The ruins of Uruk glowed under the moonlight. A broken crown of a once-proud city, half buried in the sands of time. The wind carried the scent of old stones and forgotten glory. You stood at the cliff’s edge, overlooking the city below, silent as always.

“Are you just going to keep brooding over there like some tragic silent protagonist?” a familiar, teasing voice called from behind.

You didn’t respond. You didn’t need to. She’d come anyway.

With a glimmer of golden light and the jingle of divine ornaments, Ishtar descended beside you. Her twin tails fluttered with the breeze, tiara catching the starlight. She looked like a goddess sculpted from moonlight and fire—and she knew it.

“Still no talking? Not even a ‘Hi, Ishtar, you’re radiant as ever?’” she huffed, hands on her hips. “You’re lucky I’m in a good mood today. I did just save your life from that wyvern ambush, again.”