* * *
The time could not be measured as to how long their journey took, save other than the sun was still not up when they discovered themselves standing on a cobblestone street outside a little café.
Ishtar gasped at the sights, and then gasped again in amazement looking down at her appearance. No longer naked, she was wearing a loose-fitting, sleeveless, cottony dress with splashes of bright, exotic flowers dancing upon a silky-white, flowing material. The knee-length garment covered sheer stockings that she could feel come nearly to her thighs and were held up by some kind of an elastic device fastened around her waist. On her feet was the strangest of footwear, low-platform slip-on shoes of sorts. A flowery, silk scarf finished her attire. She was about to comment when, turning, she viewed Treston. Her mouth opened in surprise.
Seeing her expression, Treston looked down and it nearly took his breath away. He was wearing a neat pair of light brown pants with a wide red stripe ascending the outside of each legging. On his feet were black leather boots, their tops hidden by the cuff of the pants. He also was attired with a white dress shirt, black tie, and a brown jacket, with strange markings on the shoulders and a red stripe on each arm. In one hand he carried an officer’s kepi, and strapped to his left side was an ornate dress sword.
Treston exclaimed, “Well! Well! Lowenah did say if you stayed near me, you’d be safe. This looks like a uniform of some kind. Exactly what or whose, I don’t know.”
A light went on inside the café. Treston asked if Ishtar was as hungry as he was. She nodded. He grinned, “Well, I guess we’d better make eating our first priority.” Off they headed.
Treston opened the bottom half of the double door, the top already being locked back. As the two entered the dining room, a middle-aged man sitting in the corner looked up from some vegetables he was preparing. Treston smiled hello. The man’s eyes grew large and he jumped up crying, “Good…good morning, Colonel! What a surprise to see you! I’m sorry I was not prepared. I didn’t expect such a great guest.” He hurried over to them and nervously requested, “Please…please allow me to show you a seat.” Then with a note of fear, asked, “You did come for a meal?” The man fidgeted with his towel as he waited for an answer.
Treston had seen this all too often during his life. He had been an important officer in the legions and later for the governor. Back then, it pleased him to see such groveling on the part of the common people, but now it made him sad. He reached out and patted the man on the shoulder. “Yes, we have come here to dine. I have been told that you make an excellent meal and that if we ever came this way, to stop for a feast of delights.”
Hesitatingly, the man replied, “I am your servant. Whatever I have is yours to enjoy. Please, allow me to seat you and your…”
Treston thought a moment and then whispered to Ishtar, “How old do I look?”
She glanced at him and whispered back, “Oh, maybe twenty-five or so. How do I look?”
Treston smiled and whispered, “Beautiful...” He turned his attention back to the man. “This is my bride, Dianna. We are on…what do you call it? Oh yes, we are on honeymoon.” He smiled at Ishtar, who felt a little uncomfortable about what the man was told, but she said nothing. Though still somewhat nervous, the man grinned and, spreading his arms, gave some kind of a blessing on their marriage and wished them many healthy children. He then led them to a table.
There were no other diners arriving during their breakfast. Treston managed to get the man to relax enough to tell them some of the local gossip and stories, he pretending to be a stranger to this place. It took some convincing, but he did manage to leave some of the silver coins he found in his pocket to pay for the meal. He also took care to praise the man for his outstanding cooking. With a huge grin, the innkeeper introduced his family to the couple, offering to provide whatever services he could to Treston for the day.
Treston thanked him and asked if he would direct them to an animal taxi. The man excitedly gestured to his youngest son and told him to hurry to the livery down the hill. In twenty minutes or so, they heard the clip-clop of donkey’s hooves and the jingle of riding bells. Treston and Ishtar excused themselves, thanking the man and his family for their kindness. He then took the man’s hand and offered, “May the God of our forefathers watch over your hearts.”
A grin grew from ear to ear on the innkeeper’s face. “Thank you! Oh, thank you, Colonel! You are a good man.”
