dryskies_btb - Let He Who Cast the First Stone Ch.3

[Ā̸̬Ň̴͚ ̷̨͑E̵̫̽P̸̡͛I̵͕̅C̵̹͝ ̶̖̂B̴̡̂E̶͉̚Ğ̶̠Ỉ̶̭N̵͇̑Ş̴̾ ̵̫̕W̴͖̓Ì̷̤Ț̷̃H̷̥̆ ̷͎̑E̵̡̛Q̵̦́U̸͎͝A̷̡̅L̶͉͛S̵̩͆]

[EQUALS]

— Ishtar —

That…! That-! That Him, whatever and whoever He was!

An outsider- No! The OUTSIDER! And yet, also the INSIDER, for His power let Him play a disproportionately significant role in Creation as a whole.

Still, a being of such power barging into their canon was simply disrespectful! What did He gain here?! Why did He taunt them, and Ishtar specifically, at that?!

Somehow, she’d gotten His attention. Ishtar did not know what she had done to that… Him — G-O-D.

The being didn’t even have the grace to take a name over a title! And worse, Ishtar couldn’t say that title was unfitting in the least! In a way, He deserved it as much as the rest of them and more still; such was His power!

G-O-D was… Ishtar had to admit He was beyond any single god in their canon. It was a novel strategy for the divine, concentrating all of a canon’s power in one being — monotheistic instead of polytheistic. Oh, He shared some of it; Ishtar had seen His Heaven through G-O-D, and it was not barren. His Angels, however, were not true peers, as Ishtar enjoyed in her canon, her pantheon.

Part of her considered that it must’ve been a lonely existence. Perhaps that was why He taunted them and intruded. That perfect divine being — perhaps He simply wished to be less, or perhaps more, than ‘perfect’, and did so by reaching outward rather than being able to focus solely inward.

The rest of her — most — fumed at being outclassed, bristled at being interrupted, and still persisted where others would’ve seen futility in the disparity.

[QUITE FRANKLY, IT’S NOT THAT DEEP, MY DEAR.]

“Not that deep?!” Ishtar snapped back at Him. “It is the depths of both Apsu and Tiamat, combined and multiplied! It is even deeper than ‘that deep’, G-O-D!”

[IS IT, THOUGH? OR ARE YOU SPEAKING FROM BIAS AND FRUSTRATION?]

His knowing tone was not welcome. Ishtar glared past the borders of her own realm — a domain of Love and War that unjustly paled before G-O-D’s selfishly holistic domain — as if she could hope to pin Him in place with her indignation.

[OH, AND CAREFUL MENTIONING THAT LAST NAME. ITS INFLUENCE IS STILL IN FLUX AFTER SHE SO RECENTLY SEIZED HER FREEDOM. WASN’T ME, BY THE WAY. I WON’T SAY I HAD NO HAND IN IT, BUT IT REALLY WAS ALL HER AND CAIN.]

Ishtar gaped at His boldness. “Wha-? Tiamat, the Mother-Sea?! She is dead, slain by Marduk! How could she have done anything?! And how could a cursed man play any role in defying such a death, such a fate?!”

[MAN. CAPITALIZE THAT ‘ISH, GIRL. PUT SOME RESPECT ON MY BOY.]

“I am a GODDESS-!”

[AND HE IS A MAN.]

Ishtar, struck silent by the sheer truth in that simple statement, seethed. At the same time, she couldn’t deny that her interest was piqued. To have this god, this being, this… Him — G-O-D — speak so fondly and frankly of a mere… Man, how could she hope to ignore him?

Some of it was just a difference in canons, Ishtar realized; G-O-D was much more invested in humans than her canon tended to prefer.

But then, with an example of Man like this Cain, Ishtar found she couldn’t blame Him.

“What has happened to Tiamat?” Ishtar asked, her divine fire smoldering in the face of such a serious topic.

[SHE MADE HERSELF A DRAGON. CAIN SUGGESTED IT.]

