The morning of the Rite arrived under a sky the color of heated bronze.
Aylin arrived at his chamber carrying the temple robe draped over her arms.
“Commander Ninsara sent me,” she said, stepping inside and letting the curtain fall shut behind her. “She wants it done correctly.”
Zephyr studied the fine white linen, then looked at her. “I have no idea how to put this on properly. Will you help me?”
Aylin hesitated only a moment, then nodded. “Take off your tunic.”
He pulled it over his head. Aylin’s gaze dropped openly, tracing the hard lines of his chest and stomach, the fading bruises from training.
Zephyr had a waist wrap tied around his hips and legs. Aylin pointed at it. "Take that off as well." He looked at it for a moment, then removed it, leaving him standing in only the loincloth which was given to him a few days ago.
She unfolded the robe and stepped behind him first, settling the linen over his shoulders. Her hands smoothed down his back slowly far slower than necessary.
When she came around to the front, she stood very close. Closer than required. Her fingers worked the folds across his chest, knuckles deliberately brushing over his nipples. She repeated the motion on the other side, watching his reaction.
Zephyr’s breathing deepened.
Aylin dropped to one knee to adjust the lower folds around his hips. Her face was unmistakably close to his cock, separated only by the loincloth. He could feel the warmth of her breath through it.
Her hands slid under the edge of the robe, fingertips grazing the sensitive skin just below his navel before moving lower, tracing the sharp lines of his hip bones and the top of his groin. She took her time, clearly enjoying the way his cock twitched beneath the thin fabric.
When she finally rose, she stayed pressed close, her firm, uplifted breasts grazing his chest.
Their eyes locked.
For a heartbeat, neither moved.
Then Aylin suddenly rose onto her toes, grabbed the back of his neck, and kissed him. Her tongue brushed his for a brief, electric second before she pulled back, flushed and breathing fast.
She looked almost startled by her own boldness. “…The temple cloth looks dangerous on you,” she whispered, voice rough. “Try not to die wearing it.”
Zephyr stood stunned for a moment, lips still tingling.
Aylin smacked his cock with enough force to make him flinch. She grinned. "Shut it off. The Commander will be waiting.”
He curled forward with a hiss. “You’re going to pay for that, Aylin.”
Zephyr found Ninsara near the edge of the corridor. “I really don’t want to go,” he said.
Ninsara finally stopped, turning slightly. “That isn’t a reason.”
He shook his head slightly. “That’s not what I mean. Something… skipped.”
Her brow tightened a fraction. “Skipped?”
“Like the moment didn’t line up properly,” he said.
A beat. “But I can’t explain it.”
“Then don’t try,” she said. “You’ll lose clarity chasing what you can’t name.”
They moved through Uruk in silence. Twenty of Ninsara’s best soldiers formed a protective square around them. The streets felt heavier today. Word had already spread. People watched from rooftops and canal edges as the foreign man was escorted to the Temple of Inanna.
The temple platform rose before them, massive and ancient.
Enheduanna stood at the center of the inner sanctum. To her right stood Ila-Seret.
Ninsara dropped to one knee immediately. Aylin and the soldiers followed. Zephyr stayed standing, distracted by a faint pressure he couldn’t fully locate in memory or thought.
Enheduanna’s voice echoed through the pillared chamber. “Still defiant.”
Zephyr hesitated. “It’s not defiance,” he said, voice lower. “These things… they’re mine. Taking them would be like asking you to give up your role.”
A ripple of outrage moved through the lesser priests. Ila-Seret did not react with them. Instead, she studied Zephyr in silence.
Enheduanna raised a hand. Silence fell instantly. Then she spoke, calm and absolute.
“You misunderstand the order of things.”
A pause.
“You will not be stripped of anything. Not yet.”
Her gaze shifted slightly. “Bring the Tablets of Venus,” she commanded.
Two priests carried forward a heavy clay tablet set into a wooden frame. The surface was covered in dense, elegant markings—cycles of Venus, eclipse predictions, and strange overlapping patterns that made Zephyr’s pulse quicken. He recognized fragments of what he had seen in Dubai. Not identical, but related. The same underlying rhythm.
As he stepped closer, the obsidian ring on his finger grew warm.
Enheduanna noticed immediately. “Place your hands on the tablet.”
“No. Not unless I know exactly what you’re testing for.”
“This is not a request,” she said. “It is a verification.”
Ninsara tensed beside him but said nothing.
“Fine,” Zephyr said quietly. “But don’t call it consent.” After a brief hesitation, he stepped forward and placed both palms on the clay.
The reaction was immediate.
A low hum filled the chamber. The silver chain around his neck began to glow with a soft blue light—the same hue as the field that had pulled him through time. The obsidian ring pulsed once, then twice.
The tablet under his hands grew warm, and several of the inscribed lines seemed to shift and realign, as if the patterns were alive.
Suddenly, the same feminine synthetic voice resonated in Zephyr's mind. "Target is approaching."
His eyes widened as the realization struck him. First the watch's mysterious upgrade, and now this.
Gasps echoed through the sanctum.
Ila-Seret’s eyes widened with something close to reverence. “The alignment answers,” she whispered.
“Enough.”
Enheduanna’s voice cut through the chamber. The hum faltered.
“Remove your hands.”
Zephyr pulled back. The warmth lingered a moment longer before fading.
“Clear the sanctum,” she said, not raising her voice. “No word of this leaves these walls.”
The lesser priests hesitated only a heartbeat before obeying. Sandaled feet retreated across stone. The doors thudded shut one by one until only a handful remained.
A heavier silence settled.
Enheduanna stepped forward, her gaze fixed on Zephyr. “You arrived outside the order of things,” she said. “That alone places you within the temple’s authority.”
Ninsara moved half a step closer to him. “He serves under my command,” she said.
Enheduanna did not look at her.
“You were permitted use of him,” she replied calmly. “That has ended.”
Ninsara’s jaw tightened. “With respect, High Priestess, the city’s defense is not yours to interrupt.”
Enheduanna turned. “And what you witnessed just now,” she said, “is not yours to ignore.”
A long moment stretched between them.
“He will remain in your training yard by daylight. At dusk, he answers here.”
“Men split between masters break.” Ninsara said.
Enheduanna expression remain unchanged. “Then ensure he does not.”
She did not look at Ninsara when she spoke. “You may return to your command. He will be sent back at first light.”
A pause.
“If he remains… consistent.”
The night air felt colder once they stepped beyond the temple gates. The sounds of the city returned slowly—water in the canals, distant voices, something steady enough to pretend nothing had shifted.
They walked in silence for a time.
“You’re leaving him there,” Aylin said.
Ninsara didn’t slow. “I am allowing the temple to observe what they do not understand.”
Aylin’s grip tightened slightly on her spear. “And if they decide they don’t need to give him back?”
Ninsara’s gaze flicked to her. Brief. Measuring.
“He’s not theirs to keep,” she said.
Aylin didn’t answer.
But her eyes drifted once, back toward the temple, as if measuring distance for the first time.