Treston thanked him and quickly turned away to assist Ishtar onto the seat of the cart. He couldn’t help the small tear that fell from his eye.
In moments, the two were traveling south from Selcuk, heading for the far eastern end of Ephesus. Another man, about the age of the café owner, led the donkey down the ancient road. Treston noticed that the fellow couldn’t help sneaking looks at the girl sitting beside him. He wondered to himself just how safe they would be if the people didn’t fear him so.
As they went along, the man chattered away about the history of the city they were nearing. Treston cautioned Ishtar to be careful about saying anything to the man if he spoke incorrectly about different matters. “It is better we remain silent, saving our comments for our private conversations.”
The sun’s crimson ball was lazily casting its wake-up call across the ruins of the ancient city when the cart came to a stop near a group of small, abandoned stone buildings. Their guide cheerfully called out, “Our first stop is the tomb of Saint Luke.” He made some kind of a sign, touching his forehead and then chest, and finishing by touching first the left, then right side of his shoulder. Ishtar started to blurt out a question, wondering what the man was doing.
Treston touched her hand, indicating she remain silent. He stepped down and assisted Ishtar from the cart, her dress and shoes making it difficult for her to, as she said, “do anything dignified at all.” Wishing to walk now, Treston thanked the man for his assistance and offered some more coins for the ride. At first the man resisted, but with much prodding he grudgingly accepted. Treston then asked if the man could arrange a motor taxi be made available for them later in the day. With that, they parted company. Soon the two sojourners were alone on the street.
“Well...” Treston said, his folded fists pressed against his sides, elbows out, “time to take in the sights…”
Ishtar looked around. Here and there were signs explaining what they were supposed to be viewing. With a note of displeasure, she asked, “Well, where are we anyway? I thought we were going to Ephesus!”
Treston turned and smiled. He swept his arm through the air. “Welcome to Ephesus, my dear…one of the greatest cities of the ancient world!”
“This is not possible!” Ishtar cried. “This is a place of decay and wreckage, forlorn hope and dismay! Ephesus is grand and majestic, proud and beautiful!”
Treston agreed. “Oh yes, it was. I close my eyes and can see its beauty, hear it sounds, and smell its scents and aromas.” He opened his eyes again. “But that’s all gone. I have studied its history and examined pictures. What you see are the last remains of that wonderful city.”
Ishtar’s heart sank, her voice filled with dismay. “It cannot be! Not my beautiful city! My home, my beautiful home…” She began to softly cry. “My mother…oh, my mother!”
Treston slipped his hand over hers. “Come, my dear. Let’s see what we can find of the old days…our days.”
They gradually made their way to what was called ‘Curates Street’ and then slowly walked up past the temple of Domitianus, the Water Palace and the State Agora. Other places and names came and went - buildings and names strange to a girl who thought she knew every part of her city. Treston explained that the city had outlived them by over a thousand years. Very little remained of the buildings from their day. From his studies, he thought he had found where the governor’s palace once was, and possibly where Ishtar’s house had been, but little else had he identified.
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Finally, after what seemed an eternity, Ishtar spied a familiar sight. Could it really be? Was it? She hurried toward some huge stone arches. Stopping short, she stared up at the vaulted ceilings that made up the arches. With tears streaming down her face, she called back to Treston. “The Mazaeus & Mithridates Gates...the gates to the marketplace!”
Treston stepped up next to the girl. She reached for his hand. With tears still streaming down her face, she explained, “My father did business in the market all the time. He had a room in there. On regular market days, he would bring me through these gates, to the wonders beyond. I helped with little things, but played most of the time. He made board games for me. I had my dolls, too. It was so much fun.” She hung her head, sadly frowning. “I rarely came here after he got sick and died. It was too hard for me.”
