Inside the royal palace, after the celebration.
Etana slammed his fist against the table, his fury erupting. "Sin! Explain what happened!"
Sin stood motionless, his eyes dark as death, his voice steady—like describing the crushing of an insect, not a man. "Forgive me, Your Majesty… I collided with him unintentionally. What happened was… regrettable."
King Nabuwazur watched in silence, seated on his throne adorned with raw gold and gemstones, swirling his goblet slowly—like a storm brewing beneath calm waters.
Etana rose abruptly, his voice shaking the chamber. "Are you mocking me, Sin?"
Nabuwazur intervened, his voice deep and unwavering, radiating authority. His eyes locked onto Sin. "Did anyone see you?"
Sin hesitated for a moment, then replied: "I don't think so…"
"Be more careful. No one wants to hear of death wandering the kingdom like a rumor on legs."
"It won't happen again, Your Majesty.""I hope it never does."
Sin bowed respectfully, then raised his veil. Only his eyes were visible—eyes that bled darkness. He left with tense steps… unsure of what had just unraveled. What had broken so suddenly? What catastrophe had begun?
At that very moment, his exit coincided with the entrance of the head guard. Sin glanced at him sideways—a look deep enough to read a book.
The guard stood behind the door, staring at the ground with anticipation. Not suspicion… but fear that someone might have seen.
"No reports of any wine changing color, Your Majesty…""Are you certain?""Yes. Everyone was closely monitored. They all received the drink, and nothing unusual was observed."
Etana's voice emerged, thick with doubt: "Either Ugrash has lost his edge… or we missed something."
Sin had heard enough. He vanished silently—like a shadow retreating from the light.
At the stables, just before mounting his horse.
A familiar voice called out: "Sin… where are you going?"
Sin stroked his horse's back with a gesture that betrayed a quiet frustration only someone close could notice. "I think my part here is done."
The other man approached, his tone filled with concern and questions. "What do you mean, boy? Wait!"
Sin replied with feigned indifference: "Their plans failed. There's no point in staying."
"You're heading back south?"
Sin's silence spoke louder than words. The man rushed to say: "Wait! I'll come with you!"
"No need, Tor… I have something to finish before I return.""Are you sure?""Yes."
Tor nodded anxiously. In his eyes, a question lingered—one without an answer. He saw something had changed in Sin… something he'd never seen before.
Sin rode off, the sound of his horse's hooves fading behind the palace gates… leaving behind shadows of unease and unanswered possibilities.
He walked slowly, leading his horse, having reached the eastern bank. From a distance, he watched the modest clay house, hoping to glimpse movement or a soul within—but saw none.
He drew closer, reaching the doorstep to find the door ajar. A voice called out, inviting him in. He furrowed his brows in suspicion. How did she know I was coming? He tied his horse and entered cautiously.
"I've been expecting you."
The voice came from Urshal, grinding dried herbs with a mortar. Sin smiled faintly. "How do you always predict my arrival?"
"Just a hunch… Won't you sit?"
Sin nodded and sat, gathering his thoughts. But Urshal spoke first, her tone serious: "I assume you have something to tell me."
"Honestly… yes. It's about Lamassu."
Urshal paused her grinding, her gaze drifting to the floor. But she quickly resumed, her rhythm unchanged. "What is it?"
"Who are Lamassu's real parents?"
Urshal sighed silently. The moment she had prepared for all these years had finally arrived. She wasn't surprised—but somehow, she had hoped it wouldn't come so soon.
The sound of hooves striking the ground announced her arrival. Lamassu dismounted with graceful ease—any observer would know she was skilled. "Night has already fallen."
She led her horse behind the house, where she spotted another… one she knew well. She stared at it thoughtfully as she tied her own to the palm tree. "Is Sin here?"
She walked quickly inside, slowing as she saw him seated before her. She whispered: "Sin!"
He lifted his head, weary, as if the weight of the world rested on his shoulders. "You're back."
A flood of questions surged within her, but before she could unleash them, Urshal emerged from the back courtyard just in time.
"Lamassu, you're home! Come, sit quickly—we have a guest tonight."
Lamassu nodded, but instead of sitting, she began setting the dinner herself, sparing the elderly Urshal. A heavy silence settled over the room.
The single room was lit by a small oil lamp, its flickering light dancing across the clay walls, trying to chase away the cold outside. On a straw mat, Sin sat slightly apart, staring into a steaming bowl of lentil and barley soup, fragrant with onion, leek, and crushed garlic.
Urshal gently filled the clay bowls, offering warm flatbread fresh from the courtyard stone. Lamassu dipped a piece into the soup—sometimes absentmindedly, sometimes hungrily.
After dinner, Urshal slept. But Lamassu tossed and turned restlessly until Sin's voice came from the opposite corner: "Have the nightmares returned?"
She bit her lower lip in frustration, then curled up, pulling the blanket tighter against the cold. "No… but…"
Sin looked toward her calmly, leaning against the wall, fully aware of the cause of her unrest. "It's alright. You can ask whatever you wish."
