Irkalla was quiet. It was quiet most nights, but as Kigal sat and watched the sun disappear from her window, the late evening breeze lapping cool against her skin, she decided she hadn’t felt anything like this in a long while. Perhaps ever.
Her shades poked around Tammuz, inspecting the living man who’d come to dwell among them, but still things felt uneventful for Kigal. Flat. She couldn’t shake the feeling that despite her efforts, despite that Inanna had lost, she herself hadn’t won either. In a conflict so exacting, she doubted there were truly any victors.
She watched the shades who’d gathered far outside of Ganzir’s walls. A few played with the lyre and flute she’d brought back for them, the rest dancing around the fire Tammuz had constructed. From this distance, she could barely