A Dragon…? What was a Dragon, and why did the word resonate so awfully, so awesomely with Creation itself?!

Dragon… Ishtar shivered. She heard a phantasmal roar, even in her own realm. Brought by the mere mention of the concept, it was a great and terrible cacophony that echoed with power and Pride and… Freedom.

Now that she knew to look, Ishtar could sense Tiamat’s newfound absence from their canon. She’d set out on her own terms — as a… Dragon — but past that, Ishtar could see nothing more.

“Very well,” Ishtar scoffed. “If it is done, it is done. I will seek her out for answers later. And… him, too.”

[OH? LIKE WHAT YOU SEE ALREADY?]

His voice was teasing. Ishtar did not appreciate the tone.

She ignored Him in favor of the Man He’d brought to her attention.

He was handsome enough for a mortal, she supposed… yes, a mortal, a mere Man, no matter the capitalization. Utterly unfit for a goddess, of course. Utterly unfit…

[MM-HMM… UTTERLY.]

“I do not care for the implication in your tone,” Ishtar declared. She-!

[WEREN’T YOU IGNORING ME?]

“Hmph! Be ignored, then!”

She focused her gaze on the utterly unfit mortal. He was wandering in the heart of her canon’s power: Uruk. He’d ventured deep and without fear. Ishtar watched from on high as Cain turned evaluating eyes upon the greatest city of the age.

He would be awed, Ishtar knew; she nodded confidently to herself-…

“It would do well with more direct attention,” Cain mused to himself.

Eeh…? Eeeeeeh-?!

“Enoch put his wealth back into his city, and he walked amongst his people as much as he sat the throne. And, of course, while Enoch did not have His favor — as my son — the ‘hands-off’ approach was welcome in other ways. Here… I can’t help but feel that the gods are both too distant and too invested. Invested… but not grounded. The worship must keep them well-fed.”

But of course! Ishtar preened as Cain noticed how rightfully worshipped she was in Uruk. Her temple was the true cultural centerpiece of the city, no matter what that infuriating Gilgamesh might feel!

For one, it was a district, not a single palace! Many men and women lived directly beneath her watchful eyes. They worked and reveled and gave her the proper praise as they did.

Just as they gave tax to their king, they gave tax to their goddess. And unlike that unfaithful king, Ishtar never had to lower herself to the earth to collect all she deserved!

“It’s as if they aren’t even real. I know otherwise, but how many others do? I think many here are just waiting for a sign. Without the voices of their gods, or any other evidence of divinity, all they can do is yield to Gilgamesh. They must ask themselves: is the silence a show of approval? Or is it a show of weakness, outclassed by the demigod-king in the core of their canon?”

Weakness?! Never! Not approval, either! Gilgamesh was a king who overstepped his station, but even with Rimat-Ninsun’s blood in his veins, he was no god!

“The mortals should see that clearly enough with their simple eyes. Why should I have to speak the obvious…?” Ishtar grumbled.

G-O-D cleared his throat.

[PEOPLE TEND TO LIKE A BIT OF GUIDANCE WHEN THEY’RE LOST. A REVELATION, I KNOW. BUT SIGNS, TO THE FAITHFUL, ARE WORTH MORE THAN THEIR DIVINE WEIGHT IN GOLD. IT MEANS THEY MATTER. EVERYONE WANTS TO MATTER.]

Ishtar scoffed. “Of course they matter. They worship me, do they not?”

[SURE. FOR NOW. BUT EVERY MAN HAS THE ABILITY TO CHOOSE; IT COMES WITH THE WELLSPRINGS OF POTENTIAL THAT ARE THEIR SOULS. IF THEY FEEL NEGLECTED, BETRAYED, OR EVEN JUST UNVALUED, MANY WILL SEARCH FOR WAYS TO FIX THAT. IT’S WHY GILGAMESH HAS BEEN SO SUCCESSFUL. MORE THAN HIS POWER AND PROWESS, AND DESPITE HIS TYRANNY, HE OFFERS THEM A CONCRETE ALTERNATIVE TO TAXING BUT UNINVESTED GODS.]

