The Third War Part 1
Ablon parked the motorcycle with chrome handlebars in a dark alley, dismounted and crossed the street.
narrow cobblestone street, already deserted at that time of night. Even though it's a big city,
Some areas of Rio de Janeiro, especially those in the center, preserve 19th century architecture —
three-story townhouses, baroque churches and dimly lit roads — a legacy of the colonial past
which continues to be present in historic areas, where pirates, Jesuits and slaves once walked. THE
a few meters away, the old streets converge into a wide paved avenue, bordered by huge
skyscrapers with neon advertisements on top. Along the sidewalk, underground holes penetrate the ground, in the light of
night posts and flashing traffic lights. This is the aspect of the center, a conjunction between the old and the
new, an architectural clash between the modern city and the extinct capital of the colony.
About fifty years ago, as the city grew, many people moved to more
distant, and the center stopped being residential, becoming exclusively commercial. Almost no one
most live there, and the few residents are mostly beggars or outsiders who sleep in
shelters or in the few guesthouses, mostly used by prostitutes.
At night, this is a ghost neighborhood, visited only by city hall workers who repair signs.
traffic and repair the asphalt. When the day arrives, however, the neighborhood is invaded by the most
heterogeneous crowd — executives in suits, cripples, beggars, peanut sellers, drivers
buses, late students and religious preachers. The movement only decreases towards the end of the afternoon, when
end of the working day, when workers return home. Some remain, having fun
in bars or frequenting brothels, but everything ends before midnight, to be reborn with the
sunshine.
There was a pension hidden on the old side, the Hotel Montenegro, which Ablon had chosen as a refuge.
He had managed to convince the owner to rent one of the large rooms indefinitely, which
saved the inn's bills, which had already been almost given over to the cockroaches.
If there was a place in the city for a renegade angel to stay, this was it. The Hotel Montenegro
it was nothing more than a despicable boarding house, practically abandoned. And, even though it is a construction
very anciently, the spiritual world was clean beneath the fabric of reality—no spirits dragging
currents or specters coming out of the shadows. The former residents of the townhouse, as Ablon already
concluded, they left no unfinished business to punish the soul. Contrary to popular belief, neither
Ghosts always torment the living, but angels can see them on the astral plane, and it is
It is sometimes boring to watch the lament of hauntings.
The Hotel Montenegro was in agreement—isolated and obscure, a decaying hole in the decrepit city.
Ablon opened the door and entered the apartment. The room was large, old, with high ceilings and tiled floors.
wooden, which was probably part of the original construction. The room, wide and without partitions,
it occupied the entire third floor of the townhouse. The owner had told the renegade that the enclosure had been, in
past, a kind of deposit. A few months ago, upon settling there, the celestial had brought
hundreds of unusual objects, artifacts that he had collected for around six thousand years. Never loaded
nothing on his travels, but he kept the items in hidden places, and now he had collected them in his
refuge. Thus, the hall looked more like a small museum. On the crowded shelves, they rested
ancestral documents, witchcraft tomes, medieval tapestries, Hellenic treatises, Egyptian papyri,
Spanish maps and copies of original 19th-century books, including a manuscript of The Origin
of species, by Darwin. Other shelves held more boxes, inside which lay gladiuses.
Romans, Japanese armor, Nordic shields, Sumerian plaques, Renaissance paintings and others
cultural icons that Ablon preferred to preserve, even if it was simply to not forget his own
past.
Once the door was locked, the fighter took off his rubberized overcoat, which he used to protect himself from the rain.
frequent occurrences that fell without warning in that humid and hot city. He pulled out a chair and sat down at
massive mahogany table, cluttered with newspapers and magazines, which shared space with aged rolls of
parchment, written in Aramaic. The warrior had been, for weeks, analyzing the periodicals and
searching for connections between recent facts and old prophecies. Unfortunately, I had recognized the parallels and
noticed the signs.
The signs of the Apocalypse.
For an outcast like Ablon, it was difficult to know what happened in heaven or hell. But, over time,
he began to understand that spiritual events are reflected on the physical plane. That was how, for
For the first time, he noticed the signs, the signs that confirmed the last days of the earth. It started with
what the prophets called "horsemen of the Apocalypse". There was no real knight
entities assembled that embodied the prediction. But the renegade could perceive them in the wars in
Middle East, starving children in Africa, epidemics, false seers and everywhere else
death dragged its cloak. Afterwards, the world situation deteriorated, and this had nothing to do with the
infernal or celestial forces.
At the beginning of the 21st century, the global economic crisis once again encouraged the expansionism of large
powers, as happened at the end of the 19th century, the United States of America,
shaken by political and financial problems, they sought to expand their territories of influence,
invading and occupying dozens of smaller countries. After the invasion of Afghanistan, the Americans
advanced towards Iraq and then continued the operation, occupying Syria, Iran and Libya, always under
the pretext of self-defense. They lightly accused their enemies of possessing arsenals of chemical weapons,
biological and nuclear, arguments that were almost always refuted by United Nations inspectors
United. Establishing dominance over these countries, the Americans closed the siege on the Middle East,
establishing solid foundations for its operations in Asia. To ensure the contingent of troops in
occupied regions, the USA sealed a cooperation pact with the main European countries,
led by Great Britain, Italy and Germany. Thus the so-called Berlin League was created, in
allusion to the name of the capital that hosted the heads of state during the conference that formalized the
agreement.
