Nammu, the majestic queen of the Sumer, climbed the stairs of the Ziggurat Temple on the largest floating island of Akkad, as she always did on the seventh day of the week. The island, directly connected to the Palace Island, was a vibrant world of dense, lush greenery. Towering trees with massive, waxy leaves, unlike anything found on Earth, twisted toward the sky, their branches heavy with clusters of bright, iridescent fruits. Vines crawled up the ancient stone pillars of the temple, their flowers glowing with bright colors in the humid air. The air was thick with warmth, heavy with the scent of exotic flowers and the zest of earth, filling the lungs its fresh moist. The island seemed alive with the constant buzzing of iridescent insects and the chattering of colorful birds.

  At the heart of the island stood the stone ziggurat temple, its massive rectangular structure rising in three distinct levels. The temple, the beating heart of Akkad’s religion, was a symbol of divine power and Sumer devotion. The widest and lowest level, elevated on stone pillars, was a space for gathering and spiritual connection. The steps were worn smooth from generations of use, and the air was filled with murmurs of conversation, the soft rustle of robes as women and children from all corners of Akkad gathered in groups to meditate, pray, and converse. Faces, obscured by shiny, polished copper masks, looked inward, their bodies wrapped in layers of light-colored robes.

  Men, on the other hand, were mostly absent from the crowds. The only men visible within the temple complex were servants, duty-bound to serve the women’s needs, impregnating women, carrying offerings, preparing the spaces, and assisting with physical labor. With the exception of the loyal family, men were not part of the sacred rituals or meditative practices; they were merely tools, attendants to the needs of the women who held spiritual and social dominion.

  As Queen Nammu ascended the steep stone stairs, her three guards flanking her, the energy of the Ziggurat shifted. The second level, decorated with stone reliefs of nude female figures, was quieter, more solemn. This level was home to the most sacred, and most feared, of the Sumerian women: the Priestesses of the Ziggurat, the revered spiritual leaders of Akkad.

  Beneath its spiritual solemnity, the Ziggurat served as a grim academy for a select order of girls, taken from their families by force and raised within the temple's walls. These girls, once the most beautiful and purest of Sumerian children, were chosen for their beauty at a young age. They were stolen away from their families, stripped of their names and identities, and brought to the Ziggurat to serve a higher purpose. Their beauty, the very thing that made them desirable in the eyes of the world, was taken from them as part of their sacred duty. In the years that followed, the young girls were forced to undergo harsh training, religious schooling and unmerciful torture.

  Before the entrance of the Ziggurat’s third floor, High Priestess Diorite greeted Queen Nammu, following her silently as they made their way to the sacred altar. No matter how many times Queen Nammu had seen the priestesses' twisted, scarred faces, each time it filled her with disgust. The visible marks of sacrifice were a constant, grim reminder to the Sumer people that the spirits had forbidden them to show their beauty. Centuries after the sacrifice of the ancient Queen Inanna, this act of hiding one's beauty had become so ingrained in Sumer society that it was regarded as a necessary sacrifice for meaning and purpose. A meaning that Queen Nammu secretly found increasingly futile and oppressive. Deep in her heart, she vowed to overthrow this culture of fear and sacrifice. After her first encounter with the Ars Pherian Emperor and Princess, she knew her destiny had been revealed to her, a rightful purpose to save her people from the chains of their own beliefs.

  Queen Nammu entered the third level of the Ziggurat and stood before the stone altar. Set against the back wall of the chamber, the altar was shaped like the inside of an orb, its concave form curving inward. At its center, a single flame of fire flickered with hues of blue and orange, casting eerie shadows that danced across the stone. The flame was encircled by a slow, steady stream of water that wound along the edge of the altar, its surface catching the light and reflecting the flame’s colors in soft ripples. In front of the altar, a large stone bowl lay filled with small, smooth stones, their grey surfaces glistening faintly in the dim light. The dark stone of the altar seemed to reflect the room's quiet energy, its somber tones matching the stillness of the sacred space, its darkness in contrast with the warm sunny outdoors of the city Akkad.

  Queen Nammu quietly approached the altar; her movements deliberate and precise. With a sharp motion, she removed her mask, revealing the beauty beneath. Her dark-skinned, round face glowed softly in the flickering light of the flame, her pearly pink cheeks catching the fire’s glow. Her large, foxy brown eyes, framed by long, thick lashes, fixed on the altar with quiet frustration. Her curly black hair was braided tightly, cascading down to her hips. With another swift motion, she threw off the long cape that had hidden her slender waist and her graceful curves beneath.

  High Priestess Diorite, startled by the Queen's sudden defiance in front of the sacred altar, the very place where the spirits forbade the Sumer from showing their beauty, was momentarily speechless. Before she could gather her thoughts, Queen Nammu’s voice cut through the silence.

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  “Diorite! Do you know what I saw today?” she asked, her tone sharp with frustration.

  “I..I don’t know, Your Highness.” Diorite responded hesitantly, her voice shaky as she tried to maintain her composure.

