spinning in a vortex of disbelief and terror. The walls of reality seem to close in around him, suffocating his senses.

Cleo's gaze softens, her heart aching for the torment he is experiencing. She knows the darkness that lurks within him, the scars that mark his soul. But she also sees the spark of resilience, the flicker of strength buried beneath the layers of doubt

As she watches him fall to his knees, Cleo goes down with him, watching his chest rise up and down in a flutter of mystery.

" Marc, Marc, baby, listen to me," She softly yet sternly utters, " It's all gonna be okay. Everything will be okay, I promise... But right now I need you to fight with me."

As she speaks, the trauma and horrors from Marc's memories echo in his mind, whispering seeds of dread and combining with Cleo's voice.

" Marc?"

" What a waste."

" Marc, honey. Please."

" Do you want life, or do you want death?"

" Steve? Marc?"

" Rise and live again."

" I need you."

" As my fist of vengeance."

" Marc, please!"

" As my Moon Knight."

But Marc hits his breaking point. His fractured mind breaks all over again, swarming his body with buzzing bees and liquid death. He feels his body shut down and shudder all at once. He releases a cry, a scream, one eerily similar to Steven's all those years ago... when Layla pressed him the same way Cleo is now.

" No, no, no! No, I can't do it, I can't do it!" Marc exclaims.

The voice of Khonshu haunts him as he crumbles underneath the weight of the moon itself. He feels the God's breath down his spine, one that has only ever brought chaos into his life.

" It's okay, it's okay," Cleo gently reassures as she instantly wraps her arms around him, " I'm sorry, I'm sorry. I'm so sorry."

But the wooden door being slammed shut gives Cleo pause. Her head turns and her eyes see sand leaking through the slats of the old wood. She feels the world above shake and trembles. She feels the sand vibrate and sees the walls begin to crumble all around her.

It all somehow fits together.

This was never about a group of archaeologists reaching out to Cleo because of her skill... this was all about Anubis. All along... it was all just meant to bring her here, within the mangey claws of the God of Death.

With a deep and heavy sigh, Cleo gently presses a kiss to Marc's head, as if saying she'll handle this. She removes her arms from around his body and stands up on her two feet. The Eye of Horus tattoo on her arm glows as bright as the sun. She summons the armor around her body, manifesting it all into existence with her golden sword sheathed at her side.

The cave around her is on the brink of being destroyed. The walls echo the maniacal laughter of the jackal-headed God as the barking of the dogs returns to her eyes, meant to scare her and taunt her. And though Cleo's jaw may tremble, her heart beats strong as her fingertips bleed sand.

She steadies her breath, using the same techniques she taught to her puzzle pieces as she closes her eyes. She takes a breath in and a breath out, to steady her heartbeat and to calm her mind.

The sand that lives and breathes inside Cleo is what allows her to feels each and every single grain of sand within the cave. She feels the sandstone walls and lose grain on the floor. She feels the ceiling begging to drop and aching in its place. Cleo releases one, elongated breath, and with it, a swirling bustle of sand.

With her eyes still squeezed shut, her hands slowly open, palms facing the floor as she begins to feel the true strength of the cave. It threatens to drown them both. It threatens to bury Cleo in a mound of sand. She groans as it weighs her down. Her muscles tighten and tense up as her jaw clenches. Her nostrils flare as her brows furrow and show the wrinkles on her forehead.

Each and every second that passes puts more and more weight onto Cleo's body. She feels as though she has the entire world resting on her shoulders... and even then she musters even more strength.

Her knees ache and tremble as she forces herself to stand strong, her breath coming out in heavy pants as her flared hands extend outwards to reverse the movement of the grains of sand. Instead of falling down, the sand ever so slowly changes directions and begins crawling up, as if independent from gravity itself.

As the sand defies gravity and crawls upwards, Cleo's eyes snap open, now shimmering with an otherworldly light. The cave trembles in response, the very laws of nature bending to her will. She becomes a conduit for the raw power of the desert, channeling its energy with unwavering focus.

The swirling sand spirals around Cleo, forming a protective barrier that envelops her in a vortex of golden particles. Her skin glows with an ethereal radiance as she becomes one with the sand, her being infused with the ancient essence of her ancestors. The Eye of Horus tattoo on her arm pulsates with a renewed intensity, resonating with the divine energy coursing through her veins.

With a surge of might, Cleo raises her arms, commanding the sand to her bidding. The walls of the cave groan in protest, the sound drowned out by the wicked laughter of Anubis that echoes through the air. But Cleo refuses to yield. She draws upon the deepest reserves of her strength, knowing that she must protect herself and Marc and Steven at any cost.

The sand responds to her command, moving with a fluidity that defies explanation. It weaves intricate patterns in the air, solidifying into a shield that encompasses Cleo. The walls that threatened to crumble now hold steadfast, reinforced by the very force they sought to unleash. The barking of the dogs grows distant, their taunts silenced by the sheer might of Cleo's power.