However, the need to establish an operations post in the East arose, and the landmark chosen was
Taiwan, whose government gladly accepted the capital invested by Western patrons. But the alliance
with the island did not go unnoticed in the eyes of China and North Korea, nations that, like the
United States, wanted to expand their areas of influence and dominate markets. The two countries
demanded the evacuation of Western companies from Taiwan, and their refusal led to the first major conflict
of the 21st century, the Three Hundred Days War, which killed around three million people in just one year.
people, between military and civilians, and ended with the victory of the East. The Berlin League was forced to
leave the island, and since then the two blocs have exchanged hostilities, like a pressure cooker about to boil.
explode.
China and North Korea understood that they were the League's main targets and decided to
expansion. In a campaign unprecedented in human history, the two armies invaded the
Japan without firing a single shot and occupied the entire archipelago, in the so-called Two Armies Offensive.
They signed cooperation agreements with India, Mongolia, Thailand, Malaysia, Indonesia and the Philippines, but
the final blow was yet to come. Unhappy with the growing poverty after the end of communism, the
Russians embraced the Chinese cause with all their might, and the country joined the Eastern bloc, forming the
Eastern Alliance, which received, in a few months, the accessions of some former Soviet republics-
Concerned about the loss of sovereignty, the Americans managed, after countless conversations, to
support from Canada and precious Oceania, and continued their expansionist policy, invading Cuba and
Panama. A new confrontation between the two blocs broke out in Türkiye, the only Muslim country allied with
NATO, act disbanded North Atlantic Treaty Organization. The Turkish government split, giving rise to
to two parties that took up arms and turned Ankara into a sea of blood, sinking the
nation in a civil war. Each of the powers sent weapons and troops. For the Berlin League it was
imperative to retain control of Türkiye, so that it could form a bridge with the occupied countries of the
Middle East. The Eastern Alliance, in turn, knew that if the enemies took the capital, it would open
an invasion front from the south.
The stage was then set for a global conflict. On the one hand, the Berlin League, formed by
United States and Europe; on the other, the Eastern Alliance, led by China, North Korea and Russia.
And in the middle of these two blocks, the poor countries of Africa and Latin America remained neutral,
now more concerned with defending their own borders. It was in this calamitous context that the signs
have become clearer. Ablon knew that a clash of these proportions would culminate in a confrontation
atomic, and I saw no salvation for humanity if that happened.
But this would all simply be another war, were it not for the permanent tears in the fabric of
reality. Everyone, angels and demons alike, felt the membrane coming apart. And they understood,
some earlier than others, that the Apocalypse was underway, and began to prepare for the
Armageddon — the final battle that will decide the sovereignty of Haled, which will be open to spiritual invasion
when the membrane falls.
Although everyone takes the prophecy about Yahweh's awakening as truth, it is best not to take any chances.
Both — celestial and infernal — were already preparing their ranks for the greatest of confrontations and waiting for the
outbreak of conflict. The only ones who would be able to foresee the future — the malakins, a caste of angels
scholars and wise men — they said nothing more. They distanced themselves from heaven, and some held that
They evolved to other spheres, immersing themselves in a deep trance.
The Aramaic scroll on the renegade's table was the original text of John's revelations, which narrates the
prophet's vision of the last days of the world. Ablon had obtained this record by luck in Rome, in
119, a time when the Empire was under the command of Hadrian. The general had bought the
document from a highwayman, who had stolen it from an Italian aristocrat. None of them —
Neither the patrician nor the thief — knew the value of what they were carrying. The text was copied when
John was still alive, and the original must have fallen into the hands of some centurion in the years that the apostle was
thrown into prison, with other Christians. Already at this time, in 119, the parchment was rotting, but
the cherub managed to recover it with an herbal mixture, a secret recipe of the Order of
Sippar, taught to him by a sorceress friend. The current biblical version of John is practically the same,
except for some errors that the writings suffered when they were translated into Greek.
The apartment was lit only by the light from the night street lamps, which reached the bedroom.
through a large window. Sitting down, Ablon collected some papers and organized a pile of them. In
Then he got up and looked outside.
Everything calm.
He felt the weight of the Atlantic rune of peace, inscribed on the basalt fragment. He took the object out of his pocket and
examined, under the dim glow of street lamps. Then he walked over to the phone and pulled the hook.
heard.
He started dialing.
Shamira, the Sorceress of En-dor
Shamira was the excavation supervisor. It was no surprise. The entire expedition was financed by her
herself, a woman who mastered the mysteries of archeology like no one else. I didn't want help from
universities or organizations, but I also didn't need to. That was a personal research, a
particular objective, a mission.
Apart from the labor work, the girl did everything else — mapped the area, recorded the objects, studied the
ground and set up the equipment. In the whole world, there was no one better than her at secrets
Sumerians. He knew that desert very well, a region he had visited for the first time four years ago.
thousand years, when he went to Babel to invoke a spirit.
The excavation site had been set up near the ruins of the fabulous Babel, but the woman could not
he was looking for traces of the forgotten capital. He was just looking for an object, an ordinary item in appearance, but
loaded with magnificent power, an artifact long left in that infertile landscape.
