Darkness Falling

First Anthology

An Excerpt — First Five Journal Entries
6040 Words : Approx. 25 to 35 Minute Read

Darkness Falling is the first volume of journal entries of Gaspar the Magus, an inconspicuous astrological scrivener in the Parthian Empire. Starting with the murder of his master, Gaspar enters a time of chaos. He is unwillingly pushed into the forefront of political life inside the circle of the empire’s leadership. Armed with his predecessor’s previous work, his mission is to interpret the appearance of a significant heavenly sign and its implication for his nation’s future.

Overwhelmed, Gaspar must learn to navigate ruthless waters rife with anxiety about the end of recorded time as they know it. However, he is unaware that this is only the first of seven celestial signs that appear over the course of more than a year. Through diligent research, Gaspar deciphers the stars declare the birth of a great leader. Just as he reaches the height of his power and influence, the pendulum of good fortune swings against him. Gaspar must find a way to overcome the odds if he is to meet this great leader.

Prologue

For those with the eyes to see and the dedication to observe, a momentous epoch descended upon the world. Every two millennia, the procession of the equinoxes presents a new astrological season. Anxiety is rampant with the change rolling forward in the stars — some rational, some imaginary. Gaspar the Magus, an inconspicuous astrological scrivener in the Parthian Empire, enters the inner circle of the empire’s leadership and must navigate these chaotic waters.

Tensions surrounding the empire have been heating up, which are concentrated within the capital city of Ctesiphon. After thirty-four years of reign, threats to King Arsaces XXII’s rule have only become more significant and formidable. Not only must he keep his regional kings subservient, the King must contend with the external pressures from the Roman Empire pushing into Parthia in the northwest and the mighty force of the Han Empire in the east.

To remain vigilant, the Parthian King of kings has surrounded himself with the wisest men from his empire and beyond — the Magi order — known to be philosophers, astronomers, priests, judges, and interpreters of dreams and visions. Caught completely off guard, Gaspar is unwillingly pushed into the forefront of political life inside the palace as his window of favor to decipher the message written in the stars is closing.

Part One

Inconspicuous No More

First Anthology : Part One
Journal Entries 1 — 5 of 21 Total

E1: First Day after the New Moon of Gorpiseus
34th Year of Arsaces XXII’s Reign
(Roman Calendar: August 12, 3 BC)

My knife’s shimmering finish reflected my unkempt beard. Distracted and slicing into the anâr’s rind, I pierced many of the dense seeds. Ruby red juice trickled down my hands, proving that my paring technique was not effective.

Blast it all, I thought furiously. I hope this does not stain my hands. A more mannered Magus would not make such a mess of himself. My ritualistic cleanliness has become disgraceful. 

Looking for a cloth, I dabbed my hands but needed water. As assistant to the King’s Preferred Celestial Reader, I needed clean hands for transcribing his notes, detailing drawings, and delivering them in good order. 

Looking around my single-room chamber, I located my pitcher and washbasin on my wooden desk. Lifting the clay water pitcher, I looked out my single window as I tilted it side-to-side. I poured out what was left — just enough to clean my hands. I dried them and exited my chambers. Bringing the pitcher with me, I set it beside my door, for if a servant came while I was away, at least it would be refilled.

Typically, a few servants were up and about to deliver water that had been boiled in the kitchens for cleanliness. My sandals smacked against the stone floors as I walked down the hall. I knew that if I were higher up in rank, I would not need to chase down a servant for a simple pitcher of water.

If only I were not an assistant, but higher in status to have my assistant. Now, that would undoubtedly be a life-goal accomplished.

A shouting and clanging noise echoed down the hall, grabbing my attention. As I walked toward the noise, I could hear a shuffling of feet scurrying away. I turned the corner and saw an outfit of a dozen guards or so standing in front of my master’s chambers. Their Persian red robes and shining bronze armor made them glamorously menacing. 

My feet carried me forward with increasing speed even as I felt dazed. A guard with a stony, scarred face used his left forearm to block my chest in a half hug, then used his right hand against my back to push me against the wall. My ribs rammed against the sandstone surface, causing my lungs to heave out most of their air.

“I am one of Magus Payam’s assistants, Gaspar,” I gasped.

“Let him through,” came a voice from my left.

