King Solomon and the Shamir, Part Two
Once upon a sun-drenched afternoon in Jerusalem, King Solomon sat cross-legged on the palace floor, surrounded by a chaotic nest of velvet pouches, parchment diagrams, teacups, and very shiny rocks.
He was not holding court. He was not writing proverbs. He was, in fact, giggling softly to himself while holding a glowing worm the size of a barley grain on the tip of his finger, that expanded himself slightly with magic.
"Zingy," Solomon whispered, “we're going to make the sparkliest magic amulet in the world. Are you ready?”
Zingy—the impossibly cute shamir worm gifted by heaven and retrieved from a very annoyed hoopoe—wiggled in delight. His tiny emerald body glowed with divine radiance, his stubby face scrunched in glee, and his enormous eyes sparkled like starlight soaked in honey.
Zingy lived for this.
Today’s project? A sky-blue sapphire the size of a pigeon’s egg. It was to be engraved with a seal for protection in battle, warding off fear, confusion, and poorly-written scrolls.
Solomon had already drawn the design: a swirling ancient sigil wrapped around the Tetragrammaton, flanked by seven stars and a lion who looked slightly smug. The king placed the sapphire on a velvet pad and held his hand steady.
“Gently now,” Solomon said.
Zingy inched to the gem, squinting with maximum concentration. As he crawled across the surface, Divine sparkles trailed behind him like golden comet dust. The gem began to glow from within, as if it knew it was becoming something important.
The engraving formed as if by magic—because, of course, it was.
Solomon clapped. “Yes! Perfect! Oh—wait.”
He tilted the gem. The lion now had very tiny eyebrows. Dramatic ones.
“Zingy,” Solomon said, “did you add… flair?”
Zingy blinked innocently, sparkled, and wiggled proudly.
Solomon sighed, then smiled. “You know what? It works.”
He placed the finished gem into a bowl of cool water to set the magic. The moment it touched the surface, the water shimmered, a breeze whooshed through the room, and suddenly--
Poof.
Hovering above the bowl was a very confused lion made entirely of glowing stardust.
“Where am I,” the lion said, shaking its mane dramatically. “Is this… a bath?”
“You’re the guardian of this gemstone,” Solomon explained patiently. “I’m Solomon, king of Israel. Welcome. Would you like a snack?”
The lion stared. “I would like the respect of being summoned intentionally, not via worm flair!”
Zingy blew a raspberry of sparkles and hid behind Solomon’s thumb.
After a short negotiation, the lion agreed to guard the gem and retired to the celestial plane with a shimmer and a sneeze.
Solomon wiped his brow. “All right, next gem.”
The next was a ruby, deep red and warm to the touch. Solomon sketched a design for courage and truth in speech. Zingy got to work, humming cheerfully.
This one went smoothly—until the moment it was finished.
“Is that… a mustache?” Solomon squinted.
Zingy buzzed smugly.
Moments later, the ruby glowed—and poof, a swirling spirit appeared, cloaked in red flame and sporting a perfectly styled, waxed mustache.
He was not holding court. He was not writing proverbs. He was, in fact, giggling softly to himself while holding a glowing worm the size of a barley grain on the tip of his finger, that expanded himself slightly with magic.
"Zingy," Solomon whispered, “we're going to make the sparkliest magic amulet in the world. Are you ready?”
Zingy—the impossibly cute shamir worm gifted by heaven and retrieved from a very annoyed hoopoe—wiggled in delight. His tiny emerald body glowed with divine radiance, his stubby face scrunched in glee, and his enormous eyes sparkled like starlight soaked in honey.
Zingy lived for this.
Today’s project? A sky-blue sapphire the size of a pigeon’s egg. It was to be engraved with a seal for protection in battle, warding off fear, confusion, and poorly-written scrolls.
Solomon had already drawn the design: a swirling ancient sigil wrapped around the Tetragrammaton, flanked by seven stars and a lion who looked slightly smug. The king placed the sapphire on a velvet pad and held his hand steady.
