The Rise of the Goddess

61 | YOU TOOK HER FROM ME ONCE. NEVER AGAIN.

Her heart pounding, Istara fled with him, buffeted by thousands of seething tendrils, thwarted, aching for release. Urhi-Teshub's desperate, defiant hold on her told her all: The mirror had awakened. Marduk was coming. Dread saturated her. Bitterness clawed at her. They had been so close. How could they fail after all they had suffered, all they had endured—after all she had endured?

A memory cut through her, of Baalat's innocent kittens claimed by the sweeping fires of an inferno, of her city bathed in a firestorm within the beat of a heart; of Horus dragging the goddess of healing away, screaming and unwilling—a visceral memory, aching with grief. Hers, yet not hers. And now, it was Urhi-Teshub who protected her from the one who soaked everything he touched in darkness.

They reached the mouth of the corridor. The silence came first, deafening, weighted. It washed over her, numbing her senses. A heartbeat later, a sheet of blistering white light scythed over her and sliced into the corridor's depths. The pillars awakened, reared up, bleak sentinels, washed pale in the scour of the silent light.

Urhi-Teshub's grip tightened. He ran, his footfalls raising clouds of dust from the ashlars. Istara fleeted after him, driven by a rising sense of terror, her light growing, escalating, no longer purposed to heal, but to protect.

She cut a look over her shoulder. The fountain's vine-choked silhouette stood in stark contrast against the glare of the anemic, cold light as it rotated counter-clockwise, carving every vine leaf into sharp relief—every dead blade of grass, distinct, vital. Shadows fled from its relentless onslaught.

Silence saturated her being, as though time had stilled—as though the courtyard and all within the portal's reach existed outside of Anki, outside of Elati, outside of reality.

A tug, fierce, against her arm. Urhi-Teshub hauled her after him, half-lifting her from her feet as they plunged down the corridor, the portal's cold light streaming past them, endless. She ran as fast as she could, her breath ragged from willing herself to outrun what was to come. She cut a look at Urhi-Teshub, determination bled from him as he bolted ahead—a king, a god, the one who loved her, still—his ax alive with power, crackling, vibrant, ready to cut down the enemy. But it was too late. They had failed. Without the cores—

From within the depths of her despair, a heartbeat. Steady, strong. Sethi. She staggered, caught her breath, slowed her steps. Hope slammed into her, saturated her dormant heart. It unfolded, a winter rose awakening, touched by the first rays of the sun. Urhi-Teshub's grip deepened. His look cut through her, severe. No. She pulled against the storm god, cried out for him to stop. Her words tumbled away, useless, muted by the portal's shearing light. Another heartbeat, heavy with the weight of her consort reverberated through her. Sethi. She tore herself free of Urhi-Teshub, and raced back down the corridor, toward the light, toward the one whose heart called to her, needed her, ached for her. At last Sethi had come to her, had freed himself of the poisonous taint of Marduk. Together they would rise again, would stand against the oppressor, would—

An arm came around her waist, hard with leather, brutal and unforgiving. Urhi-Teshub hauled her back. Pain seared her ribs. She screamed, her outrage consumed by the oppressive silence. Fury beat its wings against her breast. In the storm god's implacable grip, she writhed, her light billowing, tormented, conflicted, powerless against his might.

The light from the portal vanished. Darkness saturated the courtyard. Her breaths came first, loud in her ears, then her heartbeat, erratic, caught between euphoria and rage.

Then, nothing. Despair, sorrow, loss. Emptiness. The annihilation of her soul. Horror clawed its way up her spine. Whatever she had felt was gone, washed away in a tide of utter darkness. Urhi-Teshub stumbled to a halt and let her go. Hate scoured his eyes, tainted the cut of his lips. He hefted his ax.