The one guard released me, and I lurched toward his office, attempting to regain my composure. A guard near my master’s chamber waved for me to come nearer. His ornate armor told me he was a captain of the guard; his beard had two faint gray streaks, one running down his right cheek and one down his left. A second guard flanked him and was rather youthful with a square face like a smooth block of chiseled stone. He was also tall and lean, making him look scrawny but capable.

“This is yours now, so complete your late master’s findings,” the captain of the guard said abruptly, handing me a scroll. 

“What happened here?” I asked. “Are we safe?”

The doors were left wide open, and I leaned to the side and caught a glimpse. There were several servants and half a dozen guards moving about the room. Besides Magus Payam’s chair laying on its side, everything was in pristine order, from stacked scrolls and parchments to star-reading and drawing utensils. Unlike mine, even his desk was still well organized, apart from a layer of liquid dripping from it. The guard shifted his weight to come between me and the open door.

“Magus Payam was murdered,” he said. “Unfortunately, we do not know who committed it.”

A female servant exited the chambers carrying crimson-soaked cloth towels. My mouth fell open, and fire emerged within me. I found myself anxiously tugging at my beard, so once I regained my focus, I ceased quickly.

“How could a murder take place within the palace?” I demanded to know. “Is this not the safest place within the empire?” 

“Apparently not.”

The captain of the guard’s face was severe with a touch of disbelief, too. The younger guard’s eyes pierced my spirit yet were not unkind. I opened my mouth to speak, but nothing emerged. The room spun, and I had the uncontrollable urge to leave and hide beneath my bed. A slight tremble traveled from my toes to my head. 

“Fulfill your duty,” the captain of the guard said gently, “and I will return to collect you soon, understand?”

My legs, though feeling felt thick and cumbersome, carried me away. I moved as quickly I could without showing panic, but my heart pounded so ferociously against my chest that I was not sure if I appeared calm. 

I did not remember returning to my chambers, but it seemed only moments later that I was at my desk, unfurling the scroll. Fearfully fixating on horrendous stories — Magus Payam was poisoned and hemorrhaged blood or perhaps had his throat slit in the right place to spray blood about — my mind murmured endless possibilities. Sadness befell me, but guilt quickly took over, for he was my elder and nothing more — someone who gave me orders.

Perhaps I would not call him a friend, but he did not deserve that fate with his years of service. And what will become of me?

As I pondered these gruesome thoughts, my breath grew short, and my chest tightened. The scroll possessed Magus Payam’s final notes for the stars’ latest message. As an assistant, this work was familiar to me, yet my hand shook. I did not have my master to verify for interpretations. The weight of sole responsibility for translating the heavenly bodies rested on my shoulders. 

To release my mind from its wandering, I drew my thumbs and forefinger from my forehead to the ends of my eyebrows. The pressure gave me some relief. I tilted my head as I reread what I was recording. 

What does the sky speak of? What is about to happen? Is there a great calamity about to befall us, or will it be a blessing if we act accordingly? 

“Come with me,” a voice commanded. 

It was the captain of the guard from earlier — I was not sure how much time it took me to notate and sketch the sky, but it felt as if only moments had gone by.

The guard’s face remained stoic, which was oddly comforting as I felt he could see my inner turmoil. I placed my report within my journal and followed him. Stomping down the steps and onto the main floor, we entered the main hall. I glanced at the House of Wisdom, a place that made me feel warm and safe, as we made our way to the King’s court.

My stomach turned, and I thought I would lose my bowels when we arrived at the court entrance. We passed sets of guards, their red robes as radiant as ever. Pairs of two stood on each side of the entranceways, their long spears glinting in the light of day. We passed through the antechamber, the open forum where people gathered to converse in a more quiet area. It was filled with large sandstone-colored pillars that resembled the budding tulips of Asia Minor, adding intimacy to the space. 

The royal courtroom itself was the largest space in the palace beside the dining hall. At the center were the King’s and Queen’s thrones with a table on each side. The court officials’ offices were tucked into the right and left sides of the court. 

I walked toward the Royal Recorder, but the captain of the guard grabbed my shoulder and stopped me. He shook his head and pointed to the offices that lined the outer wall.

“The Vuzorg Farmadar requests your presence,” he said. “And we are late.”

What does the Vice-Chancellor want with me?

We arrived at an office that lay toward the middle of the sidewall. Two guards stood tall at the closed entrance. They stopped us upon our arrival. One guard opened the wooden doors and went within. He returned after what seemed like a fair amount of minutes later, waving for us to enter.

