#thecallofeternity

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Sethi closed the cupboard and extinguished the lamps. With the shutters to the terrace closed, darkness shrouded him, thick as a tomb. He welcomed it. Feeling his way to the bed, he lay down, listening to its soft creak as it accepted his weight—the sound awakening the memory of the last time he had lain with Istara, the night before he departed for the Libyan campaign, her body meeting each of his thrusts, hungry, her fingers digging into his shoulders as she cried out, shuddering with her release. Pushing the memory away, he pulled her cushion against his chest and inhaled her faint scent: wild roses drenched in the heat of Re-Atum's barque. Roses. Always roses. He wondered if there were roses in Babylon. "Istara," he breathed, his heart constricting as he pressed his nose against the cushion, inhaling the shadow of her existence—reliving their short time together; the secrets shared over wine; the ecstasy of their lovemaking; the tears she sometimes shed, unable to bear the agony of knowing his soul would be obliterated at death. He ached at the thought of her grieving, of her husband trying to win her back, seeking to salvage her heart from the ruins of her loss. (continued in comments) ___________________________________ The Call of Eternity #thecallofeternity #eacarter #epicreads #becauseofreading #sethi #istara #goodreads #awardwinningauthor #writersofinstagram #typography #bnwmood #noiretblanc #love #lamour #kärlek #samesky #findeachother #until #beautifulwords #wordporn #desert https://www.instagram.com/p/B81tOCBHL-q/?igshid=z7w067fkys03

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Istara woke with a start. She had dreamed of Sethi calling her name. Urhi-Teshub rose from the divan, defensive, his eyes narrowing, fixed on the door, suspicious. Her name came again, soft, quiet, aching with hope. She slid off the bed, her heart surging to life, awakened after months of silence. "Sethi," she breathed. Urhi-Teshub shot her a look, unreadable, hard. He strode to the door and yanked it open—holding it open halfway, blocking her view. "Who are you?" he demanded. "You must be the King of Hatti," a voice, deep, rough, said. "I am the man who loves your wife." Istara pushed her way to the door, her heart tumbling, chaotic. Urhi-Teshub pulled the door closer to him, blocking her way. "Let me past," she pleaded, "I beg you, let me go to him." Urhi-Teshub turned, catching her, holding her back. "Istara," he said, ragged. "You forget yourself. I am your husband. You belong to me. You are bound to me." "Please," Istara begged, struggling against his grip, catching a glimpse of Sethi over Urhi-Teshub's shoulder. Blood seeped from a jagged gash between his eyes. "Sethi," she cried out, fighting to free herself, desperation slamming into her. "Let her go," Sethi said, shoving the door open, moving into the room, his bulk filling the doorframe, "she has made her choice." (continued in comments) ________________________________ The Call of Eternity #eacarter #thecallofeternity #fortheloveofbooks #darkmood #forbiddenlove #sethi #istara #eternallove #itwasalwaysyou #possession #passion #reunion #affair #door #noiretblanc #bnwmood #love #lamour #kärlek #epicreads #goodreads #awardwinningauthor #authorsofinstagram #thinkers_and_writers https://www.instagram.com/p/B8rqgZUHanU/?igshid=1bj5mkawf06uk

