The day started as the night did, not mattering at all in this cursed place, and while it did not experience the passing of time as the mortals did, it still suffered the passage. The binding it was arrested in made sure of keeping its senses focused on it.
It was akin to torture, for its kind, to be made aware of being trapped, the passage of time included when its kind could just shrug it off by letting it pass until it needed to function. That bastard, usurper fragment of a failed attempt of becoming into another of their kind.
But…
That fragment managed to win against it, with the help of the traitors that were supposed to keep its secret away from the usurper. Those sons of man that called themselves the followers of strife, those who followed in the path it ruled over them, the traitors who could not keep up to the teachings they swore to uphold and obey.
It was tethered to the inner parts of the mountain, deep within the ground, but little did its enemies know. It had an altar at the mountain, an ancient one to those who felt the passage of time run them by, the original location of its birth, using mortal words.
It did not know what else to call it, for it just began to exist at a moment, and it was what it was. It needed not to learn, not eat, not drink, it just was, and its purpose was as clear as the starry skies that were moving above it.
It was one of the few things it could do, sit, in a form that did not need sitting, and watch the world twirl from light and into dark. Everything would change, and it would remain the same, just like the black sandy desert that its altar, its place of existence, stood over. There would be a call, a pull, time after time, every now and then. Something that reached out to find it, but did not succeed, and it only noticed the tug after it was trapped.
Akh-Ba was not trapped in a physical form, merely an essence of darkness surrounding the anchor that was once free to roam the realm it was supposed to observe. It watched, with eyes that were not eyes, the clear liquid drop onto the smooth, obsidian prison, knowing there was no escape unless specific conditions were met.
It had tried to get some Xam from the insolent son of man that found its way into the prison, somehow. The mortals decided on giving it a sacrifice of blood, and even though it gave it some measure of Xam, it was a deep well that needed to be filled before Akh-Ba even managed to attempt breaking that prison. Adding the escape path to its prison was not meant to make breaking loose a possibility, rather than torture Akh-Ba more, because it spent more energy than it gained, it was not able of fleeing this place without a full on war happening on top of that mountain.
Akh-Ba was no fool of a fragment, like the usurper.
If a path was laid before it, and it was told it could use it to escape, then it was not the path it would choose. It would need Xam, Ka, Sah, Ren, and even some time as it had enough of those. A trap within a trap.
It watched, with eyes that were not eyes, as the warm atmosphere it made beneath the mountain, underneath the ground, made the poison into vapor that finally managed to gather enough on the pillar of divinity above it. As it became heavy enough to begin sliding on the crystal, to gather enough of those heavy drops to make a single drop that coalesced at the tip of the formation, then slowly, yet surely, dropped on the sable oubliette of its other parts.
It took ages to get the prison from a mess of a rock into this smoothed shape. It would take many more ages before it was weakened enough, but it was time it could wait, despite the suffering.
Few drops a day, none at night, waiting for more of the secretion of those umbra kin. The shade creatures the son of man was terrified of. If only he knew that those umbra kin were just men like him, at one point. A result of the usurper making this prison to hold Akh-Ba, but it knew, it knew the secrets, the darkness within darkness, and the nullifying fragment that was behind it all.
So the umbra kin were excreting that nullifying fragment’s influence, because it made them that way, by accident. It made them to refuse what exists, and in doing so, they refused the usurper.
It made Akh-Ba’s non-existent form feel what the mortals would call a laugh. It would have laughed if it formed into that physical form that it drew out of the mind of that insolent son of man that fell here. A feeble image of a mortal at the end of its lifespan.
Then there was the other one, the son of the traitors, yet loyal.
They both had the potential to Akh-Ba, the one of strife. Akh-Ba could see the shape of their life, the conflicts that they have been in, the discord and turmoil that their life brought them, and the strife they had to undergo. They were not a product of Akh-Ba, for it was a benevolent being, its strife was harsh, but measured. If it was responsible for their growth it would have made them into strong people, like its other people before. Survivalists and warriors, going under a cruel and intolerant existence in the black sands crater, and coming out alive, and rewarded.