With a slight clang from the doors closing, we walked through the reception room, where I just barely caught a glimpse of a servant leaving through a side door. A man with a rather broad chin and a stomach to match waved his hand. The captain of the guard held out his hand, so I handed him my report. He delivered it to the Vuzorg Farmadar, who leaned forward on his ornately carved wooden chair and studied me at first.

“So you are next, then?” Vuzorg Farmadar asked rhetorically.

“N-next for what?” I stammered slightly.

He looked up from my report and squinted his right eye, inspecting me. My mind was a chariot’s wheel spinning madly at the possibilities. I wanted to gasp for air but needed to maintain my composure.

“The next celestial reader…?” he clarified.

“Oh, yes, of course!”

“What do you think this means?”

“I… my conjecture. But in all my years, I have not come across heavenly body groupings as significant as these neither through personal experience nor my studies.”

Keep breathing, Gaspar. Through the nose as if meditating. I cannot allow him to see the pressure weighing on me as it is.

“May I inquire as to the status of my predecessor’s murder?” I asked.

“You may,” the Vuzorg Farmadar said. “The Chiliarch has his top men in pursuit of the truth, but we do not know who ended his life or why.”

“Does that mean…” I started, my stomach tying itself into knots and stopping me momentarily. “You do not suspect me at having a hand in my master’s death?”

“Should we?”

“No, of course not.”

“Then do not give me a reason to arrest you. Everyone whom we suspect is in custody for questioning. Lucky for you, you do not go anywhere, haha!”

“Pardon me?”

“You stay in your chambers and rarely leave according to several servants who bring your food.”

I swallowed hard, and my stomach did not feel as agitated. The corners of my mouth pulled back in an uneasy expression. The Vuzorg Farmadar leaned his forearms onto the tops of his legs, his stomach barely fitting between his legs. He gave me a telling smile and tilted his chin up proudly, continuing what he had to say.

“This is why you have come to me because the murder of your master is yet to be solved,” he said. “All correspondences must go through me first, understand?”

“Yes, Vuzorg Farmadar,” I acknowledged.

“Do not seek out any of your master’s acquaintances or colleagues, even if they are Magi until we determine who his killer is.”

“I understand, but why me? I know I was not my master’s only assistant.”

“Not only are you traditionally learned in these ways and have experience, but as I said before, you are a recluse.”

“A recluse?”

“Precisely! There are too many unknowns with the other assistants. Your predecessor clearly knew something, and talking to the wrong people will get you killed.”

I squeezed my hands together, tightly intertwining my fingers. I shifted my weight into my right foot and then my left, trying to disperse my remaining anxious energy.

So this is how others see me? A recluse. How did I go from a simple assistant to Celestial Reader who might possibly be murdered for his work? Do I really want a higher status?…

“I see your bravery is being tested,” the Vuzorg Farmadar commented. “My advice? Practice not placing your emotions on display, and you hold power.”

“I appreciate your wise words,” I said.

“With Rome breathing down our necks, the King is eager for actionable information that would give us an advantage. I do not believe I am required to explain the gravity of the situation further?”

“Of course — if the heavens speak of a grand event here on earth, I will discover what exactly that is and its impact on our nation.”

“Do as you are told, remain steadfast, and you will do well.”

The Vuzorg Farmadar dismissed me, and I returned to my chamber, tugging on my beard along the way. My quill scribbled furiously across my journal’s inner parchment surface as I denoted all that had transpired. The Vuzorg Farmadar wanted a report of my interpretations, not my late master’s. All the work before me was evidence that there would be no returning to the safe duties of an assistant anymore.

E2: Second Day after the New Moon of Gorpiseus
34th Year of Arsaces XXII’s Reign
(Roman Calendar: August 13, 3 BC)

The stars and planets pulsated like fireflies in the night sky. The rooftop, accessible through my window, provided the perfect view for my work. The flat, cream-white emplastron made the surface smooth for sitting, though still severely dense. With the terraced layers of the roof, I even had a place to rest my back. Once I added a cotton-stuffed cushion or two, it was my favorite space.

Sher, the Lion grouping of heavenly bodies, shone brightly. I simply called it “the Lion” at times, which reminded me of the time my father shared the sky’s stories. They represented Humbaba, a great beast-like guardian of the cedar forest. The largest celestial object near this grouping was Ohrmazd-i Ab; the Romans called it “Jupiter” for their god. My father recounted the Persian tale that Jupiter represented Gilgamesh, a hero from old-world Sumeria. 

