The Third War Part 3

The sorceress fell silent, forgetting all the questions that patrolled her mind, with the exception of one, which 

I wouldn't abandon her anytime soon. I was astonished. I didn't know what to do or what move to take to 

bypass the impasse. If you told Ablon about your vision through the mouse's eyes, he would certainly invade 

Babel and would die by the spears of the army, by the strength of the Immortal King and by the wizard's spells. And if not 

If she did, he would possibly live, but she would have betrayed her savior's trust. 

When in doubt, the necromancer decided to postpone the announcement. 

Ablon and Shamira remained together at the top of the mountain until night fell. Shaken by the revelation, she 

I couldn't get the figure of Ishtar out of my head, now that I knew who she was and how she had been taken to 

ziggurats. 

Even before the moon rose, the angel and the witch went down to the cave, but they continued talking 

over the Babylonian capital, noticing the strange habits of its inhabitants. The renegade showed himself 

appalled by the suffering of the workers, but his ideology was not to interfere in the course of history. 

— Men have free will, which is a sacred gift, and should be solely responsible for 

his redemption or his condemnation," he explained. — Just as the archangel Michael does not have the right to 

massacre them, I must not save them. 

— But the renegades rose up precisely against the murder of humanity — reminded the 

sorceress. 

— The conjuration was intended to preserve mortals from the celestial fury, and not from themselves. We are not gods, 

but angels, and we can only guide human beings, never push them to the premeditated path. 

—And why? 

— Because that is God's will — he replied, simply. — This is what Yahweh planned, and we, 

heavenly ones, we are his instrument, the executors of his commands. And this is what differentiates us from men, 

who are free in fact, and are not bound by any design or order. 

Returning to the bottom of the cave, the necromancer covered herself with a blanket and lit the fire. Took 

some soup and then lay down, comfortable on the straw bed. 

— There's just one thing I still don't understand — said the general, before she turned over in bed. 

— If Babel has so many slaves, why don't they revolt? 

— The workers fear King Nimrod, who is immortal and cannot be harmed by any weapon. 

—Immortal? — the renegade was startled. — Well, that's impossible. 

Shamira closed her eyes and rolled onto her side. 

He slept very little. 

Ablon e Shamira

The arrival of summer made the weather a little more humid. At this time, the heat in Mesopotamia 

punishes the mountains, heats the desert, warms the plains and makes the waters of the Tigris bubble, creating 

seasonal precipitation zones, which fertilize the soil in the east. 

Throughout the spring, the Tower of Babel did not cease its work, tearing up the landscape and instigating the already 

disturbed conscience of the En-Dor Enchantress. She did not find the courage to reveal to the renegade the 

true, and now it was too late. 

Over time, and despite the dilemma, Ablon and Shamira became friends. One day, to the ultimate shine 

In the afternoon, the two were resting on the cave plateau, when they noticed the shadow of the tower. 

— It's getting bigger every day — commented the renegade. —It must be over a thousand meters now. In 

It will soon reach two thousand. 

— How? — replied the sorceress. — If it grows any more, everything will collapse, The building has no support 

to support all the floors below. I don't know how it's still standing. 

— It is no mystery of magic, but a feat of engineering. I've never been to Babel, but 

I have been following the construction progress from a distance. An underground sheet crosses the city, and 

its volume of water is immense. 

— It's the same sheet that supplies the palace gardens — she recalled. 

— It is a submerged channel of the Euphrates River. After cutting through the walls and the ziggurat, the torrent continues 

forward. The workers dug deep into the earth until they found their course and then built a dam, 

forcing the river to continue flowing, but upwards. 

— Up? 

— In the center of the Tower of Babel there is a gigantic iron cylinder, a vertical pipe of large caliber. THE 

canal runs inside it, and its pressure is so strong that it keeps the tube straight. To sustain the balance, 

tiny floodgates let water escape in strategic directions, creating a support column, 

that supports the central structure. 

— It's incredible. This way they will be able to continue working infinitely. 

— Ambition. At this point, angels, demons and men share the same evil. 

And there they stayed, on the cave's platform, until the stars came out and the cold set in. They were so different 

— the heavenly and the earthly — and at the same time so similar. Both fled oppression and discovered 

own values. They did not seek war, hatred or pain. They only wanted peace, but their 

trajectories led them to violence, to a life of adventures that, although exciting, had nothing to do with it. 

pleasant. 

The wind blew overhead, and the two hugged each other in a human instinct. 

None of them ever forgot that moment. 

Divine Mission 

After the first month of summer, the heat increased. The cave was many meters above the ground, and the 

The altitude cooled the morning, but at midday not even the cave could escape the sun. So one afternoon 

It was scorching July, the angel and the sorceress decided to take a trip to the banks of the Tigris. The walk 

it would be long, but Shamira needed to walk, and the cherub would know how to guide her. They had already climbed the 

mountain a few times and refilled the water in the jugs, but now it was the food that ended up in the pots. 

With strands of rope, Ablon improvised a fishing net and then sewed together many meters of sheepskin. 

ram stretched out, preparing a large bag, inside which he would store the food. They would look for fish, 

heart of palm, pomegranates and perhaps a little meat to spice up the diet. Celestials do not need to eat, 

but the general always tried the girl's recipes, as his were almost inedible. 

For the first time in many weeks, Shamira stepped onto the sandy ground, and together, they traveled the trail of 

east, towards the green strip that fertilized the river bank. Two days later, they saw foxes, 

gazelles, otters, mhas falcons, as well as various types of fruit trees and a date palm forest. 

Sparse bushes rose from the earth, until the scene stretched out into a carpet of grass. 

Some huts stood up to the south, sad properties of robbed farmers condemned to 

misery for real taxes. Every two months Nimrod sent seekers to the distant corners of the 

empire, to oppress the peasants and execute the rebels. The possibility for travelers 

encountering armed patrols was great, but the renegade did not fear the scouts. 

— The Babylonians passed through here five days ago — he noted, feeling his footprints in the grass. — 

They came with a retinue and carried a heavy litter. 

— They travel very fast, even on foot — agreed the woman. 

— The Crown has a secret trail, which passes through the land. I've seen the path from above, but 

I've never actually been to it. 

— An underground tunnel that crosses the country? — she was surprised. 

— Not a tunnel, but a ditch, a sunken road. I wouldn't be able to specify the details or say 

how it was built. 

— And why haven't you ever used these routes? They must be the quickest passage to the corners of Babylon. 

— I never wanted to run into a battalion. Seekers are always riding the hidden path, 

accompanied by their entourage of fighters. 

— I thought he was practically invincible — replied the sorceress. 

The renegade smiled, with his usual modesty. Most angels are superior to common earthlings, 

mentally and physically, even materialized in their avatars, and the necromancer had not forgotten the fight 

in the Sea of ​​Rock, when his savior had stunned the guards with a single precise assault. 

— I'm not invincible. If he had been, he wouldn't have been kicked out of heaven. 

—But he has resisted his murderers. 

— I don't know for how long. Soon a hunter will find me as he found the warrior Ishtar. And I can't 

retreat from combat. 

Is your pride that deadly? — instigated the woman, saddened by her friend's arrogance. 

— This has nothing to do with pride. I am a cherub, a guardian and a predator. This is mine 

nature — he repeated. 

Ablon and Shamira had already talked a lot about the free will of men and the nature 

invariable of the celestials, but she still hadn't conformed to the fighter's impulse, perhaps because he was 

human, and humans do not suffer from a constant will. 

— What about the fear of death? — she insisted. 

— For a soldier, death is just the end of the mission. 

—And what do you fear, then, general? Or are the winged ones also immune to every failure of the spirit? 

The renegade stopped on the grass and touched the girl's face. 

"Forget it," he said, stroking her soft skin. — Forgetting the things I've been through, the lessons 

that I learned, forget those I love. And most of all, I fear forgetting my values, losing my 

ideology and kill my cause. 

The necromancer choked back a sob and looked away. Only then did he understand that it would be very selfish if he 

try to divert him from his mission, a demand that would certainly lead to his death, but that would save his life. 

cause. 

That's usually the choice of true heroes, and Shamira couldn't stop it. 

Alone, she cried in silence. 

The two wanderers set up camp about two hundred meters from the riverbank, spreading blankets 

in the grass. From then on, the field turned into a swamp, a muddy swamp that stretched all the way to the edge of the river. 

Tigre. 

