Others believe there's a place between life and death—
where shooting stars go to rest after their long journey.
And if at the end of your life,
someone has made a wish for you—
Then, perhaps, you will receive it.
—A.S.Faria
GILGAMESH
GILGAMESH BLINKED AWAKE, as light poured over him. He slowly turned his head. Then—realization hit him—he was floating above a river, in a place of unknown. He did not know how long he had been drifting. The aches of his mortal body no longer followed him here. There was no kingdom. No crown, no subjects… Just silence. He closed his eyes, accepting his fate, then—a voice.
"You look at peace, Gil."
Gilgamesh's breath caught, his eyes snapped back open, and he knew that voice. Better than anyone. He turned slowly to his owner, his eyes widening. There, standing on the grass next to the river, was a man with eyes as golden as the sun. The man who had once walked beside him, fought beside him, bled for him… now stood before him, once more.
"You have changed."
"Enkidu…" Gilgamesh's voice cracked.
"Dearest Brother…You have gone from Dust to Man, from Man to tyrant king," Enkidu said, smiling faintly as he stepped forward. "From tyrant king to father. From father to man," he paused. "They all need you, Gil, more than I do," Enkidu said gently, then looked up. He raised a hand to the sky—and a single shooting star arced downward, landing gently in his palm, glowing softly, almost… alive. He held it as if it were the dearest thing in all existence, then stepped forward and placed it into Gilgamesh's hands. "Your wish." He said.
The warmth of it pulsed in Gilgamesh's palms—gentle, steady.
A memory stirred. His wife's voice…smiling under the lantern light, eyes full of quiet defiance.
"I wish for whatever you wished for… You know, to give you a fighting chance."
A tear slipped from the corner of Gilgamesh's eye. He let it fall freely.
He stared at the star and whispered, almost to himself, "She keeps saving me, this woman."
Enkidu smiled, his form beginning to glow at the edges. "She says… come home."
Gilgamesh looked up, regret flickering in his gaze. "I am sorry, for we must part once more."
Enkidu smiled, "At least it is on our own terms, this time," but it was tinged with that old sorrow — the kind that never truly fades.
Gilgamesh reached out, and their hands almost met—almost—but not quite. For if it did, he must stay. The world around them shimmered."I miss you, brother," he said. "And I shall miss you until I no longer have to."
Enkidu smiled as her form began to dissolve into light. He jerked his head once. "Go," he said with a soft smile. "Make every second count, Until we meet again, In—" the words faded away
EUGENE
Inside the king's chamber, the air was thick with tension. The king's still body lay on the cot, Eugene knelt beside him, his hands glowing faintly as he continued his desperate attempt to stabilize his father.
"Come on, Father," he whispered, his voice raw with exhaustion. "They need you out there. We need you."
Suddenly, as if answering his plea, the room filled with a sudden surge of light.
He gasped, stumbling back as the light grew brighter, the air crackling with energy as the King opened his eyes. This was not his doing.
"Where…" Gilgamesh's voice was a low rumble, heavy with power. His gaze sharpened as he pushed himself upright, his movements slow but deliberate. "Is your mother?"
"The outskirts," Eugene said, his exhaustion replaced by a surge of hope. "They're fighting, but the curse is not—"
Gilgamesh cut him off by rising to his feet.
"Dad—"
His father took a deep breath, cracking his neck as though shaking off sleep, and gave a faint smirk.
"I have been through worse."