With her sanctuary secured, Cleo's focus narrows. She sets her gaze on the wooden door that had sealed their fate, now splintering under the strain of the sand's relentless pressure. The barrier between her and Anubis weakens, and she knows that the time has come to confront the god who has plagued her existence.

One arm lifts up, followed by the other. Cleo's hands control every inch and every grain of sand within the cave. Her mouth opens as she releases an unrelenting battle cry, using all of her might and all of her strength to break the barrier between the world above and the cave below. In a flash, an explosion sends stone and sand alike flying in all directions, effectively creating a way out for those who are trapped.

Marc's feeble state renders him nearly useless. He's grabbed by his Cleo, who tucks him under her arm as she drags them both to safety, using an outstretched hand to create a makeshift set of stairs in the sand.

Each step feels like an eternity as Cleo fights against the heaviness of Marc's body, her muscles straining with the weight of their shared burden.

As they ascend, Cleo's eyes never waver from the path ahead. The sand staircase coils and twists, leading them through narrow passageways and steep inclines. It seems as though the very desert itself is guiding them to safety, its ancient wisdom pulsating through Cleo's veins. She can feel the presence of Anubis looming behind them, a constant reminder of the danger that pursues them.

With each passing moment, the sand staircase grows sturdier and more stable, defying the laws of physics with its unwavering support. Cleo's grip on Marc tightens, her fingers leaving imprints on his arm as she propels them forward. Sweat beads on her brow, but she pushes through the physical and mental exhaustion, her determination unwavering.

Finally, the staircase reaches its zenith, emerging from the depths of the cave into the open air. Sunlight cascades down upon Cleo and Marc, casting a warm golden glow over their weary bodies. They stumble onto solid ground, gasping for breath as they savor the taste of freedom.

But their respite is short-lived. Waiting for them at the exit of the cave are the pawns of Anubis, his loyal minions who serve as a final barrier between Cleo and the god of death. Their eyes glow with an unholy fire, their bodies twisted and contorted by dark magic.

There faces, once familiar archaeologists, now grim and dreadful pawns of Anubis. Their stench penetrates her nostrils, nearly making Cleo gag as she inhales the scent of wet dog all over again. It brings the maddening sound of the barking dogs back to the forefront of her mind, making her throat go dry as she feels the impending doom return. She feels the cold grasp of Anubis curl around her body, as if attempting to bring her down one last time.

It isn't until she hears Marc's shakey breath does she snap out of it. Her eyes widen as her head turns, landing on the man she loves, on his knees, eyes staring off into the distance, his mind elsewhere. He's trapped in a place she's all too familiar with. He's trapped within his own mind, unable to make heads or tails of it. Marc's brain fires all of it's warning sounds all at once, making his nerves burn bright with anxiety and fear. It's as if he's numb, yet feeling everything all at the same time.

Cleo's fists curl at her side, stones forming in the sand as her anger bubbles. Anubis not only threatens her, but threatens her puzzle pieces as well.

Her fight now may be with the God of Death... but her next is with the God of the Moon, the one who dares to make her loves suffer like they do now.

With a battle cry that shatters the silence of the desert, Cleo charges forward, her heart pounding in her chest. The sand beneath her feet ripples and shifts, responding to the power coursing through her veins. It propels her forward with incredible speed, as if the very desert itself has become her ally.

The first pawn, a twisted figure with glowing eyes and jagged-edged dagger, lunges at Cleo with malicious intent. But she anticipates the attack with uncanny precision, her body moving with the fluidity of a dancer. She sidesteps the blade effortlessly, her movements a graceful dance of evasion.

In one seamless motion, Cleo unsheathes her golden sword, the metal gleaming in the desert sun. The air crackles with energy as her blade slashes through the atmosphere, leaving streaks of shimmering light in its wake. Each strike is a calculated masterpiece, executed with deadly accuracy.

The pawns of Anubis, their bodies twisted by dark magic, struggle to keep up with Cleo's speed and skill. They lash out with their own dark powers, conjuring shadowy tendrils and bolts of black energy. But their efforts pale in comparison to the raw power emanating from Cleo. She is a force to be reckoned with, an embodiment of the ancient sand and the strength of her ancestors.

Her rage and her desire to protect that which she loves fuels her fight. It gives her great strength and gives her a purpose to keep going on. She needs to fight, she needs to. She needs to defeat each and every single one of these monsters.

As the battle rages on, the cave entrance they emerged from becomes a distant memory. Cleo's world narrows down to the swirling sands and the adversaries before her. Her focus is unwavering, it refuses to break, it refuses to crack. Her brows are furrowed and her jaw tightens with fury.

Her movements are a whirlwind of sand and steel, blurring the lines between human and elemental. The sand beneath her feet rises and falls, responding to her every step and adding an extra layer of complexity to her attacks. She weaves in and out of the battlefield with the grace of a desert wind, striking with deadly precision, her golden armor glinting in the sunlight.

