Uruk, Sumer
A few days later

Back in the mortal realm, Meshara was starting to grow nicely into her apprenticeship with Namkuzu, slowly mastering the ropes of the ancient traditions associated with her future role as high priestess of the ziggurat where she'd first met her mentor. Her days were filled with various lessons and other activities, each of which offered a new layer of complexity and wonder for her to explore. She would often study scriptures; each telling a deeper and more epic story than the last; and each story so captivating the words would envelop her in visions of the deities' accomplishments, the piercing sounds of battle, the sweet smells of fertile soil and fresh-baked bread, the savory tastes of victories and feasts, the tension roiling heroes' minds, and above all the awe-inspiring feats signifying the ongoing progress of the great nation-state of Sumer. She interacted with people from all walks of life, relaying advice from the timeless tales, helping rise their spirits when they were feeling down, encouraging them to resolve their conflicts peacefully, and offering them whatever they needed to help them through their days. She also practiced ancient rituals with her mentor, each one offering new challenges to explore, each challenge building upon the previous one with new knowledge to use, and each bit of knowledge building her confidence little by little for when she would perform these rituals as a high priestess someday. She took on each task with determination, the spark in her eyes never fading, envisioning herself imparting her knowledge to her community and inspiring future generations to come.

Little did she know, however, that the evil underworld entity known as Garęihnȉh had sinister plans for her, and he was ready to chip away at the things that mattered most to her: her compassion and her devotion to her people. He spent days watching her train, observing her practicing these rituals and aiding those in need from the screens in his castle's control room, analyzing her mind for any cracks or weaknesses from which he could make openings for his foul corruption, and taking notes of how he could build his mental wasteland from where the forces of hate and malevolence would reign supreme. He would periodically send Tilmun around Uruk to observe her interactions with Namkuzu and the populace, requesting reports from the elderly priest's former apprentice in various disguises, and bringing them back to the Inner Sanctum to hold meetings with his minions on adding new strategies (and modifying and enhancing existing ones) to the table. He would also spend days in the new compendium room he'd installed in the second floor of his castle, researching new ways to send Meshara's reputation crashing down in ruins, and teaching his minions how to replicate these methods in their fighting styles. Despite all this, he remained oblivious to the counterplans of a certain Jamaican-accented Reaper, who was constantly on the prowl for new ways to help his target overcome the challenges he had meticulously planned out for the young apprentice.

Grim was also observing Meshara from the underworld, taking notes on how to help her protect these prized qualities for her ascension ceremony. He would often travel around these underground realms with his pen and sticky notes, listening for anything useful he could add to his plan, recording these things with his scythe, and copying them down on more sticky notes wherever he could find a hard surface. He would visit Garęihnȉh's domain whenever it was safe to do so, painstakingly jumping through shadows and sneaking into whichever room the insectoid lord was currently occupying to capture whatever dialogue he could that would help advance him and Meshara in their goals. He also hired many informants to gather more information whenever the security proved too much for him, giving them instructions on how to avoid the evil being's suspicion, and copying whatever they had to add onto these sticky notes. Additionally, he would travel to the surface world to spy on Garęihnȉh and Tilmun and capture their dialogue, formulating plans in his head for how he would relay this information to Meshara so she could preserve the very qualities essential to making her a strong and resilient leader. When he felt ready to do so, he began sending messages to the surface world, hoping she would catch onto the malevolent death lord's scheme before the latter could plunge the world into eternal disunity and pandemonium. "There…that should do it," he said as he finished his first message, shooting its sticky note away in a blast of green light.

At the same time, Meshara was entering the storage room of the temple complex the ziggurat belonged to, where Namkuzu was waiting for her. He guided her toward a group of tables, each containing various food items—cheese, bread, garlic, fish, cucumbers, garbanzo beans, apples, chicken, onions, leeks, nuts, and more—and told her about the purpose of each of them in their society. He described the importance of providing food for the poor, emphasizing their duties to Ninkasi and Ninurta, and directed her to gather some of the food from the tables. "This is the beginning of your path, Meshara," he explained, showing her which specific foods to gather for the day, "it falls upon you to take the responsibility of giving to your community, and show them the same respect that they show you."

