I couldn't stop grinning. I felt awesome. Because I had something the other kids probably didn't have. Now I no longer needed to be upset with El-Rak—the son of a merchant who owned six caravans. He had a horse of good breed and liked to show it around town, even though most other kids only ever rode a camel. Nor should I envy Odurna —The son of the high priest of the Marduk temple — who had glass marbles that shine like stars during the day.

It started this morning.

My father was a scribe. In his spare time he worked for several merchants to keep track of the goods they sold. His regular job was as clerk for the king in the market, where he had to record the taxes paid by the citizens who delivered barrels of wine, bread and unground grain to the barn. Sometimes he also called to work at the magic tower.

As the son of a scribe, at first my life was not very fun. I mean, father asked me to sit all afternoon under a dying olive tree to spell and write. Father said I should be proud because I would inherit his profession. Also because not all Babylons could read and write cuneiform. Naturally, at first glance, when we saw it— it looked like stacked lines without meaning. But what was amazing about cuneiform was that by simply sliding a line or two and adding another shape—the meaning would be different.

I learned fast and father started letting me help out a bit with his work. Sometimes there were civilians who liked to ask for help to read the cuneiform script on the papyrus sheets they carried. There were also those who asked for help to record the amount of their property. Or someone just suspected that the merchants were cheating them and confirmed it with my father.

Father was busy so he asked me to serve them. In essence, I was tasked with completing trivial matters that were often not profitable. But he also advised that I should not be careless. Because their satisfaction could affect his reputation in the city of Babylon.

Each profession would be inherited by their son. Father was a scribe, so I would be a scribe. It was the same with the sons of priests and merchants. At first glance this profession seems boring. And that was kinda true. Our job was to read and write. Not enough money either. We would never be wealthy by doing this. However, this was better than being a breeder or farmer. I didn't have to expose my skin to the sun to help my parents work the fields. I also didn't have to sweat herding hundreds of sheep into meadows full of itchy plants.

Scribes usually sit in the shade with their heads lowered to read and write. Some skilled ones also could carve cuneiform script on stone or wood. Although we often leave it to the carpenters.

However, there was joy in our seemingly flat life. At the age of ten I was quite good at reading. Because of that I was able to read many papers that were kept in the temple library or in my father's room. Most were boring. But I also occasionally find interesting writing.

Like the stories of the gods, about the spirits of the Euphrates and Tigris rivers, and the heroic poems of the wanderers. I thought it would be fun if I could take my spear or sword and go to war for the king. Yes, of course I knew that if I died it wouldn't be fun anymore. I was also curious about the contents of the ocean. Was there a being like me living there? Also, did anyone live above the clouds? Sometimes when I lay down looking at the sky, the clouds had a strange shape. Like a giant cotton snake or a camel.

Not to forget about the Sorcerers too. They were the most awesome of all. They were wonders that walked upon the earth. They made amazing things with their magic power. Flying in the sky, walking on water, uprooting a large tree with their bare hands and releasing fire from their hands. Yes, I was not kidding. They really exist.

This novel is published on a different platform. Support the original author by finding the official source.

I had seen them walking together when I was around the tower. I got goosebumps on the back of my neck when I passed them. I was scared and amazed at the same time. Because I might accidentally bump into them and they end up cursing me. Sadly the Sorcerers weren't all good people.

Father always told me not to interact with the sorcerers. Or trying to stay out of touch with them. The point was I couldn't offend or fight with anyone. If that happened, that person could take revenge and pay a sorcerer to curse me. Then, if that happened, my father would be forced to ask another sorcerer for help to fight them. That would be the start of a vicious cycle as we would continue to depend on the sorcerers.

Although my father said so, in fact he also worked with them several times. Father had to accept the job offer. He was afraid to offend them. The sorcerers in the city of Babylon were probably more feared than the king's soldiers. They were indeed magical but most of them couldn't read cuneiform—Even though casting spells was one of their daily activities. That was where father came into play. He helped recite the spells in the magic books for them.

That said, if one had magical powers— casting spells could summon supernatural things. My father did it many times and nothing happened. But what about me? This sounds ridiculous, because I was just the son of a scribe. But it sounds cool if I could do sorcery.

Father forbade me to have contact with the sorcerers. But that doesn't mean I shouldn't find out about them elsewhere right?

Father kept a lot of interesting things in his room. Includes artifacts and magic books. He had to take his work home several times. Under my father's bed I found an old leather scroll drawn in a map-like pattern. I also found a sturdy wooden chest carved with a variety of beautiful stone beads inside. Father didn't lock it, I doubt he even remembers having them under his dusty bed. I found a ring there. It was black and oddly enough it never showed the same pattern every time I saw it. It was as if the shiny black stone contained a constantly moving mist.

I put it on and felt proud to see my own reflection in the water vessel next to the well. I didn't look like my father at all. My hair was slightly brown and my eyes were blue. I was also a little thin with the height about the same as a young olive tree. My father and mother were a little chubby. But they said all the children used to be skinny. When they grow up they would get chubbier. I had to remember not to eat bread dipped in honey too often. I didn't want to be fat because one day I might have to work in the tower like my father.

There were thousands of stairs to climb there. Father said he almost fainted as soon as he stepped on the fourth floor. Even though he mostly served on the eighth floor.

So, the ring I found had the inscription on the hook. That was cuneiform. I put it on my finger, and recited the words casually.

Kneel, O son of the Euphrates.

Set your majestic feet on the earth once again.

Show your soul which is as strong as the Taurus mountain.

O Lord of the sky.

Remember that I am your owner and submit to me!

All right, it was like a verse. I like to chant it. What were the people described in the poem like? Was it about the legends of warriors from the past?

I didn't have time to think about the answer because not long after, the ring shook so hard that my hands felt like they were spasming. Okay, this was scary. I forgot my father ever told me that in this world there were things that contain curses. Was this black ring one of them?

I thought it looked suspicious. I mean, it was black! Something black was definitely evil. Like bread that has been baked for too long until it was hard and blackened. It tastes very bitter. Not even honey could help.

I tried to let it go but couldn't.

I was in trouble.

I thought of running for someone's help, but father could have punished me if he knew. So how? But I thought being punished by my father was better than losing my finger. This thing might curse me worse. Turn me into a goat for example? I didn't want to eat grass all my life!

Then, thick smoke enveloped me. But I didn't feel suffocated against it. This was different from white smoke from burning pottery or wood. It strangely even felt cold. As if I was diving in the clouds. Not that I know how it felt, I was just assuming it. Then, the white smoke moved away from me a little and condensed. Now I saw a magical figure floating with a pair of beautiful and big yellow eyes.

It was hairy. I mean. It was like a fanged beast. It was a great wolf. A big, furry magical tiger.

"Master, what are your wishes?" It said to me in a slightly hoarse voice.