Chapter 8: The sixth challenge

The group stood in silence as the Keeper led them to the next chamber. With every step, the air grew heavy, thick with the scent of damp earth and anticipation, the weight of their unknown future a palpable presence. The Keeper paused before a massive stone door, its surface carved with intricate symbols of the sun, scales, and a radiant figure holding a saw-toothed knife. He turned to face them, his expression grave.

“The next trial is the Trial of Truth,” he announced, his voice echoing in the narrow corridor. “You will face the Scales of Shamash, the divine judge who sees all and knows all. Shamash, the sun god, is the arbiter of justice, the one who weighs the deeds and truths of mortals. His scales do not lie, and neither can you.”

The Keeper’s gaze swept over them, lingering on each face as if to impress the gravity of his words. “The Scales of Shamash demand absolute truth. No lies, no wordplay, no evasion. If you are not truthful, the consequences will be catastrophic. The scales will judge your words and rule atonement. Each of you must confess something unknown to the others—something that weighs on your soul. Only then can you pass through this gate.”

He stepped aside, allowing the massive stone door to creak open. The walls of the chamber beyond emitted a soft, golden light that bathed the chamber. The room was circular, its domed ceiling adorned with a mosaic of the sun and stars. At its center stood a massive set of scales, their pans made of polished bronze and their chains forged from what appeared to be pure gold. The scales hovered in perfect balance, their stillness almost unnerving.

Carvings of Shamash lined the chamber walls; his radiant figure was depicted with a solar disc above his head and a saw-toothed knife in his hand. The light in the room shifted as they entered, as though the sun itself were watching them. The air was warm, almost suffocating, and the scent of incense filled their nostrils.

“Step forward,” the Keeper instructed, his voice low and commanding. “One by one, you will approach the scales and speak your truth. Remember, the consequences of deceit are dire.”

The group exchanged uneasy glances, the weight of the trial settling over them like a shroud. Elias was the first to step forward, his jaw clenched and his fists tight at his sides. He approached the scales, his shadow stretching long across the floor.

“I’ll go first,” he said, his voice steady but laced with tension. He placed a hand on the pan, the metal cool against his skin. The scales shifted slightly, the chains creaking as they adjusted to his presence.

Elias took a deep breath, his mind racing. He knew what he had to confess, but the words felt like shards of glass in his throat. “My truth,” he began, his voice low, “is about Sahara.”

“I’ve never told you this,” he said, his gaze fixed on the scales. “But when we were together, there were times ... times when I wasn’t faithful. I slept with someone else. More than once. It was another student in the same class as you, Sahara. She ... she even looked like you. Not exactly, but enough that it made it easier for me to lie to myself.”

Elias’s voice grew quieter, his words heavy with shame. “Her name was Lila. She had the same blond hair as you, though hers was a shade lighter, almost golden in the sunlight. Her eyes were darker—hazel instead of blue, but they had the same intensity, the same way of looking at me like she could see right through me. Her body ... it differed from yours, but in ways that made it easy for me to pretend. Her hips were wider than yours, curvier, and her waist was narrower, but her breasts were smaller than yours. Still, when I touched her, when I held her, I could almost convince myself it was you.”

He paused, his throat tightening as the memories flooded back. “Sometimes, when I was with her, I ... I pretended she was you. I’d close my eyes and imagine it was your body beneath me, your hands on my skin, your voice in my ear. I told myself it was harmless, that it meant nothing, but it did. It meant everything.”

The scales shifted slightly, the pan beneath Elias’s hand dipping as the chains creaked. He took a deep breath, forcing himself to continue. “I chose her because she was ... easier. She was more docile, more willing to follow my lead. She didn’t challenge me the way you did. She didn’t have your fire, your independence. And maybe that’s why I was drawn to her. With her, I didn’t have to be vulnerable. I didn’t have to face the parts of myself that scared me. But with you ... with you, it was different. You demanded more from me, and I ... I didn’t know how to give it.”

Elias’s voice broke, his hands trembling as he gripped the edge of the scales. “That’s why we fought so much. When you called me aloof, when you said I was emotionally distant ... it wasn’t just because I was afraid of getting too close. It was because I was carrying the weight of what I’d done. Every time I looked at you, I saw the betrayal in my reflection. And I hated myself for it.”