The afternoon was already ending, and they decided to rest despite the insects, cook something and get up 

early the next day, to fish and collect food. Shamira used some stones to outline the 

bonfire and burned a handful of exotic herbs to ward off mosquitoes. Added a folder 

heterogeneous with strange roots and taught the renegade a secret preparation, capable of preserving the 

organic matter for years, preserving leather, paper and fabrics. The formula was developed by the ancient 

Order of Sippar, a brotherhood of wizards that had been extinct for centuries. 

That same night, while the witch slept, Ablon sat on a round stone and 

He sank into deep meditation. Celestials meditate frequently, to remember places 

and situations from the past, which would otherwise be forgotten. Unlike men, angels live 

for thousands of years, and not everyone is as smart as the Malakins, whose minds never waver. 

Even before dawn, the next day, the travelers crossed the pond and reached the serene waters 

of Tiger. After the walk, they bathed in the refreshing current and remained there swimming in the sun for 

almost all morning. 

At noon, Shamira retired to the beach, and Ablon cast the fishing net into the torrent, where the stream descended. 

falling. They were in paradise, truly, a delirious and fertile vision, surrounded by life and beauty, a place 

pleasant in the vast desert. 

— The priests in Canaa taught us that men emerged from clay — began the witch, 

apportioning the wet earth. — As a child, I wondered if the scriptures were correct. 

— The clay is metaphorical — explained the general. — It represents the flesh, the physical matter, the substance 

palpable aspect of the concrete universe. The human being is part of an evolutionary scale that began at sea, in the 

fourth day, and which began the birth of several species. 

— But you said the lands were created by God. 

—The strength of God has always been present in evolution. It is the essential energy that moves the course of 

infinity and the aggrandizement of things. Clergymen often compare Yahweh's work with the 

labor of common people, so that they can understand it. But the trade of a carpenter or a 

fisherman does not equate to divine power. Creation moved supreme, mysterious and 

invisible. 

— So, the sacred documents are nothing more than old parables? 

—Parables are not negligible, but they represent the pinnacle of human communication. Thus, it is up to the 

individual interpret them. There is nothing more suitable for a race endowed with free will, open to finding 

own answers. The pictures are full of symbols that help men understand the meaning of the 

cosmos. But the perfect truth only exists in each person's mind. 

— And who were our ancestors, before the emergence of Adam? 

— A species of hominids that inhabited the darkness of caves. The angels despised at the time, 

until they reached the summit of evolution, and granted them a soul, instigating the jealousy of the wicked 

archangels. This is why many envious celestials prefer to refer to mortals as dolls. 

clay, or primates, an allusion to their material origin. 

— It's curious to think that an angel has never seen the face of God — she commented, remembering the 

conversation they had at the top of the hill. 

— But that's what matters least. I prefer to think of it as a concept, an inspiration, a goal. 

I think that faith is precisely the property of believing in the indecipherable. 

Shamira knew well the power of faith, because she was a sorceress, and no spell can be performed without faith. THE 

The energy of his spells came from his human soul, but the soul is also an inheritance from 

God, a channel that connects the lands to the supreme power. Spells, prodigies and miracles all act 

through the essence of men, the same essence that unites them to the Most High and connects them to the universe. 

Zamir Disappears — Babylon in Crisis 

Zamir disappeared from the Babylonian court in mid-spring, after Nimrod had sent him, 

together with a squad, to pursue the Enchantress of En-Dor. The troop commander, a man 

50-year-old man named Nebron, reported to the king that the witch had escaped, but did not warn anything about the appearance of the witch. 

wanderer. The ambitious captain had blamed the failure on the summoner's recklessness, which would have 

sent in the wrong direction. As Zamir had not returned to the capital, the military version was accepted, and the 

soldiers were spared death. 

In the weeks that followed, the Immortal became more aggressive, visibly shaken by the loss of his 

counselor. But he found false comfort in the company of the other seekers, who were nothing more than 

shadows of the wizard, but who would do anything to take his place. With that, the palace was shaken by 

a network of betrayals and intrigues, which culminated in the deaths of several aristocrats. Assassins 

Contractors sneaked through the gardens, risking eagerness to exterminate others. 

The Babylonian Empire shook, but Nimrod was certain he could bear it alone. According to him, 

nothing and no one had the power to confront him or his army. He had kept the magic dagger of 

sorcerer, the only weapon capable of tearing the goddess's skin, and if necessary, he would go down to the dungeon alone 

to take away his blood. 

Although out of control, Nimrod was also cautious. At the beginning of the summer, rumors circulated about 

the existence of a "god of the desert", who would have killed the wizard. Soon, the king returned to interrogating the 

scouts and got the whole truth out of them. Veteran Nebron confessed that the troops were stunned by 

a single blow and talked about the foreigner. Enraged, the Immortal executed officers and soldiers and 

pondered the nature of his enemy. Since Ishtar had been found in the Sea of ​​Rock, he concluded that 

the stranger was also a celestial entity, only more powerful. However, he was a Babylonian and 

he did not even fear the wrath of the splendid Yahweh. 

Had it not been for tradition, which prevented him from leaving the ziggurat except in times of war, Nimrod would have 

went personally to the desert, to challenge the traveler. But those were troubled days, and he knew 

that his presence in the capital alone led to a slave revolt. Furthermore, if he went out on campaign, a 

civil war threatened to break out between the seekers, who would compete by force for the position at the king's right hand. 

He preferred, then, to await the attack of the "god", convinced that at some point he would come to avenge his 

companion. He decided to keep Zamir's dagger with him, as it was an enchanted blade, suitable 

to harm any deity. He dreamed about combat for nights on end and fantasized about feats and deeds. Already 

he had conquered the world, he had become immortal, and now he would defeat a god. Your name would be engraved in poems, 

narrated in legends, and he would reach heaven, surpassing the angels of paradise. 

At the beginning of August, the secret was leaked, and the existence of the desert god began to be accepted as 

truth for the slaves, feeding their hopes and reviving the cause of the rebellious workers, 

led by Kumarbi the Tall. An external danger would certainly facilitate the insurrection, as long as the 

king left the metropolis. The sorcerer's unpredictable disappearance was equally encouraging to 

conspirators. Zamir was the brains behind the throne, the intelligence that slowed the city down. 

In the third month of summer, a new and disturbing rumor frightened the royals. There was murmuring in the streets that 

Zamir had returned to Babel, in disguise, and was planning a terrible revenge against those who 

tried to occupy his position. The seekers rejected the idea, but none of them slept at night. 

right. 

The weeks passed, and Nimrod moved away from everything and everyone, isolating himself on the pinnacle of the Pyramid of 

Silver. From above, on his golden throne, he just stared at the horizon, as if waiting for something. 

Ablon and Shamira now had water and food for the entire summer and would no longer need to go down to the 

plain. Together, they continued to study, with each other, the seductive secrets of the cosmos. The sorceress 

taught the Renegade Angel many human customs, as well as the art of medicine and cooking, and 

he discussed the celestial dimension, and the planes beyond. They formed an extraordinary duo, 

each with their own fantastic skills. The cherub was an expert in combat, resistant and fast, and 

the necromancer, a master of magic. 

— You have the gift — praised the general, in the middle of a common conversation. — And the best sorceress 

I've already met. And I met many wise men and mystics. 

- Many? I thought we were few in this desert world. 

— Now they are. But that was a long time ago, before the submersion of Atlantis. At that time, the magic 

it was part of everyday life. Almost nothing was done without magic. 

— These must have been happy times. But how could sorcery be lost so intensely? 

- I am not sure. I don't know much about the history of the brotherhoods, but probably the extinction 

of the sensitive has to do with the dilation of the tissue. 

— The fabric of reality — considered the sorceress. — The membrane that separates the two worlds. 

— Any mystical effect produced in mundane reality is dredged from the planes beyond. The energy of 

Magicians' charms come from their human soul, which resides in the astral plane. The power of the deities 

of the angels flows from its pulsating aura. Therefore, spells must pass through the film to be cast. 

here, in the physical world. The thicker the fabric, the harder the magic. Before the flood the 

membrane was much thinner. Today, only the most gifted humans can manipulate incredible forces. 

—But why has the fabric of reality become so thick? 

— I don't know, once again I can only assume. The fabric, according to the Malakins, is formed by consciousness 

collective of humanity. It is an unconscious defense of men against everything they cannot 

understand and not confront. He was born when the first earthly man, Adam, realized who he was and 

began to question the nature of the universe. Since then, people have been creating logical explanations 

to everything they see, sewing a psychic membrane between what they consider real and what 

they consider it dreamlike. And this human strength is so exuberant that it was even capable of dividing space and 

segment the two realities: the physical and spiritual worlds. 