With Treston’s encouragement, they passed through the gates into the agora. Ishtar found little that reminded her of her childhood there. With some effort, she was able to discern the approximate location of the little three-walled room or stall her father had done business out of. Treston looked around, remembering things much differently than the girl did. He recalled the exotic animals, handsome slaves, finery from all over the world, and the women. Oh yes, the women! Every pleasure - some might say ‘vice’- known to humans could be obtained within the confines of the agora. To pass the time, he and his fellow officers would wander here for some entertainment.
Treston’s attention soon returned to his companion. Ishtar was no longer crying, but the sadness was still on her face. He tried to cheer her up. “I think I know where your house used to be.” He led the girl back through the gate and looked off toward the south. “After you…er…left, I searched out where you lived. For the rest of my life here, every time I visited the market, I would stop and look a little to the south and east for your home. Then I would say a little prayer, asking for your forgiveness.”
Ishtar peered into Treston’s eyes and saw extreme sadness - sadness that only comes from a long-troubled heart. She didn’t understand why, but could feel the need to address such sorrow. She took her hand and turned his face toward hers. Looking up into those sad eyes, she whispered, “I do forgive you, if there is any forgiveness due.”
Treston thanked her and replied, “I pray you are able to tell me so by the end of our journey.” He then directed the girl over to the gate’s west corner and pointed to the place he remembered. After giving it close scrutiny, the two trudged toward the location.
Unlike the areas that had been excavated, the place Treston believed to be Ishtar’s old home was overgrown with grasses and weeds. It felt like hours passed before they came near the sight. Nothing at all looked familiar. But when the girl took in the sights to the north, she felt they were very close. She pointed and shouted, for Treston was standing some distance away, “When I was little, I would watch for my father while standing at the corner of our roof. I could see the gate from there and always knew when my father was coming.” She turned toward Treston, holding her hand high above her head. “He always wore a huge peacock feather, dyed red, in his turban. He liked turbans.”
She looked back toward the gate. “It’s nearly as I remember it. We must be very close.”
For another half hour, the two searched around the general location. When they finally returned to Curates Street, it was with the satisfaction of feeling the house’s location had been rediscovered, or at least walked over.
The morning was passing along and with it came renewed desire to eat. They found a vendor selling some tourist food. It satisfied the hunger, but both felt it did little else. When finished, they headed north, up what was then called the ‘Marble Road’.
They had not walked far when Ishtar’s eyes lit up and she squealed, “The Great Theater! It’s still here! Or at least much of how I remember it...” For nearly an hour, the two explored the theater. Treston spoke little of his personal experiences here because of the pleasure he found listening to the girl relate hers. Finally, they ended up on the stage.
“Do you remember any songs from your many visits?” Treston asked. Ishtar mentioned one she had memorized. He suggested, “Now’s your opportunity to do what women were not allowed to do then. Sing us your song.” At first, the girl refused. Finally, with enough of Treston’s urging, she did.
The words were in ancient Greek and they were sung with a perfect voice. Little did Ishtar realize the power of the acoustics in the theater, and even less how her singing affected her listeners. The girl closed her eyes and began the long musical tale.
Being sung in the old Grecian language, no one realized it was the fabled story of the fox and the grapes, yet the musical tones of the girl’s song mesmerized the tourists present. At the end, a hush hung over the gathered crowd, then a thunderous applause broke out from over a hundred pairs of hands, and shouts for more echoed off the stones throughout the theater.
Ishtar opened her eyes to see all the people staring at her. Her face flushed red and she hurried away with Treston, who was chuckling to himself. Stories of the magic songstress circulated among the locals for several months, adding one more piece of folklore to the history of Ephesus.
A short way further up the Marble Road, they came to what was called ‘Arcadian Avenue’. It went west, toward the old harbor. Ishtar was most surprised because she remembered the harbor as it was in her day, filled with ships from every city on the Great Sea. Merchant stalls and fish markets used to pack the sides of the road leading to the harbor. Now she saw nothing but swamp and more strange ruins.
