ENKI: Tales from the Past

Welcome to the fourth and final season of Enki, Tales from the Past.

I am Inanna, your guide back to this epic tale that has spanned generations and worlds.

As we arrive on this last chapter, I find myself reflecting on the incredible path we

have walked together.

From the first tentative steps of our ancestors on this earth, to the grand machinations of

gods and kings, we have witnessed the unfolding of a story that is at once deeply personal

and truly cosmic in scope.

Yet, what is the true story of humanity's past?

In this final season, we will delve into the heart of the great mysteries that have shadowed

our tale from the beginning.

As always, I encourage you to share your thoughts and feelings with us, leave a comment, reach

out on social media, and let us know how these stories have resonated with you.

Your voices are an integral part of this journey, and we cherish everyone.

Remember, this is a work of passion and love created by a one-man team, and my deepest

admiration goes to him, your author, Mario Portella.

Support him and his many projects of storytelling, I promise you they are unique.

So as we stand on the precipice of this final season, I invite you to take a deep breath,

to steel your resolve, and to join us once more on this grand adventure.

The road ahead is a bumpy ride.

This is Inanna, bidding you welcome to the Enki Tales from the Past Season 4.

May the wisdom of the ancients guide your path, and may the strength of your spirit

never waver.

And so, without further ado, let us begin.

This is Enki Tales from the Past.

This audio drama is authored, edited, and produced by Mario Portela.

The waves crash against the volcanic rocks of Ranukau, their rhythm a constant companion

to my vigilance.

Seabirds circle overhead, their cries mixing with the whispers of the trade winds that

whip my hair.

After 80 years on this remote island, I've grown accustomed to nature's symphony, but

my heart remains as cold as the obsidian these shores are made of.

My Rapa Nui people gather at dawn, as they do every morning.

Their bare feet press into the black sand as they face the endless Pacific Ocean, their

chants rising above the surf.

I watch from my perch on the cliff, my weathered red armor still gleaming despite decades of

salt spray.

My face bears new lines, carved by years of rage and waiting, but my eyes remain sharp

as I scan the horizon.

Great Mother of the Heart.

One of the elders calls out, bowing deeply.

The eastern face is complete.

I nod, forcing a warm smile, my gaze fixed on the newest Moai statue.

These aren't mere stone monuments, they're my watchers, my soldiers.

One for each Anunnaki my uncle murdered.

Each one stands guard, their hollow eyes scanning the seas for any sign of my uncle's hidden

base.

The Rapa Nui understand this mission without questioning, their devotion evident in every

perfectly carved feature, and I actually use some of those statues to install sensors

and cameras.

They've learned to read my moods to anticipate my needs.

When I pace the clifftops at night, they leave offerings of fresh fish and fruit.

When I spend days staring at the sea, they maintain their silent vigil alongside me.

The stones remember, I tell them, they watch while you sleep.

My voice has grown harder over the decades, stripped of its former warmth.

The Rapa Nui nod solemnly, they've built their entire culture around my presence, around

my hunt, a culture built out of my own mission.

The Moai stand in rows now, their backs to the village, faces turned toward the vast

ocean.

They are my silent army, waiting with me for the day Enlil's arrogance leads him to surface

from whatever depths he's hiding in.

The modified Pleiadian scanner hums in my hands, its crystalline display casting a soft

blue glow across my face.

From this volcanic outcrop, I've spent decades watching, waiting, calculating.

The ocean stretches endlessly before me, but I know he's down there, somewhere.

Kahui, I call to my most trusted advisor without taking my eyes off the readout.

These energy signatures are getting stronger.

The fluctuations match Anunnaki propulsion systems.

The elderly Islander steps closer, his weathered face etched with concern.

The stones have been singing, great mother.

Our people feel their vibrations growing stronger.

Your ancestors built these Moai perfectly.

I adjust the scanner's frequency.

Each one enhances my detection grid.

That's why they all face this direction.

They're not just watching, they're listening.

A sudden shift in the water's rhythm catches my attention.

The scanner's pitch changes, its crystal core pulsing faster.

There!

My breath catches as the ocean's surface distorts, a familiar shimmer I haven't seen in decades.

The sleek form of an Anunnaki scout ship breaks through the waves, water cascading off its

metallic hull.

My hands tremble, but not from fear.

After 80 years of waiting, here's the proof.

The Rapa Nui around me drop to their knees, their chants falling silent.

Kahui, get me the triangulation data from the eastern Moai array.

I calibrate my scanner, tracking the ship's emergence point.

This is the third sighting in this quadrant.

If we overlay the previous coordinates...

I will send canoes with the blinking poles, Great Mother.

Finally, I whisper in rage, watching the scout ship disappear into the clouds.

I'm coming for you, Uncle.

I overlay the holographic grid across my worn sea charts, my fingers tracing the intersection

points where the scout ship has emerged.

The patterns are unmistakable now.

Three perfect triangulation points forming a clear vector toward what must be Enlil's

hidden base.

All these years, I murmur, remembering why I chose this remote paradise.

The ancient Lyran energy grid still pulses beneath these waters.

I felt it the moment I first flew over this island.

The same resonance signature their civilization used to power their underwater facilities.

Enlil always did prefer stealing others' technology, rather than developing his own.

Kahui and the Council Elders gather around my makeshift command center, their eyes reflecting

the soft blue glow of my holomaps.

These people have become more than allies.

They're my family.

For 80 years, they've dedicated their lives, their offspring, to helping me, never questioning,

always supporting.

My friends, I say, looking at each weathered face.

You, your fathers and grandfathers built these Moai with perfect precision, creating a detection

array more powerful than any modern technology.

Now I must prepare for the next phase.

I will soon leave you, and may never return.

I pull up detailed schematics.

We'll need to modify the eastern Moai array.

I'll show you how to install new crystal resonators for my trip.

And I'll need your best swimmers, the ones who can hold their breath the longest, to

place sensors, beeping boxes, at these specific places.

The people stand ready for your ascension, Great Mother, Kahui says, his voice firm

with conviction.

We have trained for generations for this moment.

My throat tightens with emotion, without you.

Without your dedication and skill, I would never have gotten this far.

You are not just helpers in this mission, you are its heart.

Each of you carries the knowledge of your ancestors, wisdom that even my advanced technology

cannot match.

The elders bow their heads, but I see the pride in their eyes.

They begin discussing logistics in their native tongue, organizing dive teams and gathering

the sacred woods needed for the sensor housings.

It's now a matter of time.

I will have your head, Enlil.

The world may shake the sands, a dawn of God's making.

For that rock.

This audio drama is authored, edited and produced by Mario Portela.