"This is devotion. This is—love. The gates of heaven open for the blood of the worthy!"

  The old man's hands trembled. He held no mere blade—he held a mountain.

  "Shhh, it's alright, Pa." The young man faced the blade without flinching.

  "Stop it, boy…"

  "The Goddess will take you. I know it—"

  "I SAID STOP! Cough… Cough…"

  His breath went ragged. Thoughts collapsed in on themselves. It had to be done.

  "Yyaahhhh!" The blade came down with a storm.

  But the sacrifice never finished.

  A force stopped him. It had enough.

  The old man struggled, but the fingers around his wrist held fast—like iron, unyielding. He gasped, eyes snapping to the cold hand that did not belong to him. "How dare you stop my offer—"

  The words withered in the old man’s throat.

  The old man's eyes lifted.

  The dark sky suffocated under the weight of his shadow.

  "Wh-who are you?" The old man managed.

  A voice stirred beneath the shroud. 'One who opens the gate.

  The old man's eyes widened. "Are you—"

  A finger pressed against his lips—silent, effortless.

  The crowd on the stairs had grown. More than usual. War must have taken its toll.

  Even if not.

  Who wouldn’t want to reach heaven? Who wouldn’t fight for its prize?

  The young man broke his silence. "Pa… what’s going on?"

  He answered instead. "What’s your name, child?"

  "I don’t know you. And let go of my old man!" The young man’s voice sharpened, his stance shifting.

  He grinned. The boy had fire. Good!

  "It’s not… who I am," he said, releasing the old man with restraint. "It’s what I can do for you."

  The young man hesitated.

  "I can take you to meet Ishtar, child."

  Fury snapped the hesitation in two. The boy’s hands curled into fists.

  "How dare you say the Goddess’s name like that! Show some respect!"

  HE DARED TO DISRESPECT HIM.

  He staggered back, hand twitching—the phantom ache gnawed at his bones, shaking his hands. The other one was stirring. Crawling out.

  It took everything not to rip the boy apart. To erase his bloodline from history…

  "Hey! Answer me, you fucker!"

  The boy wasn’t helping.

  His blood. He should be wearing it. Swimming in it—

  No! Stop!

  The young man moved—ready to throw his life away.

  "Ea, stop!" The old man finally returned to himself.

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  Ea halted. Like a dog obeying its master.

  Sigh…

  "He disrespected the Great Mother!"

  "Just let it go…" The old man’s voice was weary, his gaze fixed on the trembling figure before them.

  "But—but—"

  "I raised you better, boy!"

  Ea's head dropped, defiance draining from his shoulders.

  “Sigh… All right. Sorry, Pa…"

  "I ain't the one you should be apologizing to."

  Ea's jaw tightened. The silence stretched.

  "Go on, boy."

  "Fine… I'm sorry."

  Oh, how much fear that boy accepted…

  He let the silence settle. Everything screamed and he needed it. He needed his sister…

  "Don't… apologize for nothing."

  He forced the other one back into its cage. The phantom ache lingered—restless, pounding. But at least he could think again.

  He pointed at Ea. "Come with me."

  "What?!" The old man balked. "But I’m the one offering the sacrifice! Why do you deny me this?!"

  So much for devotion.

  His eyes sharpened. "The blood of the worthy. I’m taking the blood."

  The old man hesitated.

  "I ain’t need it. Please, take my Pa instead."

  The old man gave a solemn nod, as if he agreed with his son’s worthlessness.

  Ea tested his patience. "Meet Ishtar. Earn her favor, and she’ll grant entry to the rest of your house."

  Ea’s jaw clenched. "I have no one else! Just take my Pa. He doesn’t have much left."

  "I owe you nothing." He turned. "Come, or stay."

  “Wait!” The old man said.

  Maybe he wasn’t as selfish as he thought.

  The old man put a hand Ea’s shoulders. “You have to go with him, Ea…”

  “Who is he?! Why can’t he take both of us?”

  The old man looked between him and Ea “Cough… Cough… it ain’t matter who he is. He can open the gate of heaven without offering.”

