The solar reckoning, year 775, fifteenth day after the passing of King al Haddad.
A squall of questions raged within me, as though seeking an exit from an unending tunnel of thorns. When I resolved to leave the capital in secret for the Temple of Aww am, I felt my steps tremble despite the certainty of my quest. The palace lay under a vaulted hush now that my father was gone, and I left behind Counsellor Khazabla to govern the ceaseless intrigues that prowl the corridors of power. I needed him in the capital lest Sheba slip into a fresh void; I could not bring him with me. He may be my loyal shadow, yet behind his clever smile coil labyrinthine calculations I cannot forgo just now.
I departed with only five of my personal guard, sworn to me at my coronation days ago when my father fell so suddenly. First among them strode Shames of the Ray, captain of the Sun Guard, a man of imposing mien famed for composure and for shielding the throne in its darkest hours. Beside him walked Zuhayr the Luminous, kind visaged yet sharp eyed; Liyan the Golden, famed for the swiftness with which he wields twin blades; Zuhayb Shield of Heaven, the bulwark upon whom all rely when peril looms; and finally, Naran the Flame Bearer, youngest and most ardent, whose eyes burn with a readiness to shatter impossibility if need be. I wished to rouse no notice only to melt into night, perceived only by those who can read gloom itself. The muffled stamping of our horses seemed a farewell to the walls of Sun Shield City. Could those walls have divined that their queen was stealing away upon a mission verging on legend? Perhaps. I did not look back.
We expected a harsh desert track; what met us surpassed imagining. We carried only what might keep us alive little water, scant food trusting the sun's own light to guide us to Aww am, that temple said to admit only "the Chosen," else the traveler dissolves into mirage amid endless sand.
We rode for days and nights that seemed an Aeon. Day's sun scorched like living coals a reminder that we are her children and shall burn if unworthy of her nearness. When night fell, the world flipped to a cold so bitter it froze breath; our torches waned, staggering like drunkards among graves of dark. Each sandstorm clenched us in its teeth, and we recalled tales of wanderers who sought Aww am and vanished without trace.
Many times, regret's spectra assailed me. I had left Khazabla and the capital to chase a secret I knew not where to find. Yet I summoned my father's final counsel: "Daughter, in you lies a mystery yet unseen; if you would free Sheba from the thorn of doubt, seek an inheritance older than the throne itself." I believed that legacy waited at Aww am.
We soon lost count of the days. We lost the path, failed to read the stars they seemed to deny us or toy with us. Sand devoured us and we neared death. My five guards looked at me in silence asking, how long? Is there truly a temple or only phantoms?
One night, water nearly spent and breath ragged, I prayed within: If my father's sun still courses my blood, lift from me this silent death. I am the Sun's daughter where is my sun? Then a strange breeze rose, bearing a scent not of this world. A tremor passed through me and I glimpsed afar a shape like a colossal gate rising to the heavens.
We drew near; minds gnawed by doubt. Was this another illusion? The gate loomed a wall carved with cryptic symbols: human forms locked in ancient battle, circles radiating like exploding suns. The sight was so vast my guards collapsed one by one, felled by the place's dread majesty.
Gate of Heaven so I named it when first I saw it. Truly it was a portal rivaling the stars for splendor. I touched a carving at its heart: the Great Solar Emblem, same sigil adorning the capital's walls. My breath caught; I felt overwhelmed, as though standing before a divine homeland. Amid my tumult the guards succumbed to overpowering swoon, leaving me alone before a mysterious wind whispering at my ear: Enter, Daughter of the Sun.
I pressed the gate with my fingers; it swung with unexpected ease, opening upon a darkness deeper than desert night. Yet a single mote of light danced about me, a small sun flitting like an enigmatic lamp. Heartened, I stepped into the dread hall, leaving my unconscious guards behind safe, I hoped, beyond that threshold, or perhaps I alone would now be lost in another realm.
With my first steps inside, a rending sense of dislocation seized me as though time and place had been severed and I stood in a colossal court outranking any royal hall I had known. No wind, no desert, only a silence that frightened the heart. The surrounding walls were covered in epic reliefs of wars unlike any in our recent history: armies in unfamiliar armor, kings and queens in helms marked with strange glyphs, raging monstrous beasts.
I neared one immense mural: a massacre severed limbs, blood sluicing as rivers. A shudder ran through me; I stared at dread details that repelled the soul. It seemed this carving spoke of an age deep before our solar calendry, when nations slew without fearing divine curses. I could not tear my eyes away until a voice behind me spoke my name.
She regarded me with eyes that mingled caution and the desire to probe whatever deep secret I carried. I answered in a whisper thin as breath:
"Queen, I have come to complete what al Haddad began, and to heed sorrows your palace serpents cannot show you sorrows written instead in starlight and hidden in the fold of sand."
Khazabla stepped once more, head bowed in reverence.
"My lady," he said, "since the king departed I have hunted every thread by night and day; my search led only to the first master, Nimran, who taught your father the meaning of sovereignty beneath the desert sun."
I felt his profound esteem, the look of a pupil still clutching one word of his teacher to steer his mind.
I unfolded the vision set before me.
"Daughter of al Haddad, to reign over Sheba and shepherd its scattered tribes one must strike roots in ancestral earth you bear those roots in your blood. Yet you also need a vessel that feeds your rule from heaven's own arteries, from the sacred gods who have favored king after king in the cause of unity. The distant Temple of Aww am holds that ancient secret; there blessing is won and right acknowledged, there you may cast anchor so that storms of intrigue cannot unseat you."
Balqis seemed to recall a childhood legend of that temple lost in solemn hush tablets claim whoever enters with a pure heart receives the gods' favor, but only a will of adamant dares its gate. Her eyes searched my face; then, with majestic calm, she stepped down. Reaching me, she laid her hand upon the rim of my cloak scented of remote sands.
"If you would guide my sun to blaze higher," she said, "I will go. I need a light to drive off tempests and steady my steps upon the path of rule."
Khazabla signaled the guards aside, awe and fervor entwined in his voice.
"The Temple of Aww am there lies true consecration. May you return armed against the sheikhs' guile."
I tapped his shoulder.
"Walk beside your sovereign; lead her where the temple calls. Let the spirits above Sheba witness her new birth beneath an unfading sun."
I withdrew into silence and stars, content to have sown a seed awaiting bloom when Balqis stands upon the gods' threshold.
She looked at me with a stare braided of wariness and the urge to fathom my secret depths. I spoke, my voice dwindling almost to silence.
"Daughter of al Haddad within you flows more than royal blood. I am Iftar, first priestess and guardian of this temple since before the sun in your reckoning was born."
A tremor seized me; words stalled upon my tongue. At last, I forced courage into my throat.
"I am Balqis, Queen of Sheba… daughter of al Haddad, who… is dead these few days."
Her eyes held no surprise.
"I know. Death is an old companion here. Threads bind souls to their hour though ages differ. You are an echo of that royal blood and of something else long forgotten."
"I come," I said, "seeking a strength to restore my throne and break the thorn of those who doubt me for being a woman. The high priest of my capital declares a woman's rule cannot stand."
She nodded slowly; stern awe sculpted her face.
"You all bear sleeping legacies, yet you are truly a daughter of the sun. Here the veil is lifted."
My breath raced; my ribs seemed to crack under the hammering of my heart. Her eyes embers and ice pierced me.
"You are here," she said, "because the blood of the Sun folk runs in you, power and curse entwined. Tell me, Balqis are you ready for the Greater Trial of the Sun? It may melt the mind, shatter the soul before the flesh."