He swallowed hard, his eyes glistening with unshed tears. “One night, we were ... we were together, and I ... I called her your name. I didn’t mean to. It just slipped out. She froze, and then she pushed me away. She looked at me like I’d stabbed her, and I ... I couldn’t even explain. She ended it that night. She said she couldn’t be with someone who was in love with someone else. And she was right. I was in love with you, Sahara. I still am. But I hurt her, and I hurt you, and I’ll never forgive myself for that.”

The scales settled, the golden light in the room pulsing as though the chamber itself were reacting to his confession. Elias stepped back, his shoulders slumped and his eyes downcast. He couldn’t bring himself to look at Sahara, not yet. The weight of his confession hung heavy in the air, a silent storm brewing between them.

The Keeper nodded, his expression unreadable. “The scales have judged your truth. You may step back.”

Elias retreated, his shoulders slumped and his eyes downcast. He couldn’t bring himself to look at Sahara, not yet. The weight of his confession hung heavy in the air, a silent storm brewing between them.

Layla was next. She stepped forward with her usual swagger, but there was a flicker of unease in her eyes as she approached the scales. She placed her hand on the pan, her fingers trembling ever so slightly.

“My truth,” she began, her voice softer than usual, “is about Sahara and me. But it’s also about ... about what came before.” She hesitated, her gaze flickering to Sahara before returning to the scales. “After my affair with Sahara’s dad, I didn’t think I’d ever love again. I didn’t think I could. I got into a relationship with someone—someone who hurt me. It was abusive, physically and emotionally. I stayed because I thought I deserved it. I thought that was all I was worth.”

The scales shifted, the pan dipping under her hand as the chains creaked. Layla’s voice wavered, but she pressed on. “I went without sex for over a decade after that. I didn’t let anyone close. Not until Sahara. She ... she made me feel like I could trust again. Like I could be loved.”

Layla paused, her breath catching as the memories flooded back. “The first time we were together ... it wasn’t planned. It wasn’t something either of us expected. We were in my office at the University, late at night, talking about everything and nothing. And then ... then she kissed me. It was soft at first, tentative, like she was afraid I’d pull away. But I didn’t. I couldn’t. Her lips were so warm, so gentle, and for the first time in years, I felt ... safe.”

Her voice grew quieter, her words tinged with both vulnerability and reverence. “She undressed me slowly, her hands trembling as she touched me. Her fingers traced the scars on my body—scars I’d always hated, scars I’d always hidden. But she didn’t look at them with pity or disgust. She kissed them, one by one, as if she were trying to heal them. And when she looked at me, her eyes were so full of ... of something I hadn’t felt in so long. Love. Acceptance.”

Layla’s breath hitched, her fingers tightening on the pan of the scales. “When she touched me, it wasn’t like before. It wasn’t rough or demanding. It was ... tender. She took her time, her hands exploring my body like it was something precious, something sacred. And when she finally ... when she finally licked me and fingered my pussy, it opened the floodgates. I couldn’t get enough. I wanted all of her in me. Every touch, every kiss, every breath—it was like she was reaching into the deepest part of me, the part I’d locked away for so long. And for the first time, I didn’t feel broken. I felt whole.”

The scales shifted again, the pan dipping further as the chains creaked. Layla’s voice broke, tears streaming down her face. “She made me feel like I was worth something. Like I wasn’t just a collection of scars and regrets. She made me believe in love again. And I ... I’ll never be able to thank her enough for that.”

The scales settled, the golden light in the room pulsing once more. Layla stepped back, her face flushed and her hands clenched into fists. Sahara reached out to her, but Layla shook her head, her eyes glistening with unshed tears. “I’m sorry,” she whispered, her voice barely audible. “I’m sorry I couldn’t tell you before. I’m sorry I couldn’t say how much you mean to me.”

Sahara’s eyes filled with tears, her hand still outstretched. “Layla...” she began, but the Keeper interrupted, his voice cutting through the tension.

“The scales have judged your truth. You may step back.”

Layla retreated, her shoulders slumped and her face pale. She couldn’t bring herself to look at Sahara, not yet. The weight of her confession hung heavy in the air, a silent storm brewing between them.

