"Be a man, Heber. Fear the Lord all your days. And He will grant you wisdom to discern the path."
Heber took the stones and fastened them to the leather belt he carried at his side.
Then Salah took a fresh torch, dipped it in pure oil, and kindled it in the coals of the copper basin. He placed it in the hands of the heir and said:
"When you depart from Akkad toward the south, not far from here you will find the cave of Machpelah. Go there, and do not return for many days. And it shall come to pass thus: before this torch is extinguished, you shall light another, and then another, and so on. For as long as the flame of God remains lit, the lineage of Shem shall not lack descendants—and the Lord shall not be without witnesses upon the earth."
He paused briefly, then continued in a lower voice:
"And as for the lambskin you carry… when you are far away and your heart is at peace, remember all the stories I have told you since your childhood. If you do so, you will understand what is still hidden from you, and you will know what this fleece is for."
He concluded and embraced him once more. He kissed his eyes, as one gathering tears before they fall.
"Now go. And may the blessing of Noah be upon you."
As they left the tent, they saw the sacrifice still consumed by the flames of the altar.
Before them, women were gathered—armed with bows, spears, shields, and swords. A deep sound of a ram's horn filled the city, prolonged and mournful, like an unending lament.
Salah immediately understood. That force was led by his own wife.
He approached and asked:
"What does this mean?"
She bowed her head in respect and replied:
"We too are daughters of Adam. We shall fight for our people and for our land."
The city was in turmoil.
Men, women, elders, and children moved in ordered chaos—some gathered weapons, others hid grain, wine, and oil in sealed cisterns beneath earth and straw. Akkad was preparing for the impossible.
Salah turned to his wife with firmness:
"Withdraw with your children to the chambers. In war, there is no safety for women, and you will become easy targets and burdens to your husbands."
She answered without retreat:
"Allow us to fight. If we fall, let it be in defense of the honor of our ancestors, and not in hiding."
Salah did not yield.
"Do you know what it is to run a man through with a sword? Do not stain your hands with the horror of war. Who will protect your children if you fall in battle? Remain with the little ones and the elders. Battle does not belong to the strong, but to the one who fights with justice."
And then, with an unexpected gesture of tenderness, he kissed her eyes and departed.
A messenger crossed the city like an arrow.
He stopped before Salah and announced:
"The hosts of Nimrod advance like a flood. Within less than an hour, they will be upon us."
Salah looked toward the horizon.
The sky burned with light, yet darkened as though night were falling.
"Go," he said to the messenger. "Join your men. Nimrod will open the battle with a rain of arrows before revealing his face. Protect yourselves. Bronze will not withstand their steel. At the sound of my trumpet, you shall advance and break their ranks."
The messenger nodded.
"They shall have no chance, my lord."
And departed.
Salah then made his way to the city gate.
There stood the warriors of Akkad.
In the distance, the enemy army advanced like a living mass of darkness. The ground already trembled beneath their steps.
A cold wind cut through the air.
Salah called one of the captains:
"Bring me the son of the potter."
Soon they brought a young man with violet eyes and black hair—known for his extraordinary sight, capable of perceiving what others could not.
"What is your name?"
"Joel, my lord."
"Stand beside me."
The horizon already burned in shadows.
"What do you see upon the plain?" Salah asked.
Joel narrowed his eyes.
And then he answered, his voice breaking:
"Giants… my lord… dozens… perhaps hundreds… the vanguard of the Rephaim."
Trembling, he turned:
"Our men will not stand before them!"
Salah placed his hand upon his shoulder.
"Do not fear. This is their purpose: to sow terror before the battle. But I tell you this: greater terror awaits the sons of Cush before Akkad."
Joel hesitated:
"And what shall we do against them?"
Salah touched the ram's horn hanging at his neck.
"Wait. And you shall see."
It was still midday, yet the sky darkened as though the world were being covered by a living shadow.
The armies of Nimrod halted at a distance.
Silence.
Not even wind.
The Rephaim formed a wall between the two armies.
Behind them, Nimrod awaited surrender—but Akkad did not move.
And then came the deception.
Hidden behind the Rephaim, enemy archers were already prepared.
Salah kept Joel beside him.
The young man watched the sky with fierce precision.
Suddenly, he shouted:
"Archers!"
The sky broke open in iron.
Thousands of arrows cut through the air like a rain of death.
The warriors of Akkad raised wooden shields and joined them as one body.
The storm of steel fell upon them—but none were struck down.
Salah had foreseen it.
Joel had seen it.
Then came the sound.
Salah raised the trumpet.
And blew.
The sound that emerged was not human.
It was as though an angel had torn through the air itself.
The Rephaim fell to their knees, covering their ears.
The horses of Nimrod went mad.
The entire army wavered.
Salah lowered the trumpet.
And fifty horsemen of Akkad advanced.
Like living blades, they tore through the chaos.
The arrows of Akkad descended like judgment.
The men of Nimrod fell without understanding what struck them.
The field became ruin in motion.
Nimrod, amid the confusion, roared orders that no one could hear.
For a moment, his empire ceased to be order—and became noise.