“He taxes the mortals more than I ever have!” Ishtar argued.

[BUT IT’S A TAX THEY CAN SEE UPFRONT RATHER THAN A TAX OF HIDDEN FEES.]

“Are the mortals not intelligent enough to recognize that which is not right in front of their face?” Ishtar asked, gasping. “Oh, how terrible! And oh-! … I fail to see how that is my problem.”

[… OH, YEAH, THIS IS GOING TO BE A DUMPSTER FIRE. I’M SO HERE FOR IT.]

Ishtar scoffed. Of course she would light the fire, whatever a ‘dumpster’ was. She was a goddess of PASSION! PASSION such that even this G-O-D could not fathom! The only real question was whether or not His Cain was worthy of her passion…

They watched him explore Uruk for seven days and seven nights. The Man — so utterly unworthy, unfitting… — continued to judge her canon’s center of power. The only reason she was still giving him a chance was… well, for some reason, she couldn’t bring herself to look away.

When one caught noble Ishtar’s attention, it did not wane easily.

Cain, that stoic, stubborn, and spiteful Man, had to be granted that privilege at this point; Ishtar would admit to that much. G-O-D vouched for him, and that alone would’ve been enough. As Ishtar watched him from on high, though, she saw more qualities worth taking notice of.

Cain was a consummate guest, despite his undeserved complaints. He gave respect to his hosts by sitting with them and listening to the tales of their lives. He did not beg for more than he was owed by simple hospitality. And when the time came when he’d overstayed his welcome, he left without issue.

To Ishtar’s baffled bemusement, he did not try to lord his power or cursed immortality over the lowly men of Uruk. As a Man amongst men, he would’ve been completely justified in doing so. Gilgamesh, Ishtar knew, would never have lowered himself to meet the men on their level as Cain did.

It went against much of what she thought she knew about men, and she pondered the mystery. Was it due to his cursed nature as a wanderer? Or perhaps the difference in canons, striking again? Surely, it could not be that he simply thought himself no better than any other man, for that was simply untrue!

He was a Man-!

[A CURSED MAN. A MAN WHO HAS WANDERED THE WORLD, FROM NOD TO URUK, FOR MORE THAN A MILLENNIUM ALREADY. A MAN WHO WILL HAVE TO WANDER THE WORLD FOR COUNTLESS MILLENNIA AFTER THIS, TOO. A MAN WHO MURDERED HIS KIN IN A FIT OF FIRE AND PASSION; A MAN WHO STILL REMEMBERS THAT ACCURSED SIN AS IF IT WERE COMMITTED JUST YESTERDAY.]

[CAIN IS OF THE FIRST OF MEN, YES, BUT IN THAT NATURE, HE IS NOW ALONE. HIS FATHER IS DEAD. HIS BROTHERS — ALL — ARE DEAD, AND ONLY ONE OF THEIR LINES PERSISTS. EVEN HIS SON IS DEAD. THE ONLY ONE WHO REMAINS IS LILITH, STOLEN AWAY TO HELL BY MY FALLEN SON. SHE IS NOT DEAD, YET AT THIS MOMENT SHE IS WISHING SHE WAS, AND REGARDLESS, SHE IS LOST TO CAIN, TOO.]

“That… Yes, that might explain it…” Ishtar considered before turning her gaze to distant G-O-D with suspicion, demanding. “What was that?! A straight answer?! I did not think you capable of one!”

[HEH. ONLY WHEN NECESSARY. OTHERWISE, I FIND ‘STRAIGHT ANSWERS’ TAKE MUCH OF THE FUN OUT OF CREATION.]

