The Tablet of Destinies
"Now tell me. Do you know anything about the one who stole the Tablet of Destinies?"
"Before I answer that, I should tell you about the tablet's origins."
Enki summoned a chair with magic and settled into it. The story was clearly going to be a long one.
"Do you know who made the Tablet of Destinies?"
"…Wasn't it Father An who made it?"
There was no certainty in Enlil's words. He had only ever regarded the Tablet of Destinies as a symbol of royal succession and a formidable weapon; its origins had never interested him in the slightest.
"The Tablet of Destinies is a weapon Absu created to control the gods and the world."
"Absu… you mean the primordial god?"
Enlil had only ever heard Absu's name. From what little he knew, Absu had tried to kill every god — including their father An — and had been slain by Enki's hand. That was the extent of it. Surprisingly, the age gap between Enlil and Enki was rather considerable.
"A primordial god… it's a stretch to call 'that' a god. It's closer to a vast world that possesses a will of its own."
"?"
"Well, that doesn't matter right now. Anyway — if I hadn't found a weakness with my magic, every last god would have died back then. That's how close to omnipotence the power of Absu's Tablet of Destinies was."
"…Are you trying to brag?"
"I'm saying it wasn't a weapon made for you or me. Even Father can't use the tablet's original power. Neither can I, for that matter."
"Your preamble is getting long."
"But there is a god who handles the Tablet of Destinies far better than we do — even if not quite as well as Absu."
"Who?"
"'Kingu.' A god created by Tiamat, known as the Primordial Sea, for the purpose of controlling the Tablet of Destinies."
"…What?"
Enki had spoken the name Kingu, but Enlil could not hear it. No — he had heard it, yet somehow he could not hold on to it. It felt as though an invisible fog were stirring through his mind.
"You probably won't be able to remember the name. Without a memory-imprint spell, I wouldn't be able to speak it right now either. Even Kingu can't handle the Tablet of Destinies as well as Absu did… but he can at least erase his own existence from the memories of others."
"…Why would he do something like that?"
Erasing one's own existence meant one could not gather faith either. By Enlil's values, it was incomprehensible.
"Because Kingu doesn't need faith. Once he recovers enough energy and fully absorbs the Tablet of Destinies… even if the Seven Great Gods came at him together, they wouldn't stand a chance."
"That makes no sense. Then how did Father and you stop Kingu?"
"…Because it wasn't Father or I who stopped him."
As Enki spoke, he averted his gaze. He clearly did not want to say who had done it.
"What are you playing at? What are you hiding?"
"If you're that curious, ask Father. He's the one who forbade speaking about it."
"…"
There was nothing to say. He could have used his Command to force an answer, but even Enlil could not disregard An's authority.
"Anyway, we need to mobilize not only humans but the gods as well to track down Kingu's whereabouts. Otherwise, there's a high chance this will spiral beyond anyone's control."
"Didn't you just say it yourself? That this is a creature capable of erasing his own existence from others' memories. No matter how many people we send, we won't be able to find him."
"It's possible with a memory-imprint spell. Even so, finding him in this vast world will still be difficult."
Enki dared to cross his legs before the King of Gods and sank into thought. Surprisingly, Enlil was so accustomed to this attitude that he did not even bother to call him out on it. He hated to admit it, but right now his half-brother was his only hope. Enki's wisdom had solved every kind of crisis up to this point.
Never mind that he didn't die — where has he been hiding all this time? Why show up now of all times?
Enki's worries only grew deeper.
Humans die eventually.
No matter how healthy a person may be, time ages them, weakens them, and in the end their bodily functions cease and the soul slips free of the flesh. That was the fate of every mortal — and Enede was no exception.
"So… this day has come after all."
Lying on her sickbed, Enede found even the act of speaking a burden. The glossy black hair that had once been her pride had long since turned pure white, and her skin had lost its firmness, hanging loose and slack. Her breathing grew fainter by the moment, and those once-brilliant eyes were gradually losing their light.
"…Yes."
