Bathed in the soft blue light of the portal, Istara stumbled, shivering, after Marduk as he half-ran from the ship, her sandals sliding on the loose rocks. Raw, damp cold saturated the air and clung to her skin and gown. Moisture dripped from the cavern's walls and ceiling, and slicked the loose cladding of the rocks. A stale, foul smell rose from the waters lapping at the island's edge, stinking of rot and decay. Silence emanated from the portal, epochal, heavy, soaking up the low whine of the ship.

Marduk came to a halt by the shoreline, turning them so they faced the ship, its pointed nose a mere breath from touching the portal's churning, ephemeral surface. Cerulean light swam over the ship's dark contours. It shimmered, like water struck by moonlight. Several tendrils of mist emerged from the portal's swirling core. They reached out to the ship, tenuous, embracing it. More tendrils emerged and slid over the ship, sensual.

Marduk let Istara go, abrupt. She staggered against Baalat, struggling to keep her footing on the uneven, slippery ground as he pulled a metallic cube from his belt and set it into the palm of his gloved hand. It sat there, small, innocuous. Apart from three indentations on its top face, each with a blinking blue light, its surfaces were otherwise featureless. He pressed two of the indentations. The cube chirped, quiet. With a flick of his wrist, he tossed it above their heads. It lurched to a stop, and hung in the air, motionless. Istara shrank away from it, defensive, horror digging into her spine. A brilliant burst of blue light erupted from its base, blinding her. She recoiled and bumped into something solid. Startled, she turned, her instincts screaming, frightened of what Marduk could do. A cage of blue light surrounded them, confining her and Baalat, just big enough for them to stand up and lie down.

Baalat eyed the gleaming lines, shimmering as they finished connecting. Little pulses of light shot along their edges, giving their prison the appearance of sentience.

"So this is what you meant when you said you disagreed," she murmured, running her finger along one of the horizontal bars. "Always one step ahead, aren't you?"

"Die well," Marduk said, soft. He strode back across the rocky, uneven ground and up the steps into the ship. The door sealed closed behind him.

Istara moved to the front of their cage. For several heartbeats, nothing happened. The silence thickened, deafening, taut with unnameable expectation. An explosion of tendrils shot out from the portal and wrapped around the ship, hungry. The ship rolled forward, slow, the crunch of stone lost in the rising thrum coming from the portal, its deep reverberations drowning out the low roar coming from the ship's rear.

"Sethi," Istara whispered, her throat constricting as the ship's nose breached the portal's surface. The ship wavered, as though made of water. The light from the portal brightened, bathing the cavern in its lucid power, as brilliant as a star. It slid over her, aware, eternal. Istara clung to her prison's bars, willing herself to watch as long as she could. Light exploded from the portal's massive frame, streaming over the inside of the cavern's walls, breathtaking, radiant, the light of a thousand stars.

The vibration deepened, boring into Istara's body, holding her in its thrall--the call of eternity--its power beyond anything imaginable. Silence fell, and the light dimmed, slow, retreating as the ship shot through the portal, leaving nothing in its wake. Emptiness yawned from the portal's opposite side. Istara sank to her knees, trembling. It was real, a portal to another universe where gods could dwell amongst men. And Sethi was there, without her, in the hands of a being possessing weapons and devices beyond anything the gods could overcome.

Baalat slumped against the bars. She sniffed, quiet, and brushed at her eyes. "I should have let Teshub kill him," she said, low. "Marduk will enslave Sethi and force him to do his bidding for eternity, alone and lost without you."

Istara said nothing. Cold leached up from the stones and burrowed into her flesh. She shivered, eyeing the device hanging over the top of the cage, controlling their prison. Her fingers aching, already numb, she scrabbled amongst the stones to find one the right size. She stood and threw it, hard, at the hateful thing. It struck, dead center and bounced away. The cube hadn't even trembled under the assault. It hung there, impossible, solid, their dispassionate, baleful captor. A thing. She scrambled for more stones, hurling them at the cube, half of them missing, others smacking against the bars and raining back down on them. A few more hit the device. The last one shattered, the pieces skittering, chaotic, clattering across the roof's bars.

"Stop," Baalat said, taking hold of Istara's wrist, her fingers frigid, "you cannot defeat his devices with stone, only with his weapons. We learned that long ago."

Istara shoved Baalat away, defiant, frustration clawing at her. She beat her palms--stinging with cold--against the bars, suffocating under the brutal, crushing weight of her fate.

