Sweat dripped in thick drops from my forehead, mixing with the dust that covered the training ground. The weight of the sword in my hand wasn't unfamiliar, but it never failed to remind me that even the strong needed endurance and discipline. My arm moved with precision, a deadly dance rehearsed hundreds of times. Upward slash, spin, thrust. The steel glimmered under the blazing sun, tracing a perfect arc in the air before sinking into the wooden post that served as my opponent.
It wasn't enough. It never was.
My breath was a steady drumbeat, matching the rhythm of my heart. I could feel the strain in every muscle, but I could also feel the emptiness. There was always something more I could achieve. Faster, sharper, deadlier. After all, wasn't I born to be perfect?
My amber eyes, a reflection of a blessing many whispered was a gift from the gods, lifted toward the sky, searching for something that wasn't there. With a snort, I lowered the sword and allowed myself a moment to take in the horizon. Uruk stretched out before me, its brick walls shimmering like an eternal promise under the sun. The towers of Anu's temple and the imposing gates made even the boldest travelers bow their heads upon entering. This was my kingdom. One day, it would be mine by right.
But it was more than that. It was the heart of Sumer, the center of the world. Merchants arrived bearing spices, fabrics, and secrets. Priests offered sacrifices to gods I was beginning to question. The echo of its greatness resonated through every alley and every stone in its foundation. Uruk was an immortal jewel, and I, its heir.
"Ereshgal" a voice had called me when I was born. A voice no one else had heard, but one that filled the air after a lightning strike lit up the sky that night. Sixteen cycles had passed since then, and destiny had revolved around me ever since. I dreamed of gods before I could walk, and their words seemed to shape me more than my mother's arms ever did. But over time, those voices stopped being a comfort. Now, they were a distant echo I could barely remember. Maybe they were never real.
The sound of wood being struck pulled me from my thoughts. I raised the sword again, my movements nearly automatic. But my mind wandered. I thought about the whispers in the court, the envious gazes disguised as admiration. I thought about how I had surpassed seasoned warriors before I was fifteen, how my words could inspire both fear and respect. I was born to rule, wasn't I? Then why did I feel this constant need to prove myself over and over again?
"Enough for today" I murmured, driving the sword into the ground before walking toward a nearby patch of shade. I sat on a stone bench, watching the soldiers train. The roar of their shouts and the clash of swords filled the air. But my gaze drifted back to Uruk's walls and beyond, to the fields that stretched like a golden blanket.
"Ereshgal" a deep voice said behind me. I didn't need to turn to know it was him. Lugalbanda, my father. General and king of Uruk, a legendary warrior, and also the man who never looked at me as if I were enough. I stood, wiping the sweat from my face with the back of my hand, and faced him.
"Father" I said, keeping my tone neutral. His braided beard glistened with traces of oil and sand, and his eyes held the hardness of steel.
"There's someone you need to meet" he said without preamble. His voice was a command disguised as a suggestion. It wasn't a request; it was an order. I arched an eyebrow but said nothing. I had learned long ago that questioning my father only earned disapproving looks heavier than any words.
"Now?" I asked, though I already knew the answer. His brief nod was enough for me to exhale in resignation. "As you wish."
We walked together toward the stables, the silence between us as heavy as always. Lugalbanda was not a man of unnecessary words. But his concern was there, hidden in the stiffness of his shoulders and the way his hands tightened around the reins of his horse.
"I've seen you train" he said suddenly, breaking the silence once we had mounted. My horse, a black stallion, stomped the ground impatiently. "You're good, perhaps too good. But remember, Ereshgal, the sharpest sword can still break if it's not used wisely."
"It won't" I replied quickly, almost instinctively. My father didn't respond. Instead, he just looked at me—a look that seemed to see right through me. I knew what he was thinking. That I was young, arrogant, and didn't understand the true burdens of a king. But he was wrong. How could I not understand something I was born for?
Still, I didn't argue. I let the silence fall between us as we rode toward whatever fate he had planned for me. I didn't know who I was about to meet, but part of me was curious. If my father thought it was important, then perhaps it was worth my attention. Though, of course, that didn't mean I was willing to let my guard down.
The wind blew softly, kicking up dust as we made our way through the city of Uruk. For a moment, I glanced back. The city shimmered under the sun, majestic, eternal. But something inside me whispered that nothing lasts forever. I didn't know it yet, but this day would mark the beginning of something that would change everything.