Mesopotamia, Uruk City, 5790 B.C.
The priestesses helped her remove her new armor.
—Lord Ishkur was very generous. I envy you, Lady Inanna.
Ishtar rubbed the breastplate. The metal was so smooth it seemed like a mirror, and her large almond-shaped eyes stared back at her. She had never seen her face so clearly in a reflection.
—I cannot believe all of this.
—You have earned it, my lady —Zagan nodded with a smile. She was radiant that night, humming a few notes. —Lord Ishkur has decided to honor your faithfulness by taking you as his daughter.
"His daughter," Ishtar thought. For several years, she had seen Perseus as her father; perhaps she had always considered him so since he saved her life.
—Sometimes I expect to simply wake up —she commented. —To wake up on that day in the reeds.
She had spent over a decade by Perseus's side, learning from his mind and trained in the art of war. Ishtar was twenty years old, an age where she could have already had two children and managed a husband's house. But Perseus never imposed that destiny upon her mind.
—Lord Ishkur is no fool —Zagan said. She was a scrawny woman with nervous hands and brown eyes that were always dancing. —You have served him for a decade, Inanna. The gods never forget one's loyalty.
She said nothing. Perseus was no god; he had explained it to her several years ago. According to his words, they were beings from the sky sent by a true god called Arishem the Judge; their mission was to eradicate the Udug-hul, whom they called Deviants. Ishtar always listened to him as he narrated the adventures of his childhood, and the distant look and the tremor in his voice when he did so pained her. Sometimes she just wanted to hug him, but she was never willing to tell him: —You will see them again when you defeat the Udug-hul.
—Lord Ishkur will come for you after dawn —the priestess said after hanging her cloak by the door. —We will wake you at daybreak and prepare you for your day, my lady. —She examined her armor. —It really is beautiful —she whispered, running her hands over the breastplate and feeling with her finger the "lyre" that Perseus had engraved.
—It is —Ishtar agreed.
—Rest, my lady —she gave her a smile and bowed. —Until dawn, my lady.
As soon as she left, Ishtar lay on her bed and contemplated the vaulted ceiling of the temple. Carved into the rock was the arrival of the Anunnaki: the great Utu flying against the Pazuzu and the goddess Ninki healing the tribe. She could hear the chants of the priestesses, rejoicing in her appointment and filling their bodies with wine. For a moment, she wished to silence them; their shrill laughter burned her ears and so many coos gave her chills.
Somewhere to the west, beyond the reedbeds, was the An. The great monolith was the home of Utu, the protector of the heavens. Perseus had called him Ikaris, "the one who reaches high," and one of the most rigid Eternals she had known; she could always count on her father having very choice words against his comrade-in-arms. She let out a small giggle, curled up in her sheets. Memories of her father lulled her—spending time by his side under the summer sun and listening to his stories in the winter. Thus, she was claimed by the realm of Mamu.
But this time was different. She wasn't left on the banks of the Buranun, watching her parents face the Deviants. She was in the middle of a giant atrium, decorated with brilliant gems, and the afternoon sun streamed through its large windows. Carved on the walls were figures of great warriors facing massive Deviants and beautiful women dancing in flowing robes.
—It's beautiful, isn't it?
Ishtar jumped, spinning around. She sought the source of the voice but found no one. She raised her fists, straightened her legs, and turned on her axis.
—Who goes there? —she demanded with a steely voice.
—Aw... —the voice cooed. —Aren't you adorable?
The young woman did not respond. She narrowed her eyes, backing toward the atrium door.
—You're no fun —the voice whined in her ear.
Ishtar sent an elbow toward the intruder. She dodged it by tilting her entire body. Ishtar tried a leg sweep, but the stranger jumped, performed a backflip, and landed on her tiptoes. The woman was beautiful, with sharp cheekbones and delicate brown eyebrows. Her smile showed a row of pearly teeth and formed two dimples in her cheeks.
—I see Perseus has trained you well, little one —the stranger swayed her hips, wide and curved, those of a woman made to give life.
—How do you know of my father? —Ishtar bared her teeth.
A larger smile was the only response she received. The stranger stepped back, making no attempt to approach again.
—Because he is family —a man's voice answered.
The imposing figure emerged from behind one of the columns, clad in armor very similar to the one Perseus had gifted her hours before.
—Allow me to introduce myself —the man gave a grandiloquent bow. —I am Ares, god of war, cousin of Perseus.
Ishtar let her arms drop, strengthless. She broke her gaze to look at the woman, who was giving her a sly smile.
—Aphrodite —she almost sang her name.
—The goddess of love —the young woman exhaled.
She looked between the two deities, stammering in her thoughts.
—Father said you died —she whispered.
—In a way, we did.
From behind her, a third voice answered. She turned with wide eyes. It was a young man, about her age, with golden curls and a dazzling smile.
—Apollo —she whispered.