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Movement pulled Urhi-Teshub's attention from the pair. Istara slipped past. Keeping his hands busy tending his fire, he watched his wife, surreptitious, as she made her way to the edge of the camp. Two of Sethi's guards emerged from the shadows and followed her, keeping their distance as she climbed a dune, the sand under her sandals glittering like stars, reflecting the blue-white light of the moon. At the dune's crest, she stood, her back to him—silhouetted in the swollen sphere of the rising moon—and gazed toward the west, toward Egypt. For a long time, she remained there, still, serene, breathtaking. Urhi-Teshub rose, his heart aching, unable to stay away from her any longer. He climbed the dune, cautious, keeping his eyes on her, fearing she might slip away, or worse, cry out for her guards. At the top, he moved to her side. He caught her biting her lip, uncertainty emanating from her, though she kept her eyes on the west, eyeing the early evening stars awakening on the horizon. He reached into his pouch and pulled out the pendant, still wrapped in its embroidered cloth. "I have carried this too long," he said, watching her as she looked down at his offering, held in his upturned palm. "Please," he said, soft, "take it." A heartbeat's hesitation. She met his gaze, wary. He held it closer. "It is not a gift." (continued in comments) _______________________________ The Call of Eternity #thecallofeternity #eacarter #epicreads #goodreads #becauseofreading #eternallove #istara #sethi #forbiddenlove #destiny #love #lamour #kärlek #darkmood #awardwinningauthor #authorsofinstagram #pomegranate #thinkers_and_writers https://www.instagram.com/p/B8pX9Y5HIZT/?igshid=1cncnnuxssmny

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A low, deep thrum reverberated across the plain. Istara glanced at Urhi-Teshub, fearful. "Aftershock?" she breathed, hardly daring to utter the word. He stopped, holding himself still, listening. "Not an aftershock," he answered, looking up, wary. "It comes from the sky. But what—" "I remember that hateful sound like it was yesterday," Teshub said, grim, moving up alongside Urhi-Teshub. His eyes moved back and forth, raking the expanse of the starry canopy. "Marduk is coming. There. He's turning, heading this way." He pointed to the far side of the river, past the furthest walls of the eastern city. Istara looked up, confused. What was she supposed to be looking for? A bird? At night? "Let us hope he is only out to look at the damage," Baalat said, joining Istara. "If he discovers us, do not tell him who we are. Let him think I am your companion, and Teshub is Urhi-Teshub's captain." "Who? Marduk?" Istara asked, perplexed, glancing at Urhi-Teshub, though he kept his eyes fixed on the horizon above Babylon, smeared in black, oily smoke. "But he's a god, made of stone, how can he—" "He is no god, though he would have you believe otherwise," Teshub interrupted, terse. "And apart from his heart, he is not made of stone, trust me." (continued in comments) ______________________________ The Call of Eternity #marduk #thecallofeternity #epicreads #eacarter #awardwinningauthor #goodreads #darkmood #scifi #scififantasy #digitalart #eternallove #itwasalwaysyou #love #lamour #kärlek #coupdefoudre #destroyerofworlds #transcendenceseries #regeneration https://www.instagram.com/p/B8Romaon3eY/?igshid=jaj0g9mna0xs

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The ship slowed. The roar from the rear increased, the vibration making Istara's legs tingle. In the distance, a massive hill devoid of vegetation rose from out of the forest. It hulked across the horizon, dark, brooding, ugly, a blight on the wilderness's pristine beauty. Its sides lay littered with smooth black rocks reflecting the sky's dull, orange light. As they coasted over the lip of the hill Istara realized it was no hill at all but a deep impression in the ground, as though struck by an enormous rock fallen from the heavens, the earth around the middle thrown up into a rough circle. Within the impression, a vast lake, its expanse at least as large as the sprawl of Pi-Ramesses. Its stagnant water stirred in the ship's wake, a dull, inky gray. They came to a halt over the middle of the lake, hovering just above the water. The heavy thrum at the rear cut out. Silence tore a path through Istara's ears for the merest, deafening heartbeat. A dip, followed by a lurch and the ship rested atop the water. A new sound erupted, from the ship's wings, a high-pitched shriek, dulling to a heavy rumble as the ship's nose tilted down and the crater's dark waters slid up the ship's sides, hungry, devouring the light from above, the orange-tainted clouds swallowed by the surge of water plowing over the ship's roof, thick as ink, claustrophobic. Lights flickered on along the floor—the same strips of blue as in the lower levels—painting her companions' faces in a wan, subdued light. White lights, brilliant as stars, burst into life, four from each wing as the ship moved forward, sliding through the dark waters, slow, cautious. She could see almost nothing beyond the narrow beams of light coming from the wings, the vile waters dense, viscous, forbidding. (continued in comments) _______________________________ The Call of Eternity #eacarter #thecallofeternity #fortheloveofreading #goodreads #awardwinningauthor #portal #darkmood #scififantasy #love #passion #separation #itwasalwaysyou #eternallove #istara #sethi https://www.instagram.com/p/B8M1ly6Hui7/?igshid=cp724zkq2v3a

