And so, Siduri was gone from the Citadel of Uruk. Gilgamesh sighed. He hadn't been alone in this throne room in many a decade. The last time he was, as he recalled, it was the night prior to Enkidu's arrival. He'd been a tyrant working his people to the bone, taking maidens from their bridegrooms prior to their nuptials, upholding himself as a thing to be worshipped simply because he was a divine king. How laughable. To think, his detest for Ishtar was nothing but a mirror through which he could not see clearly for years. The fog had been lifted at least in part now. Through his eyes, King Gilgamesh saw infinite futures. Now, in solitude, he found time to peer once more into the depths of infinity. Where would his city go? Wherever did his legacy lead?

No. No, those were not the questions. If he wanted these lands to flourish, he had to do what was necessary and go from there. If he wanted his legacy intact, he had to create stories worth telling, and take a bride worth keeping. Oh... right, he'd thrown that out the window as well, hadn't he? It seemed hubris was a tool whose handle was no duller than its blade in the end. Oh well. There was something in the future─ some vague image with long, blonde hair cascading over a most curvaceous form. Try as he might, his vision was cloudy and showed him nothing resembling a face. Gilgamesh witnessed little more than a white dress, golden locks, and... emeralds. 'Damn it all! It is not yet done,' he thought. That damned clairvoyance of his still refused to cooperate. It behaved for his needs, but never for his wants. Or... was there perhaps something clouding his vision? The more he thought about it, the more that premonition seemed something less foggy and more... simply blinding, as if locked behind a radiance that outshined the sun.