The pain ended. Urhi-Teshub opened his eyes. Opaque light surrounded him, clean and white. He shifted his position, and the cocoon enclosing his body moved with him, soft, warm. At its outermost edge, tendrils of light sparked to life, sliding inward, weaving, golden, brightening. He opened his hand, golden pinpoints of light glittered along his fingers and palm, reminding him of the stars. Within the constellation of his hand, Istara's pendant remained, solid, heavy, real. He blinked. Had he crossed over and carried her pendant with him? How could he have--

The tendrils of light drifting around him began to churn, frantic, awakening, urgent. They darted over him, hungry, seeking, delving into him, piercing his chest, torso and limbs until his whole body glittered, bathed in golden light, sparkling. Light filled him, brilliant, intense. Eternal. Power slammed into him, suffusing him. He bellowed, invigorated. If this was death, he welcomed it. It was beautiful, astounding, perfect. Breathtaking.

The light within him continued to expand--brightening, white-hot, blinding--he shielded his eyes, crying out, agonized, the backs of his eyes burning. The light plateaued, vibrating, holding him in a place of exquisite pain. It exploded in total silence, a brilliant nova, releasing him from his cocoon.

He knelt, panting, his eyes streaming, aching. Still holding Istara's pendant, he rubbed the back of his hand against his eyes. Was this death, then? The beginning of his journey through the Under Realm? His breathing slowed, and his vision cleared. A carpet of feathers coated the floor, the wreckage of broken furniture surrounded him. What--

"Welcome back," a man's voice, strong, resonant, said from behind him.

Urhi-Teshub turned, startled. The speaker stepped into view from the blinding white light of the terrace, a man unlike any Urhi-Teshub had seen before. Wary, he rose to his feet, keeping his eyes on the stranger approaching him. Taller by a head than Urhi-Teshub, he wore an elaborate leather tunic and kilt, embossed with complex symbols, written in a language Urhi-Teshub had never seen before.

Eyeing Urhi-Teshub, the man leaned against a pillar, and crossed his arms over his tunic, his muscles bulging with so much power he looked as though he tossed boulders for sport. On his forearms, strange, exotic symbols gleamed, shining with an internal golden light of their own. His thick dark hair fell halfway down his chest. Under his haughty look, his lips slanted, disdainful, enhancing his clean-shaven jaw and elegant mouth. He exuded power, wealth, and arrogance. His eyes met Urhi-Teshub's. They gleamed with an inner light, the color of molten gold.

"Am I dead?" Urhi-Teshub asked, tightening his hold on Istara's pendant.

"You are not," the man said, gesturing at the destruction. "My apologies, my arrival was somewhat hurried."

"You did this?" Urhi-Teshub asked, noticing for the first time the sundered divans on the terrace, split into two as though by a giant sword. He blinked and glanced back at the other man, dread touching him. "I am dead," he whispered, his mind struggling to make sense of the impossible. "This is a test. The first test of the Under Realm."

"You are not dead," the man muttered, exasperated. "I brought you back. And there is no Under Realm, that's nonsense mortals made up to control other mortals."

Urhi-Teshub stared at the other man, stunned by his blasphemous words. "Who are you to dare speak so?" 

"Teshub, Storm God," the man answered. He plucked several feathers from his shoulder and flicked them aside. "Pleased to meet you."

Urhi-Teshub gaped. "How--"

"Surprise," Teshub muttered, eyeing the apartment, unimpressed. "After all this time," he said, dry, "you mortals haven't advanced at all." He moved toward the shrine, and looked over the arranged statues and offerings. He stopped, and picked up the wooden statue of the Babylonian god, the one Rhoha had been fascinated by.

"Marduk," he said, low. His fist tightened around the effigy, crushing it. The statue disintegrated, becoming nothing more than a handful of dust in his grip. He turned back to Urhi-Teshub, brushing the remains from his hand. "Where is he?"

"Marduk? He is a Babylonian god," Urhi-Teshub answered, his fear melding into fascination. Teshub had reprieved him from death. A thousand questions cascaded through his mind. The first being: why.

"And where is Babylon?" Teshub demanded.

"From here? A journey of fifty days southeast by caravan," Urhi-Teshub said, taken aback a god did not know where Babylon was.

