The event horizon of the Stargate shimmered like liquid silver, its surface rippling with energy as Hathor stepped through. The sensation was always the same—a brief, disorienting rush as her body was disassembled and reassembled in the blink of an eye. For a moment, she existed as pure energy, her consciousness stretched across the vastness of space. Then, with a flash of light, she was whole again, stepping onto the receiving platform of Sobek’s domain.

  The air here was different—crisper, cooler, with a faint metallic tang that spoke of industry and progress. Hathor took a moment to compose herself, her golden eyes scanning the room. Her entourage followed close behind, their footsteps echoing in the cavernous chamber.

  And there he was. Sobek.

  His host’s handsome features were even more striking in person than they had been on the hologram. The strong jawline, the piercing golden eyes, the confident posture—it was a face that commanded attention. Hathor allowed herself a small, appreciative smile as she stepped forward, her hand extended in greeting.

  Sobek took her hand gracefully, bowing his head as he pressed a kiss to her knuckles. “Welcome, my lady,” he said, his voice smooth and resonant. “Your presence honors us.”

  Hathor’s smile widened, though her gaze remained sharp and calculating. “The pleasure is mine, Sobek. I’ve been eager to see the progress you’ve made.”

  As she looked around, she noticed something unusual. The advisors she had sent with Sobek months ago were dressed differently now. Their robes were simpler, less ornate, and their demeanor seemed… changed. They stood with a quiet confidence that hadn’t been there before. Hathor filed the observation away for later, her curiosity piqued.

  Sobek led Hathor to the command deck of his mothership, which hovered above the city like a silent sentinel. From this vantage point, the city of Sobeka spread out below them, a patchwork of gleaming buildings, bustling streets, and orderly infrastructure. It wasn’t massive, but it was meticulously planned, every sector compact and efficient.

  Hathor studied the city with a critical eye. “Impressive,” she said, her tone neutral. “You’ve accomplished much in a short time. Tell me, Sobek, what is your vision for this place?”

  Sobek stood beside her, his hands clasped behind his back. “My goal is to secure the undying loyalty of my subjects,” he said, his voice steady. “To do that, I’ve implemented a tiered reward system. Those who work hard and demonstrate faith in me are granted more comfortable lives. Those who resist… well, they learn the consequences of defiance.”

  Hathor raised an eyebrow, her expression one of mild curiosity. “A reward system for slaves? That’s… unconventional. Why bother with such measures? They are tools, nothing more.”

  Sobek turned to her, his golden eyes meeting hers. “Tools, yes, but tools that can be sharpened. A loyal workforce is a productive workforce. And loyalty, my lady, is not born of fear alone.”

  Hathor said nothing, but her gaze lingered on him for a moment longer before she turned back to the view. “Show me more,” she said simply.

  The streets of Sobeka were alive with activity as Hathor and Sobek walked through the city, their entourage trailing behind them. Hathor noted the way the slaves looked at Sobek—there was reverence, yes, but something deeper as well. Devotion. Even in this short time, he had managed to inspire a level of loyalty that was rare among the Goa’uld.

  As they passed through the slave quarters, Hathor observed the bustling market stalls and the children playing in the streets. It was a scene of relative normalcy, one that felt almost… human. She frowned slightly, her instincts telling her that something was off.

  Then, it happened.

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  A small child burst from a side alley, tripping and falling directly in front of Hathor and Sobek. The boy, no older than six, scrambled to his knees, his wide eyes brimming with terror. His mother, a thin woman with hollow eyes, rushed forward, dragging him into a deep bow before them. Her voice trembled as she pleaded, her forehead pressed against the dusty ground.

  “Forgive him, divine ones! He is young and foolish. Please, mercy!”

  Hathor’s First Prime stepped forward with a sneer, raising his staff weapon. “Anyone who interrupts a god and goddess deserves death,” he declared, his voice cold and final. The staff began to glow as he primed it to strike.

