There cometh the darkness, a slithering serpent through the graves;
But behold, my Lord descendeth as an Eagle,
Crushing my nemesis beneath His right foot.
I will praise the Lord as the birds that soar above the mountains, rejoicing, Hallelujah.
For my Lord maketh a way, a sharp wind cleaving through the wilderness, Selah.
There falleth the kingdom, and boulders rend my fortress asunder;
But behold, my Lord standeth fast as the Rock,
Shattering mine adversary with His hand.
I will praise the Lord as the rorquals that sail through the oceans, rejoicing, Hallelujah.
For my Lord bringeth forth the dawn,
Even the valleys of living glory, yea,
Wherein I shall make my home, Selah.
A smile tugs at Neva's lips as a chorus of voices sings a psalm-inspired folk hymn, weaving through the crackle of the bonfire and the rustle of leaves overhead.
A little farther away, where the light from bonfire begins to wane, children play rather noisily among a fallen tree.
Rhean, Isaiah, and Adam are among the believers' children, while her daughter sits quietly on her lap, watching the lead singers before them.
Among them is Maria, her sweet voice threading through the symphony of worship.
Inaya looks up at her, her warm brown eyes drooping with sleepines. "Mumma..."
"Feeling sleepy?" Neva asks, brushing a few stray curls from her daughter's face.
Inaya nods faintly before snuggling deeper into Neva's lap, resting her head against her chest.
Neva pulls the shawl more snugly around them, the warmth of her daughter and the crackling bonfire chasing away the chill of early spring.
"Your child seems to have little trouble with sleep," Arzia says.
"Mine, however, is an owl."
Neva turns to meet Arzia's eyes, her own two-year-old daughter sitting wide-eyed in her lap.
A smile curves Neva's lips. "It's not always so easy."
Arzia smiles back. "I wonder what hour it is," she says, glancing toward her husband, Samuel,
seated among the men on the opposite side of the circle with their two sons.
Her children are the very image of their father, especially the boys, eleven-year-old Andrew and the elder one, Abram... or was it Arram? She can't quite remember.
"None of the father and sons seem too weary to retire just yet," Arzia says with a sigh. "I, however, can scarcely wait to lie down."
She glances up at the sky. "Forgive me, Lord. You know I love worshipping You, but this weary body is pleading for sleep."
Neva smiles at Arzia's gentle humour, though her heart aches for the eight-month-pregnant woman shifting uncomfortably beside her.
It's almost a miracle that she has scarcely winced, sitting on the ground for more than half an hour with a toddler in her lap.
The father could have helped a little, perhaps? Samuel seems like a loving husband, though. But who knows? There might be a reason... or there might not.
"I heard you are with child as well," Arzia says.
"I am," Neva replies. "About three months now."
Arzia offers her a warm smile. "I am only glad you are not as far along as I am,
for it would have been agony to shepherd thousands in such a condition."
Neva smiles. "I know."
One of the believers tends the bonfire, the flames quickly catching the dry wood as sparks scatter into the moonlit darkness.
Some of the believers begin to leave, yet the hymn still floats through laughter and applause, its melodious harmony filling the sacred air within the circle of believers.
Half of the believers had left after the brief sermon given by Elder and Pastor Enoch. Rhett, too, had to leave when one of the scouts summoned him on an urgent matter.
Even with their travels brought to a halt, her husband's duties as commander of over a thousand of rebel soldiers and volunteer guards have only intensified. Sky and Ace have much to contend with as well, now that Jack and Hunter have left with the antidote and Jacob as their prisoner. And for all that the agents have contributed to this journey, which she knows has become far more than a mere mission, she will be forever grateful.
Neva's gaze drifts over the believers once more, searching for the one face she has longed to see all day.
But the child, with emotions left unsung behind her cold eyes, her face bearing an unmistakable likeness of both her and her husband, is nowhere to be seen.
Oh, what a wonderful child she is, Heaven's eternal light moulded into a blessing.
Yet what has happened that her Father has allowed her to step beyond seasons and space? Her heart aches for the unspeakable wounds that young soul must carry, even as she wonders what lies ahead of her, that she has to stand so alone without her parents.