—In the flesh —he gave an exaggerated bow.
Aphrodite pouted, whimpering.
—Why do you recognize him? —she asked in a high-pitched voice.
Ishtar looked at her with her head tilted.
—I... I guessed? —she tried.
—We don't have much time with the runt —Ares rolled his eyes. His interruption earned him an insidious look from Aphrodite and a giggle from Apollo.
—What? —she asked.
Aphrodite cooed at her again, skipping toward her and taking her hands:
—You even have his reactions —she pulled the young woman into the atrium, babbling about "she's just like her father" and other nonsense.
The goddess threw her onto some steps, sticking close to her until they almost merged into one person. The other two followed them, keeping a cautious distance from both. When she saw them, Ishtar could only blink at how small Apollo seemed next to Ares; the god of war was at least two heads taller.
—Listen, Ishtar —Aphrodite called her attention.
The young woman tensed; the woman's voice was now shadowed, low and raspy. Upon looking at her, her eyes—previously almond-shaped, bright, and mischievous—had turned a dark brown.
—Yes? —she swallowed hard.
—When Perseus chose you —she said, looking at her companions—, he had been planning to ask you for almost two years.
—Why... why didn't he? —Ishtar choked out. She barely got past the knot that had formed in her throat.
The goddess gave her a guilty smile:
—I admit it was our fault —she apologized.
—The whole pantheon almost went to war over sponsoring you —Ares snorted in disappointment.
—Eh?
—What my lover is trying to say —Aphrodite took the reins again— is that we were all excited to sponsor the generation that would carry the Flame of the West.
—Flame of the West?
—Don't worry about that —she waved her hands. —The point is that we reached an interesting proposal...
Ishtar tilted her head when Aphrodite fell silent, smiling like a well-fed lion.
—What kind of proposal?
—TRIUMVIRATES! —Aphrodite shrieked.
The young woman felt her vision spin and lights flashed before her.
—Perseus is a little servant of evil —she laughed ecstatically. —When he had the idea to give a triumvirate of powers to his children.
—Children? —she asked with a thin thread of a voice.
—Concentrate —Aphrodite scolded her with a pout. —Each triumvirate gives you three powers. We —she pointed to the three gods— are your sponsors.
—I see —she said with dull eyes. —But you are supposed to be dead.
The three tensed, looking at her warily.
—We are —Apollo nodded with a clenched jaw.
—Then...?
—Our power resides within Perseus's soul —Ares blurted out gruffly. —Part of us lives through him. That is why we know you.
—Think of us as his instincts —Aphrodite added in a whisper. —We are that little voice in his head telling him what to do.
—You force him —Ishtar pulled away with glowing eyes.
Ares snorted.
—You will find, runt, that Perseus can never be forced to do anything —the god rolled his eyes.
—We are only essences —Aphrodite hugged her legs. —If Perseus wanted to, he could silence us and there would be little we could do.
—What these idiots are trying to tell you, and failing miserably —Apollo palmed his face—, is that we are all sheltered in Perseus's soul, like accessories. And although some of our consciousness is still here, it will fade sooner rather than later.
Ishtar blinked like an owl at the god. Apollo only palmed his face again:
—I am surrounded by idiots —he exhaled. —Arty, get me out of here.
He turned his back on them, walking toward the door.
—Now we can talk about the runt's powers —Ares huffed.
—I believe so —Aphrodite said, looking at Apollo's back.
—Fine —Ares pointed to the blonde god. —I won't go into details, but your triumvirate is divided into: a body ability, a soul ability, and a mind ability.
—Which is which? —Ishtar asked.
—The best teacher is war, runt —the god gave her an unpleasant smile and walked away.
Ishtar watched him leave, frowning.
—Don't worry —Aphrodite patted her leg. —Perseus will train you in your powers, but we are running out of time.
Ishtar nodded.
—Even though your world is rich and humans are strong in it —she told her—, none can withstand the totality of our essences. —She cast a look over Ishtar's entire body. —It is regrettable; you would have been a splendid reincarnation of the goddess of love and beauty. —She gave a long-suffering sigh. —But you would turn to dust if Perseus tried to make you like us. It is easier if he makes you a champion or adopts you as his own.
—Which... which one did Father do? —she swallowed.
—Both —Aphrodite replied after giving her a knowing look. —Perseus is not one to let go of what he loves and, little one, he loves you more than you will ever understand.
Ishtar's eyes watered, and she felt her chest tighten.
And with those words, the goddess vanished in a cloud of a scent so fine that kings would be envious of it. The atrium began to darken, fading out like a dying torch. Ishtar felt numb, with a voice calling her name.
She woke up with a gasp, opening her eyes which protested the light, with Zagan by her side calling her name.
—It is time, my lady —she greeted her. —Dawn is approaching.
"What just happened?" was her last thought before being dragged to a bath and forced preparation by over-enthusiastic priestesses.