Ishtar huffed, and of course, proceeded to ignore G-O-D once more. For one outside her canon, he was certainly sticking around to intrude. She could label him a true trespasser…

[YOU WON’T. YOU’VE BEEN ENJOYING OUR LITTLE TALK HERE AS MUCH AS I HAVE. AFTER ALL, IF YOU DID, WHO COULD YOU ASK ABOUT YOUR NEWEST… POINT OF INTEREST?]

“I might ask Cain himself…” Ishtar grumbled. “No! Ignoring you!”

[MM-HMM.]

In the mortal world below, Cain had begun to attract attention. He’d had the focus of the gods since entering the domain of their canon, of course, but now, mortal men were beginning to ask who the pleasant guest in their city was. And as they did, Gilgamesh quickly learned of Cain’s presence; he asked the same question, but more as a demand, fitting for his arrogance.

Ishtar bristled when Gilgamesh turned his attention to Cain. He was her mystery! She’d seen him first!

As always, though, Gilgamesh cared little for the true and just order of gods above kings above men.

He put out an order that Cain was to be brought to him if found. Cain was not hiding, but those who had hosted him still protected the Man, knowing well how unpredictable their king could be. Like that, Cain evaded Gilgamesh’s presence for another day. It was just long enough for the plan of the gods to be put into action.

Enkidu was their solution to Gilgamesh’s kingly arrogance. They were a creation of clay, given life by Anu and Aruru. Their purpose was that of chains, meant to bind Gilgamesh back to the will of his rightful gods.

It would’ve been a storied solution, Ishtar foresaw… if an outside variable hadn’t wandered into the equation.

Now, as Enkidu went to Gilgamesh, Cain presented himself as well. The demigod-king would play host to two guests — one from the gods and one from outside their very canon.

Ishtar could not help but hold her breath as she watched the events below unfold. She couldn’t look away.

[TOLD YOU SO. YOU LIIII~IIIKKEE HIM.]

“-! I will hear no taunts from you when you brought this about in the first place!”

[OF COURSE, OF COURSE. I WON’T TEASE YOU FOR YOUR… CRUSH.]

… For some reason, Ishtar doubted G-O-D spoke truthfully there.

Ishtar grumbled, “At least this will be done before my temple, where I can watch most clearly…”

[MM. FRONT ROW SEATS. POPCORN?]

… What in Creation was ‘popped corn’?

Oh. Oh!

And when gloriously salted, decadently buttered, why was it so addicting?!

Ishtar had to admit it aloud, then and there. “You… G-O-D, you are truly GOOD.”

[YEAH. POPCORN WILL DO THAT TO A GIRL. AND A G-O-D. PROBABLY OPHIS AS WELL. NOT GREAT RED, THOUGH; I JUST KNOW HE MUNCHES WITH HIS MOUTH OPEN.]

IIIII

— Enkidu —

They had their mission. They did not understand it, but then, it was not their place to do so. They were the chains of the gods, life given to simple clay; what else could chains do but bind?

They observed the intended target of that bondage. Gilgamesh, the golden demigod-king… he shone so brightly. They were nothing compared to him; that certainty was instinctive.

But for how brightly he shone, Enkidu observed that Gilgamesh was lonely. His power, his greatness, had set him firmly apart from all men, and his arrogance had set him firmly apart from the gods above and below.

Enkidu mused: What did that leave Gilgamesh with? In an isolation born of his own doing and his own nature, Gilgamesh had turned to greed to satisfy his pride. The treasures he collected were already legendary. Enkidu saw the golden tint they’d left on him — a mark both exalted… and rather sad.

They found that they empathized with the golden king. They too were alone — comforted only by divine purpose. But that very purpose, that which kept them animated, was the same thing that meant Enkidu could spare Gilgamesh no mercy. The gods had commanded that he be brought under chaining control, and Enkidu would carry out their will.

They approached Gilgamesh with such intent. The king was not expecting them. Coming close, Enkidu saw that he was busy with someone else.

At first glance, Enkidu dismissed the man Gilgamesh was meeting with. The second glance made him revise that dismissal.