— Even though I know the border of the dead well, the theory is still complicated — 

recognized Shamira. — And it's all very abstract. 

— Certain things should not be rationalized. Many of them remain obscure to the angels too, who 

they have a much closer contact with infinity. 

Legends about Atlantis have always caught Shamira's attention, although they are treated with a certain 

skepticism even by the priests of Canaan, who would gradually exclude them from the documents 

sacred. The Enchantress of En-Dor liked to think about what the Atlanteans would be like, a fair people, 

advanced and beautiful. All the magic left in the world descends from the crumbled crumbs of ancient Enoch, a 

tiny knowledge compared to the complete splendor of yesteryear. 

— You've already been to Atlantis, which today is the utopia of men. Tell me of the strength they held, 

that inspires the most beautiful dreams. 

But Ablon said nothing, retreating to the back of the cave. 

- What it was? — the girl asked, embarrassed by her friend's attitude. 

— Shamira, I need to leave — he declared, bluntly. — I must continue my mission and 

regroup the renegades. I'll be leaving at the end of the summer. 

— Well... — she murmured, a little embarrassed. — I can go with you. 

The general shook his head and looked at her seriously. 

— I'm afraid you won't want to accompany me. 

- Why? — reacted the necromancer, in the impulse of innocence. 

— Because... — he hesitated. — Because I'm going to Babel. 

— No — she pleaded, with flashes of traumatic memory. 

— Babel is the capital of the world. This is where all the information converges. Other fugitives may 

have passed by there. 

— The city is dangerous. The king... — the sorceress choked, still not knowing whether she should reveal the captivity 

of Ishtar. 

— I can blend in with mortals. I have already learned to hide the emanations of my pulsating aura. None 

hunter will discover me in Babel. 

— You can come back with me to Canaan. Jericho is also an important location, the commercial center 

of the West. 

— Canaan is in the region of Zion, a territory patrolled by the celestials. There, on the ethereal plane, lies the 

greatest of all the bases of the archangel Michael, the Fortress of Sion, guarded by more than ten thousand legions. 

Even traveling through the material world, the winged ones would find me, and who am I to confront a 

army? Heading west is already risky, let alone crossing the Dead Sea... 

The En-Dor Enchantress hid her face and wiped her wet eyes. 

"Very well," he agreed, and walked away. I didn't want to prolong the conversation, because I didn't have any more 

arguments. There was still a month left until the end of the season, a whole month in which they would live together in the 

cave. 

During this time, Shamira hoped to convince Ablon to change his mind. 

At least, that's what he was counting on. 

Red Fury 

For Shamira, the last few weeks of summer passed like sand in an hourglass. I lived in torment 

by the pain of conscience. I had no idea what Ablon's reaction would be to the announcement of the woman's imprisonment. 

Goddess, I didn't even like to think about it much. Faced with the impasse, he recalled the words of the fighter 

about the free will of men and pondered whether freedom was really a gift. It would be better if 

had an exact nature, which spoke for its actions, but the fact is that human life is made of 

choices, and some of them can't be avoided — and it's often better if they aren't. 

So, on the last day of August, the angel and the witch tied up their bundles and prepared to 

abandon the mountain. The necromancer carried supplies to survive in the desert and a nugget of 

gold found in Tigre, with which he intended to buy a horse in the nearest village. The Angel 

Renegade, in turn, only carried his sword, strapped to his back with a leather belt. Wrapped 

in silky fabric, the weapon traveled hidden, disguised as a stick or baton. 

Until halfway through the journey, Ablon and Shamira took the same path, a sterile trail that culminated 

on the foot of the Euphrates, the western boundary river of Babylon. From there, the warrior would turn south, to the city 

cursed, and the necromancer would continue straight through the closed desert, until she reached the borders of her land 

natal 

The shores of the Euphrates, like the Tigris, were also fertile, although not very flooded. The river water was 

distributed in canals and advanced without excess to the plantations. In the surrounding area, farms cultivated 

peas, barley, lentils and onions. A field of grass and grass followed the course of the great stream, and 

oxen, cows, goats and goats grazed there. But the rural landscape was marred by the shadow of the tower, 

associated with the violence of iron walls. 

The angel and the necromancer continued to the end of a pier and stopped there, awaiting the arrival of 

any farmer who agreed to transport the woman in his canoe at the cost of a meter of leather. 

It was already past three o'clock in the afternoon, but the open weather intensified the heat, refracting shapeless mirages 

on the horizon line. Far away, in the Sea of ​​Rock, a sandstorm was born, overturning 

dust in the dwindling valleys. 

As they waited, the two fugitives looked closely at each other, and a formidable heat touched them. Although 

Widely feared, respected by their peers, none of them had ever known the true ardor of 

passion. Ablon was an angel, a committed guardian, and Shamira was a girl, adolescent and immaculate. 

— Ablon... You shouldn't go to Babel — tried the woman, for the last time. 

—Do you still insist on that? — replied the rebel, certain that he had already overcome the girl's persistence. — 

Do you think it will be easy for me? I hate it as much as you do. But that's how it has to be. 

—But... — he stammered, about to collapse again. 

In the sorceress's expression, then, the renegade noticed a torment much greater than the simple pain of 

farewell. 

—What's the matter with you, sorceress? From the first time we talked about Babylon you felt 

collected in words. If there's any secret you haven't told me, you'd better let it out now, 

before I go on my journey. 

Having said that, the Enchantress of En-Dor burst into tears. The mystery collapsed, naturally. Shamira 

would condemn his friend by revealing the whole story, but leaving him unprepared in Babel might still be 

more dangerous. In his vision, Zamir continued to be active in the ziggurat, in the company of Nimrod, lying in wait. 

of more wings for their unfortunate ceremonies. 

— Ishtar... — she stammered, bursting into tears. 

— Ishtar? What about Ishtar? — the celestial was surprised, stroking the young woman's black hair. 

— She... Ishtar is kept prisoner in the Silver Pyramid — he said. —Nimrod captured her. 

- What? — Roared the Renegade Angel. — Why did you hide this from me? 

— I... I... — Shamira trembled. He wanted to prove to the cherub his true intention, which was never 

deceive him. I was determined to preserve his life, it is the most precious asset for human beings, 

but not for the celestials. 

With that, he saw the fury on the fighter's face grow. All. his aura boiled in scalding hatred, and his eyes 

glowed in red fire. The woman was afraid of the general, even though she knew he would never be able to 

to hurt her. Suddenly, the wisest of wanderers became a voracious killer. 

The renegade turned towards the metropolis and slid unrecognizably towards the desert. 

—Ablon! — Shamira screamed, in a last impetus to save him. — Thousands of men defend the 

walls of Babel. And Nimrod... Nimrod... — she screamed but the warrior didn't give up, so all that was left was 

the alert: 

— You will be killed! 

And so, without deviating from his route, Ablon replied: 

— For this, much more is needed than an army of clay — and he continued, 

like a lion on the hunt. 

With her vision still blurred by tears, Shamira saw the Renegade Angel disappear into the landscape, like 

a jaguar does to hide its tracks. Meanwhile, in the Sea of ​​Rock, the storm was gaining 

power. 

It's done! 

From then on, the die was cast, and the paths were drawn. The Sorceress of En-Dor had done what 

she thought it was right, despite the consequences — and she felt relieved about it. I was free, after all, from the conflict 

that stunned his mind, but still sad about the way things were going. 

Direction? 

Who said it was all over? Not yet. She was a necromancer, an experienced mystic, 

and he still had some tricks up his sleeve. He would find a way to save his friend, and this would be his test 

final — not a witchcraft test or a trivial spell exam, but a stage of reasoning, a 

imagination rehearsal because that is where the true nature of magic lies. 

The Enchantress of En-Dor sat next to the canal, among the roots of a fig tree. The heat dropped 

slowly, as the storm approaches. He took a sip from his canteen and rested his hands on his 

knees. 

To escape the dungeon, Shamira was helped by a rebellious slave, a servant who said he was 

organizing an insurrection. This conspirator was certainly known to little Adnari, and adding 

From the pieces the sorceress concluded that the girl participated, in her own way, in the interests of the rebellion. He was 

It is also clear that it was Nimrod's presence in Babel that inhibited the workers' uprising. But inside 

Little would a celestial attack the city, and his offensive would occupy the Immortal King's full attention. While the 

sovereign and his army were in battle, the slaves would have the chance to break out the revolt and whoever 

knows how to achieve victory. 