A bruising throb slammed into her palm, deep, telling her she had fractured a bone. She pulled back, panting, trembling and nauseous, and sagged against the cage's bars, deep cold permeating her limbs. Baalat eased up beside her, mournful, broken, the glint of tears sharp in her eyes.

"Sethi will come back for us," Istara said, cradling her aching palm against her torso, her eyes drawn to the portal's light, perversely comforted by its blue hues lapping over the island's rocky surface; gentle, a caress. "He won't leave us here to die."

"He will try to return," Baalat admitted, soft, "but Marduk will never let him come back, not if his intention is to make him suffer without you. No. Sethi belongs to him now."

"But he will be a god, with great powers, how--"

"I suspect Marduk will already be altering Sethi's mind," Baalat said, quiet, "just as he altered Meresamun's." She let out a slow breath, bitterness seeping from her. "After a million years, that monster has finally achieved his aim. By now Marduk will be immortal, along with Meresamun. Without any gods to slow him down, nothing will stop him from enslaving an entire world to his will. They will be lambs to the slaughter, with Sethi turned into their butcher."

"I thought there was meaning to what happened--" Istara whispered, bleakness settling over her, a blanket, cold, heavy, dark, "--to why you brought me back."

"For a time, so did I," Baalat answered, a tear sliding down her face, glittering in the cold, blue light. "But I have failed all of us. I let my heart stop me from doing what was right. Soon everyone will be obliterated--because of me, because I stopped Teshub from doing the right thing." She sank onto her haunches, barrenness filling her eyes. "Forgive me," she whispered to the portal. "Lord Creator, forgive me." She closed her eyes, and wept, soft, silent tears, huddled into herself, misery billowing from her.

Istara leaned her forehead against one of the bars, hopelessness engulfing her, the cavern's cold biting deep into her arms and legs, numbing her senses. She couldn't feel her toes or fingers anymore. So this was how she would end, at the threshold of another world, trapped in a dying world. She thought of Tanu-Hepa, and Sehetep; of Edarru and her baby Nesu; of Weremkhet, and even of Nefertari. Were they still alive or had the earth already claimed them, just like the people of Babylon?

Guilt rammed into her, a burden so vast she shuddered under its weight. Because she had wanted to save one, all of them were destined to die. If Teshub had killed Marduk, they could have left with Thoth and stopped the world's collapse. Her heart tightened. Urhi-Teshub would still be alive.

No. Baalat was not alone in her crime, Istara had done her part to stop Teshub, too. Her thoughts slowed, congealing as the cold drove itself deeper into her. Images from her past slid through her mind; eating honey cakes as a child with Tanu-Hepa; playing in the queen's gardens with Anash; fleeing the royal enclosure at Kadesh into the smoke and fire of Egypt's camp; the first time Sethi kissed her--his mouth on hers desperate, hungry, passionate--sending a thousand memories cascading through her mind, of a life she remembered, but had never lived.

She sank down onto the damp stones, moisture saturating her gown, clinging to her legs. The chill dug deeper into her. She shivered and slumped against the cage's wall, fatigue thudding into her. She took Baalat's hand. If it was cold, she couldn't feel it, her own hand felt heavy, numb, useless. Baalat looked up, broken, anguished. Istara shifted closer, the cold making her clumsy. She thumped against Baalat, and huddled against the once-goddess, the silence of the portal washing over her, soft, a cocoon, soothing.

For as long as she could keep her eyes open, she watched its light drift across the ground, thinking of Sethi, of his transformation, and of his final words to her, spoken in the voice of a god. Ever since she had fled Kadesh, she had believed her life had had meaning, a purpose, but she had been wrong. Everything she had endured had come to this--destruction. Death. Emptiness clawed at her. Even for the gods, there was no meaning, all was just random, a game played out by thousands of players--gods, kings, men, women--the most powerful and calculating of them all, the winner. Rhoha, in her own twisted way, had understood this, had exploited it.

But Istara had gambled and lost. Soon, she would pay the price. There would be no Immortal Realm for her or Baalat. With the unraveling of the world, obliteration awaited. Tears pricked her eyes, burning, hot. One slid free, the heat of it harsh, cutting into the frost coating her skin.

"Sethi," she whispered, her heart aching, lost without him, the eternal distance separating them, an abyss, endless, impenetrable. "Dream of me."

Darkness crept closer, warm, soft. It surrounded her, carrying her away, freeing her from the prison of her cold body. Images of her life fleeted past, falling away, until only one remained, powerful, vivid, clear--Sethi, the god, strapped inside the regeneration device, watching her leave, a single tear sliding down his face.