Conversations with Ancient Gods
Tracing the Hidden Divine Across Civilizations and the Human Soul
Chapter 3
Akkadian: Stars Without Answers
The road to Akkad stretched like a thin scar across the earth, passing through
plains where the wind carried the faint echo of forgotten prayers. Rana felt
something unusual the moment he stepped onto Akkadian soil. Sumer had been
a land of clay and earth, of human hands shaping stories. But Akkad…
Akkad was a land that looked upward.
Here, the people had once searched the sky for meaning.
Here, destiny was written in starlight, not in soil.
And here… something was still watching.
Rana walked through the crumbling entrance of the ancient city, where half-
buried pillars rose like ribs from the bones of time. Every stone felt charged, as
if it remembered. As if it waited.
When he reached the base of the old ziggurat—an observatory of the ancients
—the air itself whispered across his ear:
"Look up… answers are never below."
He did.
And the sky was unlike anything he had ever seen. The stars seemed brighter,
sharper, almost awake. Their light trembled—not like flickering flame, but like a
pulse. A message. A warning. A memory.
And then he saw it.
The spiral.
The same spiral he saw in Sumer.
The same one that haunted his dreams.
The same symbol he kept finding… and could not escape.
The Observatory of Shadows
The Akkadian observatory lay in ruins—half collapsed, half devoured by sand—
but its walls still carried carvings that refused to fade. Rana brushed his fingers
across one of them, feeling grooves shaped thousands of years before he was
born.
A circular sky map.
A line cutting through the heavens.
And at the center—
the spiral.
He stared at it too long.
It felt alive.
As if the stone itself exhaled when he touched it.
Was this a coincidence?
Or had every civilization been chasing the same sign?
Or worse—
was it chasing him?
The wind rose softly, curling around him like breath:
"Illusion is what you want to see.
Truth is what refuses to leave."
Night of the Shifting Stars
Rana set up camp at the top of the ziggurat. The night crawled over the sky in
layers of dark blue, and the air grew colder, heavier—almost watchful.
Close to midnight, the world grew unnaturally still. Even the wind stopped
moving.
Rana looked up.
And the stars were moving.
Not twinkling.
Not shimmering.
Moving.
As if someone was gently pushing them into new shapes.
As if constellations were being rearranged like pieces on a celestial board.
Then time itself seemed to pause.
The stars gathered.
Aligned.
Formed a perfect spiral in the heavens.
Rana's breath caught.
The universe itself was drawing the same mark that haunted him.
Just then, a shadow passed behind him—brief, silent, unmistakably human in
shape. He spun around, torch raised.
No one.
Nothing.
Just the dark.
Yet he knew.
Someone—or something—was there.
Watching.
Waiting.
The Stargazer's Tablet
At dawn, Rana found a broken tablet near the observatory's base. Dusty,
cracked, nearly erased by time—but the Akkadian script was still readable. He
knelt and traced the symbols slowly.
"The stars do not decide your path.
They only remind you that you have one."
The Vanishing Divine
Another line—
faded, but there:
"Fate is not written in heaven.
It is drawn by your choices."
Rana's heart thudded.
Suddenly a faint glow flickered across the wall beside him—
a tiny spark—
the outline of a spiral.
For a second.
Then gone.
"What is happening to me?" Rana whispered.
The wind answered:
"You are beginning… to see."
Visions Beneath the Sky
That night Rana dreamed.
But it felt less like dreaming and more like remembering something that wasn't
his.
He saw ancient Akkadian priests gathered around scrolls and clay tablets. A
grey-bearded astronomer lifted his arm toward the sky.
"The stars do not rule us," the priest declared.
"They only reveal how far we can rise."
Then another figure stepped forward—
the child.
The same child from Rana's dreams.
The same eyes.
The same presence.
But here, the child's eyes glowed faintly, almost like starlight.
The child spoke without moving his lips:
"What you seek is waking inside you."
Rana jolted awake.
His hand burned.
He held it up—and saw a faint spiral glowing in his palm.
Clearer than before.
The Vanishing Divine
Sharper.
Like it was carved from light.
He stared in silent terror.
Was the symbol chasing him?
Or was it growing inside him?
The Lesson of Akkad
When the sun finally rose, Rana understood something profound:
The Akkadians were not trying to predict the future.
They were trying to understand themselves.
Stars were mirrors.
Not masters.
Not gods.
Reflections of human possibility.
God, Rana realized, was not a force that pulled strings from above.
God was the awareness that filled the human mind
when it looked up
and dared to think
and dared to choose.
As Rana descended the ziggurat, he felt something behind him—
a presence, faint but undeniable.
He turned.
Nobody.
Only silence.
Only wind.
Only that spiral imprint pulsing faintly in his palm.
He walked away, knowing one truth:
Akkad had not given him answers.
It had given him questions.
And questions were the steps that led toward heaven.
The Vanishing Divine : When Gods Disappear