"Yes, I know that," Meshara replied, lowering her head in respect, "Namluh taught me that when I was a little girl."

"You are correct," the elderly priest nodded in agreement, "he surely taught you well, and it truly shows in your compassionate deeds." He grabbed a loaf of bread off a plate and showed it to her. "Take this bread, for example. It is a vital part of our culture, for it is our ancient staff of life given to us by the pantheon, as you may have heard in the ancient scriptures you've read over the years."

"I certainly have," his apprentice replied, looking at the bread among the food in her hands. "It also represents life itself, like when Enkidu ate bread and drank beer in order to integrate himself with the humans. That's part of what helped him be closer to Gilgamesh."

"That is also right," Namkuzu said back, his eyes twinkling with acknowledgement. "This bread will also connect people to our deities in several ways, some of which I will show you." He broke his loaf in half, the sound drifting across the sweet-smelling air toward Meshara's ears. "This," he explained, moving one half closer to her face, "is part of an offering to the gods and goddesses to be served at the temple." He raised it up to the ceiling as if giving a gift to the heavens, holding it up there for a few seconds before turning back toward his apprentice. "Each receives what they need for their meals, and in return, they provide that same food for us. If they do not receive the proper offerings, they may bring disaster and ruin to the world."

"Indeed," Meshara replied, reminiscing about what Namluh had said to her shortly before she first met her mentor. "We must do this to avert disaster and disease."

"That is right, Meshara," Namkuzu said, placing the bread back on the table. "New life arises from this, as you'll see here with this bread." He indicated the other half of the loaf and brought it before Meshara. "Now, this bread shows the essence of life that will guide you toward a new path, like the kind that Inanna received to help her emerge from the underworld." He lowered the bread toward the ground, directing Meshara's gaze toward his movements to illustrate his point. "When the galla gave her the food and water of life, they gifted her the power to transcend her perceived invincibility. As a result, she become a new, more vulnerable individual, more aware of the events happening around her, and willing to reevaluate what each of her holy garments—the things she sacrificed at each of the gates to enter the underworld—meant to her." He put the bread back with its partner and made waving motions with his fingers, binding the two halves together with transparent white energy that restored their bonds. "And now…it falls to you to take up Inanna's mantle and fulfill your duty to the pantheon—and our community—by giving our people the food of life so they remember these lessons and strive to become their best selves. Are you ready to take this on?"

Meshara hesitated for a moment, clearing her mind of any dangerous thoughts. She ran her fingers through her hair, picking out any debris, and dusted off her dress, straightening any wrinkles she could find. After a few more seconds, she nodded her head in agreement and said, "Yes. I'm ready."

"Good," Namluh responded, his voice tinged with pride. "I know you can do it. Be sure that each person receives their due, and remind them to uphold their commitments to the pantheon and our community. I am certain you'll remember that."

"I will," Meshara replied as she headed toward the door to distribute the food of life in her hands.

Several minutes later

A group of commoners was standing outside the temple, waiting for their supply of food. They talked amongst themselves, discussing the state of their village and the efficiency of their farming, and debating about whether their offerings would satisfy the pantheon. They also worried about the prospect of famine, albeit in a less frantic tone than their counterparts had done in Garęihnȉh's presentation, and expressing hope that the deities would answer their prayers just like Namkuzu had always ensured. What they didn't expect, though, was a mysterious surprise from the underworld awaiting both them and Namkuzu's new apprentice Meshara. They watched as the fourteen-year-old girl emerged from the doorway with a pile of food in her hands, her gaze of soft concern mirroring the look in their eyes, and began conversing over whether she would be able to live up to the values that Namkuzu had exemplified over the years.

