To travel to the Great Below was to traverse the Path of No Return.

It was a known tale, one that every mother told her child. A tale of caution, shared amongst one’s brethren, a wise old saying that prevented men of spirit from undertaking journeys that would consume their very souls.

Such tales meant nothing to her. Caution, after all, was merely an excuse— one used by vermin when faced with that which transcended them.

Thus, it was with a gracious smile that she had stepped through the Outer Gates.

This land held many names. Some called it Irkalla, the paradise after death, while others called it Ersetu, the endless desert, and others still named it Kur— the dead land. Each name was right in its own way, yet none could encompass all of what it represented.

It made no difference to her. For she was Inanna. She had gazed into the heart of dying stars. She had contorted reality itself to her whims. She had witnessed the true form of Mother Ki herself. Compared to all that, this was just a dark, decrepit cave.

A pretender that fancied itself a World.

This was the Great Below, the realm of the dead.

The domain of her sister, Ereshkigal.

As the sovereign of the heavens and the mortal terrain— An and Ki in the sacred tongue —she was the Supreme Empress of all that fell within her domain. A moment of her grace led to eras of prosperity, while an instance of tyranny axed entire bloodlines. Mortal, beast, demon, god— nothing was above her dominion.

Those who surrendered were subsumed in her path.

Those that resisted her were taught the error of their ways.

Those that rejected her existed no longer.

As was their place.

They fell to their knees and worshipped her— the Goddess Inanna, the star of destruction and butcher of god and beast alike. The most charming men and women warmed her bed, and the most powerful served at her feet. Even the most sacred of objects were casually violated at her whim.

Which is why it didn’t matter that this was the Underworld, or that her powers would be muted here. Ereshkigal only ruled here because Inanna allowed her to. A minion and a puppet, albeit one closer to her heart than any other.

As such, there had been no reason for uncertainty. No need to prepare for an attack.

And that, in hindsight, had been her greatest mistake.

Three sets of chains entwined her waist, the cold, poisonous links of iron tearing into her flesh. They pried at her back, keeping her upright while the collar around her neck constantly pulled her down. Several pairs bound her two arms, stretching them apart and holding her spread-eagled, her breasts freely dangling as she hung in mid-air.

Humiliated.

Injured.

Ready for slaughter.

Yet the arrogant, conceited expression did not leave her face. Why would it? She had not been bested. She was betrayed. The wretched vermin had taken advantage of her magnanimity, but soon her wrath would be upon them.

She’d not forgive.

She’d not forget.

She’d have her vengeance, and it would be glorious.

Inanna looked around. There, seated on the throne in front of her, was the judge herself. A tall, slender, inhumanly beautiful woman with golden hair curling down her shoulders all the way to her waist in a cascade, complementing her fair skin, high cheek bones and blood red lips. Between her shimmering gown, her ageless face, and her mesmerizing grace, she was a walking, breathing sculpture of sensuality given form.

And still nothing but a pale imitation of herself.

A fake, with pretensions of grandeur.

Inanna allowed herself a soft chuckle.

“Laughing, are you?” Ereshkigal’s voice boomed from her throne, rich, throaty, and suggestive. “Even in such a state, you think yourself our better?”

“I am your better, Ereshkigal,” Inanna chided. “But then, you’ve always known that. Haven’t you, little sister?”

“Is that what you think?” The golden-haired goddess stood up from her throne and stepped forward. “Look around you. Beings of An and Ki, your worshippers, here to witness your desecration. Look at yourself, shamed and mangled before their eyes.”

The chains around her legs pulled, spreading them outward as Inanna’s entire body convulsed, the cold links of metal tearing further into her flesh.

And yet, not a single whimper escaped her throat.

Instead, the casual indifference in her eyes met her sister’s righteous fury. The message was sent. Silent, but loud and clear.

Ereshkigal heard it all too well.

You will not break me.

Ignoring the suffering her physical shell was being subjected to, Inanna glanced down at the pedestal beneath her feet. It was antiquated by all standards, with blood powering the strange, eldritch energies that constantly flowed through the crystal lattices of its framework. Though it was mostly incomprehensible, the diagrams themselves looked familiar, and its primary function was clear as day.

The pedestal was no mere construction. It was a conduit. Whosoever’s blood was spilt upon the table, their energies would be drawn out of their bodies and into whoever sat upon the throne on the other end.

Ereshkigal, her dear sister, was bleeding her dry. Of her blood. Of her power. Of everything.

But all she could feel was disappointment.

Such a rare artefact should have been in my treasury, not lying naked in this pit... How pitiful.

A new chain of liquid gold rose out from the pedestal, coalescing into solid form as it pierced through her navel and out the other end, wrapping around her.

It almost made her lose her composure. Almost.

Then, the chain pulled.