Gilgamesh set an intention with his friend, Enkidu, to journey into the Cedar Forest. So they sought out its guardian, Humbaba, and challenged him in a fight. They believed that if they killed him, they would gain everlasting renown.

And I am retelling their story now, so I suppose they were successful? I wondered. Or were they exceptionally crafty storytellers themselves? Father would know.

***

The night sky was alive with the moon’s glow.

“This is how the Magi learned these stories, you know,” Melchior told me in my youth.

We stood at a corner bulwark as it was the tallest accessible space at the time. That was before I had torn down the wooden stockade over my chamber’s window. Melchior stood so tall back when I was in my early schooling.

“They pass along their tales of wisdom and knowledge to their apprentices,” he said. 

“And the apprentices continue the cycle?” I asked. 

“Correct. Now, do you see that shape there?”

He bent his knees, placing his left hand at the top of his thigh, and traced his finger in the sky.

“Yes, what is it?” I asked.

“I do not believe I have told you of the story of Gilgamesh and Humbaba yet, have I?”

***

It was only in my adulthood that I learned how the last generation of Magi had wasted their time by pacifying King Arsaces. His yearning for information that would give him an advantage knew no bounds. The murder of the Preferred Celestial Reader robbed the King of vital information. 

When the sky speaks, the wise listen, I contemplated. Or, that is how it should be, at least.

The King listened to Magus Payam in the past, enough that he needed us assistants. It would not take long for the King to grow eager for celestial messages. My primary issue was starting with the intent — tidings were always positive and negative. Who received which of those was the better question.

Tired of running scenarios through my head, I closed my journal. Needing a respite, I stood and walked north and then eastwards along the roof’s edge. Our capital city of Ctesiphon was in perfect view from here, which offered lovely scenery. It was still small compared to Babylon or Persepolis in their prime, but it amazed me each time how many buildings have been constructed over the last few generations since it became our capital.

My body began to ache as I returned to my chambers on the western side of the palace. There were only a few hours until sunrise, but I saw the Lion rise over the horizon. I opened my journal to notate these movements as it confirmed Magus Payam’s findings. It had been worth staying awake until daybreak, though it tired me considerably. I was used to collecting research while my master stayed awake to observe the heavens. 

The planet Anahid-i Ab, known as the “Chief of the South,” shone in all its glory. It sat below The Greatest of all Gods, Ohrmazd-i Ab, within the Lion grouping. The hind legs were just below the horizon. The surrounding stars all hovered above but were in line with the heart of the Lion, Venant, which was at the forefront. 

My heart brightened and quickened like a running stallion, forcing my hand to shake as I wrote. I stayed awake through the night and into the early morning to capture the most accurate depiction.

It is on the horizon, so it is an ushering of the new. But whose star is rising? I cannot complete a report of this magnitude in a few weeks’ time, but I must attempt it.

The House of Wisdom would be the best place to start for assistance. It was an excellent idea as my father, known by many as “Magus Melchior the Eldest,” was its overseer. And I would need all the help I could locate if I were to keep my new position.

Perhaps this entry and those that follow would be worthy enough to be placed on a shelf in the royal House of Wisdom?

That thought sat well with me but was quickly followed by the idea that perhaps none of my writings would be worthy enough to be stored anywhere. I banished those thoughts and commanded myself to retire for the night before my mind ran rampant. To ease my mind to achieve rest, I recounted the Zarathustrian mantra:

Humata, Huxta, Huvarshta — Good Thoughts. Good Words. Good Deeds.

I blew out my candles and repeated the phrase in my mind as I closed my eyes.

E3: Third Day after the New Moon of Gorpiseus
34th Year of Arsaces XXII’s Reign
(Roman Calendar: August 14, 3 BC)

Perspiration covered my body when I opened my eyes in the late morning. I grabbed my journal to recount the peculiar dream I had while it remained fresh in my mind. 

I remembered performing work within my chamber, and I dropped my quill underneath my wooden clothing chest. When I moved the chest to the side, I found a small door. I remember feeling confused as there had never been something there before. Opening the door, I crawled on my hands and knees through this hidden passageway. When I came to the other side, there was a surprisingly large and wonderful room. As I stood, elation overcame me because it was as if it was my own private House of Wisdom. When I went to grab a scroll, I awoke.