Smartly, Shamira carefully looked at the trench, dug at different levels of depth. Node
camp, the sun had reached its zenith. The men, tired, put down their pickaxes and went to lunch. THE
The girl then stayed there alone, observing every detail of the pit.
Suddenly, he had an almost divine intuition, he grabbed a shovel and jumped into the hole. To the faint breath of the wind,
They shook their long, black locks, smooth as the desert plain. The eyes were brown, and the
fair, smooth skin glowed with the freshness of youth. His body, still very young, had been preserved
by magic. The expression, although sensual, was decided and strong - the countenance of a woman not at all
defenseless.
He then saw a point shining in the sand and began to dig frantically. Thus, he found a
metallic rod that reflected in the sun. He took off his sunglasses and knelt in front of the object. With a brush,
He removed the excess earth and discovered a long sword, corroded by the weather. The blade,
sick, had a jagged edge. The handle, supposedly golden, was peeling and black. In almost
Along its entire length, the weapon was covered in a shell of stone, and Shamira had to use her knife to
scrape off the hardness of the crust.
The Holy Avenger.
He finally smiled. He found what he came for.
He heard the footsteps of a worker. A tall man, covered from head to toe in an Arab tunic,
he called from outside the ditch, shouting a warning. Quick and dexterous, she returned to the desert with the sword
ruined in his hands and walked to a gray jeep. Parked at the foot of a huge mountain, in the
In the middle of five canvas tents, the car was equipped with a satellite phone and two
computers. Other communications equipment was stored in a tent next to the
refrigerator of supplies and gallons of refreshment.
In the space between the driver's seat and the passenger's seat, a red light was flashing. It was the
communicator call.
"Yes," she said, taking out the device.
— And then, sorting through the rubble? — said someone on the other end of the line.
—Ablon! — he exclaimed, happy for the contact. — You never tire of surprising me, renegade. As
Did you know where I was?
— We always know. I actually thought that sooner or later you would come home.
— Whoever knows the past predicts the future — she agreed, nostalgically.
— How are things there?
"Almost as we left it," he replied quickly. — It's been years since we've seen each other — she changed her mind.
subject — and I almost feel like an old lady receiving a phone call from a loved one.
high school platonic. But for some reason I'm afraid the news you bring me isn't good.
— Why are you saying that?
— Isn't it always like that? — the voice dropped an octave. — The spirits whispered some things to me, and the
Most of them are scary. There's something wrong, isn't there? THE
is declining. It's started, hasn't it?
After a long silence, the Renegade Angel replied:
— I'm afraid so, sorceress. But before the end, I need your help, once again. Unfortunately, it has
always be like this.
The girl trembled with a bad feeling when she heard the request. Every time Ablon requested
your help to launch yourself on a mission beyond your capabilities.
Who or what does the Renegade Angel intend to face this time?, she thought, worried. She didn't want
he would take risks, but warriors always take risks. Furthermore, even if she refused to support him
lo, he would pursue his goal alone.
- What it was? Problems with the basement staff?
- I don't think so. I still don't really know." He hesitated. —But don't worry. I won't get involved
in no ravenous fight. It was Lucifer who decided to hunt me and not the other way around.
Shamira felt safer when she understood that Ablon wanted, this time, just a peaceful conversation.
with your traitor. But things weren't always like this.
— Can you meet me? — asked the renegade.
— Of course — replied the woman, looking at the rusty sword. — In fact, that was exactly what I
intended to do.
She grabbed a pad and pen from the car's glove compartment.
- Where are you?
— In Rio de Janeiro — he revealed, and she wrote it down on the paper.
— I think I can get there in 48 hours. I'm taking a plane.
— That would be great. I would like to see you one more time, before the world is plunged into darkness -
he confessed, naturally somber.
The darkness. The sorceress always hoped they would dissipate, but civilization took a different path.
adverse and now heading towards destruction.
— I'll meet you at the airport — she agreed.
— I'll be there — confirmed the general, hanging up the phone.
In the desert, the girl's gaze reached the top of the huge mountain, as if her memory went back a long way.
in time, to an immemorial past, already erased from all human records.
— I hope you're okay — the woman mused, running her fingers along the hilt of the sword.
BABEL, TO ANTIGA
Mesopotamia, 2334 BC
To Tower of Babel
The Babylonian military entourage left the site of the great hills and took the road through the desert
rocky. Fifty elite soldiers, on their horses and buggies, escorted a single woman, a
witch, brought by them from Canaan by order of their king, Nimrod. Attached by chains to a column of
iron, affixed to the carriage of a common cart, the girl tried to find a comfortable position,
but the bonds stretched her. Her black hair was dirty, full of dirt, and her white skin was punished.
by sandstorms. I felt hungry, thirsty and hot, under the strong sun of the arid plain. From the wrists,
Handcuffed throughout the journey, streams of blood were flowing. Gagged, she almost couldn't
breathe.
Shamira was known far and wide as the Sorceress of En-Dor, a name that indicated her village of
origin. Sixteen guards watched her closely, surrounding the moving cart. They used primitives
iron armor and warhead-shaped helmets. His weapons were the spear, the bow and the long knife, and
some carried shields.
In those Eastern lands, the captive was famous for her necromancy, the branch of magic that studies the
dead and the spiritual world. She was considered a terrible witch, but the wise men understood that
Necromancers were not essentially evil. Dealing with the dead does not necessarily mean
work good or bad. Life and death are natural laws, to which everyone is subject, and
Necromancers must, better than anyone else, understand the neutrality of the life process.