"Are you sure she's eligible for this?" one of them asked with some doubt in her voice, turning to the villager on her right.

"I'm not sure," he replied, wiping sweat from his brow, "but we'll have to see."

"I agree with you," a third villager shared, fidgeting with her fingers. "I've heard some good things about her over the years, and I hope she'll put her strong moral compass to good use."

"I hope so, too," a fourth of them added, feeling a tingling sensation. "If she doesn't, the gods won't be pleased, and we might be done for."

This talk continued until Meshara reached the people in front of the temple, her heart beating with a mixture of excitement and sympathy. She stopped about a foot in front them, the care in her eyes a soft beam of sunlight caressing the earth in front of her. She listened attentively to their worries, encouraging them to hold on to their hope and imploring them to help each other through the tough times. She also told them bits of the tales she had learned over the years, speaking of their heroes' journeys and asking the villagers to imagine themselves in their shoes, the sound of her voice flowing gently like the rivers that provided the Fertile Crescent its valuable crops to keep society running.

Just as she began distributing the food, however, a mysterious speck of yellowish orange light caught her eye. She turned her attention toward its source, the sun-colored hue throwing her excitement into hyperdrive mode, and saw a square piece of paper with strange writing on the ground a few feet to her left. Curious about what it said, she put the mound of food on the ground and began walking toward it, imagining the endless possibilities it could lead her (and her people) towards. She leaned down and picked it up, an elated smile tugging at the corners of her mouth, and started examining the writing, hoping there was something good in store for everyone in the community and the world around her. Little did she know, however, that the message on that paper would change her life forever.

The message was written in a strange script, one that had never been seen before in Sumer or any of the countries it had encountered during its long history. The ink was black, stretching its long fingers across the thin sun-colored surface like a fresh trail of fire charring the soil below, and giving off a strong smell similar to that of the blood shed in epic battles. It also gave off a bright flash of white light like the low-key lighting of a 1930s horror movie, blinding all who looked directly into its glow with whatever promises the text spoke to them. Feeling something tugging at her frontal lobe, Meshara began to run her finger across this text, the thin sheet eagerly flapping in the wind.

Meshara, the message read, instantly captivating its intended reader. I hope this message found you at the right time.

The right time? For what? she pondered, a million different questions flying around in her mind like a swarm of flies scattering around. Preventing a famine? Predicting a flood? Preparing for a ritual? She scratched her head, a twinge of anxiety gripping her and twitching her left eye. Whatever it is, I'm sure it's important. I'll just have to keep reading to find out.

She turned her gaze back to the tiny sentences on the note, her eye ready to dig for any hidden meaning within this mysterious script. There's a very urgent matter at hand, and you're at the center of this.

At the center of what? Meshara thought, her skin vibrating quickly as if a blast of frigid wind had just struck the area. I hope it isn't too intense, because I'm still very new to this apprenticeship, and I might displease the gods and put everyone at risk if I mess anything up. She bit her lip, her mind more vigilant than ever for anything that could disrupt the balance of the universe, and continued reading the message, her eyes shaking violently.

There's a threat on the horizon that's greater than anything you've ever heard of or read about, and utterly incomprehensible to Sumerian minds. This disaster is not anything created by the deities, and neither is it created by armies who want to invade your country. It's an invisible one about to take root in your own mind, and you must do everything within your power to stop it.

Meshara's mind crashed like a vehicle in an accident, her eyes growing quickly like airbags. What's that supposed to mean? she asked herself, wondering what calamity could possibly be threatening to take over her mental world, and what she might've done to trigger it. Yes, she'd gone into the sanctuary eight years earlier against Namkuzu's will and potentially disturbed his activities with the gods and goddesses, but that probably wasn't it—it'd already been resolved with Namluh's lesson and she was Namkuzu's apprentice, so why dwell on it? There were also the times she'd snuck into that temple to read the scriptures, but they weren't out of malice either. Besides, their impact was greatly offset by all the other kind deeds she'd performed over the years, so what else could there have been that triggered this great disaster? Her curiosity looming over her like dark storm clouds, she turned her eyes back to that message, hoping to find out.