A knock came, so I went to my door and slid the small, wooden slat aside, clasped the metal ring, and swung it open. It was a servant who handed me a small, rolled-up piece of parchment. It requested my report for the Royal Recorder, which I knew was really for the Vuzorg Farmadar. It also noted the expectation that I would be presenting a full report on the heavens’ movements a month from now. It seemed the Parthian nobility were eager for actionable information, and I was the unfortunate soul who had entered a bee nest.

I rolled up the piece of parchment with my notes, tied a piece of twine around it, and handed it to him. Word arrived later that Magus Melchior the Eldest was available to see me in the House of Wisdom on the morrow. I was grateful that I would be receiving his advice as I grew anxious about not only interpreting the message of the stars, but had to present it to court. With my new role and not knowing how to please the King, rest eluded me. 

E4: Fourth Day after the New Moon of Gorpiseus
34th Year of Arsaces XXII’s Reign
(Roman Calendar: August 15, 3BC)  

Washing a piece of noon-e tâftoon bread down with cool well water made my first meal of the day refreshing. It sharpened my mind and lessened my anxiety about what life had brought me. I reminded myself that Melchoir supported me, and the Vuzorg Farmadar knew I was not an experienced master. Yet, that did not make up for the immense pressure that laid on me. 

There was a small amount of dates and walnuts on an undecorated, metal tray that I stared at for several moments. I tore the bread with my hands and placed the walnuts and dates within. I was too energetic about going to the royal House of Wisdom to stay and eat in my chamber. So I took my bread with me in my left hand and clutched onto my journal with my right arm, taking bites along the way.

Ever since Daena led the previous head scholar of the House of Wisdom to the Chinavat Bridge, I had not seen Magus Melchior for some time. I already knew before I arrived that I would hear of his disapproval when I greeted him as I had not been for some time. I suppose I was maintaining my reputation well. 

I made my way down a great many steps to the ground floor of the palace. The ceilings were twice as high as the second story’s and were undoubtedly cooler than the upstairs. The great stone hall was filled with meandering scholars, soldiers, and servants. The steady chatter echoed throughout as if it were a bazaar, which was why I preferred the quiet of my chamber. 

The House of Wisdom lay opposite the palace to my chambers, so I kept steady to avoid being idle. I passed through the center of the palace, where two staircases led up to the second story, where the King’s chamber lay. Opposite the stairs sat an archway leading to the outside courtyards, which offered excellent lighting for the area. After a few more minutes, I reached the House of Wisdom just as I finished chewing the last mouthful of my morning bread. It was directly across from the royal courtroom, and seeing it caused my nerves to flare, reminding me of my daunting report.

A guard stood watch at the entrance of the House of Wisdom, his hand on the hilt of his acinaces sword. I nodded to him while going through the entranceway and almost collided with a female servant exiting. She halted and bowed. The smell of the kitchens wafted into my nostrils, yet her arms were full of scrolls and lovely leather-bound parchment journals similar to mine but smaller. I wondered why she would be handling such documents and not a scribe but brushed those thoughts away. I gave a short nod back as I passed her and looked around the House of Wisdom for Magus Melchior.

There was an empty wooden table and set of chairs off in a corner, so I decided to sit and wait. I opened my journal and removed my reed pen and ink bottle, both tied down by old twine, to write notes while I waited. Scribes bustled about the wooden shelves, taking out or putting scrolls away in their ex-shaped slots. Distracted, I pressed too forcefully and chipped off my pen’s point. I set it down and grabbed another.

Magus Melchior walked up the central aisle toward me, speaking to a servant. He handed the servant a scroll and told him to take it to the Head Tax Collector, then smiled once he saw me.

“Salaam, Magus Melchior the Eldest,” I said and kissed his cheek. He placed his hands on my arms and chuckled.

My father’s kind face bore the creases of experience. His long gray hair curled itself a little as they had always tended to do. The glimmer in his eyes reminded me as always of my sister’s. A mixture of sadness and fondness struck my heart as I flashed a forced smile.

“There is no need for such formalities with your father,” Melchior said. 

Formalities were everything at the capital, but I knew it best not to fight him on it. We sat down, and Melchior stroked his heavily graying beard, his eyes conveying curiosity.

“Thank you for coming, but I assume you are not here for mild conversation,” Melchior continued. 

“Yes — it seems I am more skilled than I once thought as I received an unexpected advance in position. And now, I require your wisdom now that I have become the King’s Celestial Reader.” 