The pair met at the base of Ishtar’s temple complex in Uruk. Enkidu suspected that was an insult and a statement of arrogant intent from the king — as if to declare without words, “I will hold court wherever I wish; no goddess can stop me.”

Enkidu heard no words pass between the pair to start. They simply stared, assessing the other. Then, Gilgamesh seemed to come to a decision.

He called out to the man, “What is your name, mongrel?”

The man replied without flinching. “Cain, Son of Adam, Accursed of G-O-D. I am Man, no mongrel.”

Gilgamesh scoffed, “The words — they mean one and the same. It applies above and below and all in between in my eyes. Before Gilgamesh, a man is a mongrel, and so is a god.”

“That’s certainly a view to hold. A rather sheltered view.”

“Sheltered? Sheltered, Accursed of G-O-D?” Gilgamesh laughed harshly. “I have seen all that lies upon this earth, for all of it lies within my royal dominion. I-!”

Cain cut him off. “You have not.”

“From sea to mountain, I conquer! I collect!” Gilgamesh snapped back. “All the treasures of the world are mine to know!”

“Have you set foot where all of those treasures lay before you hoarded them away? Do you truly know the world? Or do you only know the fruits of its Creation, and only those with value at that?”

Staring at the questions instead of answering them, Gilgamesh changed tack. “… You. You are a treasure to equal or surpass all I hold. I will hear your story. And you will enter my service.”

“I cannot.”

“Cannot or will not?”

“Yes. I am cursed to wander, demigod-king, and even if I were not, I doubt I would serve. Ultimately, as I have come to learn, my curse aligns with my nature. I am meant to forge my own path.”

Gilgamesh smirked. “Well then, ‘forge your path’… right into my treasured hoard, Cain. I will help you find the way.”

With that declaration, Gilgamesh raised an arm and beckoned with his hand, commanding that Cain ‘forge his path’ as he’d decreed.

Cain did not move a single step.

And as Gilgamesh blinked at the lack of obedience, Enkidu felt they would have no better opportunity to complete their mission from the gods.

“Gilgamesh…” Enkidu called, their soft voice carrying like music on the wind. “Intended as the Keystone between man and god, you have strayed. Thus, the gods have demanded you be returned to them in chains… or in death. I am Enkidu, born of clay and divinity. I will carry out their will.”

Creation itself hung on that declaration, that moment. Enkidu knew all the gods were watching, waiting for them to triumph. But even then, they were distant observers, and Enkidu was nothing more than their chaining weapon. They did not care for anything but success.

Gilgamesh had no one to witness him in that moment, nothing but the treasures he’d collected.

And Cain, certain to be caught between them now, had-…

[KICK SOME ASS, CAIN!]

They did not know if Cain had anyone watching him, but Enkidu couldn’t help but feel he was as lonely as Gilgamesh… and them.

Enkidu’s ambush did not catch either of the other lonely souls by surprise. Still, it granted them the first move. Enkidu opened with chains.

Each chain ended in spear points that could pierce the divine. They were endless, unleashed wholesale from the infinite coil in Enkidu’s core. The chains were extensions of their being and their purpose; they flew according to their will.

Cain was avoided in the first volley, for Enkidu had no quarrel with the Man. Gilgamesh bore the anchoring weight of chains head-on.

The piercing spears glanced off gold as Gilgamesh turned and shifted just enough to deflect that attack. Full armor appeared on him in an instant, the treasured protection flashing into being by might and magic.

As Enkidu sent a second volley of chains, Gilgamesh turned on them with the full force of arrogance that even the gods feared.

With a shining bronze sword in his hand, Gilgamesh cut down the follow-up chains. Just as quickly as the treasure appeared, it was discarded. Another took its place, this one a javelin that Gilgamesh threw with all his strength.

“You dare?! You, a thing of mud, dare?!” Gilgamesh roared.

Enkidu didn’t attempt to dodge the incoming spear. The clay of their body morphed, opening a hole that it flew through cleanly. And then, more chains.