At Babel, King Nimrod was not only the political leader, but he commanded the army as well—directly.
In addition to being an excellent fighter, he never perished in combat, even after being hit by more than a hundred
arrows. His people believed he was invulnerable, thanks to the blessing of the goddess Ishtar.
With his overwhelming strength, Nimrod had already overcome Sumer, Akkad and Assyria - and that was
most of the world, in the 24th century BC. But a tribe of desert nomads called the Children of
Jafé challenged his strength. The sovereign could not find them even as they inflicted heavy
losses to the Babylonians. As if that wasn't enough, the tribesmen killed his father, Cush, burned his body and
They crumbled the bones, keeping only the charred skull, which they sent back to their enemies.
In the process, they subjected the old monarch to a purification ritual, a sacred ceremony that
condemns the spirit of the deceased to hell and frees the souls of those who perished in agony under his
Cimmerian commands.
With the murder of his protector, Nimrod was plunged into insanity. While waiting for the final victory
against the Sons of Japheth, he decided that, for him, the world of men would not be enough. Your domains
they would also extend to the celestial sphere, to the land of angels, to the abode of God. To do this, he made his
conquered slaves and used them to begin the construction of a tower that, according to him, would reach the
sky.
Shamira had already heard about the fabulous building, but she wasn't prepared for its appearance.
When the party turned towards the plain, the sorceress saw the silhouette of a thin mountain, which rose
spiral. They were then two hundred kilometers from the capital, and the sun was dazzling their vision. But, in
The moment the cart turned direction, he had a stunning revelation,
It's not a mountain — it's a tower!
— Observe, woman, the magnificent Tower of Babel, the greatest construction ever erected by the human race —
the captain rejoiced, full of nationalist pride. — Enjoy this moment, then, of all
wonders, this is the biggest one.
The Sorceress of En-Dor did not disagree. The monument was amazing. Not even in the modern era
contemplate such an extraordinary building. She was good with numbers and calculated that her unfinished tip was already
reached a thousand meters in height. From a distance, the structure was conical — wide at the base, tapering toward the bottom.
top. The outer wall was flanked by a continuous ramp, which rose in a spiral, delimiting sections. THE
The framework was essentially made of stone and adobe, but on the lower levels slaves worked on the
finishing, preparing bronze plates to cover the walls. Access to the interior was now possible
on the first floors, designed to house the royal offices. Staircases and scaffolding surrounded the
bastille under construction, and sixty thousand workers worked there. Like ants, they went up and down
through the external ramp, carrying out a continuous task, just like a dark production line.
The Tower of Babel was being built within the walls of the capital, which in themselves were already very high,
adding fifty meters from the ground to the guardhouses. The walls, made of blackened iron, imitated a terrible
black wave, which rushed over the invaders. At the time, the Babylonians were the only ones skilled in
iron manufacturing, which made their weapons unsurpassed.
The only buildings taller than the wall that Shamira could see were the tower and the ziggurat.
— an immense pyramid of steps covered in silver that housed, at the top, the golden throne of the
I laughed.
— Under the protection of our lord Nimrod the Immortal, the people of Babylon will touch the edges of heaven —
continued the captain — and will invade the angels' stronghold. And we will rule the entire universe.
For Shamira, that speech was an abysmal delusion. Anyone who knew the slightest about the
spiritual realms knew that the heavenly paradise does not excavate above the clouds or the atmosphere, but in
another dimension, beyond the astral and ethereal pianos, and was only accessed through rare portals, guarded by
incredible creatures. No matter how high they climbed — they would never reach the sky they intended. THE
motivation of an entire civilization, she noticed, highlighted the ignorance of its sovereign - or the
cleverness of those who controlled it.
— Hail, men! — shouted the captain, and the procession stopped. — It's time for lunch. But be brief. In
three days, we will be crossing the gates of Babel and delivering to the Immortal the fruits of our mission —
He looked away from the sorceress and then reinforced:
— Don't delay with the food or soften your heart. We are Babylonians, children of the earth and
descendants of Adam.
Most soldiers traveled on horseback, but an advance team drove two-wheeled buggies.
— warlike vehicles reinforced with copper sheets. One of the frontliners was Captain Pazuno, a
brute guy, with black, frizzy hair. The beard was full, curly, and on his armor was
engraved, in high relief, the face of a stunted bull — a symbol of national power.
For the light meal, the guards removed meat and bread from their wrappings and uncovered the balloons.
water. Then, Pazuno ordered one of the warriors:
— Nahor! — he called, spitting crumbs on the floor. — Feed the witch.
Dissatisfied and fearful, the young officer followed the command, without knowing why he had been chosen. Nahor,
like most Babylonians, he was a man full of fury and malice. His face was marked by
scars from successive battles and was a lover of violence.
Climbing onto the cart, the soldier faced the necromancer, imagining, deep down, what secrets she was hiding.
The girl, covered only by a torn woolen dress, had part of her white breasts exposed. The hair
black glittered in the sun, and the eyes were like black pearls on the seabed. But what excited
What was depraved was not the beauty of the perfect body, but its degrading situation — dirty, tied up,
bloodied and at the mercy of male ardor.
