Bigger Problems

Dr. Samuel ran his fingers over the second stone plate, feeling the deep grooves of the carvings beneath his touch. The fluorescent lights overhead buzzed faintly, casting a sterile glow over the lab's cold metal tables and scattered research notes. The hum of nearby machinery filled the space—a constant, modern contrast to the ancient world these artifacts belonged to. He exhaled slowly. The weight of the moment pressed against his chest, but his voice remained steady. "Ti-Tamat extended her hand into the lower worlds, planting avatars of her own creation. These demons, known as Kahatkos, were monstrous beings—mere manifestations of Ti-Tamat's essence, forged for complete domination over the lower realms… They were the perfect creatures." Lilith stood beside him, arms crossed, her dark eyes scanning the inscriptions with sharp precision. Unlike Samuel, she wasn't one for superstition or gut feelings. To her, facts were facts, and stories were just stories—until proven otherwise. "We believe these stone plates were created by Ti-Tamat's followers," she said, her voice clinical. "Based on our analysis, they date back to approximately 18,334 BC." Samuel traced the edges of the plate, his fingers lingering on the rough surface. His throat felt dry. "If these plates were made by her followers… then the Kahatkos weren't just legends. They were real." Lilith stiffened. "Real? As in, they actually existed? That these creatures walked this world?" He nodded, the truth settling over him like a cold shroud. His mind raced through the implications. The Kahatkos weren't fables designed to scare ancient civilizations into obedience. They were engineered. Created. Unleashed. And yet— "If they were as perfect as this describes," he murmured, "then why aren't they still active?" The steady beeping of a heart rate monitor from the other room suddenly felt too loud, each sound sharp and deliberate. The lab, once a place of logic and control, felt eerily still. Lilith ran her fingers over a set of strange markings near the bottom of the plate—different from the rest, almost hastily carved. A prickle of unease crawled up her spine. She inhaled sharply. "Something happened to them." Samuel's jaw tightened. "Either they were wiped out…" Lilith turned to him, her expression unreadable. "Or they never left." A strange quiet settled over the lab, thick and suffocating. The hum of the machines seemed deeper now, pressing into their ears. The air smelled of sterilized metal and old stone—an unnatural mix of the past and present. Samuel's fingers skimmed over the ancient inscriptions, their meaning sinking into him like a weight. His voice barely rose above a whisper. "This… this isn't a myth. It's a warning." Lilith leaned in, her breath shallow as she scanned the final inscription. The words seemed to pulse beneath her gaze, like something alive beneath the surface. "When the slumbering goddess awakens, she will not merely conquer the world, but every world. She will tear through the fabric of all dimensions, consuming their essence, and remake the universe into something… horrific." She swallowed hard, pulse quickening. "In her fury, she will burn through the heavens and the earth, and all that lies between… Not even the gods will save us." The hum of the machines deepened into a low drone, pressing against their ears. The air felt colder than it had a moment ago. Neither of them spoke. Neither of them moved. And then, from the far end of the lab, a monitor flickered.