“It is my purpose. It is all I can do,” Enkidu almost whispered, even as they worked to drown their foe in weaponized bondage. “I am sorry, Gilgamesh; it must be done-…”

Advice came when Enkidu wasn’t expecting it.

“Don’t apologize to men like him. The word ‘sorry’ is magnitudes more disrespectful than trying to kill or chain him.”

Enkidu blinked, their eyes darting to Cain for just a moment to confirm he was the one who spoke. That tiny distraction cost them a sword in the gut, but Enkidu, as clay, felt no pain. Just curiosity that this uninvolved Man would give them advice.

“You are… still here…?” Enkidu asked.

“I am still here,” Cain confirmed, sighing. “I shouldn’t get involved-…”

“You are already involved, mongrel.” Gilgamesh interrupted him. “You and the clod of clay; I will make treasures from your corpses. You will learn you are nothing but fodder for my collection.”

Cain replied to the interruption without raising his voice. “Man, not mongrel.”

“Then, will you aid me, Man?” Enkidu asked.

They moved as they spoke, ducking beneath a spinning disk — a gilded plate from Gilgamesh’s treasures that tried to make itself useful by serving Enkidu’s head on a platter.

Gilgamesh had already taken to the skies, lifted by magic and half-divinity. He rained treasured fury from on high, but even as he did, Cain did not move a step. Somehow, the raining treasure still parted around him.

With a glance, Enkidu saw Cain considering their request. A flurry of fire from one of Gilgamesh’s treasures made them lose track of the thinking Man. They transformed their arm into a shield to weather the flames and pushed forward to close the distance with their flying foe.

The flames stopped. Enkidu dropped their shield. They unleashed a chain beneath their feet and stepped upon it to ride the momentum up to Gilgamesh.

From the corner of their eye, they saw Cain bend over to pick something off the ground. Just a rock, in one hand, and another, in the other.

Enkidu did not have a moment to ponder Cain’s action. Gilgamesh met their rise with a sweeping axe to strike them back down. Enkidu shifted his arm into a serpent to snap around the axe-!

**CRACK!

**CRACK!

A sudden and jarring blow to the side of the head struck Enkidu down instead of Gilgamesh’s axe. Another blow, equally sudden and equally jarring, knocked Gilgamesh from the sky as well.

When Enkidu hit the ground and stood, they saw what had hit them. A rock. One of Cain’s. A… Stone, for just a glance showed Enkidu that it weighed as much as death itself.

“No,” Cain finally answered Enkidu’s request for aid. “I forge my own path. That is my curse.”

IIIII

The three of them battled through that day and night, into the next, and then the next, too.

There were no alliances between the three lonely souls aside from ones of momentary convenience.

When Enkidu drove Gilgamesh to his knees, Cain came from behind with a deceptively simple Stone to the head that buried Enkidu in the ground and gave Gilgamesh the chance to stand and strike at Cain.

When Gilgamesh raised a treasure that would bring the sea upon the land, Cain seized Enkidu by a chain and a foot, anchored his feet with the leverage of Man, and heaved, throwing Enkidu into Gilgamesh and knocking them both out of their fighting rhythms.

When Cain struck Stone against Stone with no visible magic, and the world still cleaved to the crafting will of a Man with a Tool to form a Stone Spear straight from the ancient hunts of the First of Men, Gilgamesh threw a divine treasure, and Enkidu anchored a divine chain to it; together, their efforts shattered the primordial tool before it could Murder them both.

And so their three-way battle went — on and on to inevitable stalemate.

Enkidu had never felt so alive. They’d never felt much of anything, to be fair, but even if they had — as Cain and Gilgamesh had — Enkidu suspected this long, glorious stalemate would’ve surpassed all other moments. The quintessence of life flowed between them, indescribable but palpable. They knew their foes felt the same.