Shamira therefore decided that it was imperative to warn the girl about the celestial's invasion. But like the 

would reach before the warrior angel, if the ziggurat was just a reduced mound in the immensity of the plain, 

in the shadow of the great towering tower? 

And the first thing necromancers do, right? Had he searched the land of the dead? 

Without waiting any longer, the Sorceress of En-Dor relaxed her entire body, stretched her spine and expanded her mind. You 

Her senses gradually faded away and she was thrown into the perception of the beyond. 

Sandstorm 

In the room of one of the seekers, in Babel, Adnari arranged a basket of fruits, while another 

girl, Mari, a little older than her, cleaned and polished the gold trays. It was dusk outside, and 

in the palace the residential floors were empty. Aristocrats had risen to the upper levels 

to work, and their women now walked the avenues, escorted by royal soldiers. 

A gust of wind burst through the window. Mari, a teenager with brown skin and frizzy hair, 

He turned his attention to the marble arches and then looked out over the vastness of the desert. 

— A storm is coming this way. It's going to be a difficult night for the tower workers. 

— There's someone here! — Adnari realized. 

- Here? — whispered her friend, searching the empty room. — We are alone in the room. 

— To the Sorceress of En-Dor. She returned to the city. 

"The gates are being guarded," Mari argued. —How could I reach the palace? 

Adnari did not respond. He ran out of the dormitory, turned down the main hallway, went down a flight of stairs. 

stairs, crossed an arched passage, crossed the inner room and returned to the slaves' quarters. If 

daily tasks were caught far away, it could be carried out without trial, because it was the obligation of 

slaves serve, simply, and never question. Adnari knew the danger, but it wasn't the first time 

who took risks. She was still a child, fearless and curious, and had almost nothing to lose. 

As for the seekers... They had an entire kingdom. 

The slave sector, in the Silver Pyramid, was nothing like the regular halls. A corridor 

narrow ended in a small window, through which light penetrated, diffused. Servants were not allowed to 

use of candles, torches or lamps, so the place would be dark. On both walls, from floor to ceiling, 

dotted small niches, used as beds. From a distance, they looked like beehives, unsuitable for comfort. 

human. 

Adnari was lucky and didn't come across any guards on the route. He climbed up to his bed and hid in the 

hole. She was a sensitive and had noticed a very strong spiritual presence in the seeker's room. 

He imagined, right away, that it was the Sorceress of En-Dor, since Shamira was the only one in Babylon who 

He shared that gift with her. 

Projecting consciousness, Adnari ruptured the tissue and pushed his soul into the astral plane. In the space of 

corridor, floating near the ceiling, the girl saw the glowing soul of the sorceress. 

— Adnari... — called the woman, in the curious trembling of the beyond. 

— So you survived! — exclaimed the girl. — Searchers said he had died in a 

magical dispute with the wizard Zamir. 

— I was saved. I was helped by the desert god. 

The girl frowned at the mention of the mysterious entity. Ishtar was the only deity worshiped in 

time of legendary Babel, although seekers recognized the existence of idols and heroes 

foreigners — and also from the superior Yahweh. 

—Was he the one who killed the sorcerer? — asked Adnari. 

— No... — replied the necromancer. - Why? Was Zamir murdered? 

— Well, since his escape he has never appeared at the palace again. But, of course, that doesn't mean it has 

been killed. 

How to underestimate a wizard's intelligence? Shamira knew that mystics never got it together and 

that the counselor must have had a good reason for not returning to the capital. But now it wasn't 

importance. The absence of the summoner, perhaps, made Ablon's assault easier, but it did not eliminate the risk. 

— Adhnari — the sorceress changed the subject and addressed the central point. —Listen very well now, 

because my message is urgent. There is a chance to free the slaves, 

— How? 

—The god of the desert. The god who supported me. He is the husband of the goddess - invented, to increase the 

impact. — And he was furious about his wife's imprisonment. 

The child smiled, silently, and Shamira remembered the childhood universe — so pure, innocent and true. 

She had been a girl herself, not so long ago. In the village of En-Dor, sensitives were trained 

from an early age in the field of necromancy. In old Canaan, sorcerers and priests walked together. 

While wizards studied magic and prepared spells, clerics guarded the scriptures, 

they looked after the traditions and administered the rites. 

—In a few hours, the city will be attacked! Invaded by the desert god — continued the necromancer. 

— You, Adnari, need to warn the other slaves. 

— We longed for this revolt, but the king increased the number of guards at the gates and doubled the 

escort of seekers. He also placed an extra line of soldiers outside the walls, as a 

first defense against invaders. And the goddess... — she was confused. — I thought the goddess protected him. 

- No! — insisted Shamira. —The goddess was captured and forced to serve the Immortal, which enraged her 

husband. The god will now face Nimrod, and during the duel the workers will be able to begin the 

get up. The tower must be evacuated and so must the ziggurat. 

— I know who to tell — said the little girl, imagining the figure of Kumarbi, the Tall One, head of the 

conspirators. — Thanks to rumors, everyone sees her as a powerful witch, who defied the 

unsurpassable Zamir. I will tell the insurgents that I was visited by the Sorceress of En-Dor and talk about the assault. 

— But you need to run! The offensive will come with the storm, before sunset. 

— The news will spread with the wind and run with the whirlwind. 

— With the exception of domestic slaves, all others worked as current prisoners, tied to each other. 

others by tight shackles. So close together, glued together by work, their communication was quick and discreet, 

specially adapted to that life of suffering. 

And so, under the pressure of urgency, the girl returned to her physical body, and Shamira retreated to the edge of the river. 

Euphrates, at the base of the great fig tree. When he opened his eyes, he saw the storm, whose power only increased. 

A typhoon churned up dust to the south, scaring the animals and plunging the desert into a squall of sand. 

In the pyramidal houses of the Babylonian citizens, the wind blew out the lamps. The temperature dropped, and 

When this happened in the middle of summer, it was a sign of the arrival of a hurricane or tornado. The storms 

they were not uncommon at that time of year, especially weaker ones. Most of the time, the walls 

capital inhibited the entry of sand, but not infrequently the grains slipped over the gates and reached 

the avenues. On these occasions, wealthy families took refuge inside their mansions, 

leaving the servants in the streets, at the mercy of the dust gusts. 

On the horizon, the sun went down. The courtesans returned to the ziggurat, and even the soldiers returned to their 

guardhouses, glued to the walls, to escape the typhoon, leaving the slaves unguarded. About 

four hundred thousand men worked in the tower, climbing and descending the infinite scaffolding. They were figures 

sad, devoid of happiness or fortune, who lived day to day waiting for death. But that day, 

something had changed. There was a subtle twist on the workers' faces, which the charged air helped hide. 

of the overseers. A breath of hope released, warming the hearts of the afflicted. 

The news that the city would be attacked spread like an epidemic and anticipated the dream of freedom. With such 

urgency in preparing the uprising, no revolt could succeed, but the truth is that the insurrection 

it had been agreed for months, like a silent virus that was eating away at the Empire. Desperate, the 

Workers were prepared to defy their masters and raze Babylon, even unarmed. 

The iron chains that bound the slaves were, in fact, a single long and continuous belt, 

composed of sections, in which bronze chokers were attached, made to close the necks. That 

An extensive belt was attached to two pulleys that rotated on its axis, like gigantic pulleys. 

One of the pulleys was inside the tower, and the other, a rotating copper column, was inside the tower. 

installed in one of the central squares. The chain, attached to the ends, determined a circuit 

closed, walked by slaves, which started at the tower, crossed the city, passed through the square and 

returned to the tower. Generally, it was at these junctions that the workers received their dose of water and 

then a piece of bread. Now, you didn't need to be an engineer to understand that, if one of the pulleys 

were broken, the route would be interrupted. 

The rebels intended from the beginning to tear down the square's copper column, which would give the 

workers the freedom of movement necessary for insurrection. They would still be tied by the neck, 

but the chain was so long that they could go from one corner of the capital to another, fight and later 

Use your tools to pop the metal shafts. 

Taking down the pillar wouldn't be difficult. If everyone pulled the cable at once, it would break so 

as easily as a dry twig of sandalwood, 

What was just an aspiration then suddenly blossomed. It all happened so quickly that the guards didn't have time to 

time to assess the danger. The tents of rebellion were up. At the opportune moment, a trumpet 

would vibrate in the pyramid. 

It was the agreed signal. 

