At the gate of a crowded town, Eliah helped a homeless elder by praying and offering bread. He was quickly stopped by guards, accused of "spreading heresy" and "impersonating clergy."
He wasn't arrested—but was pushed out and pelted with eggs.
—
Sitting on the roadside, Eliah wondered if goodness truly mattered. Was faith worth sharing if it only drew rejection?
Then came a cough.
"Those eggs weren't even boiled. Shameful waste," said a young woman in a frayed red cloak.
"Who are you?" Eliah asked.
"Mariam," she replied, sitting beside him. "I sold herbs in town. Saw you get shouted at for being nice."
"I only wanted to help."
"People fear help. It reminds them they need it."
Eliah stayed silent.
"You did the right thing," she added. "A good deed doesn't become bad because it's misunderstood."
"Then why keep doing it?"
Mariam smiled. "Because somewhere out there, someone's watching you—and starting to believe again."
—
From that day, Eliah walked beside Mariam. She was sharp-tongued, loyal, and always ready to say the hard truth. He didn't ask her to join. She simply did.
Faith had found its first echo.
Chapter Four: Not All Kindness Is Welcome
Their next stop was a village named Karlin. It was peaceful—at first.
Smiles came easily. But eyes darted, hands trembled. A woman offered bread, then secretly wiped her palm clean.
"Feels like they've been fed false beliefs," Mariam said.
Indeed, a mysterious preacher had visited recently, teaching "The Doctrine of Pain"—claiming suffering was divine, and offering rituals that caused insomnia, anxiety... and missing children.
Eliah proposed a day of prayer and fasting. The village chief declined.
"We're seeking real salvation," he said coldly.
"The real kind doesn't require fear," Eliah answered.
That night, Eliah fasted again—not for miracles, but for clarity.
"Lord," he whispered, "I believe, but my help is rejected. What shall I do?"
—
Mariam handed him a cloth. "Know what makes faith hardest?"
He looked up.
"It's when you do the right thing... and people call you wrong."
"Why keep going?"
"Because every tiny spark you leave behind might one day ignite."
—
The next day, no sermons. No rituals.
Mariam helped a farmer harvest grain. Eliah read scriptures with elderly villagers. By sunset, curious eyes returned. People talked. One child asked about prayer.
The preacher who sowed fear?
Gone before dusk.
No spells. No fights. Just quiet, persistent kindness.
And that was enough.
Chapter Five: Words Are a Bridge—Actions the Road
News of Karlin's quiet victory spread. In nearby towns, rumors rose: two travelers who defeated fear with faith.
Eliah and Mariam arrived in Nan'an, a bustling city buzzing with noise—and with spiritual confusion.
Posters lined the streets:
"Faith for sale!"
"Buy your miracle amulets!"
"Donate for divine healing!"
Mariam eyed one. "Used to sell those myself. Don't tell anyone."
—
Eliah didn't argue. He found a quiet square, laid out a cloth, and wrote:
"Faith—freely given. Want to hear a true story?"
Many laughed. Some ignored. But children sat and listened.
He spoke of fevered children, rejection, misunderstanding. Of fasting and healing—not supernatural, but spiritual.
One man lingered and whispered, "My wife is lost in sorrow. I can't help her."
"You don't need miracles," Eliah said. "Sit with her. Pray. Hold her hand."
The man nearly cried.
—
Mariam helped a vendor stand after falling. No payment, no sermon.
By evening, a woman approached Eliah.
"Your words reminded me of my grandmother's prayers," she said. "I'd like to hear more."
Eliah smiled. "I'd like to hear yours, too."
—
There were no miracles in Nan'an.
Just stories, shared hearts, and a slow, glowing shift in the city's soul.
Faith had walked in—and it would not leave quietly.
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