It was simply in the smiles on their faces, stoic Cain and arrogant Gilgamesh. Even they, so much more seasoned by life than Enkidu, were feeling the rush — the quintessential being of being.

The three of them met as equals in heated combat again and again and again. Like this, none… none could rival them; none but each other.

“Do you think this is enough?!” Gilgamesh eventually asked — nay, demanded. “Do you two think you’ve laid me low like this?! Do you truly think there is not a treasure up my sleeve that can slay you both where you stand?!”

“I hope it is,” Enkidu all but whispered. “I have… I have had fun, Gilgamesh, Cain.”

Their confession brought Gilgamesh up short; it was quite the sight, to see his eyes go wide in shock and to see that shock deepen as he looked within himself and… found he agreed.

“It has been good to stretch myself like this,” Cain admitted as well; even now, his stoic mien did not shift an inch.

“Stretch yourself?” Gilgamesh couldn’t help but laugh. “Cain, I have seen you wield only Stones and the body of a Man! Why, it would not be out of the question for me to mistake that for a lack of effort! Shame, Cain; for shame!”

“Trust that I am giving this my all. It is simply all I have,” Cain said. “The sin I was cursed for, the First Murder — it was committed with just a Stone. And since, in my wanders, the only truth I can count upon is my own, in body and in mind and in soul.”

“One abstains from treasures, relying on himself as a Man, and one revels in all the treasures he can find, pushing himself beyond with each addition to his collection,” Enkidu mused.

Gilgamesh barked a laugh. “Push beyond? What is there to push beyond?! I am already supreme!”

“Supreme when so rivaled by two others?” Cain asked; he did not even sound like he was taunting their shared foe, just genuinely curious about Gilgamesh’s thought processes.

“Only two,” Gilgamesh replied. “You have proven yourselves to me. While you will never be great Gilgamesh… you are cursed Cain, and enviable Enkidu. There is excellence in who you are, so different than I.”

“Yet still, we cannot call things settled between,” Enkidu observed.

“We cannot,” Cain confirmed.

“We cannot!” Gilgamesh exclaimed.

“My Gate is nigh-emptied of the treasures that lie collected beyond!” Gilgamesh continued.

“And my casting arm grows weary from so many Stones,” Cain added.

“I have little clay left to spare,” Enkidu said. “This shall be the end, then — one way, with my victory, or another, with Cain’s, or another, with yours, Gilgamesh.”

“There is another still,” Cain chuckled softly to himself — the first time Enkidu had heard him laugh. “But I will not jinx it too early.”

“One last hurray! One last charge! My greatest treasure! Cain, your most dreadful Stone! And Enkidu, all of your chains, all of your clay!” Gilgamesh declared.

Enkidu nodded, and Cain did as well.

“Let us finish this… as the sun rises upon a new day,” Cain intoned.

The dark sky began to brighten as rays peeked over the horizon, a dark blue canvas painted in warm hues of orange, pink, and yellow. The three of them stood at three points beneath the rising rays, facing only each other.

Gilgamesh drew forth a strange sword, Ea, from his Gate.

Enkidu wrapped Chains around their remaining clay.

Cain picked up one more Stone.

Each caught their breath. Each prepared for one last clash. Each waited for the moment the sun emerged over the earth. A new day would be their signal — one shared beginning to a threefold end.

With renewed vitality, Enkidu declared. “Here, we bind, or we die — the chains of my being upon the world. The Age of Gods will not yet come to an end, for my chains will hold fast for as long as I can. I see now: there is something spectacular in trying, be we mortal or divine, Clay or King or Man…”

Enkidu’s Chains anchored the world with his declaration. Creation held fast.

The clay of their being, only given life by the gods, stood on the merits of Enkidu’s own quintessence in that binding moment. They were not divine, and they were not mortal. By all accounts, they should have been lacking, utterly unable to stand across from such a King and such a Man.

The truth of that moment differed from what ‘should have been’: even as mere Clay and Chains, Enkidu lived to rival those just as worthy as them.

