Chapter 11 — Flames in the Quiet
Isaiah 43:2 (NIV)
"When you pass through the waters, I will be with you; and when you pass through the rivers, they will not sweep over you."
The morning mist hung low over Mahogany village, curling around rooftops and settling in the hollows between the hills. The stream near the square murmured quietly, reflecting the muted sky, and the houses seemed to hold their breath, crouched under the weight of cold and unease.
Elena carried a clay jar across the courtyard, the chill nipping at her fingers, but she barely noticed. The fire within her, the warmth that had begun during her first visions, kept her steady. Her steps were careful, deliberate, yet unafraid, though she felt the weight of eyes following her every move.
Teuwa was waiting near the fence, leaning like a shadow over the yard, with Regbolo at his side. Their presence was heavy, a quiet warning to anyone who might dare to listen. Yet it was the first time Elena didn't feel fear. She drew in a breath of the misty morning air, letting the words she had read with Julia fill her mind.
"You still speak of this god, girl?" Teuwa's voice was low, each word edged with danger. "Even now, when your grandfather's village teeters on the brink?"
Elena met his gaze steadily. "I speak of Him because He is true. Not because I wish to defy you—or anyone else—but because He has spoken to me."
Regbolo snorted. "Has spoken? To a girl? You risk more than yourself. Words are not enough to protect a village from witches and shadows."
"I do not rely on words alone," Elena said, gripping the jar tighter. "I rely on Him. And He is with me."
Teuwa's eyes darkened. "You think He will shield you from what we all fear? You think light can chase away what comes with shadow?"
Elena straightened, feeling the warmth rise from her chest. "Not alone," she said. "But the spark He gives is enough. A spark can start a fire, and fire reveals truth."
At the edges of the courtyard, villagers whispered to each other. Some leaned closer, curiosity and hope in their eyes. Others cast angry glances, muttering warnings or shaking their heads in disbelief. A few murmured quietly, "She is chosen. Perhaps the fire is real."
Among them, Ye stood slightly apart, hands clasped behind his back, his face unreadable. He did not sneer. He did not mock. He merely watched, observing the courage in Elena's stance. He whispered to no one in particular, "We shall see if this fire endures."
Elena's grandfather, Micah, stepped forward quietly. "Enough," he said, his voice firm but calm. "Elena speaks with honesty. There will be no disrespect here."
Her young uncle , Liron placed a protective hand on her shoulder. "She speaks truth," he said softly. "I have seen the change in her. The fire is not only in her words—it burns in her very being."
Julia, standing by the door to the kitchen, nodded at Ernest. "Let her speak," she said. "The Spirit is guiding her."
Elena took a deep breath and raised her voice slightly, letting it carry across the courtyard. "I am not alone. And I am not afraid. Those who seek will find light, even if it is only a flicker at first. Our God does not demand fear or sacrifice—only hearts willing to listen."
Some villagers gasped softly. A young mother held her child close, whispering, "Did you hear her?" A farmer nodded, his hands trembling, "If she speaks truth, we need to know it."
Teuwa stepped closer, his shadow stretching over the courtyard. "And what if your hearts fail? What if the spark dies before the fire catches? Then your words will leave nothing but ashes behind."
The words hung heavy. Elena's pulse quickened, but the warmth inside her—the holy fire—rose like a tide. "Even the smallest spark is better than darkness," she said. "I do not speak to command, only to reveal. The fire in me is not mine alone—it is His."
Ye remained silent, his brow furrowed. He didn't challenge her; he didn't mock. Instead, he watched carefully, noting her conviction. Something in him stirred—curiosity, maybe hope.
Regbolo muttered to Teuwa, his voice harsh but lower than before. "The fools will follow curiosity, not faith. It will pass."
"I would rather risk curiosity than live in shadow," Elena replied, her eyes scanning the whispering crowd.
A small group of villagers moved closer, drawn by her courage. An older man, his back bent by years of labor, spoke softly, "I have seen her change… I want to know more." A young mother nodded, "If she speaks truth, perhaps it is the hope we have longed for."
Some children behind the fence laughed and jeered, whispering that she was possessed, throwing small pebbles at the stream. Elena did not flinch. The fire inside her brushed against her skin, steady, warming, assuring.
Her grandfather stepped closer again. "Elena," he said quietly, "not all hearts are ready. But keep the fire alive,it will guide those who listen."
Evelyn arrived, carrying a basket of bread. She pressed a hand to Elena's cheek. "I see it in you," she whispered. "The Lord has given you courage. Do not doubt it."
Even Liron's eyes glinted with pride. "We will stand with you," he said. "All of us who can, will."
Teuwa's lips curled into a thin, dangerous smile. "So, the fire spreads," he hissed. "Mark my words, it will illuminate only the weak. You may win hearts, girl, but enemies will rise. Remember me."
Elena's gaze remained steady, unshaken. "I remember Him," she said. "And that is enough."
Julia stepped forward, touching Elena's shoulder gently. "You are not alone. Even in the fire, He is with you. And I am here too."
Ernest handed water to the children and nodded to Elena. "This is only the beginning," he said. "Stay steady. Let the fire guide you."
The villagers, divided but listening, murmured among themselves. Some would follow quietly, seeking understanding and courage. Some clung to old fears, mocking or ignoring her. And a few,though tentative, felt the spark, the glimmer of hope that had been missing for so long.
By evening, the courtyard had emptied, leaving Elena with her family. The distant mountains glowed faintly under the setting sun. She could still feel the fire, a quiet pulse, a call to action. Her mission was clear: to reach out to the village, to spread faith, and to stand against darkness and fear.
She looked at Julia, who nodded, silently affirming the path ahead. The vision, the fire, and the mission were hers to guard. Teuwa and Regbolo would challenge her, yes, but the flame within her was steady. Ye's eyes, though skeptical, held a flicker of doubt and curiosity. Perhaps, in time, he would see.
As night fell and the stars blinked awake, a quiet wind rustled the trees, carrying the promise of a kingdom that could not be shaken.
Above her, the twin moons—Vareth and Lunara,hung in perfect harmony, their lights crossing like two divine witnesses to what was about to unfold. Their pale glow shimmered on the water's surface, where Elena knelt by the stream, whispering a prayer for courage, for guidance, and for the village she now felt called to save.
The flame had been lit. The mission had begun.