Ereshkigal was playing every card available to her, however unlikely to succeed. She commanded them to find a single soul, that of Dumuzi— a demigod condemned thousands of years ago to an eternal cycle of life and death on Earth—and replace his soul with another, far more dangerous one. Ereshkigal’s most nefarious enemy. Her very own sister, the goddess of war – Inanna. This was a vicious, deeply personal war that raged, and from what Tamas had witnessed of the relationship between mortal sisters Blake and the annoying little bitch she called a sibling, he could barely imagine the scale of the calamity that existed between the goddesses. Hatred and unfathomable love seemed to run in twin streams, both equally as deep. And dark.
‘Sir?’
Nari gestured to the opened elevator door. Tamas jerked upright, forgetting he was not alone.
‘Yes, yes.’ He hurried past her, ignoring the twinge in his back muscles, an ache that had increased with the activities of the past week. ‘I won’t be long.’
They moved into the expanse of the domed Orientation Room, and Tamas strode into the shrine, trying to add a swagger to his movement that suggested he wasn’t dreading the discomfort to follow. His toe caught on the top step, and he stumbled forward. Cursing beneath his breath, Tamas knelt at the base of the petrified tree trunk at the centre of the shrine, a copper bowl atop the wide girth of the long-dead tree containing a portion of the Tier Waters. More of the liquid flowed between the glass panels making up the walls and ceiling, setting the world around him afire with emerald light. He bowed his head, fighting the urge to scratch at the base of his chin. Clipping his beard was well overdue. Perhaps, after he slept, he’d attend to it.
He whispered the utterances taught, or rather drummed, into him by his mother. Sacred words and devotions passed down through generations, originating with the very first of Tamas’s line, the Abgal Utuabzu. One of seven sages created by the great Enki, the god of knowledge, and sent to mankind to instruct them on creating civilisation. The Abgal were demigods, immensely powerful beings. Utuabzu’s blood ran in Tamas’s veins – however diluted it may be after thousands of years of the gods’ absence – yet he could barely manage to pronounce the sage’s name without stuttering. That would be over soon. A job well done would be rewarded by the goddess. His mother had told him that Ereshkigal would reignite the divine blood coursing through them if they served her well. The Abgal’s power would be rebirthed.
Tamas stood up and lowered his hands into the Tier Waters. The sooner he could shed this pathetic human carcass the better. A holy sage would not tremble in front of strangers, they wouldn’t stumble up the stairs of the shrine. The fluid seeped beneath his nails and into his pores, achingly cold. He raised his eyes and met the glare of Ereshkigal’s totem, the Arabian wolf, carved into the roof above him. One crystal eye flickered. A palm-sized paw bulged from the glass. So often he flinched when the wolf launched itself from the glass, transforming from two-dimensional to three. More times than he cared to count, Tamas would tremble, hunch in fear as the enormous jaws widened and clamped down on his skull, beginning their feast on his memories. But each time he managed to maintain eye contact with the approaching manifestation just a little longer.
The fangs pierced the soft flesh at his temples, and he bit down hard on his lip to stem his cry. Not a sound today, though tears pricked at his eyes. He lowered his lids, and the memories of Azrael’s training flashed through his head, a video recording on high speed transferring into the glass wolf, and in turn flowing through to the goddess. His hands shook so violently the Waters sloshed against the floor. But still he didn’t utter a sound.
Even if the pressure burst all the blood vessels in his eyes, he would hold his ground. Show everyone, everyone that counted, that he was worthy of the demigod ghosting within his DNA.
Buried in concentration, Tamas staggered at the sudden release of the wolf’s jaws. The flow of memories vanished, and blackness filled his mind. He blinked but the darkness didn’t shift. He tried to lift his hands from the Waters, but it was as though the liquid had frozen around his wrists, locking him in place. A curl of panic unfurled before sound exploded in his skull, like a chorus of insane angels screeching at him through a megaphone. Tamas’s knees buckled, and his stomach heaved. His lips parted, and he might have been screaming but it was impossible to tell.
Silence chased back the chaos, leaving Tamas alone with the ringing in his ears. But he smiled. Laughter lifted from him, high and mildly maniacal.
Finally, the goddess had bestowed on him the gift she’d afforded his mother.
Prescience.
This world was a footnote no longer. In two short days, they would rise. The Four would walk the Earth. He had seen it. Tears streamed down Tamas’s face, and his lips ached with the width of his smile.
‘Tamas?’ Nari called to him from beyond the shrine. A small and distant voice. ‘Tamas, is everything all right?’
Straightening, Tamas rose from his knees and called out, sure and steady. ‘Everything is fine.’
Kira - 8
Kira jabbed her fingertip into the impressive bubblegum balloon. It popped against her chin, and with an absent-minded stroke, she twirled the sticky mess around her finger.
‘I’m totally authorised to be here, Weylen. Chill.’ She offered the nervous biotech a smile, hoping it looked mildly genuine. ‘Check
