Solar System, Asteroid Belt, 5800 B.C.
In the cold nothingness of space lies an asteroid belt, located between the orbits of Mars and Jupiter. Gliding through this region, the ship advanced without haste or obstacles toward its destination. Despite containing millions of rocks, the belt had enough space for a ship like this to cross without problems. In this unstable environment, it was common to see rocky segments collide with each other, being the primary ones responsible for meteorites.
The ship itself was intimidating, similar to a monolith. Its surface was etched with shapes and engravings; three concentric circles decorated its upper section, and red energy ran through its reliefs until reaching the nose. This was broken, shaped to make room for an obsidian crystal.
Its interior was sterile, pristine, and devoid of color beyond dark gray, almost black. The only color one could find was in the stasis chamber, where a ruby-carved statue of a humanoid being with six eyes rested. Its outstretched hands held a floating gem.
Surrounding it, eleven figures were kneeling. Static. They were the Eternals. Their ecstasy was due to the wait to begin their purpose; one that was already near.
The gem in the statue's hands flew directly to the Eternal in front of the statue, inserting itself into the base of her neck. The Eternal's eyes, previously devoid of life, glowed gold upon contact. She narrowed her eyes, a pair of brown irises that shimmered faintly.
—It is time to begin —the female ordered.
At her command, the others who were kneeling stood up, their eyes blank and without emotion on their faces. They all walked toward the walls, standing in front of concentric niches that glowed with golden cosmic energy. Threads of energy emerged and surrounded the figures, forming armor over the bodies of the Eternals; the colors varied, but they maintained golden veins in each one. And upon receiving their armor, their eyes gained brightness and consciousness.
No word was exchanged and, upon finishing, everyone walked cautiously around the large statue of Arishem. Sersi was one of these Eternals, a brown-skinned beauty with slanted eyes and brilliant black hair.
She walked toward one of the windows with the gait of a cat, gliding without making a sound on the hard floor of the ship. Her eyes glowed, but she was not the first to arrive; two other Eternals were already contemplating the view. Sersi stood beside them. In the distance, growing larger, was their target planet: Terra.
—It's beautiful, isn't it? —she commented to them. Her eyes never left the planet.
Her companions wore, one a blue armor and the other a deep anthracite gray one. Of the two, only the one in blue looked at her with hard eyes.
—My name is Ikaris —he introduced himself.
His shoulders were stiff, with full lips and a tense jaw.
—I, Sersi —her voice was soft when she said her name, smiling.
Ikaris relaxed his posture and Sersi's smile widened. Together they turned their heads to see their companion, waiting for his name. Unlike Ikaris, this one maintained an expressionless face.
—Perseus —he spoke without looking at them.
Sersi frowned at him. Ikaris, looking at her out of the corner of his eye, narrowed his eyes at Perseus, but he continued contemplating Terra. With a snort, Ikaris stepped away. Sersi continued giving Perseus a long look.
Terra, Mesopotamia, 5800 B.C.
On the banks of the Buranun, the great blue river of the lands of Kur, Ishtar was fishing with her parents. Her tribe, Lu-sag-gig-ga, was expelled from the great steppes to the east by the Udug-hul. Without the sustenance of the Puru, they had to learn to survive in these strange lands.
A fish hit her face and she slipped. She fell into the mud, warm and viscous, with fish viscera staining her furs.
—Pay attention —her father grumbled, a few meters ahead of her.
Ishtar's face grew hot.
—Yes, Papa —she whispered, looking down.
Snorting, he returned to his work. Ishtar saw him; his lips were pursed and his hands trembled with the grayish cord. Sighing, she stood up. She took the fish that hit her and crouched down again. Her workspace was a rock, warm and round. She struck the fish against it and reached for her knife. The blade, black and translucent, cut the animal's belly with its guidance.
She gagged, and a strange greenish-yellow liquid blurred her hand. Her eyes stung.
—Don't worry —her mother told her.
Ishtar faced her, sniffing. Her mother's brown eyes were steely and her lips pursed. She took the fish from her hands and, with her own knife, removed the meat bathed in the yellowish liquid.
—It is better to remove the "ze" if the sac breaks —she hummed.
—Yes, Mama —Ishtar nodded vigorously.
She stretched her lips, humming a melody. Her mother continued the work, rubbing the meat and removing the bones. Ishtar watched her movements without blinking.
—Šu-ku! —the shout made Ishtar jump; it was from Chief Ugga.
Her father turned around abruptly, looking beyond the reeds.
—They are coming! —he shouted, his voice breaking.
The three tensed, listening to the violent splashing. It was coming from behind her father.
—Run! —he ordered with a broken voice.
—Papa! —Ishtar shrieked.
But, emerging from the water, the snout of the Udug-hul appeared. Its jaws closed on her father's head and the crunch of his bones reached her before the drops of blood.
—Run! —her mother ordered.