“I heard the good news. I also heard the bad news of Magus Payam — what transpired?” 

“Tidings are shared quickly at the palace, I suppose. As for my predecessor, I am not sure.”

I told him everything that had transpired and my current situation.

“Hmm, reporting to the Vice-Chancellor… how interesting,” Melchior commented. “Let us avoid the road that leads to politics and focus on the matters of the stars.”

“Yes, that is how I prefer it,” I agreed. 

“The King will want to know what this message in the stars means for his kingdom, especially since someone lost their life over it.”

“This is true — it is a high priority.”

“Remember that the foundation of interpreting the stars is eliminating possibilities by defining your knowns and determining your unknowns through research and inquiry.”

“I will develop a plan based on those foundational principles, but I know it sounds simpler than it will be.”

Melchior crossed his leg and settled back into the chair more fully. I rested onto my forearms, eager to hear his advice.

“I do not want to repeat any mistakes of my master,” I added.

“Remember this well, my son,” Melchior said, placing a hand on my shoulder. “History does not repeat itself, but it rhymes.”

“Are you saying my fate shall be that of my predecessor?”

“No, no. When you research the unknowns, you may see patterns of life is what I mean.”

“I think I understand.”

I pushed my journal toward him and pointed to the page. His eyes lit up, and he leaned forward. 

“This was last night?” he asked. “This is a once in a 500-year occurrence.”

“Good,” I responded. “I thought so, too, but wanted to hear your initial reaction.”

“Seeing this conjunction must have been a magnificent sight! I must view this tonight for myself.” 

“Yes, but it all falls on me to decipher what this message means for the kingdom, and I must deliver it before the King…”

“Start with the known. We are privileged to be alive during a turning of an astrological age — we are on the cusp of the Mahik Age, or ‘Age of the Fish,’ and in the last years of the Age of the Ram.”

“Ah, yes, the procession of the equinoxes. Each age brings a change in culture, community, kingdoms, and power.”

He leaned in closer to me, placing his right hand on my shoulder, and pointed with his left hand as if we were visualizing a board of stratagem for interpreting the heavens.

“Correct,” he said. “So start with this wide view and then narrow your search, but do not lose sight of the larger picture.”

“What do you mean?” I clarified.

“I have a feeling that this goes beyond our kingdom and will have an impact on the world. Do you remember the comet from nearly ten years ago?” 

“That was when I was still an apprentice — how could I forget? It was such a lengthy topic, and I remember that the comet passes every seventy-five years.”

“Yes, that is the one! And do you remember the events that transpired that year?”

“Three major empires lost their leaders: King Azes II, King Mithridates III, and Augustus’ friend and general, Marcus Vipsanius Agrippa.”

“Very good memory! So there is a correlation between these world events and the heavens.”

“And perhaps the world event is in a distant land we have no contact with.”

“As I recall, there was also the spectacular nova and supernova two years ago, and I do not remember any significant tidings. I started my new position in the House of Wisdom by that time, so I am at a loss of what has transpired since.”

Melchior stood, stretching from side to side lightly. I mirrored his movements, arching my back and making several small pops. I sighed with relief.

“I heard a new Emperor of the Han Dynasty was born,” I said.

“Ah yes, I remember hearing that,” Melchior responded. “It is never a waste of time to be a student of history, my son.”

“I suppose I will have to forgo sleep for some time if I am to be a student of this time.”

“Make time for rest as a weary body and mind will slow your progress.”

“I will mind your words — I think I shall be seeing you more often, Father.”  

“You know where to find me, after all, and I will pray protection over you.”

“With such responsibility to the King and nation, perhaps I should take up prayer more seriously. Your presence and support have brought me comfort, so I thank you.”

I collected my belongings together and picked them up, then set them right back down as another thought intruded my mind.

“I do have another question that came to mind as you were speaking, though,” I said. “If I am to go before the King, it will be my first time…”

“During my time with the King’s father, and briefly with Arsaces XXII, bowing as low as possible is a best practice,” he contemplated. “But, you are not a servant, so do not lay upon the floor.” 

“A bow equivalent to my station? That makes sense.”

“If you feel the King is displeased, it is best you drop to one knee and only speak when spoken to.”

“Please, continue. This is incredibly valuable.”

“You will need to learn to sense the room — what news is announced prior to your report, the frame of mind of the other advisors, and the mood of the King.”