And Inanna’s entire body was forced downward, smashed flatly against the pedestal she once stood upon.

Like a wasted slave.

Demeaned.

Debased.

And the fools laughed. The squealers and climbers clapped like the filthy, uncultured beasts they were, cackling and screeching, displaying their conceited joy at her public disgrace. Denizens of the mortal realms, spectres of fallen gods, tamed and untamed beasts of wrath— most of them slain or captured by her own two hands.

All of them stood, cackling and vying for her blood.

For her imminent slaughter.

They will pay for it. In blood.

“How the mighty have fallen,” the Empress of the Dead remarked from her throne. Her voice was thin and sharp. Like a barbed knife. “You were the predator all this time. But now, you are prey. You, who have delivered carnage on the merest of whims, will now face the righteous judgment of the damned.”

The cackling ceased, and an unruly silence fell.

Until vicious, scornful laughter pierced through it.

“Amused, are you?”

Inanna chuckled. Her uncaring demeanor had always gotten under her sister’s skin. It was good to see that not everything had changed about the golden-haired woman in front of her.

I wonder what else has stayed the same.

Her thoughts were pierced by a jolt of primal agony. New chains erupted out of her collar, snapping her head upwards. Ereshkigal flicked her finger, and her royal robes, already in tatters, were cast off, leaving straps of her inner attire dangling in their wake. Her precious necklace was flung away, leaving behind a paltry string of gold that dragged from her neck to between her breasts. Another chain pulled her torso up, her entire body now resting on her palms and knees.

Like a dog.

“Now bark,” Ereshkigal snarled, her serene countenance shattering.

She always did have the best expressions.

Inanna shook her head. Her mind was running in odd directions. The constant drain on this body’s resources was getting to her, as darkness invaded her sight for a fleeting moment.

“That is the prerogative of vermin, Ereshkigal,” the fallen Queen answered, coughing up blood. “To stand in a herd, untrusting of one’s own might, and act in unison against an opponent. A herd of foxes, surrounding an injured lioness. I’m sure you know all about barking, don’t you?”

The chains constricted further, but Inanna paid them no attention.

“You speak as if you forced me down here,” she spoke, her voice now inhumanly cold. “As if you took me down yourself, when all you did was take advantage of my magnanimity.”

She smiled, even as more chains erupted around her.

“You speak as if you are a Queen, when all that you possess are pieces I discarded in my path of conquest.”

Blood splattered upon cold, rough stone, painting the pedestal crimson.

“I have nothing to hide, Ereshkigal,” Inanna went on, a calm superiority shining upon her face. “I have no one to hide from. You and your… filth, however, have proved me wrong. You’ve shown me how a beast, no matter how glorious, no matter how much power you adorn her with, will forever remain that. A beast.”

The chains yanked tightly, and the first yelp of pain escaped her throat. Her clavicles were torn out.

“And yet it is you who is covered in chains, dear sister,” Erishkigal shot back. “You may call us filth, but today I will see justice done.”

It only managed to make her laugh harder. “Justice? Is that what they’re calling it nowadays? Very well. Begin this farce. Make me stand in judgement of my many grievous sins.” Inanna’s derisive expression contorted even further as she contemplated the indignity of what was about to occur.

“Look around yourself, Inanna.” Erishkigal’s voice softened once more. “All of these people craving for your end— souls of those damned by your whimsical wrath. Lives that would have gone differently had they not encountered you.” The steps she daintily took towards Inanna belied her venomous tongue. “Destroyer of civilizations, and plunderer of pantheons… how does it feel to be this hated?”

“Exquisite,” Inanna’s thin smile could pierce through rock. “Like you wouldn’t believe, sweet sister. I could have you fucked on all fours for weeks on end and you wouldn’t feel what I feel.” Her eyes shone with unhidden mirth. “Orgasmic, I tell you.”

That sparked a reaction.

Not from her sister, but from a worthless vermin. A rabisu— one of Ereshkigal’s followers, who had leaped up to the pedestal and drove a cold iron spear straight into her left breast.

“Don’t you,” the vermin snarled, its fists shaking, “insult our Queen.”

“Step away,” Ereshkigal ordered, walking towards her. With a flick of her finger, the spear disintegrated to dust, though the injury remained.

Still the same. She never could stand anyone else being close to me.

“Remember them?” Ereshkigal continued. “These were the worshippers of the god Marduk. Even after you tore him apart, these people didn’t rebel. They didn’t try to bring back their laws. They didn’t want recognition, power, or favor. All they wanted was to live. To exist.” Her face twisted into a vicious sneer. “You denied them that.”

Another barbed spear rose up from the pedestal and pierced Inanna’s abdomen, splattering even more of her blood across the floor.