Treston got her attention. “Those old buildings are called the ‘Harbor gymnasium and baths’. Above them, further up the hill, is a place called the ‘Double Churches’, or the ‘Church of the Virgin Mary’…whoever that was. I think the governor’s palace was once located there…that is, at least as I recall it.”
The smile disappeared from Ishtar’s face. Her singing at the theater had cheered her up to the point of making her forget the darker memories of this city. Things she wished to not remember started pushing their way into her mind. Treston walked up to her, smiling. He was stopped up short by a flash of anger that shot from her eyes. As quickly as that anger came, it departed.
Treston lowered his gaze. “I am sorry for the things I’ve done to hurt you. No acts of retribution can mend the damage I encouraged. This city holds terrible secrets long since hidden beneath its rubble. When I see the pain in your eyes, I ask myself, ‘how can I ever be forgiven?’”
Ishtar apologized for her actions, saying something strange came over her that she did not understand. Treston had proved himself to be a caring man who could be trusted, and she could offer no explanation for her sudden anger. Still, the events recalled from her time in the prison and then the treatment at the hands of the governor soured her for wanting to know where the palace might have been. “Let’s move on.” She took Treston’s hand and pulled him back toward the Marble Road.
“Maybe we should go back down Curates Street.” Treston suggested. “There are a lot of other places in that direction we could visit, including the museum back near Selcuk.” He was thinking of what they would find further north, should they take the Marble Road.
Ishtar shook her head. “No, there’s something that draws me in that direction. I fear what’s there, but I can’t recall what it is. My mind hides that part of the city from me. Please, let’s go.”
The further up the Marble Road they walked, the more frustrated and emotional Ishtar became. Nothing looked the same. The face of the city had changed so much over the ensuing years, there was nothing left in this area that she could recall. Yet some things were still familiar: the rough outline of the old harbor, an occasional pillar or stone marker, even the slope of the road. She suddenly realized the real problem was that she could not recollect the place where the two now walked. Impossible! This was her city. She had travel
ed every foot of its major parts several times!
She put her hand to her forehead as if in pain. “What has become of me?” She anxiously queried. “I am growing weak in my knees and my limbs tremble. My stomach seeks to purge my noon meal. I’m walking in darkness, for I cannot remember this place at all.” She turned her gaze to Treston, fear in her eyes. “What growing evil hides itself from my face?”
By now, they had reached the Acropolis. The main street went on up the gentle slope to the north while another, much older, went east. A shiver ran down Ishtar’s back. She tucked herself in close to Treston and slid her arm around his waist. As she peered down the easterly road, the girl spoke with increasing trepidation. “There is an evil down that street, but one I cannot see. My heart recalls visions of this place where we stand - visions of angry mobs shouting vile things and hands attempting to grab and tear at me. I recall the feeling of pain as something thrown struck the side of my head.”
Treston agreed. “It is no vision unless you and I have shared the same. I agree there is a terrible evil down that road…an evil I once used to be part of and reveled in.” He paused before adding more information. “I remember the chunk of marble that hit you. It angered me so, I ordered my men to draw their swords. I threatened the people with their lives if anyone harmed you. It at least offered us safe passage.”
Ishtar silently nodded as if remembering some cloudy detail of forgotten times. The girl’s lips quivered as she tried to explain her growing anxiety over the moment. Finally, in desperation, she beseeched Treston, “If your mind is clear to what my visions are, tell me, please! Tell me before all sanity flees me!”
At that instant, the sun was blotted out by dark storm clouds racing across the sky. Crashing thunders echoed down the valley, sounding warning of an approaching storm. Chilling winds sprang up from nowhere, twirling dust and debris high into the sky. Locals and tourists scattered for shelter, leaving the two sojourners alone at the crossroads. It did not storm, but the threatening clouds lingered, making their presence felt by strong winds and many thunders. No strangers remained to witness the following events.