The God of the Desert * The Brass Trumpet 

A garrison made up of ten thousand soldiers, led by the experienced commander Pazuno, patrolled 

the outside of the city. The troops were spread out around the walls, forming a defensive ring beyond 

of the gates. Part of the military circled the perimeter, running on their war horses and buggies. 

Others were infantrymen, basically, and worked stationary, staring at the deserted horizon. 

Right behind them, the black walls rose, topped by thousands of guards, always attentive to the 

walkway. From the guardhouses and towers, the captains organized the archers, separating them in position 

uniform. Just below, at the river of Babylon, the trainers fed the gigantic mammoths, 

poor endangered animals, which only served to close and open the gates. 

The hurricane thickened, throwing sand into the sky. In the sky, the refraction of the west crossed the dust, 

coloring the afternoon a heavy red. Standing on his bronze chariot, a soldier noticed a figure 

common, who walked towards the main gate. All covered by an old cloth blanket, the 

wanderer didn't scare anyone. He looked more like a lost hermit, a helpless traveler. That was, the 

By the way, the kind of people the Babylonians liked to bother. 

— Stop there, stranger! — shouted the guard, pointing his spear. 

The wanderer made no attempt to stop and continued, indifferent to the command. The more he 

It got closer, the more it grew in presence. Suddenly, and with every step, he didn't seem so ordinary anymore, and 

then the officer retreated. 

Another guard, more fearless, followed behind, driving his own chariot. Determined to 

to impress his colleagues, he jumped out of the car and ran, spear in hand, to pierce the belly 

of the newcomer. He tried to lunge, but the hermit dodged and with impressive skill grabbed 

the handle of the weapon. He pulled hard on his rod and, as the soldier refused to let go, he was thrown far away, 

expelled by inhuman force. 

Captain Pazuno then took the lead in the attack. He decided not to underestimate the attacker, because he was 

He was a veteran and had heard many stories about invincible wizards and heroes. Thinking about it, he signaled 

to the elite warriors and two fighters spun their chariots. They took distance, prepared their spears and 

they fired a charge. At that moment, the captain sensed his mistake. From afar, he glimpsed the look of the 

pilgrim and assessed his murderous courage. He had the face of a man, but the appearance of a predator. THE 

His countenance was like that of a beast, a sinister mixture of a hawk and a panther. 

Supposedly unarmed, the wanderer carried on his back a long, thin package that was too short. 

to be a spear and very large compared to knives. The Babylonians did not imagine that it could be 

a sword, as they did not know the manufacture of long blades. 

The chariot wheels dragged, the horses burst into neighing, and the two carters advanced. 

against the force of the wind. It was then that the prodigy happened. With a single step on the ground, the foreigner made 

the ground shakes. The vibration unbalanced the soldiers, who lost the reins and also the momentum of the train. 

load. One of the carts overturned, and the other, in disarray, ran over a rock, breaking the axle at the bottom. 

of the car. 

The hermit's hood slipped, and everyone saw his unnerved expression. An inexplicable terror 

He attacked the garrison, and old Pazuno didn't think twice. 

— Back off! — he shouted to the guards. — Return to the city, all battalions! 

But, as they were so spread out around the walls, many guards did not hear the order. That was when the 

The commander blew the horn, and all of Babel became aware of the attack. On the bridge, the archers 

they grabbed their arrows, and the troops outside converged on the access doors. 

— Close the gates! — shouted the master of the tower, and the trainers whipped: the mammoths, who with 

shrill roars tensed the chains, gradually closing the gigantic sections. 

In their guardhouses, the Babylonian generals respected the warning, but did not understand the despair. 

Had it not been for the king's demand to react with utmost caution to any abnormal situation, they would have repudiated 

the "madness" of the platoons, which retreated to the metropolis from all corners, at the mere approach of 

a wanderer. 

The gate was sealed with a metallic slam, which reverberated with tremendous intensity. Ablon stopped 

in front of the main entrance and observed the two idols that surrounded the door. At the top of the Silver Pyramid, 

Nimrod rose from his throne and stroked the fur of his prehistoric tiger. 

— It's him, without a doubt — he muttered to himself. —The god of the desert. This will be the last fight, the 

final battle between me, the greatest of all men, and the heavenly emissary. A new era begins here 

to the Babylonian nation. 

So, finally, the generals understood the danger and from their towers they commanded the archers. THE 

Captain Pazuno ran to the bridge, exhausted, and called out to the soldiers: 

— The drums! Beat the drums! Pull the arrows. Raise the spears. Begin the attack! 

In the tower and on the avenues, the slaves noticed the soldiers' agitation. So the rumors were 

true — Babel was being attacked! 

The outbreak of the uprising was very close now, but they continued to work, hammering their 

stones and running the chain. Soon, the insurrection would explode in a sudden assault, at the exact moment of the 

combined signal. 

On the fifth floor of the Silver Pyramid, the last one before the throne terrace, a narrow, stone room 

long, where an alal rested — a kind of copper trumpet, very large, an object 

characteristic of ancient Mesopotamia, which produced a very strong high-pitched sound. King Cush had ordered 

build this chamber to serve as a warning post. However, shortly after the inauguration of the 

palace, the seekers decided to replace the cornet with a series of percussion instruments and 

allocate them not in the ziggurat, but in the guardhouses on the walls. Since then, the room was abandoned, 

except for two servants who sometimes went there to clean the dust. 

Kumarbi the Tall, a young, corpulent slave with a strong personality and great charisma, had been spared 

to work in the tower because of his privileged intellect. Captured as a boy, he already knew how to read and 

write with precision, and that is why he took on the role of official scribe for the search engines. Your letters and 

documents the intimacy of the court, unveiling stories of intrigue, maneuvers, commercial treaties, 

war plans and architectural projects. Confidant of the palatial palaces, Kumarbi was the ideal conspirator, 

and it was not for nothing that he took the lead in the revolution. 

Alto had been on standby since early afternoon, when Adnari had told him about the Sorceress's appearance. 

of Endor. Despite her young age, Adnari was a prodigy girl, very smart and perceptive, so 

didn't even think about discrediting her. His nocturnal trips to the "colorless world" were often 

useful to the rebellion, helping the conspirators discover the most hidden secrets of the legendary Babel. 

Adnari was a spy by necessity, although she didn't really recognize her role and spied on people. 

mysteries without any evil. Understanding its purity, Kumarbi did everything to preserve it, and 

he never revealed, not even to the other insurgents, who his main source was. 

When the gate closed, bringing its sections together with a terrible crash, Kumarbi realized that 

he needed to blow the trumpet, the right signal for the outbreak of revolt. As soon as his masters left, he left 

pen and papyrus and left the study—an airy room on the fourth level, where writings were usually done. 

political speeches. He confidently passed by many soldiers, because he was a well-known servant and 

used to go around there. 

He reached a final room, a hall built in various shades of marble. It was adorned by 

huge vases, from which sprouted prehistoric plants — some tall and hard, others colorful and 

light. The room, lit by tall windows, had for years been a party spot for royalty, where the court 

he danced, had fun and murdered slaves for pure pleasure. 

Kumarbi walked through the empty space to the base of a staircase, the main passage to the rooms of the fifth 

to walk. Two guards in armor defended the entrance, blocking access. 

— Where do you think you're going, slave? — growled one of them. — Go back to your pigsty now. 

— I have a letter to the search engines — he improvised. 

— Then just show your authorization — decided the second, more serious. — Without her, not even old Adam 

would come up here. 

The Tall Man handed out a roll of papyrus to the guards, an imitation he made hurriedly in the office, 

without the royal seal. It was an unlikely, unconvincing alternative, but there was no other pretext. 

— This crap is fake! — noticed the guardian, taking out the long knife. — You're doomed, jackal! 

But Kumarbi, already expecting the attack, took out a hidden dagger and pierced the man's throat with it. 

guard, in a surprise blow. The man fell, without reacting, and his blood covered the reflection in the marble. 

The second pulled out his spear, but the slave had already run and was now disappearing through the threshold. 

Kumarbi fired like never before, without thinking about anything else. Didn't see anyone in the hallway, 

shadow or danger, just unfocused paths, clouded by the rush of adrenaline. At the breakneck pace 

After the emergency, Alto finally saw the right entrance and the copper horn glued to the window. Slid 

straight for the door, but then his reflexes failed him for a deadly second. Suddenly a soldier 

emerged from the dark and maneuvered his spear for the fatal attack. 