Sahara was next. She approached the scales with slow, deliberate steps, her heart pounding in her chest. She placed her hand on the pan, the metal cool against her skin. The scales shifted slightly, their chains creaking as they adjusted to her presence.

“My truth,” she began, her voice trembling, “is about what I’m becoming. About how these trials are changing me.” She glanced at Elias and Layla, her eyes filled with a mixture of fear and resolve. “I feel it—this ... this power growing inside me. It’s like I’m shedding the person I used to be, the person I thought I was, and becoming something more. Something different. And I ... I don’t know if I’m ready for it.”

The scales shifted, the pan dipping under her hand as the golden light pulsed. Sahara’s voice wavered, but she pressed on. “I’ve always been strong, but this ... this is something else. It’s like the underworld is reshaping me, carving away the parts of me that don’t belong and leaving behind something raw and untamed. And I want to embrace it. I want to see what I’m capable of. But I’m scared. Scared of what it means. Scared of what I might lose.”

She looked at Layla, her eyes glistening with unshed tears. “Layla, you ... you brought me back to life. After everything I’ve been through, after everything I’ve lost, you made me feel like I could love again. Like someone could love me. And I don’t want to lose that. I don’t want to lose you.”

Her gaze shifted to Elias, her voice softening. “And Elias ... I see the way you’re changing too. The way you’re fighting to become the man you were meant to be. And I ... I want to believe in us again. In what we could be. But I’m scared. Scared that this power, this transformation, will pull us apart. Scared that I’ll lose you both before I even have the chance to figure out who I’m becoming.”

Sahara paused, her breath catching as she hesitated before revealing the final piece of her truth. “There’s something else. Something I have told no one. This transformation ... it’s not just in my mind or my spirit. It’s in my body too. I feel it—this ... this energy, this heat, coursing through me. It’s like every touch, every glance, every moment of connection is amplified. When Layla and I are together, it’s ... it’s more than just physical. It’s like she’s unlocking something in me, something primal and powerful. And with Elias ... even when we’re just near each other, I feel this pull, this magnetic force I can’t explain. It’s like my body is changing, becoming something ... something I don’t fully understand.”

She swallowed hard, her voice breaking as she continued. “And I ... I don’t know if I can continue to be with you both after this journey. I want to. Gods, I want to. But I’m not the same person I was when we started this. I don’t know who I’ll be when it’s over. And I’m terrified that this ... this power, this change, will make it impossible for us to stay together. That I’ll lose you both, even though I love you more than anything.”

The scales shifted again; the pan dipping further as the chains creaked. The golden light in the room pulsed brighter, illuminating Sahara’s face as she stepped back, her hands trembling and her chest rising and falling with each breath. The Keeper’s voice cut through the silence, cold and unyielding.

“The scales have judged your truth. You may step back.”

Sahara retreated, her face pale and her eyes wide with a mixture of relief and fear. Elias and Layla exchanged uneasy glances, the weight of Sahara’s confession settling over them like a heavy blanket.

Finally, it was Mo’s turn. He stepped forward reluctantly, his usual bravado replaced by a nervous energy. He placed his hand on the pan, his fingers twitching as the scales shifted beneath his touch.

“My truth,” he began, his voice uncharacteristically hesitant, “is that ... I came on this journey because I wanted to find Sahara’s mom again. Yeah, I did. I wanted to see her, make things right. I know I wasn’t the best guy back then—maybe I even ... you know, lusted after her a bit—but I’ve changed. I’m different now. I wanted to prove that to her. To her, and to Sahara.”

The scales trembled, the chains rattling as the pan beneath Mo’s hand began to rise. The golden light in the room flickered, casting a harsh glare on his face.

Mo’s eyes widened as he stared at the scales, his voice faltering. “I—I mean it. I swear I do. I’m not the same guy I was back then. I came here for her. For Sahara’s mom. That’s the truth.”

“Your words are false. The scales do not recognize your claim as truth.”

The scales continued to rise, the pan lifting higher and higher as the chains groaned under the weight of his deceit. Mo’s face flushed, and he glanced around the room, his mind racing. “Okay, okay!” he blurted out, his voice cracking. “Maybe ... maybe I also wanted a bit of treasure. Is that so bad? I mean, who wouldn’t? But that doesn’t mean I didn’t want to find her too! I did! I swear!”