  Ea hesitated, “How? Because he said so?!” His eyes flickered toward his father. Even now, with a path to heaven laid before him, he still clung to blood.

  Good. He’d have a chance against her.

  "Sometimes you just know, son. There is no other way for us. It’s a chance—take it." The old man’s voice was weary, resigned.

  Ea swallowed hard. "I’ll make sure you’re there with me."

  He pulled his father into an embrace. His grip was tight—like holding onto something already slipping away. And so he let go.

  They ascended the steps. Ea followed. Ahead, the distant echoes of steel and screams carried on the wind. The higher they climbed, stains on the floor turned to streams. Every step splashed deeper—red water swallowing stone. Only two kinds climbed these steps: the desperate and the bold. They all paid the same price. Blood.

  At first, shock held the boy’s tongue. But as they climbed—step after step—he held himself tighter. Maybe that was why Ea spoke.

  "…I've never seen my pa back off so easily. What did you do to him?"

  "I did nothing."

  "Bullshit. I’ve seen him beat a man half to death because he couldn’t accept red over blue. Whoever you are, just know—if you hurt him, I won’t let it go without swinging."

  He stopped.

  The boy looked like a stick, and could barely reach his elbow.

  Raised a brow.

  "That so?"

  Ea shifted slightly. "Bet on it."

  He grinned. Ea bared his fangs in the wrong direction, but at least they tickled.

  He resumed walking.

  Ea hesitated, then caught up. "You won’t even say your name… What do you do, then?"

  "I'm a seeker."

  Ea waited. Nothing followed.

  "And—what do you seek?"

  His hand throbbed. "The one question that matters."

  Ea scoffed. "Hah. That’s it? You talk like some prophet."

  “…”

  "You don’t talk much, do you?"

  "Is that your final question?"

  "Hah? No way!"

  "Then don't waste it."

  Sigh… Ea thought for a moment. "There were others below. Why pick me?"

  "You think you're special?"

  Ea blinked. "I—"

  "Neither did they. No one guards this path. No god demanded these offerings. The first bled, and she smiled. The rest just followed…"

  Bam… Bam…

  The cage shuddered.

  The other one lay dormant.

  "…Ea… Fate is more than one path. I walked. You followed."

  Ea was just like Taru. Truth didn’t matter—only belief. He would die for it.

  "Why not you?"

  Ea scoffed, shaking his head. "You think I fucking chose this?"

  He let out a bitter laugh. "After this war started, I don’t think anyone gives a damn about my best interest. I only got Pa left."

  His eye glinted. Hard. "Choice? I didn’t have a fucking choice!"

  He exhaled sharply, eyes flicking to the bloodied steps. His steps hit harder. "You think I wanted to be here? You think I wanted—” His breath hitched. Jaw clenched. "Fuck you."

  Silence.

  "Sigh… There’s no worse fate than being forgotten by the gods. When the barbarians from east came, I just—watched. Watched them burn my house in the name of evil utukkus. Watched them take my mother. My sister…" His voice tightened. "And I did nothing!"

  Ea’s fists shook, but the tears didn’t come. He wouldn't let them.

  “I let it happen. And you took my only chance to make it right. If my death isn’t going to save my pa. Then you better bring on your promise.”

  Ea thought he was fighting fear. But wasn’t fear the reason he fought?

  Mortals loved battle. They needed conflict—to pit one thing against another. Fear against courage. Life against death.

  But fear didn’t oppose courage. It fueled it. Fear motivated men to fight, grow, live. Death encouraged them to move. Courage was the will to act. They weren’t enemies. They were two sides of the same blade.

  But something was missing. Ea locked it away.

  "Why do you hide your tears, child?"

  "Heh, like I said, I don't know you. To me, you're a wolf in sheep’s clothing. Pa always says—when the wolves are near, crying only sweetens the hunt."

  He hated mortal lies. He had fought so long to teach them the truth. But the harder he pushed, the harder they pushed back.

  Eventually, he understood. They had to see it themselves. That was their right.

  The boy wasn’t stupid. And there was a reason he let him come.

  “You asked me why." His voice was steady. "Because, like you… I have people I can’t lose." His family.