I walked to her cell with a tight chest. The name itself seemed like mockery: a hut, a mat, a shared water jar. But the place I found was too refined, too deliberate. More luxurious even than my sister’s chambers. That was enough for rage to climb up my throat.

She wasn’t there.

I rummaged through her chests like a thief, searching for the proof that would give me the right to destroy her. I knew witches kept wax or clay figurines bearing their victims’ names. If I found mine, I would have her.

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This is the beginning of the first chapter. Belshazzar, crown prince of Babylon, narrates his obsession with a Harranian woman who seems immune to his power. What follows is an exploration of possession, the mirror, and violence.

The novel has no definitive title yet. I’m working on the third chapter.