"Evara," Apphia begins, a gentle smile spreading accross her lips.
Neva watches Apphia with wide, focused eyes, her heart gripped by hope and anticipation.
Evara is her mother's maiden name—passed down to her as her middle name.
"I was there when she was born." Apphia says softly.
"I watched her grow into a brave, beautiful woman.
I saw her marry the man destined for her—and give birth to you."
She pauses, her shoulders slouching as she exhales a heavy air. Her voice lowers, her eyes dim. "And I was there in the graveyard, pouring soil as she was laid to rest."
Neva's throat closens.
She lowers her glazed eyes to the floor.
She knew that they were long gone—but perhaps, deep in her heart—there still lingered a little spark of hope.
A miracle, maybe, that Apphia could reveal and enlighten her with.
But now, as the grief only worsens, Neva can blame no one but herself.
"How did it happen?" Neva asks, her voice barely above a whisper.
"Over three centuries ago, this Island was peaceful—liberate and flourishing, for God was in favour with its people.
Then came a man named Leviathan. He began to deceive the people, leading them astray from God—away from the One who is the only way, the truth, and the life.
He performed great many signs—wonders meant to mislead the people. In time, they began to worship him—this one now we say is the beast.
Soon, the wicked one stole away what was sown in their hearts—seeds He Himself had sowed, but that fell by the wayside.
Even those sown in good ground, that took root, were stolen—because great was the signs, and the hearts of men, so restless and greedy.
He sought for the kingdom and its throne, and the people gave it to him.
But those who discerned good from evil, those who remained faithful and true—they rose and rebelled.
They stood against his laws for they were unjust and his empire a deception.
The false god impures the spirit and rots the soul.
Only his blind and deaf followers remain, those who have lost even the sense that any sensible man ought to have.
He burned our churches and the scriptures.
The wicked flourished, and the righteous were persecuted. Before his followers realized it, they were already condemned to the fire of Hades—for in life, they had chosen to separate themselves from God.
The wise know: this Island is a prison.
They cannot practice their faith.
They cannot even dream their own dreams, or will their own will.
The poor grow poorer, and the rich grow richer.
But what will the lovers of the world gain?
Will the material things they've hoarded pay the toll required to cross that final bridge?
This Island is hidden from the world's sight, for it does not exist in its system.
The leaders of the Earth are swayed.
They bend to the will of Leviathan, letting his algorithms weave lies across nations—as they are bound by a covenant.
And in exchange for allowing Leviathan's cruelty to persist, he grants the leaders of the world all they crave—the desires of the flesh, the lust of the eyes, and the pride of life.
He brings slaves from distant lands and burns their countries. His aim is clear: to bring the world to its knees.
Through false teachings and deceptive signs, through plagues, disasters, and wars, he seeks to sever the relationship between God and us.
Yet there are still some—like us—who remain grounded in faith, quietly practicing in secret.
Many are caught and persecuted, as your parents were.
You were barely a year old when your grandfather found you hidden in a bush, after the terror that had fallen on those who dared to attend the Sunday service." Apphia concludes with a long, deep sigh.
A heavy silence settles over the room beneath the weight of the revelation.
Beyond it, the wind whooshes through the forest, thunder rumbles in the distance, rain taps softly against the roof, and the faint echoes of children playing drift in from the other room.
Neva has her gaze lowered, her heart thudding in her chest. And yet, in that same chest, blooms enlightenment—
A strange mixture of anxiety, astonishment, and awe.
But beyond all of it, the roots of her faith grows deeper. The tree of trust in God stands stronger, her spirit rising firmer.
This was not merely the unfolding of truth tied to Miraeth's deepening misery—
It was the unveiling of Leviathan's plan to draw all of humanity into damnation.
And she is bestowed with the greatest blessing—to lead them out, alongside all of God's chosen ones.
Neva lifts her head and meets Apphia's gaze.
Rhett's grip on her hand tightens.
Is he astonished? Or does he fear what this calling means for his wife—the one chosen to prepare hearts for the coming of the Lord?
To speak God's truth.
To guide the people of Miraeth.
To expose Leviathan's wretched scheme to doom humanity—for eternity.
"What do I have to do?"
Those are the first words to leave Neva's lips.
Apphia smiles. "Word has already spread about your coming. In three days, there will be a sermon on Mount Lumora.
Prepare—for you will awaken their hearts, call them to truth and repentance… a hope. A spiritual revival."
Neva swallows hard, a shadow of fear flickering in her eyes.
The temperature in the room suddenly drops.
A shiver runs down her spine, goosebumps arising on her skin.
Her gaze drifts to the open window.
The raindrops slipping inside the cottage—a quiet puddle of water forming on the wooden floor.
"Do not be frightened, my child," Apphia says gently,
"for God will be with you—and the Holy Spirit shall speak through you."
Neva nods. "I know," she whispers, eyes falling shut as she draws in a deep breath.
"But… how did I get out of Miraeth?" she asks, her voice low.
Apphia's eyes soften with memory.
"You were eight years old when I, along with many preachers and some of God's chosen, received a vision—a prophecy that a child of your age, born in Ephrath, would come of age and bring an end to Leviathan's madness."
She pauses. The room seems to listen with her.
"Leviathan heard of it.
And soon after, I had a dream that confirmed—you were the one. The messenger instructed me to send you away, for Leviathan was coming.
Your grandfather arranged everything. He sent you into safety.
Many children your age… they were not spared. Leviathan saw to that."
A lump rises in Neva's throat. Her eyes sting, but she lifts her chin.
"Will you help me prepare for the sermon, Nana?" she asks.
Apphia nods, a tender smile breaking through her solemnity.
"Of course, my dear. Pastor Gideon and I will guide you—spiritually and wholly."
"Thank you," Neva says softly.
"It is fine, my child," Apphia replies.
"The village elder—the one you met before—will prepare his own guards for your protection. They'll be here soon with your luggage. In the meantime, we should prepare a meal for your companions."
"Yes… the children must be hungry too. We left early this morning."
"We already have ingredients in the kitchen," Apphia says, rising to her feet.
"I'll help you with it," Neva says, looking up at her.
"Of course." Apphia smiles and walks toward the kitchen.
"Angel," Rhett says gently.
Neva turns to him, meeting his forlorn eyes—filled with worry.
She takes both of his hands in hers, giving them a soft squeeze.
"It'll all be fine," she says, offering a small, reassuring smile.
She rises and moves to pass by Ishmael on her way to the kitchen.
"You won't be part of these mad rebels," he mutters, looking up at her.
Neva halts her steps—and her gaze meets his—firm, unflinching, and void of warmth.
"You lost the right to speak over me long ago." She says calmly and walks on, leaving them in the silence.
From the kitchen, the soft rhythm of a knife thudding against the chopping board drifts through the air.