“Gently now,” Solomon said.
Zingy inched to the gem, squinting with maximum concentration. As he crawled across the surface, Divine sparkles trailed behind him like golden comet dust. The gem began to glow from within, as if it knew it was becoming something important.
The engraving formed as if by magic—because, of course, it was.
Solomon clapped. “Yes! Perfect! Oh—wait.”
He tilted the gem. The lion now had very tiny eyebrows. Dramatic ones.
“Zingy,” Solomon said, “did you add… flair?”
Zingy blinked innocently, sparkled, and wiggled proudly.
Solomon sighed, then smiled. “You know what? It works.”
He placed the finished gem into a bowl of cool water to set the magic. The moment it touched the surface, the water shimmered, a breeze whooshed through the room, and suddenly--
Poof.
Hovering above the bowl was a very confused lion made entirely of glowing stardust.
“Where am I,” the lion said, shaking its mane dramatically. “Is this… a bath?”
“You’re the guardian of this gemstone,” Solomon explained patiently. “I’m Solomon, king of Israel. Welcome. Would you like a snack?”
The lion stared. “I would like the respect of being summoned intentionally, not via worm flair!”
Zingy blew a raspberry of sparkles and hid behind Solomon’s thumb.
After a short negotiation, the lion agreed to guard the gem and retired to the celestial plane with a shimmer and a sneeze.
Solomon wiped his brow. “All right, next gem.”
The next was a ruby, deep red and warm to the touch. Solomon sketched a design for courage and truth in speech. Zingy got to work, humming cheerfully.
This one went smoothly—until the moment it was finished.
“Is that… a mustache?” Solomon squinted.
Zingy buzzed smugly.
Moments later, the ruby glowed—and poof, a swirling spirit appeared, cloaked in red flame and sporting a perfectly styled, waxed mustache.
Over the next week, Solomon and Zingy created fifteen more enchanted gems. There was a moonstone that summoned a sleepy owl guardian named Moishe (who kept napping in Solomon’s shoe), a carnelian that protected travelers by briefly giving them goat legs for speed, and an emerald that whispered compliments at its wearer every morning.
By day five, Solomon’s workshop looked like a gemstone zoo.
There were angels politely sipping tea, elemental spirits reorganizing the spice shelves, a talking cat named Zadkiel who’d been summoned by accident (Zingy denied everything), and a helpful wind sprite who wouldn't stop quoting Solomon’s own proverbs back at him.
Solomon started locking the door.
By day five, Solomon’s workshop looked like a gemstone zoo.
There were angels politely sipping tea, elemental spirits reorganizing the spice shelves, a talking cat named Zadkiel who’d been summoned by accident (Zingy denied everything), and a helpful wind sprite who wouldn't stop quoting Solomon’s own proverbs back at him.
Solomon started locking the door.
But for all the chaos, the king loved his work.
Each gemstone became a tiny world, a divine spark given shape. And Zingy? Zingy was in his element. He added flourishes, personalities, and the occasional glittery side-bug. Every so often, he squeaked and performed a celebratory loop-de-loop.
One day, Queen of Sheba stopped by.
“Solomon,” she said, surveying the room, “why is your hair full of enchanted peacock feathers?”
“Long story,” he said, picking one out. “Would you like a gemstone?”
“I’d like an explanation.”
From the window, a feathered guardian floated past blowing kisses. Zingy waved.
Each gemstone became a tiny world, a divine spark given shape. And Zingy? Zingy was in his element. He added flourishes, personalities, and the occasional glittery side-bug. Every so often, he squeaked and performed a celebratory loop-de-loop.
One day, Queen of Sheba stopped by.
“Solomon,” she said, surveying the room, “why is your hair full of enchanted peacock feathers?”
“Long story,” he said, picking one out. “Would you like a gemstone?”
“I’d like an explanation.”
From the window, a feathered guardian floated past blowing kisses. Zingy waved.