The scales dipped slightly, but only for a moment, before rising again, the chains groaning louder under the weight of his half-truths. The Keeper’s voice cut through the chamber, cold and unyielding.

“The scales still do not accept your truth. You have one final chance.”

Mo’s breath quickened, and he clenched his fists, his voice dropping to a whisper. “And ... and maybe ... maybe there’s more. Maybe I ... I’ve been ... distracted. By Sahara. By Layla. I’ve seen them together, you know? The shadows on the tent wall when they ... when they were together. And I ... I couldn’t help myself. I watched. I ... I touched myself. I’m not proud of it, but it’s the truth. I’m just a man, okay? I’m weak. I’m flawed. But I’m trying to be better.”

The scales did not move. For a long, agonizing moment, they hung perfectly still, the golden light flickering faintly as if holding its breath. Mo’s hand remained on the pan, his fingers twitching nervously. He glanced at Sahara and Layla, his face flushed with guilt and desperation. Their eyes met his, wide with shock and disbelief, their expressions a mix of anger and betrayal. The silence in the chamber was suffocating, the weight of his confession pressing down on them all.

And then, suddenly, the scales tipped violently. The pan beneath Mo’s hand crashed to the ground with a deafening clang, the sound reverberating through the chamber like a thunderclap. The golden light in the room flared, blinding and intense, casting sharp shadows across the walls. A deep, resonant voice filled the chamber, shaking the very air with its power.

“You have not told the full truth before the Scales of Shamash. Your deceit is an affront to justice.”

The figure of Shamash materialized before them, his radiant form towering over the group. His eyes burned with divine fury, and his saw-toothed knife gleamed in the golden light.

“For your lies, you are sentenced to death by strangulation. Your spirit will be denied the afterlife, forever barred from seeking revenge.”

Mo fell to his knees, his face pale and his hands trembling. “No, please! I’ll tell the truth! I’ll tell the truth!” His voice cracked, desperation clawing at his throat. He looked up at Sahara and Layla, his eyes wild with fear and shame. “I ... I didn’t come here for your mom, Sahara. I came here for you. Both of you.”

The room seemed to hold its breath, the golden light flickering as if even the underworld itself recoiled at his words. Mo’s voice dropped to a hoarse whisper, his confession spilling out like poison. “I wanted you. I wanted to fuck you. To use you. To break you. I wanted to see you both on your knees, begging for me. I wanted to ... to take you in all your holes, one after the other, to make you scream, to make you cry. I wanted to leave you in the desert afterward, broken and ruined, so no one else would ever want you. So you’d know who owned you.”

Sahara and Layla stared at him, their faces pale with horror and disgust. Layla took a step back, her hand instinctively reaching for Sahara’s arm, while Sahara’s eyes burned with a fury that could have rivaled Shamash’s. The air in the chamber grew heavy, the weight of Mo’s depravity pressing down on them all.

Shamash’s voice was cold and unyielding, cutting through the tension like a blade.

“Your time for truth has passed. The scales have judged.”

Mo’s face crumpled, his body shaking as he realized the finality of his fate. He opened his mouth to plead again, but no words came out. The golden light flared brighter, and Shamash stepped forward, his radiant form towering over Mo. The air grew thick with divine power, and the shadows in the chamber deepened as the god’s judgment loomed. Shamash extended his hand, his fingers curling as if to grasp the very air around Mo’s throat, preparing to carry out the sentence of strangulation.

But before Shamash could reach him, Sahara stepped between them. Her body was a vision of defiance, her bare chest adorned with the golden sun disk that glowed faintly against her skin. Her skimpy underwear clung to her hips, the fabric shimmering with an otherworldly light. Her skin seemed to blaze with a cold fury, radiating a power that made even the god pause. Her eyes burned with determination, her voice cutting through the tension like a blade.

“No.”

The word echoed through the chamber, sharp and unyielding. Shamash’s gaze shifted to her, his divine fury momentarily tempered by curiosity. The golden light flickered, casting shifting shadows across the walls as the room seemed to hold its breath. Sahara stood tall, her presence commanding, her body a testament to the strength and resolve she had gained through the trials. She was no longer the woman who had entered the underworld—she was something more, something forged in fire and tempered by pain.