Fulfilling the order, Nahor pulled Shamira's gag and lifted the canteen.
— Are you thirsty? he asked, sadistically, taking a deep drink himself. Let the water
ran down the strands of his beard and smiled between his teeth. All wet, he brought his face closer to the woman's,
looking for a forced kiss» but she rejected it, turning her face away.
The other guards burst into laughter, mocking their fellow countryman, despised by the infernal witch. THE
The joke made the officer even more angry, and he pulled the girl by her hair, bringing her to his side.
and.
— You Endorian viper! Do you think I'm afraid of your enchantments? I will show you all
strength of a legionary.
About twenty men were already crowding around the cart, awaiting the grotesque spectacle. They lived together
had been with Nahor for some years and they knew his reputation as a barbaric rapist.
- Careful! — mocked one of them. — She will curse you and you will lose your power.
— To the abyss with witchcraft! —he replied, amidst the torrent of cruel laughter. — I'll do it
bleed, now not just from the wrists.
Undressing, the brute placed his hands on the girl's breasts, at the same time he tore her clothes.
In response, the sorceress did not react, but began to mutter a dozen strange words:
— The Dingir and Kanpa. They Dingir ennul e and Camp.
— He's praying — suggested a scout, ironically.
— He's grateful to have found such virile men in the desert — added an archer.
Thirsty, Nahor lowered his hand to the woman's hips, but at that moment Captain Pazuno realized
the sky and shouted loudly:
— Don't let her talk, you beasts!
However, the soldier, entertained, did not stop his perverse impulses. She stuck her spleen through her dress, but soon
He felt a strange tingling between his fingers and wrapped his hand around, scared.
But Ishtar!
The flesh of his fist was rotting, like that of putrefying corpses, and a colony of
Worms devoured the palm of his hand.
Nahor took a step back and noticed that the freighter was infested with snakes — ferocious cobras, which
they spat venom from their sharp fangs. Out of control, he jumped from the cart, but fell in a daze,
busting his knee on a sharp boulder. Panic overcame all pain, and the soldier
He dragged himself away, escaping from the snakes that were chasing him, until he was awakened by the captain.
— Get up off the ground, you coward — demanded Pazuno, shaking the guard, now with a broken leg.
With another sigh, the snakes had disappeared, and the rotten arm had returned to normal. He was the target of a
illusion, a psychic spell that only affected his mind, dragging him into invisible terror. None of
The dangers were real—neither decay nor cobras.
The comrades did not forgive the mockery and, absorbed, the depraved man did not react. The troops that I saw in Nahor
a horrible murderer, he had lost all respect for him. It was now just a poltroon, running in front of the
threats from a defenseless woman.
With the officer giving up, still stuck in a shameful situation, the officer took command. Climbed to
freighter and gagged the captive again.
— You're going to run out of food, you damned witch — he warned, tightening the chains tightly.
A safe distance away, with his tendon torn, Nahor trembled, sobbed, and prayed to his immortal monarch.
He had tasted the sinister power of magic and might not return to full consciousness.
Oh, sublime Nimrod, deliver us from this, aberration.
— Let's leave now! — resumed the experienced Pazuno, jumping into the cart. — Soon we will be at
presence of the Immortal.
As soon as he got into his car, the captain drew his bow, prepared an arrow and aimed it at the middle of the road.
entourage. Under the soldiers' surprised gazes, Pazuno fired an arrow, which flew through the air until
find Nahor's heart.
— This is what happens to every Babylonian who succumbs to sorcery — he explained, and the fighters
they swallowed hard.
The group continued across the plain, sunk in macabre silence. The rapist's body was left there
desert, to later serve as food for lions.
The Hanging Gardens and the Silver Zigurate
The train arrived in the capital three days later, at the exact time of the meridian sun. Babel was a fey
mix of wonder and horror. Many times in En-Dor, Shamira had heard descriptions of the famous
metropolis, but the reports were far from the truth.
The walls were made of solid iron, slightly bent outwards. On the bridge, guards with bows and
lances observed the movement, under the close supervision of their commanders in the armored guardhouses. THE
capital, huge by ancient standards, had a double gate of stone and metal, which did not open
outside or inside, like common doors, but he retreated to the inside of the walls, when
pulled by vigorous mammoths. In the past, everyone had access to Babel, because it was also a
important commercial center. Then, with the rise of Nimrod, the Babylonians subdued all
partner nations and began stealing their wealth, instead of buying it. Thus, there was no longer
need — nor the interest — to receive foreigners, only slaves.
In the outer section of the wall, girdling the gates, two gigantic forty-meter statues depicted
the image of a man with the head of a bull, one of the main symbols of the State. Shamira calculated
that the "bull" was Cush, the deceased father of the present sovereign.
— Stop! — shouted an officer, from the top of the wall, to the approaching procession. His voice sounded very
low, given the height of the walkway. —Who are those approaching the gates of Babel?
— I'm Captain Pazuno — the commander announced. It was logical that they were Babylonians, but Shamira
noticed a ritualistic pattern, as if they always presented themselves like this, no matter how many times
enter or leave. — I bring to the Immortal our captive, the Sorceress of En-Dor.
The soldier on top of the walls fell silent, and his sentries assumed an expression of surprise.
— Then you can come in, captain. Nimrod awaits him.
The gates parted with a scrape of chains, accompanied by the bellowing of shaggy elephants, and the
group penetrated the capital of Babylon.