A sharp pain pierced his body, and he noticed that the harpoon had gone through his lung, torn the 

skin and shattered his spine. Kumarbi fell, just like the guard stabbed on the stairs, and that's when 

the torment grew. The soldier pulled the weapon, sliding the edge down, and with the blade came a 

piece of the stomach, sealing off all hope of life for the injured man. 

— What are you going to do? — he heard a man say, but his vision was blurred. He stretched his arm on the floor, 

looking for the knife, but his fingers found only a sticky mess. It was a thin section of its own 

intestine. 

— I'm going to finish him off soon — someone else replied. — Idiot slave. Did you not hear the 

alarm? Why did you stay here, like a cockroach crawling through the sewer? 

— No, don't do anything — suggested the first. — He's almost dead. Let him agonize. Now everyone 

back to your posts," he ordered. 

There were at least ten guards there, although Alto couldn't distinguish them. 

— There is confusion on the walls. 

So the warriors left, some disappointed, and returned to their positions, in that and other places. 

floors. Lying down, left on the floor, helpless, Kumarbí no longer felt pain, only the dark heat of his feet. 

splashes of blood that precede the complete coldness of death. 

Floating between real consciousness and the dark abyss of extermination, he noticed a gentle vibration in the 

floor and heard well-calculated footsteps, typical of a slave at work. 

— Kumarbi! — it was Adnari's sobbing voice. 

— Adhnarí — he hissed, at the affectionate touch of the child's footprint. 

"They hurt him. 

— I'm going to die, little one. 

The girl swallowed her words, out of respect for the martyr's passing. 

— The room — the rebel struggled. — The trumpet exit. You must sound it, Adnari. Everyone is 

just depending on that. Lead the slaves out of here. Guide them. Lead them. You are the only one who can 

command them and revive the charm of the tribes. 

Tall choked and spat out a lot of blood. The hemorrhage was fatal, inevitable, and he stared into space, before 

to risk his first — and last — prophecy: 

— The city of Babel will not survive this night. 

In the Abyss of Wrath 

On the walls, there was complete silence for a full minute. No sound. No movement. 

No sighs. Then the drums vibrated, plunging the city into the harbinger of war. 

BOOM... BOOM... BOOM... 

On the bridge, three thousand archers aimed their weapons at the lone invader. Captain Pazuno, with his arm 

raised, waited for a respite from the wind. The stranger was standing, just ten steps from the wall, but the 

There was so much dust that no one could see him properly. His brown clothes confused him with the earth, but who, 

Even hidden, could it withstand a hail of arrows? 

A moment of pure tension followed and then the attack command. 

A black rain of arrows eclipsed the pink sky, and the deadly cloud covered the warrior angel. The assault 

swept the entire area, and the soldiers, at their posts, heard the shock of spikes piercing the ground 

sandy. 

The enemy was dead, for sure. No one would survive that onslaught. 

But when the sentries rested their bows, they did not see the stranger's body, only a 

forest of sticks, half finished, embedded in the ground. Where would he have fled? How did it disappear like that, 

instantly, in plain sight? Pazuno and the generals, in their towers, stared at the desert, 

confused, looking for the dead man's carcass. 

The corpse... is gone! 

And it was then, exactly, that a sharp scream shook the city, and the Babylonians shook with fright. 

They thought it might be the scream of a monster or the final lament of the desert god... but no. THE 

shout was the signal of the copper horn, the alai of the Silver Pyramid, inciting the slaves to revolt. 

For the first time in decades, the currents stopped. All together, at once, the slaves 

They pulled the iron cables, and the column that moved them fell, undoing the closed route. 

Immediately, as a reflex action, the archers on the bridge turned back into Babel, and 

Meanwhile, outside, at the base of the gate, a figure stood, unscathed and even more ruricious. 

A wave of wind and dust threw rocks into the distance, and from a hole in the sand a winged shadow appeared, 

a creature from the past, titanic, phenomenal. The body was essentially human, or so it seemed, but 

Two angel wings sprouted from his back, with white feathers streaked with blood. The eyes glowed red-hot, 

and the presence was terrible, almost diabolical. At the appearance, some guards ran, but others continued 

firm, stimulated by the taste of ancient stories, about the people of Enoch, who challenged the celestials 

in their stone fortresses. 

And so, the Renegade Angel flew, scattered his feathers and landed on the walkway. The celestials 

purged, concerned with hiding their divine nature, they almost never took off their wings, 

always keeping them attached to the back. But, in the fury of the fight, Ablon forgot many 

principles and acted on instinct, looking for the quickest route to the heart of the metropolis. Not even 

he could jump fifty meters, and this was precisely the height of the walls. 

On the wall, only four soldiers could attack him at a time, two from each side. A double row of 

men approached from the north, certain that if the first fell, the next would continue the attack. 

blow. To the south, a pair of warriors, alone, drew their knives, and one of them attacked, but the winged one avoided the attack. 

ripped by bending the knees. He got up, a second later, and in a turn, he whipped the platoon in front of him with his wing. 

left, throwing everyone back. Many dropped their weapons and clung to the bulkhead, avoiding 

it remains fetal. 

The two combatants threatened the celestial with machete punches in the air. The youngest of them, then, 

He took courage and invested again, only to have another unsuccessful attempt. With one hand, the cherub 

he blocked the attack, and with the other he threw a powerful punch, which shattered the terrain's teeth and nose. 

The man realized the impulse, and his body flew, falling inert near the abyss. 

The northern double line re-formed and advanced again. This time, however, Ablon did not wait for the 

clash, preferring to start his own sequence. He flew over the troops and descended with both feet on the ground. 

chest of the front officers, supposedly the platoon leaders. Then he ran among the men, 

avoiding each attack, each blow, and also retaliating, with movements so fast that 

disabled soldiers. Soon, close to a thousand Babylonians had already fallen. 

Thus, Ablon arrived at a large guardhouse on the corner, at the exact point where the wall turned towards the 

west. Twenty archers, encouraged by their captains, appeared at the tower's windows and aimed their arrows. 

They fired with all their might, the angel flapped his wings hard, raising a gust of wind that deflected the 

lethal spikes. 

Impressed, the guards retreated. They prepared ladders and ropes to descend to the avenues and 

gain open field. 

When they laid the cables, however, they became aware of the commotion. 

In the streets, in the houses and even in the ziggurat, a multitude of slaves rebelled against the army, stealing from it 

all guns blazing and fighting like furious dogs. Like a string of carnivorous ants, the 

Workers evacuated the tower and left, reinforcing the legion of workers. 

But what about the Immortal King? Where was it? Why didn't he do anything? What would you be waiting for? 

Nimrod was still there, at the top of the palace, sitting on the throne, observing the uprising. Kept the triple 

expression, a dark mixture of pride, hatred and satisfaction. 

So, the god heard my call and accepted the challenge - thought the monarch, pulling the collar of the 

saber-toothed tiger. The beast growled, excited by the confusion and nervous by the noise. 

Ablon's angry eyes and Nimrod's lunatic ones finally met, and the renegade general distinguished 

your enemy. Damn clay pig, reflected the winged one. I will burst your throne and cast you into the depths 

da, land, which is your place. I will raze your city to the ground and rip out your heart. 

On the walls, the soldiers understood the conflict and stopped the attack on the celestial. Somehow 

In this way, they realized that that battle was useless, and that the king was the only one who, from now on, could 

resolve the conflict. 

The angel took off from the wall, unfurled its fluttery wings, crossed the city and floated toward the sky. 

staircase of the Silver Pyramid. From the base, he soared, skimming the steps, and on the pinnacle the Immortal 

released his prehistoric feline. 

— Finish the invader! — he ordered the animal. — Kill him! Swallow it! Accepting the command, the tiger- 

Sabretooth sped up the stairs, but when he got close to the collision, the cherub charged, and the 

The beast passed straight past him, going to bite one of the Babylonian guardians who defended the ziggurat's ramp. 

I didn't want to hurt any animals, and, honestly, not even the soldiers. I just wanted to avenge 

your friend and exterminate the Immortal King. 

When they realized the invasion and saw the entity in flight, everyone — slaves and citizens, civilians and 

military — froze the blows, swallowed the screams and stopped to watch the confrontation. The sun already 

had set, and the hurricane circled Babel. On the bridge, Captain Pazuno, badly injured, screamed 

to coaches 

— Release the mammoths! Release the mammoths! 

From then on, the captain knew, there was not much hope for the nation. The uprising had already taken over 

streets, the aristocrats were being decimated, the tower was empty, and a deity challenged the 

sovereign. It is true that those mammoths, the last of their race, had never fought before. Still, 

reasoned Pazuno, many slaves would still be killed if they were thrown into the avenues without notice. 