An army that turned on it…
Akh-ba would’ve sat, with a form that wasn’t capable of such a feat and watched as the time that it did not used to feel pass, passed. Thinking its endlessly repeating thoughts.
It would bide its time, and the fragment of the usurper would pay a dearly price for the intrusion upon its domain. And Akh-Ba would savor it if it was capable. So Akh-Ba sat there, watching and listening to the ticking of water on its prison, with only one thought on its mind.
The usurper would pay dearly, and all its people with it.
-
“You should stay here, do not draw any unwanted attention from the guards,” the priest in the silly azure robes said, “they have been assholes ever since the Astral died.”
“Noted,” Heras said, wearing the same silly azure robes and keeping their hood on his head. He pinched a few coins from the pouch inside his tunic and dropped them into the unholy man’s hands. “For your trouble.”
“It is never trouble to guide people,” the man waved away like he wasn’t committing treason in some manner, even if he didn’t know. “I will come to get you before the day is out, you’ve got that long.”
Heras blinked. “That is not enough time,” he said, calmly. “Even if I knew which scrolls I needed.” The library of history was expansive, a large part in the center of the Star Temple, with small scribe rooms, where he was sitting right now.
“I will help you bring the things you need,” the man conceded. “You overpaid for the service, after all.”
“Everything relating to the establishment of Shinar would be useful,” he smiled. Heras could not specify after all, not without implicating himself.
“That’s a lot of scrolls,” the man frowned, “way too many, anything specific?”
“Oh, I was interested in the history of Shinar in general,” Heras thought. “I suppose anything retaining to the great war, maybe stuff with the goddess Dion to start with today?”
“A more manageable topic,” the priest said. He gave him a strange look, though.
“I think understanding how the goddess won against the savage tribes and their dark god would prove a great source for my research on why and how this holy place was built,” he smiled. “I would move on to the first Astral and the council after that, I suppose.”
“That makes sense,” the priest nodded, “you can come with me and pick the ones you want, and I will get the others.”
Heras followed the priest, who pointed him towards the stone shelves where the first histories were placed. He picked one about the succession laws, another about the trade and commerce routes established with the Greenbelt merchants, and the long scroll that had something about the names of everyone that were involved with the building of the market section of the city. He didn’t want these things, not that he wasn’t interested in the knowledge, but the focus of his research was Akh-Ba and his fight with Dion.
He thought about how Theos managed to encounter the god before he did, and it made him somewhat miffed until he faced the being. It was horrifying, Heras’ heart was between his ears as the god manifested near the unassuming slab of stone, his blood ran cold in his veins and hot in his ears as he saw the swirling and writhing of the black sands that it chose to manifest its ancient form in.
Why it chose an old man with a walking stick and a smooth mask for a face, he will never know, for his family always told him the being manifested as a great humanoid, dark and enthroned, moving not a single muscle, aside from its eyes to see – not that it needed to see them, but more to their benefit, his mother once said – and its mouth to speak.
Theos was right about one thing, he had to think about this whole idea of taking revenge before he did try to take it. It was payback, his debt to his people as they sent him down a river hanging to a reed floater to survive the slaughter and extermination ordered upon them by the goddess.
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He had to unclench his grip off one of the scrolls, ‘poems of the inheritors of the words’, another scroll about something he did not need, to mask the things he needed.
Heras turned to look at the priest who brought him here, coming over with a few scrolls in his arms. Until the man clashed with another, familiar figure that did not stop rushing through the library.
“Theos?” Heras frowned as he watched his friend follow a priestess of Dion and take the eastern exit out of the library. “Back to your old ways of inviting trouble, are you?” At least he could not see the shade wounds on him anymore, he smiled as he shook his head.
The priest was on the ground, furling the scrolls back into their cylindrical form. “Another one of those Lapis gits,” he groaned.
“Who was that?” Heras kneeled to help him.
“The daughter of the high priest of the temple, Lapis,” he grumbled, “and that was most likely a person she snuck in to heal, again.”
“Ah,” Heras nearly burst out in laughter, but he had to resist. “She sounds like someone that invites trouble, as well.”
“She is,” the man replied, “as well?”
