S3E21: Dam’Khe Shu-Ta II
Transcript
My heart grew heavy as I approached the forbidden temples of Babylon, a sacred space reserved only for the Anunnaki and a select few humans. Babylon was the last city planned for the Exodus.
The weight of the impending decision hung over me like a shroud, threatening to suffocate my very being. I was never a present father… and now it feels like abandoning them and it pains me.
As I entered the hallowed halls, my eyes fell upon my son, Marduk, standing by the window, his gaze fixed upon the bustling city below. Frustration etched deep lines into his brow.
Nearby, my daughter Inanna sat upon the throne, engaged in hushed discussions with Sarpanitu and other human females. Their voices carried an air of urgency, their words lost to me amidst the swirling thoughts that clouded my mind. I watched them for a moment, a sense of foreboding settling in the pit of my stomach. Could this be our final gathering? The last time we would all be together in this planet we had come to call home?
With a heavy sigh, I made my way to Marduk’s side, joining him on the balcony that overlooked the sprawling city. The golden light of the setting sun bathed the buildings in a warm glow, casting long shadows across the streets. It was a sight that never failed to take my breath away.
“What troubles you, my son?” I asked, my voice soft yet laden with concern.
Marduk turned to face me, his eyes filled with a mix of anger and sorrow. Was he not a soldier I’m sure he would be shedding tears.
“Father, I cannot bring myself to abandon this world. Not after all we have accomplished here. Not after the bonds I have forged with the humans who have become my family.”
I nodded slowly, understanding the weight of his words. “I know, Marduk. But we must consider the greater good. Our people need us back on Nibiru… and humans need to carve their own destiny without our intervention. We have a duty to both planets!”
Marduk shook his head vehemently.
“And what of our duty to our own family? To the life we have built here? To happiness… and love? Are we to simply turn our backs on them?
What about the human race in general… are we leaving them to fend for themselves against the forces that seek to destroy them?”
I opened my mouth to respond, but before I could utter a word, Inanna’s voice rang out across the chamber.
“I will not abandon this planet either, Father. Nor will at least fifteen other Anunnaki who have established families here. We have no intention of returning to Nibiru. Heck, I don’t even know Nibiru myself… I am sorry, father, but I couldn’t care less for the rules and duty of a world and a race that simply cut all connections with the many of us here.”
“Tell me, father… where is the Great Architect now? Where is Anu and his obnoxious snobs now? Am I to choose them over my own life? Not me… no.”
I turned to face her, taken aback by the determination in her voice. She stood tall and proud, her chin lifted in defiance. Sarpanitu and the other human females flanked her, their expressions mirroring her resolve. Deep in her eyes I could see the pain and even a certain amount of hidden rage.
“Inanna, please. You must understand the gravity of this situation. Our people are counting on us to-“
“No, Father. You are the one in need of understanding, here.”
Inanna interrupted, her eyes flashing with a fierce intensity. I felt a mix of awe and pride in that sentence alone.
“We have a responsibility to the humans we have created. To the families we have built here. We cannot simply abandon them to the whims of fate. Let’s be honest, father… were we not the ones to create them as they are today? What manner of logic are the Anunnaki bowing to?”
She pointed out to the streets opening her arms as if embracing the whole of Babylon.
“I was the first Anunnaki to give birth to the human race. I’ll not abandon my children! I’m sorry to say this but I won’t follow league… I won’t be like you or mom… I’ll stay and support all those that want to.”
Those words hurt like knives… but I could not fight her logic, she was right.
I sighed heavily, the weight of the decision pressing down upon my shoulders.
“Father, I will not leave my human people in the hands of your lunatic brother!”
Marduk was fast to add without even looking at me.
“But what of our own people that want to go back home? What of the future of the Anunnaki race?”
Inanna stepped forward, her gaze softening as she placed a gentle hand on my arm.
“I’m sorry if I was too blunt… Father, we have already ensured the survival of our race through the creation of the humans. They carry our genetic legacy within them. By staying here, by guiding and protecting them, we are fulfilling our duty to both our people and theirs.”
I looked into her eyes, seeing the unwavering conviction that burned within them. In that moment, I knew that no amount of persuasion would sway her from her chosen path. Nor would it sway Marduk or the other Anunnaki who had chosen to remain on Earth.
“Very well,” I said at last, my voice heavy with resignation. “If this is the path you have chosen, then I will not stand in your way. But know that it comes with great responsibility and sacrifice. Remember our promise to stop intervening in human affairs and evolution… the Pleiadians were very clear.”
Inanna nodded solemnly.
“We understand, Father. And we are prepared to bear that burden.”
I turned back to the balcony, my gaze sweeping over the city once more. The sun had dipped below the horizon, painting the sky in shades of orange and purple. It was a sight I had come to cherish over the years, a reminder of the beauty and potential of this world we had helped shape.
“Then let us make the most of the time we have left together,” I said, my voice barely above a whisper. “For soon, our paths will diverge, and we will each face the challenges that lie ahead.”
Marduk placed a hand on my shoulder, his grip firm and reassuring.
“We will not fail, Father. We will protect the humans, ensuring as less intervention as possible.”
Inanna joined us in an embrace, her presence a comforting warmth at my side.
“And we will always remember the lessons you have taught us, Father. The wisdom and compassion that have guided us throughout our lives.”
I nodded, a bittersweet smile tugging at the corners of my lips.
“I have no doubt that you will succeed, my children. You have grown into leaders far greater than I could have ever hoped for.”
We stood there in silence, watching as the last vestiges of daylight faded from the sky. The city below us came alive with the flickering glow of torches and lanterns. In my head a heavy goodbye echoed painfully… ate least it was a peaceful goodbye. A proper Dam’Khe Shu-Ta.
For now, we would cherish these final moments together, surrounded by the love and companionship of those who had become our family. And though the future remained uncertain, one thing was clear: the legacy of the Anunnaki would live on through the humans we had created, and through the unwavering dedication of those who had chosen to remain by their side.
Dam’Khe Shu-Ta my children!