She hadn't found her among the other rescued children after that treacherous night. Believing the child must have been overwhelmed by everything that had happened and in need of her own space, Neva had left with only the hope that she would see her again during this
worship service, or afterwards, when she planned to visit the children once more.
But if she still hasn't returned by nightfall, and no one knows where she has gone, then there would be a reason to worry. She'll have to ask her husband to dispatch a small search party led by a few trusted people.
A small whimper escapes Inaya, breaking Neva's train of thought.
"What's wrong, Naya?" she murmurs, resting a palm against her daughter's forehead to check for a fever. But her skin is only as warm as it should be.
She gently caresses her daughter's hair as Inaya buries her face against her chest, her soft cries muffled by her embrace.
"Has her sickness not passed yet?" the woman seated beside her asks.
"Is it the plague?" another woman demands almost abrubtly. "Why would you bring a child with the plague here?" she exclaims, her voice laced with irritation.
"Do you want us all to perish before we reach the land the Lord has promised us?"
Murmurs begin to ripple through the circle, and even the hymn falters slightly as their attention gradually turns towards them.
Neva sighs, cradling her daughter's head before slowly rising with her in her arms.
She turns toward the group of women, searching for the one who accused her.
There, where the bonfire's light still reaches far enough to illuminate their faces, one woman stands apart among the many confused expressions. Her face has turned ashen, regret carved into her features.
"My daughter is healed," Neva says, her voice calm. "Do not be troubled. No plague shall come upon you, so long as your faith in the Lord remains steadfast."
The woman lowers her gaze, her cheeks flushing with embarrassment.
Neva glances at Arzia. "I must take my leave."
Arzia smiles up at her. "Certainly. We shall take our leave before long as well."
"Sister," a familiar voice calls as Neva turns to leave.
Maria grins as Neva meets her eyes. "I shall go with you," she says.
Neva nods and steps onto the narrow path winding between the circle of believers, Maria following close behind.
Neva frowns as she watches the children play around the great fallen tree, climbing over its jagged trunk, balancing along it, or weaving in and out of its broken branches.
There, at the front of the lively group, she finds her three boys.
She nods towards Jeremiah and the younger guard named Nehemiah, who had been keeping watch over her.
Jeremiah bows in response before he and Nehemiah walk over from their position at the rear of the circle.
"Isaiah, Rhean," she calls, taking a step forward with her daughter in her arms.
Rhean, standing at the front with two branches clutched in his hands, turns to look at her.
From the way he commands Isaiah and Adam, each wielding a twig like a sword, he seems to be the captain of whatever make-believe adventure they are playing out.
"That's enough for now," she says. "We have to go back."
"But I didn't get my turn to be the captain, Mumma!" Isaiah protests.
"You can be the captain tomorrow," she says gently. "Inaya needs to rest. She can't stay out in the cold for very long just yet."
Rhean obediently climbs down from the fallen tree, Adam close behind him, while Isaiah lingers atop the trunk with a stubborn pout, his soft features bathed in moonlight.
"Come now, baby," Neva says softly.
A smile touches her lips as Isaiah finally tosses aside the twig and climbs down from the tree.
"Why is she crying, Mama?"
Rhean asks, looking up at his sister as she sniffles in Neva's arms.
"Certainly it cannot be because you refused to play with her," Maria says playfully, folding her arms across her chest. "Or can it?"
A frown knits Rhean's brows. "Inaya must be crying because she's still sick."
"Come along," Neva says, taking Rhean's hand. "Stay close to me."
"I know why she's crying." Isaiah walks forward with Adam, the fire torches by the tents casting a warm
glow along the path. "She misses Papa," he says. "I miss him too."
Neva's grip on Rhean's hand tightens ever so slightly as Isaiah looks up at her.
"When will Papa come back, Mumma?" Isaiah asks.
"Hasn't he found Naya's medicine yet?"
Neva feels Maria's silent gaze on her, but she simply murmurs, "Maybe..."
Lie after lie is what she feeds her children. Yet no matter what reason she gives them for their father's absence, the hole of longing in their little hearts only deepens.
"I hope he comes back before Naya's medicines run out," Rhean says. "Or else my Dada will have to go."
"Do you want me to carry her, Sister?" Maria asks, her voice gentle.