“Reminded me of someone,” he chuckled.
The man grumbled, “she always does this, last time she brought in an old woman and we had to fight Lapis all the way out. She nearly killed two of the guards when she got angry.”
Heras blinked. That lanky girl was able to fight one of those heavily armored creeps?
“Yeah,” the man pointed at him. “That is the face everyone makes when I tell them that.”
He finished piling the scrolls into his own pile, and the man was putting the last of the scrolls in his.
“Hey!” A group of four guards approached them. “Where did they go?”
“Uh,” the priest frowned as he turned to Heras. “They went through here but I didn’t see which exit they took.”
“Western one,” Heras pointed. “The lady and the intruder went through there.”
The guards didn’t even bother with giving them a second look as they hurried to that door.
“Now then,” the priest said as he put the scrolls into his arms, and the combined weight of the two piles was starting to hurt his arms, “are these enough for now?”
“Uhh,” he checked the titles and found some that he would find something promising in. “I would also like some sort of lexicon for old speech, in case I need to translate some of these,” he held the scroll of poems out.
“Ah, fancy yourself some poetry too?” the man grinned, “I do enjoy the occasional boaster.”
“I am dabbling,” Heras lied, “I will go to the room before more guards come about looking for intruders.”
“That’s a good idea,” the man’s grin faded away, “I’ll go get that lexicon for you. Try to not draw any attention, the guards will stay out of the rooms most of the time. You know, knowledge makes their brains hurt.”
That made Heras laugh. The man went behind the shelves, and he towards the room. He had so much to read, and so little time.
-
“I had so much fun,” Lapis smiled at the owner of the Blue Crescent. “I don’t remember the last time I laughed this hard.”
“I’m glad my lady,” the man bowed, but he still looked troubled.
“Don’t worry, I’ll be going now,” she kept the smile plastered. Her father made her learn how to smile the entire time, but sometimes a genuine smile comes out from behind the plastered version. “And no one will know about me being here, either,” she promised.
“I am truly sorry, my lady,” the man said, still bowing his head.
“Stop with the apologies already,” she huffed. “I understand more than anyone about the problems those guards cause.”
“Ye- yes, my lady,” the man bit the inside of his cheek, and it showed. Lapis never enjoyed it as the people treated her like this delicate vase that was about to break with each one of their breaths, but it was the reality of her circumstances. The man looked to the side before he pointed. “And your companion?”
Lapis looked at Theos, asleep and drooling on the counter, and felt the genuine smile creep into her face. “I think he needs his beauty sleep,” she said.
The man leaned in to look at his face. “He needs more than beauty sleep,” he grumbled.
She chuckled. “Please don’t be mean to him, good sir.”
The man nodded at her.
Aside from the messy hair – and the awfully patchy beard and the mustache he was struggling to grow – he was pretty close to what she would consider handsome, and she had no problem courting him, if she was a commoner. She wondered if he would accept her offer to stay in the city until the next full moon. “Please tell him I will be busy in the temple, and that he should not go there for the time being.”
“Of course,” the man said and she moved to leave.
“Oh,” she paused at the door, “That cinnamon thing-”
“The commoners call it the muted blow since it's not alcoholic,” he laughed.
“It was delicious,” she said as she passed the door and went back to the streets of Shinar.
She took the winding paths, the ones she now knew as she knew the letters of the carved language. They were organized despite of how winding they looked in the more crowded residential areas, partially in thanks for all the efforts of the first settlers carving homes into the mountain and leaving the rest of the area clear for the more crucial needs.
The water that passed the center of the city was pulled out of the underground river and into the temple, then down into the main street where it fed to everything else. The grain farms, the fruit orchids, and the many fountains that were placed for people to drink from around the city.
Then those clear roads and intersections were used by the traders to sell their goods, and that made the city full of colorful stalls and fabrics, instead of being a sandstone colored hole.
She loved that.
“My lady-” she heard the armor clanking before the men even spoke.
“Leave me alone,” she hissed through her teeth. She wasn’t sure if they heard it or if it was just them feeling her irritation seep out – it happened a few times before – but they seemed to stop in place as she moved on. Then they followed again, once she was a fair distance away. She was, after all, returning to the Star Temple.
