The Codex of Tyre
She gripped the edge of the console, her knuckles white against the polished bronze surface. The air in the chamber was thick with the scent of incense and the hum of ancient machinery. Tzipporah of Tyre, her black and gold robe billowing around her, stared into the shimmering pool of mercury at the center of the room. The liquid rippled unnaturally, as if alive, and her reflection twisted into something unrecognizable. "It’s happening again," she whispered, her voice barely audible over the low drone of the temple’s energy core.
Her heart pounded as the visions began to flood her mind—fragments of a future she could not fully comprehend. Towering cities of glass and light stretched into the heavens, their spires piercing the clouds. Machines that moved without the touch of human hands, their surfaces gleaming with an otherworldly sheen. And then, the darkness. A void that swallowed all, devouring stars and civilizations alike. Tzipporah staggered back, her breath coming in short, frantic gasps. She had seen this before, in flashes and whispers, but never so vividly. Never so clearly.
"Tzipporah!" a voice called from the entrance of the chamber. She turned to see Na’aman, her closest confidant and the only person she trusted with these secrets. He was dressed in the same black and gold robes, though his were more practical—shorter, with reinforced leather at the shoulders. His dark eyes were wide with concern as he approached. "The priests are gathering. They suspect something."
"They suspect everything," she replied, her voice steadier now. "But they don’t know the half of it."
Na’aman glanced at the mercury pool, his expression wary. "What did you see this time?"
"The end," she said simply. "Or the beginning. I’m not sure which." She straightened, her mind racing. The visions were growing stronger, more frequent. Whatever lay ahead, it was coming fast. "We need to find the Codex. It’s our only hope of understanding what’s to come."
"The Codex of Tyre?" Na’aman frowned. "Even the High Priest doesn’t know its location. It’s been lost for centuries."
"Not lost," Tzipporah corrected. "Hidden. And I think I know where." Her gaze drifted to the carved stone walls of the chamber, adorned with intricate hieroglyphs that told the history of their people. Among them was a symbol—a spiral enclosed in a circle—that had appeared in her visions time and time again. "The Temple of the Ancients," she said, her voice barely above a whisper. "It’s there."
Na’aman’s eyes widened. "That’s forbidden territory. Even for you."
Tzipporah turned to him, her expression resolute. "Then I’ll go alone. If the priests discover what I’m doing, they’ll stop me. They’ll try to hide the truth."
"The truth?" Na’aman stepped closer, lowering his voice. "What truth?"
"That we’re not the first," she said, her voice trembling with a mix of awe and fear. "There were others before us. A civilization so advanced, so powerful, that they built machines that could think for themselves. They created cities that reached the stars. And then... they vanished. I don’t know how or why, but their legacy is still here. And if we don’t find it, we’ll repeat their mistakes."
Na’aman stared at her, his face pale. "You’re talking about the Gods of Old."
"No," she corrected. "I’m talking about us. What we could become. What we will become, unless we uncover the secrets they left behind."
For a long moment, Na’aman was silent. Then he nodded, his jaw set. "I’m coming with you."
Tzipporah didn’t argue. She turned back to the mercury pool, her reflection once again calm and steady. "We leave tonight," she said. "Prepare everything we’ll need. Weapons, supplies, anything that might help us survive the journey."
"And if we’re caught?" Na’aman asked.
"Then we’ll die," she replied, her voice cold. "But at least we’ll die knowing we tried to stop what’s coming."
As Na’aman left the chamber, Tzipporah reached into the folds of her robe and pulled out a small, metallic object she had found years ago beneath the ruins of an ancient temple. It was smooth and featureless, save for a single symbol etched into its surface—the same spiral and circle that marked the Temple of the Ancients. She had always suspected it was a key of some kind, though to what, she didn’t know. Now, she was certain.
The future was coming, and she was the only one who could shape it. Whether that meant salvation or destruction, she would see it through to the end.
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