The fire crackled, casting dancing shadows across the weathered faces of those gathered around me. My silver-streaked beard caught the amber light as I looked across the small group of travelers who had chosen to follow my journey. Sarah sat quietly nearby, her hands folded, her eyes reflecting both weariness and hope.

“The one true God spoke to me,” I began, my voice steady and deep. “Not with thunderous words, but with a whisper that pierced my very soul. He called me from Ur, from the land of my fathers, to a place I did not know.”

“And here we are, my friends… as brothers and sisters under the watchful gaze of the Almighty, our Lord.” I opened my arms as if I was embracing the city in the distance: Canaan. This land, this promised place, was unlike anything I had ever known. Gone were the familiar sights and sounds of Ur, the city of my birth. Instead, I beheld rolling hills, lush greenery, and the towering walls of a settlement that seemed to beckon us forward.

The journey had been arduous, testing our faith and resolve at every turn. But now, as I looked upon this new home, I felt a sense of peace wash over me. The Lord had called me here for a purpose, though I still did not fully understand His plan. What I did know was that I was surrounded by those who had trusted in my words, who had left the comforts of the known to follow this path into the unknown. Together, we would forge a new future, one guided by the wisdom and grace of the divine.

The starlit sky seeming to pulse with divine promise. The travelers leaned closer, their faces a mixture of curiosity and reverence.

“He made a covenant with me,” I continued. “Though I am old, though Sarah has been barren, He promised me descendants more numerous than the stars you see above us.” I paused, looking at Sarah with a tender glance that spoke of shared hope and faith.

The firelight illuminated the faces of those who had left everything behind—merchants, shepherds, women carrying children, all drawn by something they could not fully explain. They listened intently, sensing something profound in my words.

“He changed my name from Abram to Aba-Abraham,” I said, my hand resting on my walking staff. “No longer just a man, but a father of nations.”

Sarah’s eyes met mine, a silent understanding passing between us—a promise of something miraculous yet to come.

I felt the warmth of the fire and the weight of my people’s expectations when a voice emerged from the crowd—soft yet commanding. A woman, her form draped in rich linen that could not entirely conceal her nobility, stepped forward. Firelight caught the glint of stones in her ears, and a shock of red hair peeked from beneath her hood.

“Forgive me, Abraham,” she said, her voice measured and respectful.

“But how can you be certain this voice is truly divine? How do you know this is not another tale from the sky people of old?”

Her question hung in the air, challenging yet not dismissive. I met her gaze, feeling the strength of my conviction pulse through me like the desert wind that had guided my flocks for so many years. The firelight cast dancing shadows across her face, reminding me of that first night when the voice had come to me under the stars.

“The voice I heard was not like the whispers of merchants, the tales of giants or the commands of kings,” I responded, my weathered hands gripping my staff tighter. “It was a presence that filled my entire being—pure, overwhelming, beyond any earthly power I have ever known. It spoke with the force of creation itself, making the very air tremble with truth.”

She tilted her head, listening, her jeweled earrings catching the firelight.

“And did this divine being promise you anything specific?”

The question carried both skepticism and genuine curiosity.

I stood, my staff planted firmly in the ground, feeling the weight of my years and the certainty of my purpose. My voice rose to address not just her, but the entire gathering, carrying across the night air with a strength that surprised even me.

“Two great prophecies have been revealed to me,” I proclaimed, watching the flames reflect in dozens of attentive eyes. The weight of these visions still pressed heavily upon my soul, filling me with a profound sense of purpose and responsibility. “First, the fall of the twin cities—Sodom and Gomorrah—cities of such depravity and sin that they will be consumed by divine judgment. Their very stones shall cry out in anguish before the end, for the Almighty can no longer tolerate their wickedness and their worship to the false gods.”

I paused, letting the gravity of my words sink in before continuing. “And second, a prophecy of my own people—we, the chosen of our lord, shall be strangers in a land not our own, enslaved by a people who build with stone and worship strange gods with pyramids.” A deep sorrow filled my voice as I contemplated the hardships to come. “Our suffering shall be great, but our deliverance shall be greater still. For the Lord, the God of our fathers, has promised to guide us and deliver us from bondage, that we may return to the land He has set apart for us: the promised land!”

———

I tugged at Zuka’s sleeve, pulling him away from the growing crowd surrounding Abram. The man’s words about his one true god still echoed in my ears, sending chills down my spine.

“Did you hear what he said about the stars speaking to him?” I kept my voice low. “The way he described it – it wasn’t like our usual prophecies.”

Zuka’s weathered face creased with concern.

“My queen, the man speaks of destruction with such certainty. The conviction in his eyes…”

He glanced over his shoulder.

“I’ve seen that look before, in warriors who know their victory is assured.”

“But why would any god choose him? A simple shepherd?”

“Perhaps that’s exactly why.”

Zuka’s hand rested on his concealed sword.

“The common people relate to him, my queen. They see themselves in his humility.”

We reached our camels, tethered at the edge of the campsite. I adjusted my headscarf and cowl, studying the distant horizon where Sodom and Gomorrah lay.

“Those two cities specifically… it can’t be coincidence. Why them, Zuka? What aren’t you telling me?”

Zuka’s shoulders slumped. He stroked his camel’s neck, avoiding my gaze.

“My queen… King Nabu and I… we’ve received reports.”

He swallowed hard.

“Lady Inanna and High-king Marduk were last seen heading toward those cities. They’ve taken refuge there, though we know not why.”

The blood drained from my face. “And you kept this from me?”

“I’m sorry my queen… We… we wanted to be certain before causing alarm.”

His voice cracked with shame.

“The reports are still unconfirmed, but multiple sources point to their presence in that region.”

My fingers gripped the reins, so tightly my knuckles turned white. “Saddle the fastest camels,” I snapped at Zuka. “We ride for Babylon… now!”

The campsite’s bustling sounds faded as anger burned through my veins. Inanna and Marduk in Sodom and Gomorrah? With this mad prophet Abram speaking of imminent destruction? Something felt deliberately orchestrated.

“Curse Enlil and his twisted games,” I muttered, my voice sharp with rage. “This isn’t coincidence. This is manipulation.”

Zuka nodded grimly.

“It feels like a trap, my queen. Every piece moving exactly where he wants them.”

I spurred my camel forward, dust billowing behind us. The urgency to warn Babylon, to send messengers to Sodom and Gomorrah, consumed me. If my Lady of the Greatest Heart… my precious Inanna… and my father-in-law Marduk were truly there… they needed to know about Abram’s prophecy… about Enlil’s bold move!

“This has Enlil’s fingerprints all over it! Think about it… A shepherd suddenly receiving divine messages? Yeah, right! What a great way to just lure the ignorant and the gullible. Convenient timing for cities housing our most important leaders to be marked for destruction.”

My mind raced with the potential implications, my heart pounding with a mixture of fury and fear. We had to move fast. We had to warn them.