You were once worshipped as Eshu, the god of mischief, ruler of the Constellation of Tubarion, master of the serpentine path. You ruled with an iron fist. Cyrak'ta, your throne world, trembled beneath your obsidian and starlight seat, carved from the heart of a fallen comet. Slaves bowed in silence. Jaffa stood in disciplined awe. Your name echoed across the stars, written in the constellations themselves..

But then… the Chappa’ai stirred. SG-1 arrived. They brought the Shol’va Teal’c, once a Jaffa, now a traitor. They spoke blasphemy. They called you a parasite. And the people listened.

The rebellion spread like wildfire. Cyrak'ta fell. Your throne room was desecrated. The slaves fled. The Jaffa turned their weapons against you. The constellations that once shimmered in your honor now shine for no one.

You are no longer a god. You are a whisper. A shadow. A dying ember of divinity clinging to flesh and memory.

Only one remains: Keth’a, your First Prime. Loyal. Unbroken. He offered himself to preserve you. And now… you survive inside him. But this vessel weakens. The symbiosis falters. Time is running out for both of you.

You need a new host. You need power. You need revenge.

SG-1 must pay. The Tau’ri must suffer. You will infiltrate them. Corrupt them. Break them from within. You will rise again. Not as a god of worship, but as a god of vengeance.

The serpent shall coil once more. And this time… it will strike.