The massive golden Stargate flared to life with a brilliant vortex of energy, its shimmering blue event horizon rippling like liquid light. Hathor stepped through, her regal form silhouetted against the glow, and emerged onto the Goa’uld homeworld. The air here was thick with the scent of incense and the faint metallic tang of advanced technology. She allowed herself a brief pause to take in the grandeur of the city sprawling before her. Towering pyramids, their surfaces gleaming with gold and obsidian, reached toward the heavens, their peaks piercing the artificial suns that bathed the capital in perpetual daylight. The streets below teemed with life—slaves toiled under the watchful eyes of Jaffa warriors, their armor glinting like beetles in the sun, while Goa’uld overseers barked orders from ornate palanquins carried by human servants.

  Magnificent, Hathor thought, though she refused to let the awe show on her face. It had been nearly two years since she had last visited, and the sheer scale of the capital never failed to remind her of the Goa’uld Empire’s might. Still, she wasn’t so naive as to let appearances blind her. Beneath this facade of power, cracks were already forming—cracks the System Lords were too proud to see.

  As Hathor descended the steps of the Stargate, her snake-armored guards flanking her like silent sentinels, a familiar voice called out.

  “Hathor, as radiant as ever,” Cronus said, his tone dripping with a mix of flattery and calculated charm. He approached her with the air of someone who was used to commanding attention, his golden robes flowing around him like a regal aura. The intricate embroidery of his garments shimmered with threads of naquadah, a subtle display of his wealth and influence.

  “Cronus,” Hathor replied, inclining her head slightly, her voice smooth and measured. “What a rare pleasure. I take it Ra’s summons reached you as well?”

  “Of course,” Cronus said, his eyes narrowing slightly, the faintest flicker of suspicion passing across his face. “Though I imagine he called us all here for no other purpose than to flaunt his new host body. Ra has always been fond of theatrics.”

  Hathor smirked, though her own suspicions mirrored Cronus’s words. “Perhaps. Though I find it curious he would summon all of the High Council without so much as a hint of his intentions.”

  Cronus’s expression darkened, his lips curling into a grimace. “Curious indeed. And dangerous. Ra does not waste his time—or ours—on frivolities. Whatever this meeting is about, it will not be trivial.”

  The two System Lords walked side by side through the palace’s sprawling corridors, their escorts trailing silently behind. The walls were adorned with murals depicting the triumphs of the Goa’uld—vast fleets of Ha’tak motherships descending upon unsuspecting worlds, armies of Jaffa crushing rebellions, and Ra himself seated upon his throne, a god among gods. Hathor allowed herself to watch Cronus from the corner of her eye. He was a powerful figure, one of the few System Lords who could challenge Ra’s authority, yet even he seemed uneasy.

  When they reached the High Council chamber, Hathor’s sharp eyes immediately noted the oddity of the scene. The room was vast and circular, its walls adorned with intricate carvings of Goa’uld victories. A massive, circular table dominated the center of the space, its surface polished to a mirror sheen, surrounded by seats reserved for the most powerful System Lords in the galaxy. The air was thick with the scent of myrrh and the faint hum of hidden machinery.

  But something was wrong.

  “Where are the guards?” Hathor murmured, her voice low enough that only Cronus could hear.

  Cronus frowned, scanning the room. “Not a single Jaffa,” he said, his tone tense. “And Ra is absent. Most uncharacteristic.”

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  Hathor swept her gaze across the chamber, taking in the faces of the assembled System Lords. Bastet, her feline eyes gleaming with curiosity, lounged in her seat, her fingers idly tracing the edge of her ceremonial dagger. Apophis, his expression unreadable, sat with his arms crossed, his golden armor reflecting the light like a second sun. Yu, the ancient and wizened lord, leaned forward on his staff, his eyes sharp and calculating. Sokar, his presence as dark and foreboding as the rumors that surrounded him, sat in silence, his gaze fixed on the empty seat at the head of the table.

  Still, the absence of guards gnawed at her. The Goa’uld never conducted meetings without security—especially not meetings of this magnitude. It was a tradition as old as the Empire itself, a safeguard against betrayal.

  “Perhaps Ra wishes to create an air of trust,” Hathor suggested, though her tone betrayed her doubt.

  Cronus let out a dry chuckle. “Ra? Trusting? You insult my intelligence, Hathor.”

  As they took their seats at the table, Hathor kept her composure, though her mind raced with possibilities. This was not an ordinary council meeting. Something far more significant was at play, and the absence of Ra only deepened the mystery.

  The chamber fell silent as the heavy doors creaked open once more. All eyes turned to the entrance as Apophis strode in, his presence commanding immediate attention. His golden armor gleamed with an almost predatory light, and his eyes, cold and calculating, swept across the room. He paused, his gaze lingering on each System Lord in turn, as if daring them to challenge him.

  “I see you all received my invitation,” Apophis said, his voice smooth and deliberate, carrying an undercurrent of menace.

  Hathor felt her heart skip a beat. “What is the meaning of this, Apophis? What gives you the right to call a High Council meeting without consulting Ra?”

  Apophis’s lips curled into a faint smile, though it did not reach his eyes. “Well,” he said, his tone almost casual, before moving to the head of the table where Ra normally would sit. He paused, his hand resting on the back of the ornate chair, and then, with deliberate slowness, pulled it out and sat down.

  The room erupted into chaos.

  “How dare you!” Lord Yu barked, slamming his staff against the floor, the sound echoing like a thunderclap. “Apophis, do you wish to lose your head?”

  Bastet’s eyes narrowed, her fingers tightening around her dagger. “This is an outrage,” she hissed. “You overstep your bounds, Apophis.”

  Cronus leaned back in his seat, his expression unreadable, though his eyes burned with barely concealed fury. “You play a dangerous game,” he said, his voice low and dangerous.

  Hathor’s frown deepened, a feeling of unease settling in her chest. Apophis’s lack of reaction was unnerving. He simply sat there, his gaze steady, as if the uproar around him was nothing more than the buzzing of insects.

  “Enough,” Apophis said, his voice cutting through the clamor like a blade. He raised a hand, and the room fell silent once more. “I thought you’d all be interested to learn that our Supreme Lord Ra has perished. His mothership was destroyed. I personally discovered the wreckage. Only one Jaffa warrior survived, hiding in the debris below. The population of slaves rose up with the assistance of strangers who came through the Stargate.”

  Silence fell over the table, heavy and suffocating. Hathor’s mind raced, her thoughts swirling with a maelstrom of emotions—shock, disbelief, and a flicker of something darker, something she dared not name. She steadied herself, her voice calm but laced with steel. “Apophis, is your act of sitting there to declare yourself… successor?”

  Apophis leaned back in his chair, his expression unbothered. “My act is merely acknowledging that I am the one who convened the council. Simple as that.”

  Cronus spoke up next, his voice sharp and demanding. “If this is the case, you will forward your evidence to us all, I presume?”

  Apophis nodded, his gaze sweeping across the room. “You are all aware that an enormous vacuum has opened up. The minor lords in Ra’s territory will vie for control. It is our duty to speak to the most influential of System Lords and attempt to control the chaos that will ensue.”

  Hathor’s frown deepened, her mind already calculating the implications. “Then we have much to discuss.”

  The other System Lords nodded, their expressions ranging from grim acceptance to barely concealed ambition. The room settled into an uneasy silence as they prepared for what would undoubtedly be a long and contentious council meeting. The balance of power had shifted, and the galaxy would never be the same.