Neva shakes her head, though the slight weight of her daughter is beginning to make her arm ache. "It's alright."
Her children are very curious by nature, always questioning the truth of anything that seems to cross the bounds of the reason woven into them. Yet they will believe everything a trusted adult tells them.
And every time another lie slips from her lips, filling her children with false hope, she dies a little more inside.
"Sister..." A playful lilt colours Maria's voice. "May I have my husband back after we have seen you safely home?"
"Sure," Neva replies with a smile.
Behind them, Jeremiah clears his throat in embarrassment, while a triumphant smile blooms across Maria's lips.
Before them, Rhett emerges from the shadows, the flickering torchlight illuminating his perfectly handsome face.
Rhean slips his hand from hers and runs straight to his father. "Dada!"
A smile curves across Rhett's lips as he lowers down and lifts their son into his arms.
"Missed me already?" he asks, tapping the tip of Rhean's nose.
A giggle escapes the boy before he wriggles out of his father's arms
and back onto the ground.
Neva smiles as Rhett meets her eyes. "Are you done with your duties?" she asks.
"I am," he says, then glances towards Jeremiah and Nehemiah.
"You may retire for the night."
"Yes, sir," Nehemiah says, while Jeremiah nods in acknowledgment.
Maria turns to Neva. "May you have a blessed night, Sister."
Neva nods. "I wish the same for you."
Maria smiles and gives Neva's arm a light caress before
walking away with her husband and Noah.
"Can Adam ever talk?" Rhean asks out of nowhere.
"Do you want him to?" Rhett asks as he closes the distance to Neva.
Rhean shrugs. "I think he's fine as he is. But I know Adam wants to."
"Let me carry her," Rhett says gently.
Neva passes their daughter into Rhett's arms, where she settles
quietly against him, drowsy with sleep.
"It would be better if Adam could talk and hear too," Isaiah says solemnly.
A rueful smile touches Neva's lips as she gently strokes Adam's hair. The beautiful boy blinks up at her, and an innocent
smile slowly blooms across his lips.
Her heart aches for Nana's grandson, who lost both his parents so very young and has been denied the blessing of such ordinary joys for reasons she cannot fathom.
"Come on," Rhett says. "It's getting late."
"Should we visit the children before we head home?" Neva asks, her gaze drifting towards the two quiet cottages where the rescued children had been given shelter.
Lantern light still spills through the fractured glass windows,
though it does not necessarily
mean the children are still awake.
"I've already spoken to the caretakers," he says. "She still hasn't returned."
She glances back at him. "She hasn't come back?"
"Don't worry," he says, just as she catches sight of a familiar silhouette approaching the cottage. "I've already dispatched a few guards who know her to look for her."
He cannot see her yet, his back still turned to her. But as he follows her gaze, he finds her there.
Her Father's miracle. Just as regret had begun creeping into her heart, wondering whether she should have gone after her herself instead of letting her walk away.
"It's her," Neva whispers, meeting his eyes.
Rhett smiles. "Go to her. I'll be right behind you with the children."
Neva nods, smiling as she starts towards the one she had been aching to see again.
"Why is Mumma going alone?" Isaiah's distant voice drifts after her.
"Neriah!" Neva calls, quickening her pace.
Neriah halts mid-step, her arms wrapped around herself, dressed only in a black tunic dress and leggings.
Neva's heart quickens as Neriah meets her gaze, a flicker of surprise stirring in her eyes.
"We've been looking for you," Neva murmurs and slips off her shawl
before carefully draping it over Neriah's shoulders. "You must be freezing."
Neriah simply stares at her. Then her gaze drifts past Neva, towards Rhett and the children walking towards them.
Neriah glances back at Neva, her lips parting as if to say something, but nothing comes out.
Then, "You..." she whispers. "You know?"
"Of course," Neva says softly. "Are you alright?"
Neriah says nothing as tears brim in her eyes, before she lowers her gaze. "Yes... yes, I am."
Neva smiles. "Is it alright if I give you a hug?"
Neriah nods, and Neva's smile deepens before she gathers her daughter into her arms.
Her whole being grows light as the weight of a thousand burdens falls away,
as the Lord's grace within this soul, known to Him even before she was knit together in her womb, melts into her embrace.