"Caravan," Teshub repeated, disdainful. "Camels." He shuddered. "What I wouldn't give to have my ship again. We could fly there in an hour."

Urhi-Teshub blinked. "Gods can actually fly?" he asked, struggling to keep up. "It's not just a story?"

"Of course we can fly," Teshub answered, sharp, kicking a cushion aside. "Or could, before it all ended." In the distance, from across the gardens, guards shouted to make way for the king. Teshub turned back to Urhi-Teshub. "You will take me to Babylon. Without camels."

Urhi-Teshub paused. If he really had been reprieved by a god, nothing and no one could stop him now. He would take Teshub to Babylon, but first, he would go south, to Egypt, and claim sanctuary--a place where Hattusilis could never touch him. Once there, he could send letters to the other kings, knowing his uncle's crime had offended allies and enemies alike. A king's right to his throne was sacred, inviolable. He eyed Teshub, recalling the letter he had received from Ramesses, of his gods having arrived in Egypt. The storm god looked around, taking in the details of the apartment, disdainful. Urhi-Teshub wondered if Ramesses had been telling the truth after all, if the gods had begun to return. He looked down at the pendant, still tucked in his hand, his heart thudding, awakening anew. And Istara. Finally, Istara. Just to see her again, to be near her--

Teshub cleared his throat, meaningful.

"I will take you to Babylon," Urhi-Teshub said, "but I must ask for your patience. I must journey to Egypt. My wife was taken--"

"Ah yes, the woman you have been petitioning me about," Teshub muttered, a look of annoyance cutting across his face. He poked his finger through the bars of a cage, where a tamed songbird huddled, silent and lonely. He let out a heavy breath. "For having liberated my once-home of those who violated it with their filth, you may go to her first." He opened the cage, and held out his hand. The bird moved to it. He lifted it out of the cage and walked toward the terrace. "And where is Egypt?"

"Southwest of here," Urhi-Teshub answered, wondering if Teshub even knew the boundaries of Hatti, his own empire.

"Can we travel there without using camels?" Teshub asked, watching as the bird spread its wings and flew away in a riot of color.

"Yes," Urhi-Teshub answered, "there is a boat from Byblos to Pi-Ramesses."

"Boats are good," Teshub muttered. "Anything but camels."

Heavy footsteps breached the quiet of the corridor. The door swung open, and two palace guards entered, followed by the King of Karchemish, Arunda, a man in the prime of his life, his gold-edged purple tunic, ringed fingers, wide golden collar, embossed armbands and gemmed crown leaving no doubt of his station, wealth and power.

Arunda's eyes swept over the room, taking in the destruction, widening at the sight of Teshub, who glowered at him. Arunda stepped over the splintered legs of a side table, and knelt before Urhi-Teshub, disturbing a cluster of feathers.

"Your Majesty," he murmured, "the false queen-in-waiting has departed for Tarhuntassa. She informed me you rejected the usurper's offer to take Karchemish from me as your own. Though it may cost my kingdom much, no longer will we obey Hattusilis and force Your Highness to remain here as our 'guest'. Anything you ask, it will be yours."

Urhi-Teshub shot a look at the open door, the guards outside no longer barring his way. Freedom. At last. "A chariot," he said, terse, "with an escort through the mountain pass at Kadesh to Byblos, and the fare for a boat and crew to Pi-Ramesses."

"All will be arranged," Arunda said, rising and bowing low. "Karchemish remains yours, even now, in these, the darkest of times. May the gods protect you."

Urhi-Teshub cut a look at Teshub, who stood with his arms folded over his chest, eyeing the palace guards' bronze-tipped spears, unimpressed.

"I think they already do," he said, tying the leather strap holding Istara's pendant around his neck. Cleansed of Rhoha's taint by the light of a god, its weight settled against his pectorals, heavy, reassuring.

Unwilling to remain in his apartment a heartbeat longer, he departed for the stables, savoring the open spaces of the airy corridor, filled with the chirps of songbirds flitting through its pillared heights. He looked back at Teshub, who followed, watching him, impassive. A god had brought him back. A god who wanted to go to Babylon. He would keep his promise and take him there, but first--Istara. He touched his fingers to the pendant. When she had last worn it, her heart had belonged to him. His heart clenched. He had been granted another chance. This time, he would not waste it.