Chapter 9 Mars, 2030, Tiriel, Seventeen, the Time Warrior, Lilith, Adam, and Eve

Beneath the rust-red sky, Tiriel and Seventeen moved across Mars’s brittle surface. Each of Tiriel’s purposeful steps stirred dust into the thin air, while Seventeen’s deliberate pace cast a flickering shadow beside him. The landscape stretched before them, marked by deep craters, remnants of a cataclysm from eons past. They traveled in silence, Tiriel adjusting his shimmering cloak, thoughts tangled with dread and resolve. Seventeen’s voice broke their silence, sharp and urgent.

“You want to take down Enlil and Gadreel,” Seventeen said, voice clipped. “I came from the future because of a dream. Gadreel and Enlil survive. But the ancient texts—something’s wrong. The Gnostics—they saw through the lies, didn’t they?”

Tiriel halted, his brow furrowing as he turned. “Gnostics?” The word stumbled out, edged with confusion, foreign to his ears. His training in the sacred place of Ki, Gaia’s creation, had rooted him in her truths, but human philosophies were distant echoes, lost to the future.

Seventeen’s lips quirked, a weary smile shadowed by exhaustion. “A thread from my time—don’t let it snag you. Just know the truth’s buried deep, a needle in deceit. I’ve planned to strike Enlil and Gadreel, but I’m blind to their puppet master. Tell me—what do you know of the evil behind them?”

Tiriel’s breath caught. He scoured the barren expanse, as if answers might rise from the dust. “Little,” he admitted, his voice thinning. “Gaia’s wisdom guides me from Ki, her sacred realm. Enlil and Gadreel are pawns, twisted by a shadow deeper than gods. It birthed this chaos, a force that wove Tiamat’s chains.”

He paused, his gaze distant, as if reaching back into the forgotten chronicles of time. “In humanity’s infancy, our dimension was free and vibrant, a realm of harmonious potential. But Yaldabaoth, insatiable in his greed, cast a net of deception and power, ensnaring not only our world but many others. Yaldabaoth whispered dreams of dominion and spun illusions so intricate that even the wisest were fooled. With each stolen dimension, Yaldabaoth’s shadow shrouded all in a tapestry of control and deceit.”

Seventeen’s eyes darkened with the weight of this truth. Tiriel continued, “Whether Yaldabaoth still schemes, I cannot say. But if you are looking for the puppeteer, Yaldabaoth is the one you seek. The deceiver that hides behind a thousand names.”

Seventeen’s eyes flared, awe and terror warring within. “How do you bring down such a power? What home did humanity have?” His voice trembled, a crack in his stoic facade.
Tiriel met his stare, his gaze molten with resolve. “I don’t know yet,” he said, each word forged in will. “But I chase knowledge and sharpen it into a weapon. Your future doesn’t end my fight. Humanity had its own dimension, and Yaldabaoth conquered it. I am not aware of the exact details. I just heard it from Gaia.”

“Good!” Seventeen’s reply rang out fiercely, igniting the air between them. “I didn’t know that humanity had its own dimension.”

The Time Warrior knew his path, weaving his journey through the tangled threads of destiny. His approach was silent yet resonant, each step an echo of defied fate. While Seventeen was marked by a certain brevity, and Tiriel’s dialogue often carried a weight of philosophical depth, the Time Warrior’s speech bore an urgent, clipped cadence. His mission was clear: align forces with Tiriel and Seventeen to confront the cosmos’s shadowy conductor. The urgency in his steps and the resolve in his eyes spoke volumes, defining the symphony of emotions that drove him: the defiance that defied even despair, Seventeen’s somber determination, and Tiriel’s resolute contemplation. Together, they formed an unbreakable trinity of purpose, determined to unmask the evil that was pulling the universe’s strings.

“Who approaches?” Tiriel’s voice cut through, steady but taut, his staff raised.

