The Rise of the Goddess

EPILOGUE - PART I

Istara opened her eyes. Speckled rays of early morning sun streamed through the filigreed lattices of her suite and flickered against the wall. For several heartbeats, disorientation clambered over her. Then, it came. The dream. Again. Every morning for the last week it had taunted her—the sensation someone had watched her as she slept.

It lingered at the edge of her awareness, sensual, enticing. She held still, not even daring to breathe. There. A glimpse of starlight over rugged features, eyes of gold, riven with love and longing. Fingers against her lips, tender, worshipful. A kiss, faint, a mere whisper. She clung to it, willing there to be more. The images faded, slid behind the curtain of her mind, elusive once more. In their wake, a wave of yearning, haunted with melancholy.

She lifted herself up onto her elbows and eyed the closed lattices, sensing the one she dreamed of had been here, before, with her, in this suite, in the flesh, and yet, no—it was impossible. She had no consort, nor even a lover. She lived like her confidant and closest friend, Thoth, chaste and alone, her time filled by her duties as the leader of the pantheon of gods.

And yet—frustration prickled. She searched her mind, traversed its lonely corridors. Nothing. She did not recognize the one who had come to her. He was not one of the gods, and neither would any dare use trickery against her, to deceive her into an amorous relationship. A memory of a late night conversation shared with Thoth eons ago tantalized. The god of wisdom had spoken of one who glinted with the power of the stars and resided in a realm far removed from the one of gods and men. The Creator.

Her cheeks warmed, shamed by the arrogance of her thoughts. Of course her visitor was not the Creator. He would never lower himself to take the form of one of his creatures. Or—would he? In the same conversation, Thoth had also mentioned during one of his solitary journeys into the mountains to commune with the Creator, a man—a powerful warrior—had walked out of the evening's shadows and asked to share Thoth's fire. He had carried a pair of fresh-caught fish, which he had prepared and served for their dinner.

They had whiled away the evening, companionable, comfortable, speaking of the stars, and of the vast time which encompassed their slow procession across the heavens. Later, deep in the night, as Thoth fought fatigue and struggled to stay awake, they spoke of beginnings and endings, of the death of eternity, and its rebirth, an endless cycle.

When Thoth woke to the gray light of dawn, his guest was gone, as was all evidence of his having ever been there. It was only as he rubbed his eyes he realized there were no lakes within hundreds of iters of the mountains. Whoever had come to him was no god, neither had he arrived in a ship—

Thoth had stopped there, content to leave the identity of his guest open to speculation. Istara had believed at the time Thoth had merely had a dream. Now, her certainty wavered.

She sat up and pushed the sheets aside, deciding she would ask Thoth more about his fish-carrying visitor, though she would never admit to her dreams, not even to him, with whom she was wont to share most of her thoughts.

Turning her mind to the day ahead, she considered the binding ceremony to come and the celebrations which would follow. She smiled, recalling Urhi-Teshub's joy when he had knelt and requested her blessing. At last, after entertaining the pantheon with their passionate, violent misunderstandings and equally amorous reconciliations, the pair had, at last, succumbed to the other. Both stubborn, both fierce, both alike in so many ways, and yet, they were perfect. It was rumored that atop one of Nisu's ziqqurati, Sekhmet had challenged Urhi-Teshub to a duel. Some said she had defeated him with her blades, until he, in turn, conquered her with his love.

Still smiling, Istara reached out to collect her silken robe. A white rose fell from its folds. A glimmer of stars glinted within its heart. It had been no dream after all. The one who had stood over her as she slept, his powerful jaw graced by a shimmer of starlight, had left her a gift.