I stood at the viewport of the lunar shuttle, watching as the stark white surface of Kingu grew larger. My heart felt as heavy as a stone obelisk in my chest. The journey from Earth had been silent, my thoughts consumed with Inanna’s final transmission and what awaited me here.

The docking procedure completed with mechanical precision, a stark contrast to the chaos of emotions within me. As the airlock cycled open, I saw her—Ninki, my eternal love, waiting in the corridor. Her eyes searched mine, already sensing the burden I carried.

“Enki,” she whispered, reaching for my hands. “You’ve come.”

I could not speak at first. The weight of our daughter’s sacrifice pressed against my throat like a physical thing. I simply nodded and allowed her to lead me through the gleaming corridors of the moon base, past Pleiadian technicians who respectfully averted their eyes from my grief.

When we reached her private quarters overlooking the Earth, I finally found my voice.

“She’s gone, Ninki. Our daughter is gone.”

Ninki’s eyes widened, her hand flying to her mouth. “Inanna? No…”

“She found Enlil’s base. She… she sacrificed herself to destroy it. To destroy him. To end his manipulation of humanity once and for all.”

Ninki’s legs gave way beneath her, and I caught her, lowering us both to the floor. Her body shook with silent sobs against mine.

“She sent me a final transmission,” I continued, my voice breaking. “She knew she wouldn’t return. She chose this path, Ninki. Our daughter chose to give her life so that humanity might truly be free.”

Ninki pulled away slightly, her tear-streaked face looking up at mine. “Did she succeed? Is it finished?”

“Yes. My instruments detected the explosion. Nothing could have survived.”

We held each other there on the floor, our grief flowing between us like the ancient rivers of Kee. Millennia of memories—Inanna as a child, curious and bold; Inanna defying the Council; Inanna championing the humans when others saw them only as tools.

After what seemed like hours, Ninki rose, pulling me with her. Together we moved to the great viewport that dominated the wall. Below us, Earth hung in the void—a perfect blue jewel against the blackness of space.

“Look at it,” Ninki whispered, her hand finding mine. “So beautiful. So full of potential.”

“She loved it so much,” I said. “Enough to die for it.”

Ninki leaned her head against my shoulder. “Then the humans must ensure her sacrifice was not in vain.”

We stood in silence, our arms around each other, gazing at the world we had helped shape—the world our daughter had given everything to protect.

“Farewell, Kee,” I said softly. “May your children use their freedom wisely.”

“May they remember, even when they forget us… Goodbye humans!”

I stood atop the mountain, alone again. The harsh wind whipped my cape around me, the coarse fabric concealing the finer Egyptian garments I still wore beneath. Forty-seven days since our exodus from Egypt, and the voices—my constant companions for so long—had fallen silent.

“Are you there?” I called into the emptiness. “Have you abandoned your chosen one?”

No answer came. Only the howl of the desert wind.

The Wilderness of Sinai stretched below me, the encampment of Hebrews appearing small and insignificant from this height. They waited for me, for the word of their God—the God whose voice no longer filled my mind.

Yesterday, I had climbed this mountain for the first time, desperate to reconnect with the presence that had guided me through the plagues, through the parting of waters. I had returned to my people with fabricated commands, watching their eyes fill with reverence as I spoke. Their faith sustained me even as my own wavered.

Today marked my third ascent. My third attempt to hear the voice that had promised me power, glory, and the devotion of these people.

“Speak to me!” I shouted, my voice cracking. The golden-trimmed sleeve of my royal garment peeked out from beneath my humble disguise as I raised my arms to the sky. “I have done everything you asked! I have brought them here!”

Thunder suddenly cracked overhead, though no clouds darkened the sky. Lightning flashed across the barren mountaintop, striking stone mere paces from where I stood. A sound like a ram’s horn—impossibly loud—split the air.

I fell to my knees, covering my face with my arms.

The ground before me illuminated with an unearthly glow. When I dared to look, a vessel unlike any I had seen before hovered above the mountain’s peak. It descended slowly, the horn sound fading as it touched down on the rock.

A figure emerged, cloaked in light so brilliant I could barely make out its form.

“Moses.” The voice was familiar—the same that had guided me since that day in the palace when I first heard it in my mind.

“Ya-hé,” I whispered, relief flooding through me. “I feared you had abandoned me.”

“I would never abandon my most faithful servant.” The figure approached, features becoming clearer—not quite human, yet not entirely foreign. “Your work has only just begun.”

“The people grow restless. They question why we remain in this wilderness.”

Ya-hé’s lips curved into what might have been a smile. “I will be here to lead you to the glory of God. Together, we shall forge a legacy so powerful that no one will be able to destroy what we build.”

I bowed my head, feeling the weight of purpose return to my shoulders. “What would you have me do next, my lord?”