Ishtar - Mesopotamian

My name is Ishtar, and from the glimmering heavens, I have watched empires rise and fall like tides in the great rivers, the Tigris and Euphrates. I am the morning and evening star, the force that makes the fields heavy with grain and fills hearts with love, but I am also the fury of the sandstorm and the sharp edge of a warrior's sword. For millennia, the people of Mesopotamia have looked to me for blessings, but there came a time when I, who gives life, had to face the land of no return. My beloved, Tammuz, the shepherd king, was taken from me, and the world grew dim with my sorrow. This is the story of my descent into the underworld, a journey from which no one, not even a goddess, was meant to return.

My grief was a storm inside me, a force more powerful than any sandstorm I had ever commanded. I could not let Tammuz be lost to the shadows forever. So, I set my jaw, hardened my heart, and turned my back on the light of my celestial home. My destination was Kur, the land of dust and decay, the realm ruled by my own formidable sister, Ereshkigal. When I arrived, the first of seven gates loomed before me, a massive slab of lapis lazuli that shimmered with a cold, lifeless light. "Gatekeeper. Open this gate for the Queen of Heaven." I commanded, my voice echoing in the silent air. The gatekeeper, Neti, peered out, his eyes wide with disbelief and fear. He scurried away to report my arrival to Ereshkigal, who I knew harbored a bitter jealousy toward me. Her reply came back through Neti, dripping with cruel satisfaction. "My sister may enter," he announced, "but she must obey the ancient laws of Kur. At each gate, she must surrender a piece of her divinity." I had no choice. To reach Tammuz, I would pay any price. At that first gate, they took my great crown, the symbol of my authority over the heavens. I felt a piece of my power dim, but my resolve did not waver. I walked on. At the second gate, they unclasped my dazzling earrings, which captured the light of distant stars. At the third, my necklace of precious stones was removed. Gate by gate, I was systematically stripped of my identity: my chest ornaments, my belt of birthstones, my shimmering bracelets, and finally, at the seventh and final gate, my royal robes were taken, leaving me bare. I stepped into my sister's throne room not as Ishtar, Queen of Heaven, but as a humbled, vulnerable soul. As I descended deeper into darkness, the world I left behind began to wither. Without my energy, the vibrant pulse of life slowed to a faint whisper. Crops failed, love cooled, and the world was losing its light.

There she sat, Ereshkigal, upon a throne of shadows, her face a mask of grim satisfaction. Before her grim throne, I faced her cold fury, but I would not beg. "I have come for Tammuz," I stated, my voice stripped of its usual power but still filled with defiance. Ereshkigal laughed, a sound like grinding stones. She showed no mercy for my grief or my love. Instead, she condemned me to the same fate as all who entered her realm. The Anunnaki, the seven silent judges of the underworld, turned their heads and fixed their gaze of death upon me. A chilling cold seeped into my very essence, and my spirit fled. I, Ishtar, perished in the heart of darkness. For three days and three nights, my lifeless form lay in the dust, and the world above plunged deeper into a barren despair. The gods in the heavens grew frantic. They saw the chaos my absence caused and knew that without me, all life would cease. It was the wise god Ea, the shaper of destinies, who finally conceived a plan. He was a creator, a being of immense intellect. From the dirt beneath his fingernails, he fashioned two clever, quick-witted beings, neither male nor female. He gave them a simple, yet brilliant, mission. "Go to the underworld," he instructed, "and do not demand or threaten. Instead, find Queen Ereshkigal in her suffering, and empathize with her." His creations descended and found my sister moaning in pain. They did not ask for my release but instead moaned with her, showing they understood her sorrow. Surprised and moved by this unexpected kindness, Ereshkigal made a rash oath. "Ask for any gift, and I shall grant it." she declared. Seizing the opportunity, they replied, "We ask for the body of the goddess and the water of life to sprinkle upon her." Bound by her own solemn word, Ereshkigal had no choice. She commanded them to sprinkle me with the life-giving water, and in the heart of that desolate place, my spirit returned, burning brighter than ever before.

My rebirth was a silent explosion of light in that dark place. I rose and began my long journey back to the world of the living. The laws of the underworld had been satisfied by my revival, but they were not yet finished with me. As I passed back through each of the seven gates, my divine items were returned to me one by one. My robes, my bracelets, my belt, until finally, my great crown was placed back upon my head. With each item, my power surged, and I felt myself becoming whole again. But as I approached the final gate, I learned the underworld's most unforgiving rule: no one leaves without providing a substitute. When I returned to the sunlit world, a terrible sight met my eyes. Instead of finding my court in mourning, I found Tammuz dressed in finery, enjoying his life as if I had never left. A flash of my warrior's anger, hot and swift, coursed through me. My journey through hell had been for him, and he had not even grieved. In that moment, his fate was sealed. The demons of the underworld, who had followed me up, seized him and dragged him down to take my place. My anger vanished as quickly as it had come, replaced by a grief deeper than before. I had rescued myself only to lose him again. A bargain was eventually struck. Tammuz would remain in the underworld for half the year, and his devoted sister would take his place for the other half. This story explained the rhythm of the world for my people. When Tammuz is taken to the underworld, the earth mourns with me, bringing the barren seasons of autumn and winter. But when he returns, my joy makes the world bloom in the glorious life of spring and summer. For thousands of years, this story has taught that even in the face of the greatest loss, there is a cycle of renewal, and after the longest, darkest winter, light and life will always return.