Chapter 7. Tears of Asure

Sitting on one of the numerous steps of the temple, I see spiral clouds welcoming an orange sunset. The cool evening breeze accompanying the daily goodbye caresses my skin, scatters my long, bone-straight hair, and erodes my nostrils with a mild whiff of dust.

The words of Meizza keep echoing in my heart. Tomorrow, your life begins or ends.

This might mean the end for me, for I have always lived with the fear that I might not be Neem. I do not have gray eyes, and the color of my skin is light brown, unlike the others.

Moreover, my colleagues sometimes tell stories of their time with their parents, the joys and glees. But I do not have such tales to tell, for I never had parents. According to Al-Ain, I was born in these Crypts. Yet, by whom? No one seems to know the answer.

“...So, Nineveh has fallen, huh?” A familiar voice seeps into my