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.