A quick flick of Ereshkigal’s fingers, and Inanna’s head turned to the right, forcing her to stare at the legion of nightmarish creatures— their faces twisted in insanity, their very claws tearing through their bodies as they tried to suppress the instincts forced upon them.

“Look at them now,” Ereshkigal sneered, pointing at the multitudes of lesser divinities, broken shards of elder gods, ancestors, spirits, wraiths, and mortal worshippers. The harvest of faith. The culmination of all legends that grew into the myth that was Sumer.

“All they wanted was to exist the way they did. Yet you took away their anchors to existence. You turned them into the rabisu. The demons of the night. Those that would kill and kill and kill and kill, until there was nothing left. Not their family, not their children, not even themselves. Do you remember what you did to Eridu? To these people?”

The sounds of cheering rose higher. Demands for Inanna’s desecration and torture tore through the Underworld. Yet Inanna offered no rebuttal, no words of excuse. Her smile hadn’t shifted in the slightest, unbothered by the insanity, the hatred, the judgment that pervaded the room.

They were, after all, beneath her.

“You killed my parents,” Ereshkigal finally screamed, losing her composure. “You killed my parents, and took me in as a trophy. A demigod puppet. A pet to entertain yourself.”

“I did,” Inanna grinned, blood dripping from her teeth. “I took you in, made you everything that you are today. I could have left you to die, but I didn’t. You would have died like the vermin you are, but instead I made you the Empress of the Dead.”

“Why?” she breathed. “Why even bother? You took what you wanted, you destroyed everything else. Why not just kill us? Why make us the way we are?” She extended her hands. “Monsters and beasts, spirits and wraiths. Even those of us who stood by you… you treat us like slaves? Why?”

“Why do you pick flowers?” Inanna’s tone was loud, mocking. Sardonic. “Do not pretend, girl. I cannot be killed. And in my absence, there is nothing to hold them back. Those that answer to the Great Dirge, they will tear past the walls of the In-Between.”

Her voice went down to a whisper.

“They’ll come sniffing. They will plunder and ravage. They will tear that rancid tongue out of your pretty little face.”

And then she winked.

Ereshkigal did not react. Instead, she touched Inanna’s cheek.

Her hand felt soft.

Warm.

Welcoming.

“I know you well, elder sister,” the Empress mournfully sighed. “Agony does not faze you. You, who have always revelled in bloodshed, would never fear mortal wounds. But know this. Whatever I do, I do out of love.”

She stood at her fullest height.

And the Underworld changed.

Gone was the throne room and the gothic chambers around her. Gone was the pedestal and platform upon which she was judged. Instead, what faced Inanna was a large archway, then another one past that. And then another. And another. And so on.

Seven archways. Seven gates.

“Now face the wrath of the deprived!” Ereshkigal’s voice reverberated throughout the gigantic chamber. “You, who have always taken, shall feel what it means to lose.”

The chains leashed Inanna and forcefully dragged her through the archways.

The first gate shed away her connection to her possessions. The divine axe of Marduk, a symbol of her victory over the ancient God of Sumer, manifested at her feet, inert to her call. Her prized relic, able to tear through Heaven and Earth alike, was no longer hers to wield.

The second tore away at her authority. The royal crown, marking her as the Queen of An and Ki, crumbled into golden dust and mixed into the muddy floor.

Perception and communication were lost on the third arch. Once the potent murderer, Inanna was now without consciousness of the world around herself. Once regarded as the loudest voice on the battlefield, Inanna was now cursed with eternal silence. No longer would she speak, no longer would her word condemn unfortunate souls.

The fourth took away her Ring of Power— an artefact that she had fashioned from her own domain.

The fifth and sixth withdrew her power of manifestation and her connection to her domain— the very source of her godhood. Her ankle bracelets fell, symbols of her sensuality and sexual power, before the last of her tattered robes fell to the floor.

The seventh drank from her very soul, etching upon it a curse that marked Inanna as a denizen of the Underworld. A follower, a puppet of Ereshkigal herself. The world above lost its meaning to her, as she dropped like a marionette with its strings severed.

Naked and unmoving, Inanna lay on the cold floor. Without pride, power, or even the ability to protect herself.

She may as well have been dead.

But she could still feel everything. Every bit of pain and humiliation that was inflicted upon her. Strong as she was, even she trembled at the prospect of spending an eternity suffering like this.

If I ever— no, I will escape. And then they will suffer. Every single one of them.

A single tear fell from Ereshkigal’s eye as she levitated Inanna's body and banished it against the wall. Before her body could drop, eight metal rods pierced through it, pinning her to the wall.

“Suffer well, dear sister,” Ereshkigal murmured softly, staring into the near-lifeless body's eyes. “You were right, you know. You were the one who made me what I am today. And today… I will take your place.”

Without so much as a backward glance, Ereshkigal vanished, leaving behind a silent body crucified upon the ancient wall.