Khonshu drifted in and out of existence, ebbing and flowing like the highest tide under the fullest moon. He was left alone with his thoughts. Bitter and angry, about how Marc destroyed everything. Thoughts of how his insolent little pet salted and burnt everything he had worked towards. Those ruinous hands, searing hot and compressing until he was only left to the darkness of the void.
Nothing more than bone dust coating those traitorous hands, floating in the smog and dirt of New York City.
He had built the man from the ground up, with sand and dust, and Marc Spector tore it all down. Those hands that he gave life to repay him by tearing at bricks until the walls of his empire fall down. Roughened fingertips drip with the life Khonshu gave to him, scarlet pouring and pouring until he's drowning in that life and the image of freedom that should not exist.
That will not exist. Not for much longer.
Marc Spector, Steven Grant, Jake Lockley. They think they combine to make Moon Knight, yet Khonshu is Moon Knight. There's no Moon Knight without Khonshu and no Marc Spector without Khonshu, and he will salt the earth until his pet comes back to him. Until he's willing to serve, loyal as he should be to the one who gives him life.
Until that point, however, until he can be reborn, Khonshu will lay in waiting, collecting himself in the womb of his mind.
Khonshu will destroy the man once more, and he thinks that Marc Spector deserves it for everything he has done. That it would only be fair. He will rebuild Marc Spector, Steven Grant, and Jake Lockley once more, in his own image, and it will take his destruction to do so.
And, if he has to tear down the remains of the empire he once built, so be it.