Eons later, Thoth tread the untamed Earth, where towering ferns swayed and saurian roars split the air. Humanity’s ancestors crouched in caves, their eyes wide with fear and wonder. By a river of molten amber, he found Lilith—her hair a torrent of midnight, her skin kissed by the sun’s primal heat.

“What’s that glowing thing?” she asked, her voice a low, dangerous hum, pointing at the tablet cradled in his arms.
“Knowledge,” Thoth said, stepping closer, the air between them crackling. “The key to all that is and will be.”

Her lips curved, predatory. “Teach me.”
He hesitated, sensing her hunger, but the pull was irresistible. Under a sky streaked with pterodactyl shadows, they came together—her nails raking his back, his whispers filling her mind with forbidden truths. The tablet flared beside them, illuminating their union. She mastered its secrets: how to bend the winds, summon fire, command the beasts. But as dawn broke, she seized a shard of the tablet and fled, her laughter echoing through the jungle.

Thoth stood, chest heaving, a wry smile on his lips. “You’ve started a game you can’t win, Lilith.” He felt the tablet’s wound—a missing piece that would haunt him through the ages.