Shamash, Champion of the Sun, was once a mortal. As an orphaned youth he mastered the sword and caught the attention of the all-seeing Sun who conscripted him into his service. He swore the Sun’s three charges: to reveal what hides, to warm what withers, and to sear the strong who feast on the weak.
He keeps the roads at midday, when shadows dare not lie; he appoints boundary stones, lifts besieging camps, and opens granary gates in time of blight. When his wrath is kindled, mirage horses draw him across the salt flats; when his mercy rules, he rests in porticoes, hearing pleas over watered wine.
His rival is Qamari, the Moon’s Faris. They test each other at the hinges of light—dawn and dusk—trading drill for dream, glare for hush. At solstice they contend in combat, scorching and silvering the horizon; at equinox they share bread and oaths, teaching kings to balance day with night.
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