“He is mine to judge. Not yours.”

Shamash turned to her, his expression softening ever so slightly. “Your resilience pleases me, mortal,” he said, his voice carrying a weight that seemed to resonate through the very fabric of the underworld. But then his gaze sharpened, his divine eyes narrowing as he studied her more intently. For a moment, it was as if he saw something in her—something beyond the mortal woman standing before him. Their connection was wordless, a silent exchange that transcended speech, as if the gods communicated on a level beyond human understanding.

Finally, he spoke, his voice deep and resonant, filling the chamber with its power.

“Very well. His sentence is changed. He shall wander the desert for eternity, cursed with unquenchable thirst, never to meet another living being. This is the curse, and this is how it shall be.”

The golden light flared once more, brighter and more intense than before, and Mo’s form dissolved into shimmering particles of light. His cries echoed through the chamber, a desperate, guttural sound that seemed to claw at the air. “No! Please! I don’t want this! I don’t—” His voice cut off abruptly as his body vanished, the last traces of his presence dissipating like smoke in the wind. The silence that followed was deafening, broken only by the faint hum of the golden light as it dimmed once more.

Sahara stood tall, her chest rising and falling with each breath, her sun disk glowing faintly against her skin. She felt the weight of Shamash’s gaze still upon her, but she did not look away. The god’s expression was unreadable, a mixture of curiosity and something deeper—something that might have been respect. Then, without another word, his radiant form faded, dissolving into the golden light until only the faintest shimmer remained.

The chamber was silent once more, the scales still and the air heavy with the weight of what had just transpired.

The Keeper stepped forward, his voice breaking the silence.

“The trial is complete. You have faced the Scales of Shamash and emerged with your truths. But there is one final trial—the hardest of them all.”

His gaze swept over the group, his expression grave. “To proceed, you must make a sacrifice. At the sixth gate, the clasps around Ishtar’s hands and feet are taken, and so too must you give something of yourselves. Only then will the path forward be revealed.”

Sahara’s jaw tightened, her eyes narrowing as she processed his words. She glanced down at her feet, her desert boots worn and scuffed. Without hesitation, she bent down and untied them, her fingers moving quickly. She straightened, holding the boots out to the Keeper. “There’s not much more to give.”

The air in the chamber was heavy, the golden light of Shamash’s scales still flickering faintly, casting long shadows across the walls. The silence was thick, broken only by the faint hum of the underworld’s energy. Sahara stood at the center of the room, her bare feet pressing against the cold stone floor. She was almost naked, her full breasts adorned by the sun disk amulet, her only covering a tiny pair of underwear that clung to her hips. Her skin glistened faintly in the flickering light, and her erect nipples betrayed the chill in the air—or perhaps the intensity of the moment.

She felt the weight of the trials pressing down on her—not just the physical exhaustion, but the emotional toll of what had been revealed. Mo’s deceit, his twisted desires, and his ultimate punishment still hung in the air like a dark cloud. But it wasn’t just Mo’s actions that weighed on her. It was the truths they had all revealed about themselves, the vulnerabilities they had laid bare.

Layla stood a few feet away, her arms crossed tightly over her chest. Her expression was unreadable, but her eyes betrayed the storm of emotions raging within her. Elias lingered near the entrance of the chamber, his usual calm demeanor replaced by a quiet unease. He had been a silent observer throughout much of the trial, but the revelations had clearly shaken him as well.

Sahara took a deep breath, breaking the silence. “There’s much to talk about,” she said, her voice steady but laced with an edge of tension. “But before we face the last challenge, there’s something I need to say. Something I need you both to know.”

She hesitated for a moment, her hands trembling slightly as she ran them through her hair. “I’m afraid,” she admitted, her voice barely above a whisper. “I’m afraid of what I’m becoming. This journey ... it’s changing me. I can feel it. And I don’t know what that means for me—or for us. For you, Elias. For you, Layla. But I want you to know this: no matter what happens, no matter what I become, I’m determined to take you with me. Both of you. On this journey. Through this life. Whatever comes next, I want you by my side.”

The room was silent, the weight of her words hanging in the air. Layla’s arms uncrossed slightly, her expression softening as she looked at Sahara. Elias stepped closer, his eyes filled with a mixture of concern and determination.

