Ereshkigal’s skin crawled with pinpricks of ice as she and Nergal, both glamored and disguised, stood outside of Ekkur’s gates. Every time she had visited this city it looked different, growing so large that its very walls appeared to be bursting at the seams. Now it was known as a hub of magical knowledge, with a powerful kingship and strong devotion to its patron god Enlil. Or so, that’s what the official story was. Kigal wondered how much of it was true and how much was illusion. She could still recall when its walls were only the height of three men, and when she had entered the original palace to tend the corpse of late Prince Hazi.
Nergal spitting a curse at the walls snapped her from her reverie. They’d been unable to khar in, stopped by some invisible force. Their original plan ha