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Picking up his woolen tunic, Urhi-Teshub pulled it over his head, the stiff material fell to his knees, cold, its edges rimed with frost. Lifting his leather kilt from the bench, he fastened its straps against his hips, his movements methodical, practiced. As he worked, he eyed his satchel of belongings, hesitating before rummaging through it until he found what he was looking for, a tightly rolled bundle. Holding it under his arm, he went to a stool and sat, the hardened leather strips of his kilt studded with bronze sunbursts clacking against the seat. He unrolled the soft material and lifted it to his nose, seeking to find a remnant of its fragrance, of sun-warmed roses. Of her. His wedding gift, given to Istara two years earlier. He lay the shift on his lap, running his fingers over the delicate embroidery along the neckline, admiring the flowers and bees stitched in golden thread, his hands stopping at the rent she had made, welcoming the familiar drag of guilt, knowing she had torn it away, devastated by his rejection of her on their wedding night. How short-sighted he had been, how stubborn. And now, she was gone. He cradled the shift against his chest. If not for Rhoha and her dark arts, he would have won his wife back. Istara would never have gone to Ramesses—an incredible, desperate act—but for Rhoha's barely concealed machinations. It was not too late. It could not be too late. He pressed his lips against the material where her heart would have beat. "Be safe, my love," he whispered. "I am coming for you. Wait for me. I beg you." _________________________________ The Call of Eternity #thecallofeternity #eacarter #awardwinningauthor #fortheloveofreading #loveaffair #bookstagram #thinkers_and_writers #passion #lostlove #itwasalwaysyou #longing #istara #prince #cafelife #coffee #mistymood https://www.instagram.com/p/B8JUrOang2B/?igshid=irtgmbavayny

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"No," Istara breathed. She staggered against the door frame; clung to it. Dressed in worn leather armor, his dark hair tied back in a leather thong, a warrior stepped through the gate, the contours of his muscled body betraying a lifetime spent in war. He came to a standstill, his green eyes capturing her from across the courtyard. Held by the intensity of his look, she felt the heat of his longing—his desire to go to her despite finding her in another man's house. She swayed, lost in the onslaught of his sudden, powerful, charismatic presence—a deluge of long-buried memories pouring through her. From another life, another time, another world he had come to her. The improbability of him in Sethi's villa slammed into her. Two worlds collided, becoming one. "My lady," Weremkhet floundered, seeking to maintain decorum before the pharaoh's men. "Compose yourself, I beg you." Istara blinked. Her husband, Mursili III, King of Hatti, a god among men, still stood by the gate. Waiting. Watching. He took a step forward. When she shrank back against the door, he stopped, his hands clenching into fists, restraining himself. Giving her time. Ahmen murmured to the pharaoh's guards. They nodded and stepped back. He came to Istara and bowed, immaculate, elegant. "My lady," he said, crisp, formal, his gaze moving to the shadows behind Istara, tension oozing from him, "I come on behalf of Pharaoh Ramesses, Blessed of Re. Your husband, Mursili III, the true King of Hatti wishes to see you." "The true king?" Istara repeated, taken aback by Ahmen's odd phrase, thinking of Urhi-Teshub's letter, delivered by Tanu-Hepa—the one she had never read again, buried deep in a cupboard, hidden under her least favorite gowns. (continued in comments) _____________________________ The Call of Eternity #thecallofeternity #eacarter #epicreads #goodreads #typography #writersofinstragram #wordsmith #awardwinningauthor #thinkers_and_writers #atticus https://www.instagram.com/p/B71drixnLL8/?igshid=e6qfz3h0baxk