"You've aged quite a bit yourself."
"I'm only a half-god. Aging can't be avoided."
Adapa kept vigil at her side as she faded. Beyond him, countless people draped in mourning cloths stood nearby, weeping. All of them were students who had studied Mind Study — disciples of Sunya's teachings.
In its early days, Mind Study had at least worn the mask of education. By now it had become a religion in its own right — and the largest, most widespread order in all of Kienkingir. There was a reason Enlil envied a man named Sunya with whom he had barely ever spoken.
And among them, Enede had been the senior who walked at the very front — in truth, one of the order's elders. How could they not weep when the greatest of their household was dying?
"So much has happened… Coming here, I feel as though I've learned so many things."
"…"
"If I'd stayed in the village, I never would have met a man they call a sage, would I?"
"A sage? That's far too generous a title for me."
Adapa and Enede were husband and wife. They had raised several children, and even now their sons, daughters, and grandchildren surrounded her, weeping.
"In all the years I've lived, there was plenty of hardship… and plenty of things to regret… but facing this moment, I find myself strangely at peace. No… that word isn't enough. I was truly happy."
"If that's how you felt, then I'm genuinely glad."
Adapa's hand tightened around hers.
"It's all… thanks to you, Teacher."
Enede turned her head to look at Sunya. Whether because he was a god or not, his face remained that of a young and handsome man. Even so, the weight of no small number of years showed clearly in his eyes.
"I was the one who learned more from you."
"It was because you saved me and our village that I made it this far. I was just a foolish girl whose only joy was fooling around with the men in the village… but under your teaching, I came to understand the happiness of ordinary days."
"No. Even without me, Enede, you would have found it on your own."
"…Thank you. Truly. And children — you were my happiness too. Take care of your bodies and your hearts, and find happiness of your own."
Enede looked up at the clear sky.
"Ah… it really was a life worth living. I'll be seeing you soon, Kubatum."
Those were her last words. With them, Enede closed her eyes and never opened them again.
"Mother!!"
"The Elder has departed for the underworld!"
Once Enede's death was confirmed, all of Ku'ar dissolved into a sea of tears. The only ones in the entire order who did not weep were Sunya and Adapa.
"So she left us after all."
"…This place has changed a great deal as well."
Some time later, Sunya and Adapa sat perched on the rooftop of a building, gazing up at the night sky. As the number of students grew, the original classrooms could no longer hold them, and over the years the building had been expanded again and again. In truth it was little more than a matter of scale, but the height of the structure had become rather considerable. Even so, the two of them drank and spoke as if nothing were amiss.
"At first, I never imagined that even under your name, so many people would come to attend something as outlandish as Mind Study."
"Is that so?"
"It seems you already foresaw all of this."
"Not so much foresaw it… let's just say I already had similar experience, so it didn't surprise me."
They clinked their cups and drank.
"…Will you be leaving?"
Adapa asked suddenly. He had cut straight to the point, but Sunya understood exactly what he was asking.
"I must. With Enede gone, if I continue teaching people as if nothing has changed, those around us will find it strange. At the very least, I want them to believe it was the human Muni who gave them these teachings — not the god Sunya."
"…I wouldn't have understood what you meant in the old days, but by now I think I do."
Sunya did not want people to revere him. He wanted them to follow the teachings he had shared. That, Adapa supposed, was what one called a conviction.
Conviction. A word that sat poorly on a god, Adapa thought. Were all humans who became gods like this? He could not say.
"I practiced the breathing methods you taught me as diligently as I could, but it seems my talent was too meager to become a god."
"Do you wish to become one?"
"It's more of a personal challenge, I suppose. Even if I fell short in the spiritual aspects, when it came to martial arts and the physical side of things, I followed your teachings better than anyone, didn't I? That part is a little disappointing."
Only a little. There was no lingering attachment or obsession on Adapa's face. The precise cause was different, but considering how complicated he had looked years ago when Enki denied him eternal life, a great many things had changed.
"What should I tell the other students?"