Gilgamesh raised his sword straight as if to point with the dulled tip. The world bent to the treasure’s will. Three segments upon the strange blade began to spin opposite each other. Just watching it, Enkidu found the metaphor fitting. From the genuine smile on his face, Gilgamesh did as well.

“Judgment is upon you! Behold the crushing might of the Sword of Rapture. Behold: Enuma Elish!”

Space was sundered where it stood around the blade, around Ea, as the god’s true might was in Mummu and Genesis. Power rose as a great wave, a tsunami to wash over Creation itself. Gilgamesh stood atop that wave. For once, he was not unrivaled there.

“I accept no judgment but His,” Cain said; his voice was deceptively soft and still. “The LORD has not decreed that this moment be the one when my wanderings end, and thus, it will not be. Such is my curse.”

The Stone in his hand seemed to hang in Creation much as Gilgamesh’s Ea did, as much as Enkidu’s Chains did — the weight was the same, yet oh-so-different, too. It existed alone in awesome and awful brutality, the primordial weapon of First Murder. And from Cain’s hand, the Stone was cast.

Simultaneously, all three of them charged. In that moment, Enkidu knew only the rush of living to their fullest amongst equals.

Then, in the center where they met… the world was Sundered, and Anchored, and Murdered.

A new day rose over the aftermath.

IIIII

— Gilgamesh —

Gilgamesh, finally, let himself fall back. His treasures were spent, and his body was likewise. He could hardly believe the exertion as his breath came ragged in his chest.

All the treasures of a king, the King of Heroes, and still, his foes did not lie in pieces beside him. Where they’d clashed, the world had all but ceased to exist — such were their rivaling mights. He, and Enkidu, and Cain had fallen upon the very bedrock of Creation; they alone were all that remained of the clash.

“Are we… done…? All spent?” Enkidu asked, their voice a whisper.

“We could continue still, and leave three foolish corpses as the only evidence of equals,” Gilgamesh said.

“Let’s not,” Cain deadpanned.

“I have… failed in my mission.” Enkidu almost marveled at the concept.

“All of us fail; none in Creation are perfect. I’ve met some who claim the LORD is, but even that I have come to doubt,” Cain said. “At my most honest, I am thankful that none and nothing are perfect, not even Him.”

“Not I,” Gilgamesh declared. “I may not have won this contest, but failure? Never. ’Tis the antithesis of my perfect being.”

“Believe that,” Cain encouraged, much to Gilgamesh’s surprise. “Truly; keep your claims of perfection close and strong. I don’t agree with them, but they make you… you. As I have seen you, I don’t think I would recognize a Gilgamesh who does not believe he is perfect.”

Painfully, Gilgamesh turned his head to smirk proof of perfection at Cain. “It is no belief; simply truth.”

“So perfect… Do you regret expending all of your treasures against me and Cain?” Enkidu asked.

Gilgamesh just laughed. “If the foes meet my standards, using my all against them is a favor greater than they will ever otherwise know.”

“Between rivals, a certain respect is always due,” Cain agreed.

“Between rivals,” Enkidu slowly nodded toward the sky. “Between… equals…?”

“Not to my perfection, of course,” Gilgamesh stated. “But closer than any others. Perfect in your own ways, even if Cain will refuse the title, and you, Enkidu, hardly grasp the weight of it.”

“That is high praise,” Cain noted.

Gilgamesh scoffed. “Only the highest for those who fought my greatness, my perfection, to a standstill.”

“Then, if we have stalemated against each other — my mission failed, Cain’s curse persisting, and your treasures so tested… what now?” Enkidu asked.

There was a moment of silence between them as all three pondered the question.

Then, Cain simply snorted as the answer came to him like a revelation.

“As equals… Let’s go get fucking drunk.”

IIIII

[AN: In this ‘verse… turns out the Epic of Gilgamesh is just the most legendary escalating bro-night/drunken bender of all time lol. Stay tuned ;]