He had read her thoughts. She whispered: "Sin… where did you disappear to, all that time? And why did you suddenly appear at the royal palace? I know it was you in that veiled carriage. I saw you."
The memory returned—standing among the crowd, curiosity gripping her like everyone else. A gust of wind had lifted part of the curtain, revealing the figure inside for a fleeting moment. It felt like a dream to most… but not to her. She recognized him instantly. That pale face, those dark eyes hidden beneath strands of hair black as midnight.
He stared ahead, frozen, as if detached from the noise—living in a world apart. It was so clear to her that she began to doubt herself, shaking off the thought as if it were a delusion...
But her doubts were confirmed when she met him again at the palace. She knew then—he understood things far beyond her grasp. He had tried to protect her from something unknown… something she couldn't name.
For seven long years, he had feared these questions. Every day, he dreaded that she might ask. He didn't want her dragged into the abyss—his world, his silence, his darkness. He believed that staying silent would shield her.
But the truth had always been far greater than he imagined.
His black eyes softened, and he leaned his head against the wall. "I was sent on a mission to the royal palace…"
He fell silent again, only to be stunned by Lamassu's quiet but piercing question: "What about your disappearance after the flower incident? Won't you explain that?"
Despite the night's darkness, he could see the gleam of anticipation in her eyes—those emerald eyes, reflecting the moonlight from the window. Eyes full of peace, hope, and life.
He wished that moment would last forever. That the light in her eyes would never fade. That he would vanish instead.
His answer came not in words, but in a look that said everything.
Lamassu stood, swallowing hard to calm herself for what she was about to do. She stepped toward him slowly, until only a meter separated them.
Sin furrowed his brows, alarm bells ringing inside him. "What are you doing?"
She didn't reply. Her gaze held tension and resolve. She stepped closer.
Sin backed against the wall, eyes warning her. "Lamassu, stay back!" He tried to keep his voice low, not to wake Urshal.
She raised her head to meet his, the height difference clear, and whispered: "Why do you insist on pushing me away? Haven't all these years been enough?"
Her words struck his heart with brutal force. His breath quickened from fear. Just as he was about to confess, Lamassu spoke again—this time with sorrow in her voice: "You're the walking death, aren't you?"
His eyes trembled as he looked at her closely for the first time. His shock was the only answer she needed.
She stepped back, her gaze filled with questions, blame, and the weight of all those years. She had confirmed it herself—he was indeed the phantom known as the walking death.
"Lamassu…" Sin's voice cracked with tension and confusion. He didn't know what came next.
But she ignored him and walked out without looking back. He almost called her name—but knew that sound would betray his long-held silence.
Lamassu exited the clay house with hurried steps. The sound of her feet scraping the wet earth was the only thing heard in the night's silence. The dry, cold air brushed her cheeks as she wrapped her cloak tighter, refusing to look behind.
Sin stood frozen, trembling—not from the cold, but from the flood drowning his heart. He stared at the half-open door, then rushed after her with anxious steps.
He found her standing at the edge of the Euphrates, where the soil sloped gently to meet the water. Her shoulders were tense, her eyes fixed on the current in utter silence.
He stood behind her, wanting to call her name… but hesitated. Instead, his voice broke between mud and river: "Lamassu… I never wanted you to know. But you've always been stronger than I thought."
She turned slowly, her face half-lit by moonlight, the other half cloaked in the shadow of disappointment. "Stronger? Stronger to endure your deception? Or stronger because I believed you were protecting me?"
He stepped closer, his voice barely audible over the river's murmur: "I am the walking death, yes. But I swear to you—the real death was the day I left you without answers, without goodbye… without justice."
She flinched, but didn't move away. His words had found a harbor in her storming heart.
He continued, voice cracking: "When you saw the flowers in my hands, I wasn't fleeing. I was chasing safety… and being cast out of it. My curse reveals those who hide… and I was revealed to you. So… forgive me."
She looked at him, broken, and said in a breathless tone: "How could you do this to me? You made me rot in my thoughts… I thought I was the problem. Then I thought you didn't want to see me anymore. I even believed you weren't real."
His eyes widened, as if the sky had collapsed upon him. "I…"
His words faltered. He wanted to wipe her tears, to hold her and beg for forgiveness. But he stood still, unsure whether it was his pain or hers that weighed heavier.
"I'm sorry, Lamassu… I never meant for you to drown in all this alone."
She stared at him, then spoke in a voice sharper than any scream: "Why did you come? Now? After everything?"
He lowered his voice, confessing: "I thought if you knew the truth… you'd leave."
"But how could you think that, Sin?! I would never leave you, no matter what. Didn't you trust me?"
"It's not that… I was just afraid I'd hurt you."
A tear escaped her eye, but in its glimmer, he saw something like forgiveness. Her heart fluttered—not with joy, but with the hope that maybe, just maybe, she could believe him this time.