An unexpected scene was hidden within the walls. In contrast to the desolation of the desert,
the metropolis was packed with people, a crowd that gathered in the streets. At that time, Babel
it had about one hundred thousand citizens and four hundred thousand slaves. These unfortunate, military and civilian nations
conquered, they walked along the avenues dirty like beggars, tied to shackles that forced them to
constant movement. Following in single file, they worked nonstop on the construction of the cursed tower.
Not infrequently, they died of hunger and sunstroke, and their bodies remained tied to iron chokers for a long time.
days, until a soldier cut off the deceased or they were devoured by their own hungry colleagues.
On the other side of the social configuration were the Babylonian citizens, a people indoctrinated since the
childhood to hate your different ones. They walked like gods through the avenues, resting in the shade
of the great monuments and eating eccentric delicacies. They wore a white tunic, bracelets
bronze and gold necklaces, adorned with blue stones. They almost always carried a copper rod with
the upper end in the form of a hook, useful for whipping slaves, and they wore leather sandals.
leather.
Chasing passers-by with her eyes, the necromancer's attention was naturally diverted to
prodigious Tower of Babel, whose base occupied a third of the central area of the great metropolis. Closely,
The suffering of the workers was visible, as they walked along the external ramp and got into the scaffolding.
And so tall... How does it stay upright? The girl didn't know, but she wasn't an expert in the art of
engineering. According to your mathematical reasoning, the building should have already collapsed. The height had already exceeded
too wide, and the lower floors would not be strong enough to support the levels above.
Between the gate and the tower stood a towering silver ziggurat, a two-hundred-step pyramid.
meters high, with a golden throne at the top. This was the royal palace, divided into six floors, or
courtyards, so wide that they held fabulous gardens, covered with grass and decorated with rare plants,
exotic animals and fruit trees. The vivacity of suspended nature was made possible thanks to the
underground water table, a submerged branch of the river Eu-phrates, which crossed the desert and sprouted in the
capital. The pyramid, all silver, reflected the sun's brightness, giving the impression that it had its own light.
In fact, it was difficult to see it directly, due to the light that shone, and so, during the day, it was possible to
spot it for miles across the arid plain. In its sumptuous chambers, with silk cushions and swimming pools
of gold, the royal body and high-ranking soldiers lived, surrounded by a legion of slaves
domestic.
On the eastern surface of the ziggurat, a long straight staircase cut through the steps and led to the
pinnacle — a square terrace, centered by a beautiful throne, where Nimrod stood
sitting. Shamira could see him up there, motionless, impenetrable, defended by hundreds of guards who
they set up training on the stairs.
In the common buildings of Babel, which lined the roads, the elite lived. Made of brown stone, they had
pyramidal shape, imitating the palace. These private mansions totaled between ten and twelve meters in height.
height, and in them each of the traditional families preserved their copious treasures.
Immersed in contemplation of the city, Shamira did not realize that she herself was the target of observation.
Cautiously, passers-by stared at her with a mixture of hatred and aversion. They were too superstitious,
and the sorceress supposed that this would have helped in the propagation of the myth of the immortal king.
Poor ignorant people.
Turning her face away from the streets, the necromancer realized that she was being guided, still harnessed to the cart,
along the main avenue, directly to the Silver Pyramid, in the royal citadel. A second wall
circled the ziggurat, and its arched gate led to the staircase.
The convoy stopped in front of the inner doors, guarded by strong, sharp-eyed soldiers. The captain
Pazuno got out of the car, said something to the sentries and the gate bars opened. Shamira was
taken from the freighter by three armed men, who kept her hands cuffed and pushed her
for the stairs. Taking a deep breath, the necromancer gathered her last strength to overcome the walk,
because I knew that if I fell, I would be dragged away.
As they climbed, she noticed the city from above, struck by its magnitude. Passed to
side of the hanging gardens, over the side patios, and smelled the smell of the forest, so rare in that region
dry. In certain places, between the trees, springs of water sprouted and expanded into small lakes.
refreshing, copying the vegetation of oases. The prisoner was thirsty and thought about what would not happen
to bathe in those pools.
Stepping firmly on the last step, Shamira saw the man waiting for her on the throne. It wasn't much
different from their officers. Already approaching 50 years old, he had a long braided beard and his hair was
long. He was stocky but not very tall, and he projected a serious, irritated expression. The only weapon
he carried was a golden scepter adorned with rubies, jades and diamonds and decorated with a head
bull at the tip, carved in blue quartz. Their clothes were also fabulous. He wore a
sheepskin cape, sprinkled with droplets of gold. On his chest he carried a copper vest
encrusted with pearls, on a cotton tunic dyed blue. Protected by two guards
muscular, he kept a huge pet tiger by his side, much larger than normal tigers.
It was one of the great saber-toothed cats, a lost breed of felines, preserved until then in captivity.
Shamira was thrown at Nimrod's feet, who stared at her, merciless. At a gesture from the king, the men took
his handcuffs and gag. Relieved, she stood up with difficulty, and the soldiers moved away, in an act
instinctive fear. But the En-Dor Enchantress was too weak to react. I felt devastated,
exhausted and hungry. His dry lips were cracking, his skin burned from the trip in the sun, and his head throbbed.