  The child sobbed, his tiny hands clasped together in desperate supplication. “I—I am sorry! Please, great ones, please!”

  His mother’s cries grew more frantic, her body shaking as she tried to shield her son with her own form. The gathered slaves in the market hushed, fearful eyes watching the inevitable punishment unfold.

  But Sobek acted before the sentence could be carried out.

  “Step aside,” he commanded, his voice carrying the weight of an unshakable authority.

  The First Prime hesitated, clearly confused. His eyes flicked to Hathor for confirmation, but she remained silent, merely watching with mild curiosity. With no further instruction, he reluctantly lowered his weapon and stepped back, his face carefully neutral.

  Sobek knelt, reaching out with a clawed hand. The child flinched but did not move away. Instead of striking him, Sobek placed his palm atop the boy’s head and tilted his chin up, forcing their gazes to meet.

  “You have shown meekness and faith,” Sobek said, his voice as smooth as still waters. “To punish you would be to spit on that faith.”

  The child’s lips trembled, his body frozen with awe and fear.

  Sobek turned his attention to the mother. “Your devotion is evident. Mistakes and accidents cannot be dealt with too harshly. Your faith will not be ignored.”

  Both mother and son bowed even deeper, their gratitude palpable in the trembling of their limbs. “A thousand blessings upon you, great Sobek!” the woman whispered. “May you reign forever!”

  Sobek straightened, gesturing for them to move on. “Go, and live in peace.”

  The mother wasted no time, scooping up her child and retreating into the crowd, her body still quivering from the encounter. Around them, the onlookers exchanged hushed whispers. It was not the brutal efficiency they had expected—it was something different, something far more calculated.

  The First Prime of Hathor stiffened, his jaw clenching. His gaze flickered between Hathor and Sobek, searching for confirmation that this was acceptable. Hathor merely smirked, folding her arms as she observed the scene unfold with an air of amusement. She offered no challenge to Sobek’s decision, allowing the moment to play out unopposed.

  As they resumed their walk, Hathor turned to Sobek, her tone casual but laced with intrigue. “Why did you spare the child? Such leniency is… unusual for our kind.”

  Sobek’s expression remained unreadable, but there was a glint of satisfaction in his golden eyes. “I want my subjects to be willing to die for me out of devotion, not fear. To build a cult of personality, one must create a mythos of generosity and strength. The child’s faith was genuine. To crush it would be counterproductive.”

  Hathor considered his words, tilting her head. “And yet, you risk appearing weak. The other System Lords would not approve.”

  “The other System Lords are not here,” Sobek replied evenly. “And my methods have yielded results. The people work harder, and they do so willingly. Is that not what matters?”

  Hathor said nothing, but as they walked, she couldn’t help but notice the efficiency of Sobek’s domain. The slaves moved with purpose, their eyes bright with something she couldn’t quite place. It was unsettling, yet undeniably effective.

  By the end of the tour, Hathor was exhausted. She retired to the luxurious quarters Sobek had prepared for her, her mind racing with thoughts of what she had seen. Everything about Sobek was odd—his methods, his philosophy, his very presence. And yet, there was something familiar about him, something she couldn’t quite put her finger on.

  As she lounged on a plush divan, she called her attendants to her. “Keep your eyes and ears open,” she instructed, her voice low and commanding. “I want to know everything Sobek is working on. Everything.”

  The attendants bowed and left, their expressions serious. Hathor leaned back, her golden eyes narrowing as she stared at the ceiling. Sobek was hiding something, she was sure of it. And she intended to find out what.

  Finally, she rose and made her way to the sarcophagus, its golden surface gleaming in the dim light. As she stepped inside, she allowed herself a moment of quiet reflection. The galaxy was changing, and Sobek was at the center of it. Whether he was an ally or a threat remained to be seen.

  The lid of the sarcophagus closed with a soft hiss, and Hathor’s thoughts faded into darkness.