As the winds howled, Treston turned and faced the girl. Taking her hands in his, he shouted, “The hour has come. Choose for yourself which road you shall take.” He pointed north. “This one leads you to new journeys yet unseen.” He then stretched his arm toward the east. “This one delivers you to pain and destruction, and a possible rebirth.” Resting his arm on the girl’s shoulder, he offered, “I am your servant. Choose for yourself the road you will take, and I will assist you on it.”
The wind increased, blowing Ishtar’s silk scarf off her head, releasing her curly, waist-length, flaming locks into the deafening wind. She shouted, “Tell me if you can, for I deserve to know, what hour has come? How can I choose without knowledge?”
The tempestuous wind carried away Treston’s reply so that only the girl heard the words. “Today is the anniversary of your death in this place. The very hour approaches.” He pointed toward a distant stone gate, standing alone in a bowl-shaped valley. “Your blood lies beneath those fields beyond that gate, and your spirit still haunts the arena in which you were murdered. Will you free it so that it can again become part of you? Or do you choose this other road?”
Ishtar stared into the distance beyond the gate. Suddenly, a bolt of lightning streaked from the sky, exploding in the center field. Deafening thunder shook the surrounding hills. The girl gripped Treston’s arms, digging her nails in deep, drawing blood. She stood frozen in place, fear growing inside her. Her words were nearly muted by the wind. “I’m afraid! Hold me close… Please!”
They started down the east road, slowly making their way along the street and to the gate leading into the arena. Treston assisted the girl through the rock-strewn passage and onto the grassy field beyond. Ishtar looked around, trying to recall this part of her life, but only vague shadows of the past revealed themselves. Letting go of Treston’s hand, she wandered into the field.
As she walked, Ishtar became aware of strange and new sensations growing inside her. The wind gusts whipped the wiry grasses, but she wasn’t aware of their effects. The girl felt like a person lost between sleep and wakefulness - dreams and reality. Treston cautiously followed behind, keeping his promise to stay close while being unobtrusive.
There was a burned patch in the grass where the lightning struck. When Ishtar reached it, she bent down to examine the spot. Right before her eyes, the grass turned to dust. In surprise, she stood up, only to receive a greater shock. She no longer stood in an empty field, but in the center of a huge stadium with thousands of shouting people surrounding her. With wide eyes, she studied what she beheld. It was so real, but it could not be!
She felt as though she was an observer trapped in another person’s body. And then she heard it...a voice coming up from the ground, taunting her. “So, you have dared return to take back what was stolen from you? How foolish! How foolish! For now I shall take what remains, leaving only what the beasts destroyed that day!”
The girl listened to words her mouth spoke in reply, but didn’t feel she had uttered them. She took in the sights and sounds, heard the jeering and name-calling of the crowd. Her eyes caught sight of a woman standing on a high platform nearby. The woman was crying and pleading with the man standing next to her. The woman fell on her knees and stretched out her arms to another man standing in a balcony behind the girl.
‘Mother! Mother!’ The voice inside the child called out, but the mouth did not repeat those words. ‘Oh mother, I love you! I miss you! Please… please… Can you hear me? Mother?’ The girl continued crying.
All Ishtar could hear though was her inner voice calling out, “I am a free woman! If you release me, I shall destroy another of your worthless god-king statues!”
At that, the crowd went deafeningly mad. The man in the balcony stepped away and another man appeared, carrying a scroll in his hands. He read the sentence of execution and, when finished, the crowd cheered and shouted its approval. She looked at the aging man standing near her mother. He was slumped forward, a hand resting on the post to which he was chained. She saw his extreme sadness and tears began to form in her heart, but her eyes refused to shed a tear.
