The streets of Babylon
The streets of Babylon roared, a chaotic symphony of merchants shouting, oxen braying, and the heavy metallic grind of chariots against stone. The scent of saffron intertwined with the acrid tang of hot oil, creating a heady mix that clung to the air. Under the golden glow of ziggurats towering above, a figure darted through the maze of narrow alleyways, her breath sharp with urgency.
Her outfit was striking, unconventional for a merchant’s daughter. She wore a soot-black leather cuirass, adorned with delicate etchings of silver constellations—a gift from an Asurean trader rumored to be a stargazer. The cuirass shimmered faintly in the fading sunlight, its structured form sculpting her figure with defiance and poise. Beneath it, a storm-gray silk chiton billowed lightly as she moved, cinched at the waist with a royal-blue linen belt embroidered with threads of gold. Her feet, bare but calloused from a life spent running these streets, slapped against the cool stone, roots of hair fraying from her loose braid that whipped wildly behind her.
Overhead, dark clouds churned, casting flickering shadows across the intricately carved statues lining the avenue. The people of the city bustled around her, their voices rising in urgent conversations about the eerie omens of the morning: fish dead in the Euphrates, livestock collapsing in the pastures, and the sharp, unnatural cries of crows over the temple of Marduk. Whispers of divine wrath were thick in the air.
She clutched a small, nondescript satchel close to her chest, her knuckles pale against its worn leather strap. Inside was an object she wasn’t supposed to have—an ochre-stained clay tablet marked in symbols no one alive but she could decipher. Her father’s words pounded in her mind with every step: “The gods see everything, Adara, and we mortals see nothing. Beware what you choose to unearth!” Yet here she was, the weight of forbidden knowledge pulling her forward.
A shadow stretched across the alley, long and sinister. Adara froze mid-step, her pulse hammering in her ears. She turned slowly to see a figure emerge: tall, draped in a flowing indigo cloak, their face obscured by a silver mask. The mask was fashioned into the visage of a jackal, reflecting the stormlight with an eerie sheen. Inlaid ruby eyes glinted like droplets of blood against polished silver.
“What does a child of clay seek in the language of the gods?” the masked figure intoned, voice metallic and piercing. The satchel seemed to grow heavier in her arms.
Adara steadied herself. “The language of the gods belongs to no one. Not even you,” she rasped, trying to mask the fear quivering in her throat with defiance.
The figure tilted its head, jackal eyes unblinking. “You meddle with forces that shape empires and drown the unworthy. Return the words and leave, lest you awake the hunger beneath the sands.”
But Adara had already made her choice. With a single, defiant motion, she threw the satchel’s strap over her shoulder and turned on her heel, sprinting deeper into the labyrinthine alleys. The sounds of pursuit erupted behind her—boots crunching against stone, the flutter of that indigo cloak, and a metallic hiss that might have been a knife unsheathing.
She tore through the crowds, her dark cuirass catching glimmers of light as she passed lanterns and gilded archways. A nearby temple bell rang out, marking the hour, its sonorous toll echoing ominously in her wake. Up ahead, the grand canopy of the central bazaar came into view, its vibrant blues and reds flapping in the wind like the wings of a trapped bird. The bazaar was alive with a cacophony of sights: traders peddling rare spices, children weaving between stalls, and guards laughing as they spun bone dice over a turned wine barrel.
Adara plunged into the throng, her breath ragged. Behind her, the jackal figure never slowed, moving like a ghost cutting through the living. She ducked under a table laden with dried figs, the fruit scattering in her wake. The vendor shouted angrily, but his words were drowned in the chaotic din as she emerged at the back of the bazaar, where the crest of the ancient ziggurat loomed high and foreboding.
Her instincts drove her there. She knew the ziggurat’s shadowy staircases and narrow tunnels better than anyone. And if the inscriptions on the clay tablet were true, then high atop its summit lay what she needed to finally unravel the mysteries haunting her people—a pathway to the gods, or perhaps a path to ruin.
“Adara!” a voice called out, her younger brother’s voice, sharp with panic. She turned just in time to see him emerge from the alley, his small frame trembling, his wide, dark eyes filled with tears. “They sent the jackals. Father said you’d be taken—”
The boy’s words broke as the jackal figure materialized behind her. Its ruby eyes gleamed brighter now, and this time, there were others with him—six masked figures, each donning the face of a different beast: a lion, a falcon, a crocodile, a serpent, an ibis, and an ox. They fanned out slowly, surrounding her, their movements efficient and otherworldly.
The street fell silent as merchants and guards alike melted into doorways, fearful but knowing. This was no fight for mortals to meddle in.
Adara held her ground, her boots scraping against the ancient stone. “If you want the tablet,” she growled, pulling it from the satchel, “then come and take it!”
The lion-masked figure took a single predatory step forward, its golden mane shimmering unnaturally in the air. Adara felt the ground shift beneath her feet, an invisible power humming against her skin. Panic scraped at her resolve, but then, for the briefest moment, she felt her feet root into the stone, her father’s warnings echoing in her ears: The gods see everything.
She gripped the tablet tighter and whispered the words inscribed across its brittle surface. The wind screamed, the sky split, and the streets of Babylon were bathed in a blinding, unearthly light.
Genre: Historical Fantasy
The Source…check out the great article that inspired this amazing short story: Sleek Black Leather Jacket with Gray Turtleneck and High-Waisted Blue Jeans for Urban Chic Winter Style
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