The trainers did so, and retracted the doors, disconnecting the chains. The herd left 

blocks, running, knocking men down with their bumps, running over people and demolishing 

walls. In their frantic march, they did not distinguish soldiers or slaves, rebels or loyalists, 

wicked or righteous. 

Ablon landed on the edge of the throne, and Nimrod rose to face him. His braided beard dripped with 

sweat, and the ogival helmet protected his head. He was visually unarmed and was not carrying any 

even the jeweled scepter that was hard, good for denting in combat. 

— You came! — the monarch rejoiced. — I knew I wouldn't resist the call. I'm here, ready 

to eliminate him — he challenged, pointing his arms towards the sky. — Send the catastrophes. Send the 

illnesses. Launch all hecatombs. Unlike Enoch, Babel will resist. 

Ablon would have found it funny if he hadn't been so angry. Nimrod was a madman, ignorant of ancient matters. 

Still, there was a certain irony in the situation. 

When mentioning the cataclysms, the king was certainly referring to the days before the flood. He cited the 

disasters, and there was no doubt that he hated angels, more precisely archangels. In this matter, 

Prince Miguel was the real culprit, and not the renegades, who rebelled precisely against the 

murder of men! 

— Kneel! — demanded the ruler, blind confidence on his face. — Kneel before 

Nimrod. 

— I only kneel before God — replied the general, tired of the arrogance. His ideals, for one 

minute, they made him hesitate, but then he remembered Ishtar and vented his anger. 

With a powerful punch, he hit the ground, causing him to crash against the back of the throne. The support is 

it broke, and the monarch fell to the platform, with the golden debris. Despite the warnings, 

Ablon had never taken the legends about the Immortal King seriously, so he thought he had killed the 

subject, but no. One second, Nimrod was glued to the ground, and the next he was up, just as fast as he had been. 

a hungry serpent. From his boot, he took out a knife, a magic dagger — Zamir's dagger — and struck. 

But his opponent was no ordinary angel, but a warrior angel. The renegade general sensed the 

danger, with his fantastic skills, and turned away. The thread passed very close, cutting two feathers 

gusts, but that was it. The plumes soon fluttered, carried by the very strong wind to the nearest gardens. 

below. 

Staring at the instrument of death, capable of tearing humans and celestials apart, Ablon waited for another attack, 

and when Nimrod lunged, extending the blow to its fullest, a precise defense disarmed him. Sliding 

Behind the king's back, the celestial tied his neck in a tie-like hold. 

— I am immortal, abomination — roared the sovereign, almost suffocating. — You can never beat me. Leave the 

my city, I command! 

Immortal, the Immortal King... Now, Shamira's speech made perfect sense. That's what she tried 

tell me on the riverbank... Nimrod,.. he and his sorcerer... Nimrod and Zamir captured Ishtar to 

drink his blood. A human who tastes the blood of an angel becomes immortal, never ages, and 

is rarely injured. The ritual was ancient and had been developed by the wizards of Nod, who with their magic 

they victimized many winged people. 

—So, you fed on Ishtar's blood? — shouted the renegade, forcing the king's head against 

the seat of the throne, just as an executioner drags his victim to the execution log. 

—I already told you, creature! Run away while there's still time. Nothing can kill me, no effect of the sky or the 

earth would be able to depose Nimrod. 

— How can you be so sure? He is nothing more than a clay sculpture, an imperfect primate, a 

monkey that learned to talk. Now I will show you the supreme celestial brio, the true power of 

God, against which he is defenseless. 

And it was then that the cherub put his hand behind his back, where the wings folded into a vein, and took the 

package he carried with him. From the cloths, he drew the mystical sword, until then hidden in the scroll. 

furs. And upon beholding his blade, the mortals — and Nimrod also — were as if mesmerized, 

so refulgent was the shine of the weapon. They had never glimpsed the texture of the steel, which now coruscated 

in orange tones, mirroring the color of the sunset. 

— Prepare to die, Nimrod, for this is the Holy Avenger, forged at the beginning of time, 

when their ancestors still crawled the oceans. It is a sacred weapon, and under its edge already 

angels, demons and gods succumbed. Now, it's her turn to taste human blood. 

The king babbled in guttural murmurs, ancient profanities taught to him by the wizard Zamir, formulas 

magics made to ward off evil spirits, which however were absolutely useless against the celestial. 

At that moment, Ablon raised the scourge and held the king tightly by the back of the neck, ready to decapitate him. With the 

knee immobilized the monarch, but before going down the thread pulled his bangs, forcing the dictator to aim 

the entire length of the tower, now practically empty, 

— Appreciate your capital for the last time, for soon the only domain you will know will be the kingdom of 

dead — he declared, extending the hilt of his sword for the final blow. 

—Wait, general! — interrupted a female voice. — These words have been spoken before, but 

not for you, 

— Shamira? — exclaimed the renegade, recognizing his friend. He turned his body, without releasing his prey, and 

he distinguished the countenance of the Sorceress of En-Dor, who was ascending the stairs of the Silver Pyramid. In the arms, 

she carried the inert body of the warrior Ishtar, her wings marked with blood. 

— How did you get here? 

— I memorized the layout of the dungeon, with all the secret entrances and exits. There was a tunnel near the 

river, and used it to return to the dungeon. I thought I should bring it here," he replied, landing on the ground. 

the corpse of the renegade celestial. 

On the platform, Ablon continued to stand still, still surprised, without quite understanding what the 

intention of the necromancer upon returning to her place of torture. For what purpose had he taken Ishtar from her 

tomb? 

On the streets, the wind calmed down, but the worst was yet to come. At that moment Babel entered the eye 

of the hurricane, where the whirlwind usually opens one and takes a breath for the final blow. 

— Do you see? — the woman urged. — Ishtar is dead, and now there is no way to change her fate. No 

Do you think we have had enough of so many massacres? — he asked, looking at the defeated king. 

— How can you defend him? — reacted the cherub. —After everything he did to you... 

The sorceress faced the general and went up to the platform. He took the warrior's calloused fist in his fingers 

heavenly and revealed his palm to him. 

— Your hands are full of human blood — she paused for a long time. — Don't you understand? 

With that said, the fighter's punishing arm weakened, and the Holy Avenger trembled. Mismatched visions 

They attacked his mind, like a remote nightmare that insists on returning. In a series of flashes 

terrible, he recalled his times as an assassin, when he fought under the banner of the archangel Michael. 

He revived death camps, endless massacres, killings of defenseless people, extermination of beings 

humans. And he remembered the face of his most personal enemy, the demon Apollyon, who, when he was still 

angel, had led the destruction of Sodom and Gomorrah. As the anger dispersed, she began to 

question impulses. It's hate. It obscures our values ​​and pushes us to ruin. 

— Do you understand what I'm saying? — it was Shamira who broke the silence. — This has nothing to do with the 

The king's cruelty has to do with you. If you kill him now, in this palace, you will be giving away your 

heart to instinctive fury. He will be killing a human being and, however wicked Nimrod may be, this 

Small act will bury your cause. Wasn't that why you were expelled from heaven, because you repudiated the 

extermination of the earthly species? And isn't that precisely your greatest fear, that of forgetting your ideals and 

abandon justice? 

Then, the sorceress walked away, leaving the renegade alone in his decision. He understood better than 

he, that the murder of the Immortal King, under those circumstances, would mark the end of his journey, of all his 

fight against the archangels, that's what he meant when he recriminated his angry words. 

— I am a necromancer — she added, before finally falling silent — and as a master in the art of 

dead I know that there is a fine line between good and evil. If you go beyond that boundary, you might not 

can come back. Revenge or justice. Which of the two will you choose? 

— They are the same thing. 

— The only difference is when you execute them with hatred. 

Nimrod, who had heard everything, was afraid for the first time. There, at gunpoint, he was no longer the 

supreme monarch, but just a helpless, humiliated mortal. He thought about begging for his life, about screaming 

and call for his father, but his throat was getting tighter and tighter, and in that position he could barely 

moan. 

On the avenues, the insurgents watched the duel. The soldiers had already been defeated, in all cases. 

corners of the capital, and even the walls were taken. A single command was enough for the mob to 

break down the gates. But, on the other hand, if the dictator survived, the situation could still 

reverse. With the king active again, the army would fight to the last spark, and the uprising would be contained. 

