Chapter Nineteen

I saw the faces change, eyes exchanging glances. I felt a subtle tremor ripple through the hall. Some of them could never have imagined that there existed a sacred text that could tip the balance of power in this way. Thoughts became disoriented, and convictions unraveled in an instant. The issue of ruling was no longer a personal contest... it had become a matter of fate.

The attendees began to murmur, visibly unsettled, and voices from the back corridors called out:

"What is this? Is this the Document of the Absolute Sun we've heard about in the legends?"

"Impossible! Since when does a woman not need the blessing of the High Priest?!"

Hamadan bin Riyan tried to speak again, his voice faltering:

"Wait, Your Majesty... these texts are unknown... no one knows them!"

But Balqis responded with a calm that was more potent than any uproar.

"I have seals from a time long before our Sun calendar, and rituals written for the true blood of the sun. If anyone wishes to verify them, they may come and examine the seals."

All that answered him was a sudden silence, as if the fire of his objection had been extinguished in the void.

I felt an urge to interrupt, the words almost on the tip of my tongue, but I dared not speak them. If I were to challenge the authenticity of the document now, I would appear ignorant of the ancient legacies of the temple or the ancestral scriptures of the first rulers. This would shatter my image as the priest who understood all the secrets of the Kingdom of Saba. My lips remained sealed, even as I writhed inwardly, feeling trapped. How could I maneuver now, in the face of a document so ancient, re shaping what I had spent my life concealing?

The hall erupted in whispered chaos and confusion, until the Grand Adviser Khaza'bla rose from one of the corners, making his way past the crowd. He cast a knowing, sly look over the assembly one I had learned to recognize over the years and spoke in his usual calm tone:

"Ladies and gentlemen, O Chiefs of Saba, with this document it is clear that one who carries the blood of the sun, whether man or woman, is not required to justify their legitimacy with earthly reasons. If you ask about Balqis's right to sit upon the throne of the Haddad, this document is the answer from the heavens before the earth."

The crowd fell completely silent. I watched as Hamadan bin Riyan took two steps back, his face shrouded in disappointment. Some of his allies whispered mockingly, while others showed complete disarray, slipping away quietly from the hall. As for me, I remained at the edge of the aisle, feeling the weight of countless eyes waiting for my response. Should I speak? Should I withdraw? My words seemed stuck, for it felt as though every support I had relied on in the temple's authority had been stripped of its foundation in the eyes of the people.

Balqis seized the silence, her gaze meeting mine with indifference. She spoke calmly:

"O our High Priest, what is your opinion? Will you remain steadfast in your view that I need religious or masculine guardianship, or shall we all yield to an ancient text that blesses every bearer of the blood of the sun, flowing through the veins since the time of Haddad?"

My breath tightened, and I could feel the weight of every stare fixed on me. My hands nervously adjusted the folds of my white robes, and I lowered my head in a critical moment. Should I confront this text and deny its age? Or resort to some futile interpretation?

It was clear the time for debate had passed. I muttered, almost inaudibly, as if surrendering:

"If… this is a text sealed with the ancient seals, then perhaps it is a will deeper than our limited understanding. We, the servants of the sun, will not oppose such a rule."

The words left my mouth strangled, as though written in painful ink. But they were enough to temporarily quell any direct objection. Some of the priests bowed in agreement, and the chiefs of the tribes seemed to struggle to maintain their dignity in the wake of such a clear defeat.

Thus, the tension in the council was broken. Those who had prepared to denounce the absence of Belqis scattered and withdrew, their plans unraveling. Meanwhile, the common people erupted in astonishment and praise, as if witnessing a historical event unfold before their eyes. Some sat on the ground, staring at the golden scroll that shimmered in the queen's hand, while others looked at me warily, as though waiting for my next move.

While the confusion spread through the hall, Belqis turned to one of the soldiers and ordered him to store the document in a chest reserved for the kingdom's secrets. She then prepared to leave. As she passed by my side, I heard her whisper in a tone so low that only I could discern it:

"All of you are children of the sun, in His service, whether you like it or not."

My heart fluttered in my chest. This phrase carried a tone similar to what the Haddad used to say long ago when he urged everyone back onto the path of obedience. I realized that, although we hadn't fought openly, I had lost a heavy round tonight. It was no longer a private drama, but one set in the midst of a public light that all eyes had witnessed.

The crowd dispersed, leaving with silence and shame. Some attempted to lower their heads before Bilqis, while I remained standing in my place for another ten minutes, replaying the echo of defeat that groaned within me. I searched for where I had faltered was it because the crier's authority returned through his daughter, conveying that the spirit is nobler than the body? Or because I had failed to extinguish an old momentum, one that the ancestors had etched into this kingdom? Perhaps it was all of that, together.

I am the High Priest... but in the end, she led me to the same conclusion. He who draws from the true light of the sun cannot be surpassed by anyone. This, at least, is what people believe after seeing a document that silenced any opposition to it. Her will became a reality she did not force me into an embarrassing confession, but she certainly shattered, in public, all the justifications for that "guardianship" I had hoped to assert. What remains for me today to say to the masses is likely no more than a calm tone, one that celebrates the queen's continued reign. For one like me cannot contest an era that has drawn from something greater than the words of preachers.

Thus ended the day with a clear victory for the daughter of the crier. As for me, I returned to the temple with slow steps, my mind absent of any preparation for a speech or for issuing ceremonial decrees. As I entered the labyrinth of ancient stone halls, a strange sensation washed over me an unsettling mix of astonishment and emptiness. Had my zeal to be the sole authority come to an end? Or would I wait for another opportunity, however small, in a future unknown to us?

Before me, the sun's altars awaited the evening incense, and the echoes of voices in the hall lingered in my ears: "The children of the sun have no race." Did the crier deliberately bury such texts to prepare his daughter for this moment? Perhaps this is how I remained unknowingly drawn to the ancient light. Once again, I realized how much more powerful the crier's legacy is than my own calculations. He resurrects his voice in the form of Bilqis when the plot's roots grow stronger.

And though I, the High Priest, stood stunned before her triumphant return... there is no doubt that the tribal elders will feel more than mere astonishment. They will search for another excuse to undermine her legitimacy, or turn away, licking the wound of their disappointment. As for her document, it will do its work. And I... I will remain captive to the question: What role is left for me in a reign crowned by the "absolute sun" before the public eye? Time will judge, with no escape from it, and they will persist in a dominion that has defined itself with a pen that recognizes no boundaries we set. The truth is, when the children of the sun surrender to the eternal flame, all illusions cultivated by our soul's fade in their blaze.