After days of searching, Felix found himself at the edge of a vast forest, where the trees whispered secrets and the air shimmered with an otherworldly glow. Deep within, he discovered a clearing bathed in ethereal light. In the center stood a figure, cloaked in robes that seemed to flow like liquid silver. Felix's heart raced; he had found God.
"Welcome, Felix Marlowe," the figure spoke, its voice resonating like a melody. "You seek miracles, yet you feel abandoned."
"I do," Felix replied, his voice trembling. "I've watched others receive blessings while I remain empty. Why?"
The figure stepped closer, revealing a face that was both familiar and alien. "I am known as Elyon, an exile from a civilization far beyond your understanding. I was sent here to nurture the spark of miracles in this universe, but I am bound by the rules of existence."
Felix's mind raced. "Exile? But why?"
Elyon's eyes shimmered with ancient wisdom. "In my realm, miracles are woven into the fabric of life. Here, they are gifts, but they require belief and acknowledgment. You see, Felix, miracles are not mere coincidences; they are the result of intention and connection. You must open your heart to see them."