Now, the fate of many depended on the resolution of the celestial. What did he intend to do? Should save 

Nimrod and preserve his values, or behead the sovereign, thus revenge for Ishtar's memory? 

His gray eyes shone again, and he held out his weapon. Resuming the strength of the blow, the renegade 

attacked, and the sword came down on the Immortal King. 

Shamira looked away and waited for the sound of the head rolling. But instead of the muffled sound, the entire 

metropolis heard a sharp scream, followed by a wail of pain. The blade penetrated not the back of the head, but 

on the shoulder, it passed through the flesh and sank into the golden seat, pinning Nimrod to the support. The blood 

splashed down his arm, in a quantity much greater than human quantity, and slipped down the ramp, wetting his hands. 

steps and blackening the reflection of the silver. 

— You will live on, Nimrod — said the First General. — You are condemned to live for 

always, and never to die. The wound on your shoulder will continue to ooze for all eternity. AND 

Many years from now, every time you feel your stigma burning, you will remember this day in Babel and you will know 

that it was heavenly mercy that spared him. So, at these times, you will feel like dying, but you won't be able to. 

Alone, secluded in the shadows of the new twilight, Shamira smiled, but no one noticed. In squares and 

blocks, Babilônia was then just calm. Organized and victorious, the slaves threw open the 

gates and opened passage to the plain. Little by little, the storm returned, with all the intensity of a 

legendary typhoon. The workers despised the looting and all left in line, without even looking 

back. 

At the top of the Silver Pyramid, although defeated, Nimrod could not resist his pride. He still had one left 

last consolation, a final pillar that fed lust, a perennial monument that, according to 

seekers, would resist any calamity. 

— You condemned me, it's true, but my tower will remain eternal — he said, already weakened by the 

loss of blood, to your executioner. —Travelers will continue to see it miles away in the desert and 

They will know who built it, even after centuries. 

— You are wrong, once again. All your work will be erased — corrected the general. — He was cunning 

channel the course of the river to support the building. It is a bold project, however it has a 

weak point. 

He knows! Nimrod despaired. He knows the secret of the water column, which keeps the 

construction. Of all Zamir's achievements, this was the greatest, and it cannot be,,, 

- No! Not my tower! — shouted the Babylonian, crying and kicking like a child in a cradle. 

He tried to get up with all his might, but the steel blade pinned him to the seat. 

And so, the Renegade Angel flew, again, from there to the base of the tower. He entered, clawing at his broad 

halls and continued to the core of the building. He contemplated many empty chambers, some sumptuous, others 

villages, and mourned for the slaves who died there. Destroyed several sealed doors, shattered a 

double copper gate and reached the central axis. 

Right in the middle of the Tower of Babel, he discovered the interior of an immense circular opening, which reached the 

maximum building altitudes. There ran a thick iron tube vertically that, from the ground, rose almost 

infinite, and all the beams that held up the walls were supported on it. Through this pipeline were 

millions of liters of water were pumped per day, and its pressure was so strong that it supported the pipe 

seated, like a spinal column that holds the entire skeleton. At key points in the tube, the liquid 

it exited through small drains, gradually decreasing its violence. 

The general touched the iron pipe and calculated its thickness. It must have been more than a meter long, and was coated, 

inside, with a thick layer of ivory, which prevented the iron from wearing out. Will he, despite his 

fantastic capabilities, could you break through the wall? 

Concentrating the divine energy of his aura into his clenched fists, he invoked the Wrath of God, his most powerful technique. 

powerful, the fundamental weapon of the cherubim, the same divinity that he had used in a duel against the terrifying 

Apollyon, in Castelo da Luz. 

He punched the pipe, and the metal couldn't support it. A fissure ran upward, and water began to gush out, 

increasingly intense. Pressure alone would finish the job, and nature would avenge its imprisonment. 

The cracks spread, the beams collapsed, and the tower collapsed. The celestial flew away, 

dodging falling rocks, avoiding toppled pillars and escaping the force of the water 

that flooded the rubble. 

When he finally crossed the exit portal, the tower was already in ruins. The underground canal spat its 

bed, like a colossal fountain, flooding streets and alleys, immersing terraces and gardens. Ablon ascended 

to the top of the ziggurat and in mid-flight removed the sword from the king's shoulder, who was so dismayed that he did not 

moved. He continued to stare at his tower, autistic, tearful, disconcerted by the destruction, inconsolable. 

by failure. 

Without landing, the renegade picked up his weapon. He grabbed Shamira with one arm and with the other he picked up the 

corpse of the warrior Ishtar. They climbed high, very high, taking advantage of the cyclone's impact, and from there 

They watched the cursed tower fall, when the last slab collapsed. The water invaded the houses, the avenues, 

the squares, broke through the walls and swallowed the palace. 

Nothing left. 

The sandstorm arrived soon after and swept through the capital, burying the city in the heart of the desert. 

Babel was dead. 

Centuries later, other Babylonian cities would emerge. These would be the glorious times of Hammurabi, of 

Nebuchadnezzar and many others. However, the true Babel, the Babel of Nimrod and Cush, the Babel 

legendary, she was buried on the last day of that summer in the year 2334 BC. 

And that's how it all happened. 

Live Forever 

— You have food and water for many days in this backpack — said Ablon, handing the girl a 

leather bag lined with furs, which he had made himself during his days of seclusion in the cave. The wings 

gusts were collected again, imperceptible under the musculature of the back. 

The angel and the witch had stopped for a minute, along a narrow path that circled the hillside. 

of a very high mountain. To the left was a wall, entirely made of rock, which flattened out before the 

base, forming a path, and to the right the path opened into a deep ditch, between two giant rocks, 

and descended into the depths of the ground. Great elevations were common in that desert region, and so they 

it continued, for many miles, to where the hills met the dune plateau. 

— So, this is the final farewell? — instigated the enchantress, charmingly. It looked more beautiful in the morning sun, 

when the red rays colored his skin. They were both happy, despite the separation. There were 

done the right thing, followed your values ​​and rejected the abyss of darkness. 

— The world isn't that big — he joked, also seductive. 

— Don't take too long. Time is merciless to human beings. Soon I will be so old that my 

eyes will not recognize your face. And this is the fate of men. 

- I know. Despite my celestial origin, today I consider myself human — he confessed and turned his eyes to the 

girl. — It was you who made me like this, Shamira. You made me discover my own 

humanity, and helped me understand what it is to be flesh. 

She smiled, blushing, and looked away. 

Then, the general took an unexpected action. He drew the Holy Avenger from its sheath and contemplated its 

shiny leaf, like someone saying goodbye to a friend. 

— I am no longer a celestial, sorceress, despite my divine strength. The cherub that was in 

me died with the devastation of Babel. And you need to know where one world ends and the other begins. 

And so, Ablon swung the weapon over his head, cutting the air in round arcs, and threw it through the middle. 

from the ditch. The blade rolled down the cliff and found a deposit deep in the earth. 

The sword cannot live without the cherub, and the cherub cannot live without its sword. 

— The Holy Avenger was the only thing that took me back to my primal antecedents — explained the 

general. — I'm going to try to live like a man, Shamira. This is how it should be from now on. I don't want 

become a bitter and vengeful angel. I must free myself from all the hate I carry. 

The woman hugged him, and he embraced her. 

—Like me, you live on the margins of both worlds, renegade. This is our legacy. And ours 

sentence. 

They stayed there for a long time, under the rising sun. It was early autumn, and the breeze brought 

the salty smell of the sea from afar. A hawk tore through the firmament, and on the ground wild rats dug 

your den. 

— Where do you plan to go now? — the warrior wanted to know. 

— I heard that there is a wise necromancer who lives beyond Sinai and knows enchantments capable of 

even dribble death. Who knows, we might even meet a few more times along the way. 

history? 

— Who knows... — he replied, and kissed her forehead. 

The woman followed her path with long strides and turned the slope of the hill. Before it disappeared over the edge of the 

rock, Ablon looked at it from a distance and whispered softly: 

— May God accompany you, Enchantress of En-Dor. 

A few months later, Shamira reached Egypt and met the master Dra-kali-Thoth, who was her great 

teacher in the art of magic. He taught her how to steal energy from evil spirits and thus preserve her strength. 

own vitality for infinite centuries. 

Ablon built a tomb for Ishtar in the cave at the top of the mountain of Mashu and sealed the tomb 

never to reopen it again. 

Adnari guided the slaves safely out of Babel and led them, founding a new 

civilization. She died very old, at 130 years old, and to this day mystics know her as the greatest magician in 

your time.