This gave me much to reflect on, so I thanked him with a short bow. His head tilted to the side; he shook it, then embraced me jovially. My eyes darted toward the ceiling in annoyance. There was a time and place for such things, but publicly while performing my duty was not it. He released me and looked at me. His brows softened, eyes squinted slightly, and his head nodded. I could tell that he was conveying that all would be well.

The sun bounced off the walls, which highlighted the dust that floated around the shelves. I felt a sense of calm come over me. I inhaled and exhaled, then smiled at him. The scrolls reminded me of my recent, vivid dream. I asked if Melchior could help me decipher it, and he said he would.

“Has it been keeping you company since I suggested you keep your thoughts?” Melchior asked, pointing to my journal. 

“It has,” I responded. He tucked his chin and looked off to the side, suppressing a smile. “Father, the dream?”

“Oh, yes. It could be one of two things: your inner self or Ahura Mazda.”

“I do not know if I believe that to be the case.”

“From my research, it is — your spirit is powerful and can speak to you, or Ahura Mazda could be revealing something to you.”

“And what sort of evidence do you have for such claims?”

“Gaspar — we think too much, speak too much — the only time we are entirely listening is when we are asleep, which is why the Creator sometimes speaks to us that way.” 

“Very well. If this were to be true, how do I know the dream is mine or the Creator’s?”

“You are facing a significant challenge in life. Perhaps ask questions during your dream if you find that you are in a vision-like state. More specifically, this room in your dream may even represent yourself.”

The same servant from earlier returned, telling Melchior that the Head Tax Collector would return the estimates in eight days. Melchior seemed pleased as he told the servant to store away a new stack of parchments. He turned around and reminded me of the astrological age of the Fish and how it symbolized rebirth, transformation, and intelligence. I tugged at my beard, its deep brown crimped locks a contrast to Melchior’s.

“If the stars speak to me as clearly as my dreams, I will not be alive long enough to explore my dreams,” I said.

“Be patient,” Melchior reassured. “The stars always speak their truth, even if they are challengingly obscured at first.”

“The Vuzorg Farmadar said I could not work with Magus Payam’s peers, so I have little support, it seems.”

“I will look through records on the stars to see if the House of Wisdom possesses any helpful scrolls or tablets from the scholars. In the meantime, lean on your teachings.”

Thanking Melchior for the counsel, I tied my ink bottle into my journal’s covering and collected my cracked reed pen. 

“Do they break often?” Melchior asked, pointing to it.

“Sadly, they do,” I responded.

“I may have a gift that will help you. That is, as long as I find it. If we do not see each other sooner, let us plan to meet in a week’s time at the temple before the sun retreats behind the horizon.”

Feeling calmed since I first arrived, I embraced my father quickly and bid him farewell before returning to my chambers. 

E5: Fifth Day after the New Moon of Gorpiseus
34th Year of Arsaces XXII’s Reign
(Roman Calendar: August 16, 3BC)

Melchior told me to lean on my teachings, so I dug to the bottom of my chest that held items from my apprenticeship as a Magus. I flipped through stacks of parchment, skimming over basic information from my youth through my young adult years. I rarely seemed to have written about personal occurrences, save for one about my father. 

It was when he told me the paths of a Magus were many. He said that when he had studied celestial topics and others, his diligence in record-keeping led to a position in the royal House of Wisdom. He oversaw the section on the heavens, accruing knowledge from every area of the House of Wisdom. He earned expertise in documenting wisdom. 

I knew that wherever my expertise lied was where I would go within the order. As I grew, I never fell out of love with the stories of the stars. So I continued that path and had not regretted the decision, even now when I was under such stress.

I am glad I write about what transpires in my life now, I contemplated. It usually helps to put me at ease after I do.

The next stack of parchment was from my late youth, which had more in-depth notes. As I scoured, a phrase caught my eye: “Akkad the Great, commissioner of Namar-Beli tablets.”

Of course, you fool. Why did I not consider returning to the foundation of all we know? 

The Namar-Beli was every celestial reader’s first source of information. My notes from when I read it referenced how the tablets claimed the stars speak of events happening in the world, from the regular occurrences within nature to those of great significance. I listed floods, ruptures in the earth, and drought. They were accounts of what the message in the sky said at such instances and their connection.

Great acts of nature, the affairs of kingdoms, and the spiritual realm. There are so many occurrences that are considered significant, so how do I first determine what the event will even be?