  “You don’t know! Now silence!” Queen Nammu snapped, her command unwavering and absolute.

  The High Priestess lowered her head beneath her hood, instinctively stepping back as though she feared being caught up in what was about to unfold. Queen Nammu, her anger boiling over, took five round stones, each about the size of an egg, from the stone bowl. With a fierce motion, she hurled them one by one into the altar, the stones landing around the fire, some even rolling into the stream of water that wound its way around the altar.

  With her arms spread wide, the Queen stood tall, her voice rising in a powerful call. “Where are you, spirits? Where are you, Ghull? Move the stones if you are here!” Her words echoed through the chamber, charged with raw emotion, demanding a response.

  The High Priestess dropped to her knees, her hands trembling as she hastily pulled her hood over her head, seeking shelter from the Queen’s fury. She muttered frantic prayers, her wide eyes fixed on the stones, watching them closely. But none came. The silence hung thick in the air.

  Queen Nammu, her anger mounting, seized more stones from the bowl and threw them toward the altar. The stones collided with the back wall, some bouncing and tumbling across the floor. The fire flickered, the water rippled but nothing changed.

  The Queen stepped forward, her voice low, but filled with defiance. "Where are the spirits? Why did you curse us to hide our beauty while you gifted others with it? You thought we wouldn’t find the truth, didn’t you? But we found it. We found others!" She paused, the air growing thick with the weight of her words. "I challenge you, spirits! I am stronger than you!"

  Queen Nammu turned her back on the altar, her face hard with resolve. The stones remained still, unmoving, unyielding.

  “Do not fear High Priestess Diorite,” Queen Nammu said, her voice soothing and protective. “There is nothing to fear anymore. I saw with my own eyes today. The spirits are not to be feared. Together, we will bring about the revolution to break down the wall of fear for our people.”

  High Priestess Diorite looked at the Queen, her brow furrowed in confusion and unease. Her voice trembled slightly as she asked, “What did you see, my Queen?”

  I, the loyal Ghull of the Asaha, turned my head and closed my eyes when the Sumer Queen threw the rocks at the spirits in anger and desperation. She was entitled to be angry; she was entitled to rage. But it was not the Asaha she should rage against; she should look at herself in the mirrors that her people shattered long ago. She should see the rage and the destruction in her eyes, and in the eyes of her people.

  For that I have earned my wisdom from the most intense occasions, I chose not to interfere with the unpredictable emotions of a Sumer Queen. In her wise heart, which was filled with vengeance and fear, there also burned a great fire of love for life.

  Was she the chosen queen of the Asaha to end the suffering of her people? Could she sustain the long desired perfect survival of her people?

  Call it destiny.

  Call it inquiry.

  Or on the contrary, call it intentionally…

  The high priestess hurried after the Queen, her footsteps quick and breath shallow as they left the altar.

  "I saw others. Abducted from Earth, just like us. A civilization from Earth that came long after the Sumer," Queen Nammu said, her voice low but resolute. The high priestess, now hanging on every word, listened intently.

  "I saw an old Emperor," Queen Nammu continued. "His people were given a second chance to build a civilization, not on Earth, but in another world. The spirits helped them, gave them life, beauty, peace, and prosperity. But, they know nothing of the spirits, nothing of the Ghull. They fear no one, not even the spirits themselves. I didn’t see a flicker of fear in their eyes, while our hearts are still heavy with the burden of our history."

  The Priestess’s tortured face was covered in healed scars of deep cuts and burns all over. Only her eyes indicated of her old age and wisdom. She listened to Queen Nammu in silence.

  “My queen, our religion is our culture for centuries. It is the culture which keeps Sumer people in order and harmony. People are not ready for a change. People still fear the Spirits. They would rebel if they saw their queen with a naked face and a naked body,” she said.

  “It will take time Diorite, but I will see the day when our children will not be under covers anymore,” said the Queen and got on her vehicle with her maids. The copper plated vehicle accelerated and left the island of the Ziggurat.

  Priestess Diorite made her way back to the Ziggurat temple, her steps slow and heavy as she climbed the stairs to the third level. Her aged heart pounded from the mental and physical strain she had just endured. She entered the altar room and saw that the stones had been carefully placed back in their original positions. The room was empty, as it always was. The altar was reserved only for the high priestess and the royal family, no one else would dare enter.

  Her heart quickened as she took three stones from the bowl. Trembling, she threw them onto the altar. In a hushed, desperate voice, she whispered, "Ghull, are you back?"

  The stones moved together, signaling a resounding "yes."

  The priestess collapsed to the floor, her frail body shaking as she clutched her chest. "Spirits forgive..." she murmured with her final breath.

  It was never the intention of the Asaha to condemn the Sumer people to a state of loneliness under cover. The Asaha would not interfere with such cruelty of disproportionate balance. The path of their anger led the Sumer to the path of suffering. In suffering, they found a peaceful survival for centuries…