Sahara stepped closer to Layla, her almost-naked body brushing against hers as she reached out and cupped her face. Layla’s breath hitched as she felt Sahara’s erect nipples press against her, the contact sending a shiver down her spine. Sahara leaned in and kissed Layla deeply, her hands cupping her face as she poured all of her emotions into the kiss. Layla responded almost immediately, her hands coming up to grip Sahara’s arms as she kissed her back with equal intensity.

When they finally pulled apart, Sahara turned to Elias, her eyes filled with the same intensity. She stepped closer to him, her body pressing against his as she reached for his face. Elias’s breath caught as he felt the thin fabric of her underwear between her pussy and his rising cock, the heat of her body overwhelming. Sahara kissed him deeply, her hands gripping his shoulders as she poured all of her emotions into the kiss. Elias responded immediately, his hands coming to rest on her hips as he kissed her back with equal intensity.

When they finally pulled apart, Sahara stepped back, her arms still around their shoulders. She looked between them, her expression serious but filled with a quiet resolve. “Whatever happens next,” she said, her voice steady, “we face it together. All of us.”

The final trial

The Keeper stepped forward, his voice echoing through the chamber as the golden light of Shamash’s scales flickered faintly. “The final trial is upon you,” he intoned, his gaze sweeping over Sahara, Layla, and Elias. “This is the Trial of Rebirth. It is a trial of death and renewal, of sacrifice and resurrection. It mirrors the journey of Ishtar herself, who descended into the underworld, surrendered her power at each of the seven gates, and was struck dead by her sister Ereshkigal. For three days and nights, her body remained lifeless until the Water of Life revived her, and she ascended back to the world of the living.

The Keeper’s words hung heavy in the air, the weight of the trial pressing down on them. He turned to Sahara, his expression solemn. “You, Sahara, must undergo this trial. You will drink a potion that will transcend you beyond your humanity. For three days, you will be as Ishtar was—lifeless to the world, yet journeying through the realms beyond. Only your companions can guide you back, for only they can provide the Water of Life that will revive you.”

The chamber filled with an eerie stillness as the Keeper stepped forward, his robes flowing around him like a shadow given form. He studied Sahara for a moment, his gaze piercing yet compassionate. “Are you ready?” he asked, his voice a low rumble that reverberated through the stone walls.

Sahara met his eyes, her resolve unwavering. She nodded solemnly, a flicker of apprehension buried beneath her determination.

The Keeper’s expression grew even graver. “As this is the final trial, the gods demand their due before you begin.” He lifted his hands, his voice rising in a ceremonial chant: “At the seventh gate, the breechcloth on Ishtar’s body was removed.”

Sahara understood. Without hesitation, she reached for the waistband of her skimpy underwear and slid it down her legs, letting it fall to the floor. She stood now, gloriously naked, save for the pair of sun disks that adorned her breasts, their golden surfaces catching the dim light of the chamber.

As if in response to her offering, an invisible energy stirred, wrapping around her like the caress of unseen hands. Her body reacted as if touched by the gods themselves. Her breasts swelled slightly, the sun disks shifting against them, their weight a reminder of the divine power they symbolized. Her nipples hardened, standing proud and sensitive, as though teased by an invisible lover. Her pussy lips, already plush, grew fuller, glistening with a dewy wetness that betrayed the surge of arousal coursing through her. Her lips, naturally full, darkened to a deep, sinful red, as if stained by the wine of the gods.

Her skin seemed to glow, smooth and unblemished, yet alive with a subtle, shifting iridescence—like the surface of a desert mirage. Her breath quickened, her chest rising and falling with a rhythm that seemed to echo the heartbeat of the earth itself. Every inch of her radiated a primal, sensual energy, as if the gods themselves had claimed her, their touch manifesting in the trembling of her thighs and the flush of her skin.

She was not a goddess, not yet—but neither was she wholly human anymore. The air seemed to hum around her, charged with a primal energy that made the very stones of the chamber vibrate. Her presence was magnetic, commanding yet deeply erotic, a testament to the trials she had faced and the power she had earned. The Keeper regarded her with reverence, as if he too could sense the transformation that had begun within her.