(Kisaya POV)
Enough?
My muscles tensed. My fingertips brushed the cold metal of my spear—caught between reaction and control.
Darek stood across from me, his expression casual, unconcerned, as though the weight of what he'd witnessed meant nothing. But I knew better. Darek was no fool.
He had seen Ereshgal.
He had seen the truth of what Ereshgal had become.
And that made him dangerous.
My heart beat fast and hard, every beat a brutal reminder of my Divine Edict. My hands tightened around my spear. Its weight was steady.
I couldn't let him live.
Just as I was ready to strike, Darek sighed and scratched the back of his neck—a gesture so painfully casual it stalled my breath.
He raised both hands slightly, palms forward. "Wait, wait… how sure are you that it's really the prince? Isn't it strange that thing could be him?"
I kept my stance, spear still ready. "I asked him something only he could answer. And I know him… his voice, his eyes, the way he speaks. It was him."
Darek lowered his hands slowly. "If you're that certain… then…"
He paused, watching me closely.
"Do you know what my goal is, Kisaya?"
The question caught me off guard. Why is he asking me this now?
I shook my head slowly, a wave of suspicion hit me.
"Peace" he said simply, meeting my gaze. "So I can live without looking over my shoulder." His eyes were clear. Unblinking.
His words caught me off guard.
Peace? From him?
I was so taken aback that my guard slipped for a moment.
My spear dropped slightly—barely enough to notice, but it happened.
Darek chuckled softly, sensing my disbelief.
"Didn't expect that from me, huh? I know I've got the best sense of humor you've ever encountered, but…I don't like seeing my home in conflict."
A small, bitter laugh escaped me despite myself, but I cut it off quickly. This wasn't the time for levity. Not now. Not with him waiting for me.
Darek's smile faded slowly, replaced by a thoughtful, unexpectedly sincere look.
"You know Uruk's not in a good place right now. Everything's unstable. This involves everyone. We can't afford to split any further."
He paused.
"I'm not saying this lightly."
He sighed again, deeper, heavier, eyes shadowed now with genuine concern. "So even if he was a wild beast from who knows where, he's the prince. He might be able to help. Don't you think?"
My grip on the spear tightened, knuckles pale. His logic made sense. Ereshgal could help. And now… I'd finally found him. Alive. Whole, in his own way. But could I really bring him into everything happening in Uruk right now? After everything that just happened? He didn't need another shock.
And Ereshgal was different now.
Changed.
Unstable.
If he loses control in the city… it'll be a bloodbath. And they'll kill him before they even try to understand.
I know he could help.
But… I don't know.
Is it the right thing to do?
"Maybe you're right" I said slowly, the words tasting bitter on my tongue, my voice rougher than intended. "But how do I know you're telling the truth?" I raised my spear deliberately, letting its tip glint in the cold starlight.
A clear warning.
Darek exhaled sharply, almost theatrically. "Figured you'd say that. And if I just told you, you wouldn't believe me anyway, would you?"
A faint smirk appeared. "What if I swore on my impeccable reputation?"
I stared at him, unamused, unmoving.
His smile faltered just slightly. "Have you noticed how many times I've sighed in this conversation? It's probably unhealthy. Stressful situation we're in, you know."
I didn't respond. Silence stretched between us, dense and uncomfortable. I wasn't in the mood for jokes or anything less than the truth. The stakes were too high. Ereshgal's presence had shaken something in me. Something I thought I'd buried long ago. My body remembered him. Longed for him.
Darek continued, "Would it make you feel better if I swore a Divine Oath not to tell anyone the creature was the prince?" His tone was measured, almost casual. Like he wasn't offering the most sacred promise a chosen could make.
My heart stopped.
He'd just offered a Divine Oath, something even the bravest Chosen would rather die than give. Breaking it meant more than dishonor. It was the same as violating an Edict three times over. The punishment would be divine, immediate, and absolute.
He couldn't possibly mean it.
I stared at him, the weight of my skepticism crushing my voice into a quiet whisper. "Are you serious?"
Darek shrugged, a shadow of resignation in his eyes. "Do I have another choice? You'll kill me otherwise, won't you?"
I didn't hesitate.
"Yes."
Not because I felt nothing, but because the truth burned through me, impossible to ignore.
Darek gave a slow nod, as if my answer only confirmed what he already knew. Then he raised his hand, palm open to me. The night held its breath as he began to recite the Divine Oath:
"In the name of Papsukkal, god of messengers and hidden paths, whose Edict binds me and whose will guides me…"
The words resonated, hanging heavily in the air, thick and vibrant. Instantly, a symbol flared to life in brilliant orange-gold upon his palm—a pair of intricately woven wings intersected by a winding path, each feather sharp, precise, emanating the divine glow.
"I swear by his eternal name that I will never, by any means, communicate to anyone that Ereshgal was responsible for the attacks, nor that he lives, unless Kisaya herself grants me permission."
A pause.
"Let Papsukkal bear witness."
The symbol pulsed brighter for a second, then faded gradually into the night. I let out a sharp breath, only now noticing how long I'd held it. My grip on the spear loosened. Muscles began to release, and my pulse started to settle.
He was no longer an enemy, he was bound now, sealed by something far stronger than mere words. I could trust him. Or, at least, trust that he feared divine punishment enough not to betray us.
Then Darek spoke again, his tone lighter, almost teasing, yet carrying an undercurrent of genuine concern. "So… what do we do now with our dear prince?"
I turned slightly, facing the direction I'd left him.
A low stir ran through me—heart quickening, breath catching for no clear reason.
It wasn't fear.
It felt like... anticipation.