One by one, the pawns of Anubis fall beneath Cleo's onslaught. Their twisted forms crumble into dust, their dark magic dissolving into the desert breeze. But Cleo knows that her true adversary still awaits her—the god himself. She can feel his presence, the weight of his gaze upon her, even as she dispatches his minions.

With a final strike that disperses the last of the pawns, Cleo stands amidst the wreckage, her chest heaving with exertion. Sweat trickles down her brow, mixing with the desert dust on her face. She takes a moment to catch her breath, her eyes scanning the battlefield for any signs of movement.

Her gaze shifts towards the horizon, where the sun casts long shadows upon the shifting dunes. The desert stretches endlessly before her, a vast expanse of golden sand and hidden mysteries. The battle is far from over, but Cleo's spirit remains unbroken. Her chest heaves with every breath she takes. The toll of the battle means her joints and muscles now ache, and even so, she propels herself forward to wrap her arms around Marc, kneeling beside him as his eyes still gaze out into the distance, unable to focus on anything.

" How long?" He asks, his voice barely above a whisper, " How long have I--"

" I don't know," Cleo softly responds as her heart slowly climbs back down.

" How long have you known?" Marc asks, his voice tight yet tired.

" Not very long," She utters truthfully, " Khonshu only told me--"

" He told you?" He sharply asks, " You talked to him?"

" It's not as though I wanted to," Cleo sighs, " He was trying to warn me about Anubis."

Marc's eyes narrow, a mix of confusion and frustration evident on his face.

" Warn you? So all of a sudden he cares?" He scoffs, " Nah... I don't buy it."

Cleo takes a deep breath, trying to steady herself amidst the chaos that still lingers. She knows she needs to choose her words carefully, to calm Marc's spiraling thoughts.

" I only wanted to protect you," She admits with a soft voice.

Marc scoffs once more, his bitterness seeping into his voice.

"Protect me? Look around, Cleo," He exclaims, " We're in the middle of a battlefield, fighting against ancient gods and their minions. I don't feel very protected."

Marc's expression contorts with a mix of confusion, anger, and fear. His eyes dart between Cleo and the desolate battlefield, searching for answers that seem to elude him. The weight of his dread is palpable, hanging heavily in the air like a storm cloud ready to burst. He was the servant of Khonshu for so long, and to be told that for months he was still within the God's grasp... It's enough to bring him back to the dark place he was all that time ago.

All he wanted to be free... that's all. He only ever wanted his freedom. To keep Steven safe and to have and to hold Cleo... for as long as they both shall live.

Marc's eyes finally meet Cleo's, filled with a mix of vulnerability and desperation.

"I...I feel like I'm losing myself again," He admits, his voice cracking through the pain as his glossy eyes sparkle in the sunlight, " I feel like I'm losing my mind all over again. I feel like... I feel like I'm going in--"

" You're not," Cleo strongly utters as her strong yet soft hands cup his face, " You're not, baby."

She looks deep into his eyes, searching for a glimmer of recognition, a connection that transcends the chaos surrounding them.

" We got rid of Khonshu before... we can do it again," She says with a soft sigh.

Marc's breath hitches, his eyes locked with Cleo's, desperately seeking solace and reassurance. The battle rages on around them, but in this moment, there is only the bond they share—a lifeline amidst the turmoil. Her words seem to reach deep into Marc's soul, stirring something within him. A flicker of determination dances in his eyes, as he clings to Cleo's words like a lifeline. Slowly, he begins to steady his breathing, his grip on reality growing stronger.

" I want to believe you, baby, I really do..." He lowly trails, his eyes giving it all away as he breaks once more, " But I can't... I-I can't go through this all again. I won't do it. I can't do that to Steven."

Cleo's resolve nearly knocks down entirely. Her heart clenches tightly in her chest as tears threaten to pool in her eyes. She brings her love back into her embrace, allowing his head to rest against the metal plate of her armor as she gently rubs his back.

" How's Steven?" She softly murmurs.

" Quiet," Marc utters, seeing as the man inside his head hasn't let out so much as a single noise every since the name Khonshu left Cleo's lips, " I don't like it."

Cleo's heart sinks at Marc's words. The absence of Steven's voice within Marc's mind only adds to her worry and sense of urgency. She comforts her puzzle pieces the best she can. Marc is in control of the body, he is here yet elsewhere at the same time. And Steven... Steven is nowhere. As if he doesn't even exist. It's a thought that makes Cleo's jaw clench as her fingers tighten around Marc's body.

Her head slowly tilts upwards, eyes looking up at the sky, where her gaze lands upon the faint outline of the moon in the morning sky. Her eyes burn bright with anger and strength. Her blood pumps revenge into her veins. It mixes together with liquid death to create a concoction of chaos... one that will bring the God of the Night Sky down to his knees.

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[ what do y'all think?! im building up for an epic showdown and im still mapping it out, but i can promise that it will be better and more flushed out than moon knight ep. 6 ]