The moment shattered like glass. A figure shimmered into being—the Time Warrior, sudden as a thunderclap in the hush. Dust pirouetted around his armored form, his eyes blazing with urgency beneath a crystal-diamond mask laced with mercury and strange, forgotten metals. “We must ready ourselves,” he barked, his voice rough as splintered stone. “I have stirred the hornet’s nest, and they’re coming—fast. Seventeen, you heeded the dream. There’s much to unravel, but battle crashes first.”

The wind howled, as if it knew darkness was coming. They sensed Mars bracing for the approaching storm. Tiriel gripped his staff, its aetheric core humming with power drawn from Gaia’s will. Seventeen rallied his soldiers, lasers and mercurial weapons glinting like stars in the dusk. The Time Warrior’s scepter sparked, a beacon of defiance, its aetheric light pulsing with divine fire. The crimson sands braced for blood.

The Time Warrior’s thoughts churned as the sound of rustling sand whispered haunting memories of his past. Fragments of 2030 flickered like ghosts: Elona’s cold laughter; her dystopian empire of ash, dirt, and metal tongues; drones swarming under a wounded, bruised sky bleeding amber at dawn’s strike. Her betrayal stung. Her allegiance was to an unseen evil, a shadow beyond Gadreel and Enlil, an entity weaving time and space.

The Time Warrior scanned the horizon, scepter humming with pent-up lightning. “Sidus Mare’s remnants,” he growled. “AI drones, Igigi stragglers, and something worse—Anunnaki tech, warped by the same shadow that claimed Elona. They hunt us, drawn by my challenge.” His voice hardened, flint against steel. “We end this here.”

Seventeen’s soldiers formed a perimeter, their rifles casting sharp beams across the dust. “How many?” Seventeen asked, his tone clipped, eyes narrowing.

“Hundreds,” the Time Warrior replied, his mask glinting. “Numbers mean nothing against our resolve.” He raised his scepter. Its aetheric light flared, and a ripple of divine force pulsed outward, stirring the sands. “Tiriel, your staff—channel its power. Seventeen, your men—aim for the drones’ cores.”

Tiriel nodded, his cloak shimmering as he stepped forward, staff aglow. “For Tiamat,” he whispered, a vow to the world Enlil and Gadreel had chained through Yaldabaoth’s orders. Seventeen barked orders, his soldiers’ lasers and mercury bullets locking onto distant glints—approaching drones, their metallic hum rising like a swarm of locusts.

The Time Warrior’s mind flashed to Cody’s life, a future torn by war, and Seventeen’s labs, where his clone’s resolve was forged. He was synthesized by a future country, yet the evil he sought eluded him. “No gods,” he muttered, gripping the scepter. “Only shadows to shatter.”

The first drones crested the ridge, eyes seething like embers in the gloom. Behind them, the Igigi warriors marched, their jagged armor glinting with cruel intent. A pulse of Anunnaki tech, electromagnetic and merciless, crackled through the air, making the hair on Tiriel’s neck stand. As the waves of machines advanced, Tiriel felt his heart pound heavily against his ribcage, his grip tightening around the staff until his knuckles turned white. The Time Warrior swung his scepter, releasing a wave of aetheric force that howled through the ranks of machines. Metal shrieked and buckled as the drones crumpled. Tiriel’s staff blazed, its energy slicing through Igigi armor like a comet’s tail, yet his breath came in sharp, ragged bursts, a stark reminder of his own fragility amidst the chaos. Seventeen’s soldiers fired, lasers and mercury bullets punching through drone hearts with surgical precision.

But the ground quaked, and a new shadow loomed, a towering construct, Anunnaki-forged, its form pulsing with dark energy. The Time Warrior’s heart sank. “The shadow’s servant,” he rasped, raising his scepter. “I’ll meet you again. I need to trail to see what dark forces lie ahead.” As he turned away, a lingering question stirred like a whisper in the wind: Would the light of truth survive the shadows of deceit? The doubt lingered, as if the universe held its breath.