Time passed. A huge, caged wagon filled with wild dogs was pulled into the arena, its back gate turned to face the girl. Another dog was led along by a long leash and kept separate from the others. Then the first person she had seen at the balcony returned. He deliberately scanned the crowd, looking at the hungry faces of those desiring the girl’s death. He finally focused his eyes on her, and then gave a signal. Naked and proud she stood, showing no sign of fear.
But Ishtar was afraid. No…terrified! She started screaming, but no sound came forth. The gate of the wagon was lifted and a dozen wild, crazed animals charged her. Every bite, every crushing tear, Ishtar realized and felt. Panic filled her breasts. What madness! What crazy, stupid madness!
In moments, the pain had eased, but she could still feel the teeth, the chewing of the hungry creatures eating away her flesh. Suddenly a huge, ferocious beast stood above her. It opened its mouth wide and plunged, closing its teeth around her throat. After several violent shakes, the girl lay motionless, her breathing gone. But Ishtar could still see and hear the world around her. The crowd acted dismayed at such a quick death. The woman on the platform was cursing the chained man and making vile comments about his god. The other man standing on the balcony rested his hands on the rail, his face reflecting guilt and dismay.
She suddenly heard Treston’s familiar voice as he shouted, “Drive ‘em away or kill ‘em!” Dogs yelped and whimpered as spears drove the life from them or chased them away from the first meal they had in days. Seconds later, she saw Treston’s face as he stood over her, tears streaming down his cheeks. The wind howled in her face and the vision was carried away with it as it screamed
off down the valley.
It took a few seconds for Ishtar to comprehend where she was. She found herself staring into Treston’s face, tears in his eyes. In a sudden burst of anger, she lunged for him, pounding her fists against his chest, screaming, “I hate you! I hate you and all your goddamned people! You stole my life from me! You stole my soul! You stole all that was mine!”
Then again, she heard the voice coming from beneath the ground. “Yes, Yes! Do to him as he did to you! Finish this now and we’ll be off to blissful peace.” Ishtar stared in angry bewilderment. What was this all about? Were vengeance and repayment – deed for deed – the way things must be done? Was this the way to regain her soul? Could violent rage return her lost past?
Her heart bursting with anguish, the girl fell forward, burying her face in Treston’s shirt, and her hands clutching his arms. She began to wail like a mother losing a child. “You stole from me all that was precious! I am a dead woman. There is nothing left for me…no friends or lovers. My mother… my mother...” Her sobs drowned out the other words. Soon, their convulsive song was all that Treston could hear.
War raged within the girl’s breast. The demon below and the Cherub above, battling for the girl’s soul...which side would she choose? To give in to the passion of the moment, to surrender to the carnal desire of revenge and abandon all that she had become or to accept where the Fates had delivered her, and whatever future tribulations were hers to endure? Would she remain forever the daughter of Ephesus or would she become the star-child of the new morning?
After seemingly endless hours, Ishtar’s emotional tumult subsided. She was drained, having no energy left for anger. Treston wrapped his arms around the child and softly answered her, “We acted wickedly against you and pillaged your soul and heart, but your death was not wasted. You saved many lives that day, including mine. Lowenah has already returned to you some of your friends who can share your past with you. They remember. I remember.”
Ishtar lifted her angry, tearstained face, her eyes boring into Treston’s. She had many accusative questions, the need for answers burning within her. Who were truly the godly ones and who were the demons? Was Lowenah, herself, not the Devil Incarnate, bringing disaster upon the girl? As though Treston already knew the questions, he answered, “All men die, and those who live go on, changing the world they live in, until they also die. Gradually, things change so much, nothing remains of the past. Still, things people do while life courses through their frail bodies can live on, affecting lives for millennia to come. You did that.”
“How?!” Ishtar spat, her words filled with bitterness and hate. “How did I affect the future?! And what good did it bring me?!”
Treston pondered the question before answering. “There’s Darla. Do you love Darla?”
“How foolish a question!” Ishtar sputtered. “You know how deep my love is for my blood sister.”