— This woman is worthless! — complained the Immortal, upon recognizing the deplorable state of his
captive. "Take her to the palace," he ordered the guards, "and bring her to me when you're ready."
conditions to serve me.
The woman said nothing, but blessed his luck. All I needed was rest and a good night's sleep.
meal, with which he could regain his strength. But best of all, she noticed, was the fact that the king
not being a sorcerer — wizards identify each other with a simple exchange of glances. Ignorant in the arts
magic, the sovereign would need the girl's skills, and that would guarantee his life, or at least that way
she imagined.
Dragged by the sentries, Shamira gave in to tiredness and allowed herself to faint.
She was sure that Babel would not be her tomb.
In the Colorless World
Shamira woke up immersed in a pool of hot water, inside a fantastic room. There was no
doubt that he was in the royal palace, when he noticed the mosaic floor and marble columns
pink that supported the ceiling of the room. An arched window looked outside, bringing in the wind.
cold night, peculiar to the desert. Near the pilasters, a dozen oil pyres illuminated the room, and a
A threshold on the south wall indicated the exit, blocked only by a leather curtain. Alone, with no one around
While watching her, the sorceress realized that she was naked in the water. His old clothes were no longer there,
but a red robe lay on a silver chair, in front of a table laden with food.
He then remembered that he hadn't eaten for hours, and left the pleasant bath to satisfy his
most basic needs. Without any shame, he ran to the round table and devoured the entire meal — a
feast with bread, grapes, honey and hazelnuts. He drank the water straight from the jug, without stopping to pour it into a
golden cup.
It was only when hunger subsided that he put on the red robe, embroidered with the traditional bull's head, and
managed to reason calmly. He then spotted a pair of sandals on the floor and put them on. Now, it was
protected from the cold and somewhat more relaxed.
She approached the parapet and confirmed that she was captive in the Silver Pyramid. From the window he saw the
hanging gardens in the side courtyards, just below, concluding that this was the third floor of the six
that completed the ziggurat. Craning his neck even further, he saw a breakdown on the second floor below. Two
times wider than the area of the third level, its garden had less dense vegetation, with plants
colorful trees sharing space with tall royal palm trees.
Suddenly, the necromancer heard a noise, looked back and saw a girl entering the room,
crossing the brown curtain that delimited the threshold. He was 10 or 12 years old and wore a sober robe.
and lined, made of raw cotton, with well-made cuts. The skin was dark, but the features were fine, and the hair was
smooth and black. Judging by the eccentricity of that palace, she could only be a slave.
Carrying a bluish crystal vase, the little girl went to the table and placed the container on it.
Wine — the woman inferred, from the smell of grapes. Prisoners must line up at the gates of Babel —
she thought, ironically, finding the squeamishness in the treatment strange,
— My name is Adnari — the girl introduced herself, staring at the floor. He kept a serene face
and conformed, like that of marionettes. — The grand servant selected me to serve you.
Shamíra did not like the stewardship, recognizing the child's condition. He had never owned a slave, and
that luxury did not match his lifestyle or his suitable character. Thought about saying something
thing, but the words disappeared.
The girl left the room and disappeared into the hallway.
The Sorceress of En-Dor preferred to wait.
Now that she had come to her senses, Shamíra was ready to sit down and consider the situation. The escape
was, at first, out of the question. He did not think Nimrod was so foolish as to leave her
unguarded, despite the window without bars and the door closed only by curtains. If I were caught, I could
ruin everything and bury your dreams of freedom forever. Magic would also be of no use
while, unless she went flying over the walls - and the necromancer knew no
charm of the type.
But if Shamíra was a prisoner in material reality, perhaps she was not a prisoner in the unreal dimension. Since
When she was little, she had learned to project her spirit, taking her soul to travel through the astral plane. The astral plane is the
shallowest layer of the spiritual world, the one that first connects to the physical plane. It's nothing more than
that a discolored mirror of the land of men, where ghosts roam - specters of
dead people, who still remain stuck with their pending issues. A living spirit, when
designed, it can glide through the air, pass through walls and levitate in the earth's atmosphere. The soul remains
connected to the body by a mystical silver thread, just like an umbilical cord. Accessing the unreal dimension,
The sorceress hoped to spy on the palace, obtain information about the king and his court, and look for the quickest way out.
easy way from the ziggurat, in case of a desperate evasion.
Obstinate, Shamira leaned back on a wooden divan, which completed the set of furniture, and
expanded the mind. He gathered some silk cushions and began to concentrate, forgetting the existence
of the tangible universe.
His eyes blinked quickly, and soon his hearing went out. Shortly afterwards, the darkness of consciousness gave way
gave way to a shapeless image, and gradually she felt as if she were emerging from a lake.
He thus crossed the fabric of reality — or the spiritual border, as it was commonly called by the
malgas in the West. In a few moments I could no longer hear anything, only the silence of the dead.
Then, he found himself floating in the middle of the bedroom, but his material body remained very fixed, and
she could now see him on the physical plane, relaxed on the couch. He distinguished the room again, but he
it wasn't exactly real, just a reflection, a colorless scene, in leaden and bluish tones. The objects
they shone with a faint brilliant aura", denouncing that they were untouchable in the dimension of the specters -
they could not be grabbed or moved, only passed.