She used to have duties in that place, before, but ever since the last Astral – A terrible man by the name of Shar –was disposed of she was left with more free time than anyone ever needs. Lapis felt lost and without purpose. She did not have motivations, desires, ambitions, aspirations… She had nothing.
Until she had something.
“Welcome back, my lady,” the guards at the large arched gate before the temple said as they bowed, breaking her out of her thoughts. Like automatons from the strange stories she read before – some culture far north, apparently – the guards returned to their duties, much like she did before, no motivations, no desires, just… sitting there.
She was being harsh, perhaps. Every person must have something to live for, at the very least. Lapis ignored them and walked up the stairs, aiming towards the top of the temple. Those pesky guards stopped following her as they saw her head up to the pit.
She stood at the top of the temple, eyes closed and arms spread apart to feel the gentle cool winds that made her clothes flutter.
“You are back,” the voice, emotionless and void, like a parchment with no words, a quill without ink.
“I am back,” she said, breathing deeply before she continued. “I will always be back until the time comes.”
The voice spoke with authority, but that’s all that it had in it. “I do not wish to be alone.” Lapis walked, eyes still closed, approaching the pit and stopping at the edge of the round and deep plummet. “I am weak. Vulnerable to my enemies after you killed my Astral.”
Lapis’ stomach clenched at the mention of the last Astral. “You are the goddess, and he was a vile and wretched Astral,” she said, anger creeping into her voice. She did not have to control her tone as Dion did not care about the displays of emotion or rage. There was no need for etiquette or manners when speaking to her, her father told her gods have no need for those. “Shar was unworthy of leading our people, a vile man with no principles that gave the good people of Shinar and its goddess a bad reputation.”
“He was my Astral,” Dion stated, not incriminating nor blaming, just stating.
“He is gone,” Lapis replied, “the people will get a better one, once the moon is full.”
The goddess did not respond for a while, so Lapis just stood there, feeling the power surge around her.
“Do not Mingle with that human again,” the goddess ordered.
“Theos?” Lapis frowned and opened her eyes, they went towards the deep darkness of the pit despite her desire to not wanting to look. “Why?”
“I felt uncomfortable around that human,” Dion said.
Lapis kept frowning. She did feel strange while she tried to heal him out of his wounds like the power slipped off him like water slipped over waterfowls. She did not think much of it then, and she still didn’t think anything of it now. “I don’t understand.”
“I do not wish to be in contact with him,” the goddess said, firm and absolute.
“I asked him to stay around,” she spoke to the pit, “I wish to have him around, his presence soothes me.”
The goddess did not speak, it just emitted an angry wind through the pit, and those winds passed through the entirety of the city in a horrible rage. It was not wind that killed, but it was a frightening wind.
“It is my wish,” she said, softly.
The wind died down, and the goddess’ presence with it. “Very well.”
Lapis bowed, not that the gesture meant anything to the goddess, but it meant something to her, and that made it worth something. She went to the jutting edge, where she sat daily, and watched the sky. It lasted a long while, long enough that the sun was in the heart of the sky.
“A few more days,” her father’s voice broke the serenity of the atmosphere. “Then you will become the Astral.”
“Yes father,” she replied.
“And all this… nonsense will hopefully stop,” he continued, “no more strays, or trying to trick me with golden trinkets that I paid for to make obvious mutts sound like nobles.”
She did not respond, merely listened, biting the insides of her cheek.
“I will allow that…” he hummed, trying to find the word. “Momentary lapse of judgment.” Lapis took a deep breath. Thankfully, her father decided to leave. “Oh, and you might want to know that we found an interesting person within the confines of the library.”
The winds stormed out of the pit and Lapis felt a deep rage that she never felt the likes of before.
“Catch him. Bring him to me.” the goddess ordered and Lapis knew it wasn't an order for her, or her father.
“Yes!” Apis said as he hit his chest and followed the storm out of the temple.
Lapis sat there, on the jutting stone that was known as her perch, watching the world move around her. She watched the world she wished to break.