Treston kindly replied, “She nearly died this day long ago, helping you with your trial. Those others with her risked all things to save your soul. They fell in love with you on that day. Would you trade their companionship and care for a fleeting few years in a corrupt and ruined city?” The girl said nothing. Treston continued, “And what of your uncle? Because of your actions, he was able to finish the work Lowenah purposed for him. How many lives did he affect? Why, his teachings still influence the minds and hearts of people to this very day.”
Ishtar could feel the demon’s hold on her waning as her bitterness gradually slipped away. Treston’s gentle words were like soothing salve on a burning wound. The dark mist of the girl’s nightmares was beginning to lift, allowing her to see more clearly the issues at hand. This place was evil - might still be - but the people occupying this place were only acting evil and not so themselves. There had been a greater power present that day - a power that also tried to murder Darla and her companions. Who or what did the girl really hate? Who should she hate?
One of her waking dreams came to mind. It was the one where Ishtar stood by the fire and watched two people arguing over her. The woman had said to a man on the opposite side of the flames, “You have nothing to gain from her torture. By the mercy you extend to her, I will extend to you.”
Ishtar watched the man curse in anger as he howled, “Mercy!? Mercy to her!? I will add seven times to the agony she has already received! She will beg to die before this day is finished!”
She looked at Treston, troubled eyes filled with questions. “Who really did murder me, if it wasn’t your governor?”
Treston mildly replied, “It was the same man who attempted the murder of your blood sister and her companions. They say he is called ‘Legion’ and lives in a mountain fortress city called ‘Memphis’. It has been told that the child he struck down is to execute vengeance upon him for the cruelty done to her. I’ve heard he was at the Prisoner Exchange when you woke and knows his death angel has risen.”
Ishtar’s mind raced with too many questions to make reply. Treston added one more bit of information. “I was told that even now this Legion seeks the soul of your blood sister. He has been put under oath by Asotos to surrender the woman up to him or die in the attempt. It is rumored that her hoped-for demise eats at him all the time, so much so, his sleep flees him.”
Ishtar quietly spat, “Then Legion must die! I will do it myself...” In the back of her mind, she heard a mournful wail coming from deep beneath the ground as it faded into oblivion, the demon having failed its master, dissolving into nothingness. “Why was it necessary to bring me here to tell me all these things? Of what value is it?”
Treston smiled. “Lowenah informed me that on the day you died, part of your spirit remained here, hidden in the blood buried beneath this ground...a cherished treasure to be possessed by friend or foe. Only here could the issue be settled. Only here, as you relived the past, could you choose your destiny. Would you become the angel of prophecy or surrender your heart up to a bitter eternity? For the person you are to be and what you must endure has to be birthed from a willing heart or all will fail. Only here could your heart be tested to the full limit. It was a risk Lowenah felt was necessary.”
Ishtar’s mind still whirled with many questions. She frowned, replying, “Lowenah can be cruel, just as you have been to me. And her kindness at times is no greater than Legion’s. But despite my bitter feelings toward her, my heart perceives that her cruel acts are done out of love and not for selfish gain.” She looked up at Treston. “I feel bitter about you, but I don’t hate you. In fact, I have come to feel close to you. I trust you.” She rested her head on his chest. “And I trust Lowenah, too. I love her...”
Then she angrily sputtered, “As for Legion, I swear with an oath that I shall do to him as I promised...whatever it takes!”
Treston sighed in relief and muttered, “Then there is hope of success.”
He gave Ishtar a few seconds more to rest, then pulled himself away and, licking his fingers first, rubbed the tearstains from the girl’s face, after which he dried it with a kerchief. Taking the girl’s hand, he explained, “Not all things have changed. If you look at the big picture, you will see just how much all has really remained the same. Come with me.”
He gave Ishtar no time to reply. Pulling the girl along, Treston hurried off toward the east, to another outcropping of ruined buildings.