Searching the chamber, the necromancer did not find any ghosts, which intrigued her. A city
how Babel, full of suffering slaves, must have had a legion of birds, obsessed with
avenge one's own soul. Hundreds of workers must have died during the construction of the palace, and
when men perish in agony they generally become wandering, anguished and
committed to their revenge — sometimes for eternity.
Nothing, No shouts, laments or dragging of chains.
Floating around the room, like an octopus gliding across the bottom of the sea, she noticed the presence of a spirit
that crossed the stones on the ground. It was the soul of a dark-skinned girl and was linked to the levels below
by the mystical silver cord, proving that she was also alive, but projected into the astral.
And the little slave - reasoned the sorceress, recognizing the girl she had just brought to her house.
fourth the jar of wine. He had gone to the afterlife to speak with the dead and had only found his most accessible servant.
On his face, the child had inhibited all repressed expression. There, in the spiritual world, she seemed much looser.
and festive. It was no wonder. On the immaterial plane she certainly found all the freedom that had been hers.
denied, but from whom had he learned the projection technique?
— I'm Adnari — began the girl, still a little restrained. — Do you remember me?
— I'm Shamira — she introduced herself, a little confused. Could this be some trick on the part of the king? How to
Could the girl know that the necromancer would travel to the astral?
— The Sorceress of En-Dor. Everyone here in Babel knows you or has heard a story about you.
respect. I was very happy when the high servant chose me to serve her. I really like
magic — he said, with somewhat simplistic language.
— I noticed — replied the woman, in a friendly tone. If the girl was projected, she had certainly learned
this with someone with minimal knowledge of the occult.
— Don't be worried — added Adnari, as if understanding the prisoner's fear. - I
I won't tell anyone anything. Seekers would kill me if they knew I sometimes visit the world
no color.
The world without color — Shamira liked the name.
— Seekers? Who are the seekers? — the sorceress was interested. I had to collect all the
information as I could, and this was the opportunity.
— They are the Immortal's advisors. They don't like slaves or outsiders. They live commanding
we do a lot of things wrong.
Shamira's face wrinkled due to injustice, but Adnari comforted her:
— But it's okay. They never find me out. They think I'm sleeping with the others
domestic.
— And from whom did you learn to visit the "colorless world"?
— My mother was a sorceress, or a witch... — the girl got lost in the nomenclature. - She
did magic.
— And how did you know you would find me here? — Shamira accompanied a smile, so as not to scare
the girl with her storm of doubts. The truth, however, was that I was desperate for a clue.
to get her out of there.
—It's the first thing necromancers do, isn't it? Search the land of the dead? That's what I said to
my mom. And she also told me that many necromancers are evil.
— But not all. Our art deals with the nature of death, which is a very powerful force,
inescapable. With so much power in their hands, some are actually corrupted by evil, which is the
easiest path to ascension. But this doesn't just happen to sorcerers, it also happens to warriors and
the monarchs. It's a weakness of men,
—And also women? — the girl asked immediately. The narration, your eyes
they widened. She was fascinated by fantastic subjects, as all children are.
— I meant it — Shamira smiled, complacently. For a moment, I wish I were a child again.
Unsurpassable is the joy of childhood, when everything is new and magnificent. But, despite the delectable
conversation, it was important to know about the ziggurat.
— Have you already traveled throughout the palace, Adnarí?
— All over the city — she boasted, with typically childish vanity. — I used to go to the chamber a lot.
treasure, but I stopped. I couldn't touch anything...
"Is it time?"
— He's always up there, sitting on the throne. He never leaves the pinnacle, not to eat or sleep.
More superstitions — Shamira thought in disbelief, but then pondered. He would have been mistaken about the
Nimrod's magical ignorance? After all, who was she to despise superstitions? She was a sorceress and
lived on inexplicable matter.
— How can a man not eat or rest, and on top of that be immortal? He is a
wizard or wizard?
— No — replied the little girl, convinced. —The strength of the goddess protects him, The goddess who lives in the
underground of this palace.
- Goddess? What is this goddess? A spirit, an idol, a totem?
— I don't know — admitted Adnari, unhappy at not having the answers. - I already
I went down to the dungeons, floating through the colorless world, piercing the walls, and found nothing. And how
if she didn't have a soul, like us. But it exists! The slaves who work on the submerged floors
They said they had already seen it.
— A goddess, alive? — the sorceress rambled, more to herself. She knew that the ethereal entities, venerated
outside of Canaan, they were nothing more than very powerful spirits, but they did not have the ability to
materialize and pass into the material world. So, how could this goddess be "confined" in a
dungeon, on the physical plane? Such a story was absurd.
—What about the spirits of common people, the souls of the dead? I didn't see any specters through the pyramid.
Adnari smiled, pleased to have the explanation on the tip of her tongue.
— The ziggurat was full of them, those ghosts, but now they're gone. They didn't like it very much
to talk. They were apathetic, tired, and only grunted in the corridors. And then, one night, a light took
all in one hurricane.
The purification ritual! It was all very clear now. Cush, the father of Nimrod, who had built the palace,
he had been subjected to the purification ritual by the nomadic priests of the enemy tribe. For the ceremony,
any spirit can be condemned, and the souls of those who died in suffering, under
your orders. The hatred of the ancient pyramid specters was directed at Cush, and when he was
taken to sacrifice, the ghosts of the ziggurat found themselves free to go to paradise.