Gilgamesh and Trace had fallen asleep waiting for Astarte—she’d been gone all afternoon and evening. Gilgamesh was having a particularly vivid dream. He was in Uruk, the kingdom he had ruled over a thousand years before. He was famous throughout the land—a great warrior, handsome king, victorious general. His people revered him like a god. There was nothing he couldn’t do, no one who would dare oppose him. Then he heard of Enkidu, the amazing wild man of the woods. Soon all the people were talking about him. They compared Gilgamesh to him, wondering if their mighty king were his equal. He had hated Enkidu so much, he sent someone to the forest to corrupt him, to subdue his wild powers. But it didn’t work. Enkidu came to the city, strong as ever, but now knowledgeable about the ways of men as well. Enkidu bowed to no man and Gilgamesh could not defeat him. They learned to become friends, but always the people cheered Enkidu louder. They said Gilgamesh would never have been as strong or as brave if he hadn’t possessed the enhanced abilities of his demi-god blood. It was a bitter thorn that dug deep. Gilgamesh had never told Enkidu that he was responsible for uprooting him from his home in the woods. Enkidu had always been a guiless person—would he understand such treachery? Now that he had learned the ways of man, would he respond in kind?

A woman approached him out of the dreamy mist. Ninsun! Mother! She retained her calm, regal manner, but there was great sadness in her voice. "Gilgamesh, my son. I’ve made a grave error. I advised you to meet Enkidu, to befriend him. I was wrong. He’s dangerous. He’s like a wild thing in human disguise. Now that he’s been reincarnated as the Warrior of Gaea, he’s even more powerful, even more wily. He has the instincts of an animal, the wisdom of a man, and the strength of magic armor. He also knows how you betrayed him. Look into his eyes and tell me he doesn’t know. He has also realized that you purposely coaxed him into battles in which he was outnumbered, outstripped."

"No! He was…is my friend! I never…"

"You can lie to others, but I have always been able to see into your heart, my son. We both know your secret hate. How much you wanted him to fail, to die."

Gilgamesh had no reply. He had long feared that subconsciously he had done just that.

"Why do you think his spirit has come back now, when you have returned to Earth from your exile in another dimension? His vengeful soul has been waiting for you, waiting for a chance to get close enough to destroy you. Watch him carefully. He will take everything you value before he strikes. Notice the disdain in his voice when he speaks to you. Look at the way he talks low to Astarte when he thinks you are not watching. They share many secrets and intimate conversations."

"But Trace would never…"

"Be warned, my son!" Ninsun disappeared into the mist.

Gilgamesh dreamed again and again of the humiliations Enkidu had given him. The thought of Trace and Astarte together enraged him. His jealousy and hatred grew like a cancer within him as he slept.

Trace was dreaming of a great forest. He was running through it, wild and free. He played with the other animals--his family and friends. He could understand them, and they in turn, spoke to him. He was not a man to them. But the others came and coaxed him away from the woods. They looked like him, but they had strange habits and customs. The people taught him many things that he wanted to share with his animal family, but when he went back to the forest, the animals ran from him. They didn’t recognize him anymore—he looked, moved, talked, and even smelled like the people. He shed his clothes and tried to cover himself with the scents of nature again. But they still wouldn’t accept him. He had no choice but to go to the city with the people. He’d lost his home, his family, his whole world.

Then Trace saw something he’d never seen before—Gilgamesh ordering a few of his subjects to corrupt him in an attempt to dilute his wild strength. He heard every conversation Gilgamesh had with his mother about him—how much he feared, envied, and hated him. He remembered the eagerness with which Gilgamesh pushed him into one deadly battle after another. Because Gilgamesh was a spoiled, jealous, egomaniac, Trace had had to lose everything?!

Trace remembered the goddess, Ishtar, who threatened the two of them if they opposed her. But Gilgamesh had just humiliated her, angering her more. Who paid the price for Gilgamesh’s defiance and arrogance? Not Gilgamesh. He was half-god—he knew Ishtar wouldn’t offend his father by killing him. But Trace had been fair game. He felt like he was on fire as he again experienced the pain of the mortal wounds inflicted on him so long ago. What did Gilgamesh know about the pain of death? Until recently, he’d been immortal. What had it mattered to him if one mortal died--a mortal who had never bowed to him or revered him?

Over and over Trace heard the ugly secrets Gilgamesh had kept from him. Over and over he relived the injuries that led to his painful death as Enkidu.

Astarte hoped Gilgamesh and Trace hadn’t gotten bored waiting for her. She’d been gone all day. It would take her a while just to walk back to where she’d left them. She was startled by the sudden appearance of a great flock of black birds landing in the sand nearby, silently looking at her with curiosity. Astarte felt very uneasy, superstitious in a way. Many gods used black birds to signify death or bad luck. She didn’t even think this type of bird was native to the area. She picked up her pace, hurrying back to the pyramids. The birds had not followed, but she saw them in the distance, watching.

When Astarte returned to the others, they were just waking up. Maybe she had been foolish. They were both fine. But… She noticed a distance in the way Gilgamesh looked at Trace, an uneasiness in the way Trace moved away from Gilgamesh. They didn’t speak, but their eyes were at war. Each gave the other a look of anger and wariness. Father Sky, what had happened while she’d been gone?