She rose from her position, her knees trembling, and charged against the Udug-hul.
—Mama —she called. She tried to grab the furs at her waist, but she slipped. Ishtar fell face-first into the mud. The mud was bitter, but she stood up to find her mother. She faced the Udug-hul and stabbed it in its glowing yellow eyes. The beast writhed, screaming. It raised its paw and struck her mother. Her broken figure flew against the reeds, where another Udug-hul emerged and took her in its teeth.
—Mama! —Ishtar cried.
The first Udug-hul advanced toward her. Ishtar crawled away, smelling its foul breath. The low purr of the beast vibrated in her bones.
—Mama! Papa! —she stammered.
She stopped, looking the second Udug-hul in the face. Its breath lifted her hair. Ishtar cried, with saliva sliding from her lips. She closed her eyes, covering herself with her hands. The Udug-hul purred, exhaling on her forehead.
A sudden dull hum drowned everything out and she no longer felt the heat of the Udug-hul. Then, another hum and a crack. The Udug-hul roared. Ishtar opened her eyes; she blinked several times. The corpse of the beast greeted her, smoking. Its black veins spilled a blackish liquid.
Turning, she found the other Udug-hul. It was huffing, dragging itself through the mud. Another crack broke the air. Blue arcs traveled through the beast until it turned to dust; it collapsed with a final shriek.
Similar noises answered and she could hear the cries of her tribe. Ishtar tried to get up, but an Udug-hul, on the other side of the reed, was launched into the air. The beast's wings created whirlpools and Ishtar was pushed to the ground.
A third Udug-hul slithered from the water, its elongated head open toward her. Behind the body of the fallen Udug-hul, a figure emerged. He wore strange grayish skins with death in his eyes. He stood in front of Ishtar, facing the beast.
The Udug-hul roared, charging at the intruder.
Ishtar's hair floated when the blue arcs appeared in the stranger's hands. He met the Udug-hul head-on, punching it in the snout.
The arcs traveled through the beast. It shrieked before being thrown away, crashing into the waters with a thunderous splash. The stranger did not take his eyes off the water. Ishtar saw him, standing tall like the great Anunnaki of the stories.
—Ishkur —she whispered. Her eyes were wide open and tears washed the mud from her face.
But the stranger did not answer her; he only invoked more blue arcs. Their crackling hurt Ishtar.
—Die, demon —he growled.
He thrust his arc against the water. The beast gurgled, making gargling sounds while it roasted; then it went silent. Ishtar felt herself breathe upon seeing it and a painful cry broke her chest. She limped to her father.
—Papa —she clung to his remains. She stammered, calling him.
They gripped her shoulder. A jolt ran through her as she raised her head. The stranger looked at her with impressive green eyes, like the waters beneath the reeds.
—Come, little one —he called her.
The raspy baritone of his voice covered her like a blanket. Ishtar jumped against him, clinging to his neck. The hardness of his skins scratched her chest; that did not matter to her.
—Thank you, Ishkur —she stammered.
Ishkur was rigid against her, holding her in a feeble embrace. He tried to pull away, but Ishtar clung tightly, trembling uncontrollably. Ishkur complied, lifting her from the ground. Ishtar writhed, not wanting to leave her father.
—Papa, I... —she tried.
Her Anunnaki looked at her, and his softness disarmed her.
—I want to give them a burial —she sniffed.
—It shall be done, dear —he accepted.
He left her on the ground; Ishtar felt cold without him. But her Anunnaki did not move away; he picked up her father. He sang in a language Ishtar did not know, humming raspy words that fell on her like a balm.
Her father's body trembled, disintegrating into fine golden dust.
—No! —Ishtar cried, trying to hold onto her father.
When he disappeared, she felt her chest being crushed. With her eyes burning, she faced her treacherous Anunnaki; but her words never came. In front of him, floating in a sky blue, was her father. Ishtar's legs gave way and her tears ceased.
—Papa? —she called him with a thread of a voice.
—My little Ishtar —he replied with a heavy voice.
They tried to touch, but Ishtar went through him. She looked at her Anunnaki, pleading with him.
—Say goodbye to them, dear —he whispered to her. —May they reach the Elysium in peace.
Ishtar nodded, looking at her father with new tears. He was beginning to fade.
—Grow strong, my daughter —her father had whitish threads running down his face.
—Be strong, Ishtar —the voice of her mother's voice caressed her ears.
Turning around, she found her, with tears running down her ghostly face and smiling at Ishtar with so much love that the girl's heart ached.
—Live, dear —she whispered to her, broken.
And they vanished. Ishtar stood there, frozen. Then, the dam of her pain broke; once more she sought her Anunnaki, who cradled her to his chest and brushed her hair. He sang to her softly, and the sweet nothingness of sleep invaded her.
—Sleep, dear —he told her before she was claimed by sleep. —I will take care of you.
And so, Ishtar exhaled, shrinking into his warmth.