The wind whipped through the grand harbor of Alexandria
The wind whipped through the grand harbor of Alexandria as the clash of swords echoed down the sprawling streets. The city, bathed in a shimmering sunrise, seemed alive—the great Lighthouse of Pharos standing sentinel over the restless blue waves, the alleys buzzing with whispers of rebellion. Selene darted through the narrow corridor of ancient sandstone homes, her breath short but steady as she clutched the rolled parchment under her arm. Behind her, the heavy boots of Ptolemaic guards pounded like a thunderstorm.
She was dressed for speed and stealth, but with taste. A finely woven dark indigo chiton wrapped around her figure, fastened over one shoulder with a simple gold clasp that reflected the sun. The garment, pleated and practical, gave her freedom of movement while still marking her as someone of enough status to dare walk boldly in the city. Over it, she wore a sleeveless leather cuirass dyed black, its subtle metallic sheen catching the morning light as if betraying her location. The cuirass hugged her athletic frame, melding the sharp lines of a warrior’s garb with the elegance of a highborn scholar. Her sandals, strapped up to her knees with leather ties, struck the uneven cobblestones with agility.
Her long black hair was braided tightly and adorned with a single bronze pin etched in the shape of an owl. It was a gift, from him—the man whose sudden absence had stirred this chaos—and her fingers briefly brushed its surface as if it carried the resolve she needed to keep running. It had been only days since Julius Caesar had vanished from Alexandria, the perilous intrigue of Roman politics sweeping him away like a gale. And as his secret confidant, it was now Selene’s burden to ensure his last scroll reached the right hands. In this city, paths could lead to salvation—or death.
Selene rounded a corner and slid into the shadow of a market stall filled with jars of perfumed oils. The vivid scent of jasmine and frankincense mingled with the salt of the sea as colors of the marketplace overwhelmed the senses—cerulean silk, burnished gold, amethyst beads glinting in the hands of merchants hawking their priceless wares. Stray musicians played an anxious hymn in the distance, while the cries of bartering citizens were too loud to hear the distant shouts of the guards. Yet, Selene knew they were there; her pursuers were like shadows of the gods themselves—tireless, unyielding.
“Looking for shade from the sun, my lady?” a low voice interrupted her thoughts. Selene turned, poised to strike, but it was only a merchant with weathered skin the color of honey and eyes like polished amber, motioning her into his tent. Without hesitation, she slipped inside, standing as still as one of the ornate statues lining the room.
The man said nothing else, leaving her to her own thoughts as she peered out through the space between fluttering fabric. Her pursuers thundered past, their cries fading. Yet Selene could not relax. She unrolled the scroll and let her eyes dart over Caesar’s cryptic Latin, her heart racing as the weight of his words settled upon her. Insidious plots, betrayal within the Senate, and plans that threatened not just him but Cleopatra herself—the Queen of the Nile. Selene’s jaw tightened. She had built her life on the woman’s vision for a united, powerful Egypt. To see that fail… unthinkable.
The merchant cleared his throat softly. “You are like a trapped falcon,” he said softly. “Do you mean to soar, or will you let them clip your wings?”
Selene folded the scroll and slipped it back under the leather cuirass. The man’s metaphor was unnecessary. She already knew what had to be done. “The fastest way to Pharaoh’s palace?” she asked, her voice firm.
He grinned, baring one golden tooth, and pulled aside another bundle of silks, revealing a labyrinth of alleyways bathed in dappled light. “Hurry. The sun is your greatest enemy now.”
Selene darted out again, the alleys twisting and turning. Flashes of memory returned in chaotic bursts—the first letter Caesar had placed in her hands, the determined look on Cleopatra’s face the night they agreed to protect Rome and Egypt’s fragile alliance, and Antony’s quiet warning. People are driven by ambition, but ambition is a double-edged sword.
Finally, the palace rose before her, its gilded towers shining like fire against a sapphire sky. She had nearly made it. But then, she heard the cold, metallic hiss of drawn steel behind her.
“Stop where you are, girl.” A voice, sharp and commanding, intruded upon the moment. It belonged to a lean, scarred man in bronze armor, a centurion with grim eyes. Around him, several guards encircled her, spears ready.
Selene’s grip tightened instinctively on the scroll, every nerve alive with adrenaline. “If you value your lives,” she said, her voice dangerously calm, “you’ll let me go.”
The centurion chuckled darkly, taking a step forward. But before he could speak, the sound of hooves split the air as a rider emerged—a woman draped in white and gold, her regal presence undeniable. Cleopatra herself.
“Lower your weapons,” Cleopatra commanded, her voice cutting through the tension like a dagger. The guards hesitated but obeyed. Selene exhaled the breath she hadn’t known she was holding, stepping forward to kneel before the ruler.
“Your Majesty,” Selene said, handing over the scroll. “It’s all here… everything Caesar feared.”
Cleopatra took it, her eyes narrowing as she unrolled it. A charged silence fell, the future of kingdoms hanging in the balance.
“You’ve done well, Selene,” Cleopatra finally said, her voice laced with approval. Then, lifting her gaze to meet the young woman’s, she added, “But this is only the beginning.”
The Source…check out the great article that inspired this amazing short story: Black Leather Jacket with Gray Turtleneck and Blue Skinny Jeans: Chic Urban Fall Outfit for Timeless Elegance
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