I know it might seem daunting, the next paragraph began, hoping to deliver a glimmer of hope to Meshara's mind, but it's actually quite easy to do. The young apprentice's heart fluttered at this aspect, excited to help her people even more. You just fulfill your duties and help your people in any way you can, and keep establishing the kindness in your heart. There is a catch, though—this requires your commitment, your courage, your vigilance, a healthy amount of self-control, and, most of all, your faith—both to yourself and your people. That priest may have told you that when you were just starting, but now is the time for me to repeat his words, because this calamity is threatening to plunge the world into an all-consuming disunity that would last for quite possibly an eternity, and it's threatening to plague your mind with evil thoughts.

The wind blowing her sails weakened, slowing the fluttering in her heart, but it also filled her with a resolve to keep going and get to the bottom of this danger threatening her mind, whatever it was. Stay strong for your people, for your community, for your loved ones, for yourself, and always keep your flame of hope alive—those people are counting on you to help save this world from disaster and prove your worth as a leader.

Those words sent Meshara's heartbeat into overdrive, her courage lifting it up and pushing it against her ribs. Her hypothalamus went into overdrive, awakening a powerful focus unlike anything she had ever seen before, which beckoned her eyes to finish reading whatever else this writer had inscribed. When you do, this calamity will be averted, and you will emerge a stronger person than ever before, like Inanna did in that myth. Now go forward and fulfill these commitments to yourself and the world, and, as always, stay true to yourself. Signed, G.

G? Meshara asked herself, her mind flying through all the possibilities to who this mysterious "G" could be. Is it Gilgamesh? Geshtinanna? Gugalanna? One of the galla? One of my grandparents, even? She stopped after a few moments, going elsewhere in her mind to tend to what she remembered Namkuzu had said to her. I'm sure that person or deity is important, but for now, I'd better get back to what I was doing before I got distracted. These people are probably getting impatient.

With this in mind, she went back to where the villagers were standing, ready to start fulfilling the requests this "G" had laid out for her. She lifted her pile of food off the ground and resumed handing it to the first person in line, hoping this would appease the deities watching over them. The villagers observed her doing this, their tone growing somewhat cooler as they began talking about the note she had read on the ground. Overhearing this, she moved on to the second villager as soon as she finished giving the first their due, the concern returning to her face. "I'm sorry for getting distracted," she said, passing this person a loaf of bread. "I found a message on the ground, and it's speaking of something very important."

"What is it?" the villager asked, feeling tension around her eyes.

"I'm not sure, but it's coming to seize control over my mind, and I must do everything in my power to stop it." She paused, pushing any evil or destructive thoughts from her mind as she got back to the task at hand. "I might not be able to perform these services on my own, but I promise you all I'll do everything I can. Now, where was I?" she asked with an excited smile, as if she were planning a special birthday for her lover.

"You were talking about our village and the tales we have to remember," another villager said, mirroring the concern in her face.

"Oh, yes, I was. Thank you for reminding me."

Meshara resumed talking about the village and the lessons from these tales, her gaze softening as she related to the villagers' words. She handed out the food with grace, encouraging the people to stay true to themselves and keep contributing to the wellbeing of each other and their economy. She also beamed with pride, knowing the contributions to this wellbeing would go a long way for Sumer and the community surrounding the temple she served. The first offerings she had made were not only for her people, but also for herself and the world around her, and of course this certain "G" on her mind. She was ready to take on these additional challenges that lay ahead and win the battle for her soul, no matter what Garęihnȉh or any other evil being threw her way. Doing so would be challenging, but she would stay committed to her kindness and devotion to her people, and possibly leave a positive legacy for others to follow in her footsteps. For now, she was focused on distributing the food to the group of villagers, but regardless, this would be a meaningful contribution for everyone involved, and many more beyond.