The night was heavy with silence, broken only by the faint whisper of wind weaving through the trees. Ezekiel sat beside the dying embers of the campfire, his hands clasped together, eyes staring into the ash as though it could answer the turmoil in his heart.
He had always heard voices—some divine, some dark—but this one was different. It spoke not with threats or comfort, but with truths he wasn't ready to face.
> "You were never chosen," the voice murmured from the shadows of his thoughts. "You were used."
He clenched his fists. "No," he whispered, shaking his head. "I was chosen. I was called."
The voice laughed—soft, hollow, and almost sorrowful.
> "Chosen for His glory or His test?"
The words burned through him like poison. Every miracle he'd witnessed, every prayer he'd uttered, every tear he'd shed—suddenly they all felt like part of a cruel, divine experiment.
He rose to his feet, heart pounding, eyes scanning the darkness.
"Show yourself!" he shouted.
And there she was. A figure cloaked in mist, neither angel nor demon, but something in between. Her eyes shimmered like molten silver.
> "I am what your God forbade you to hear," she said softly. "The truth hidden beneath your obedience."
Ezekiel felt a shiver crawl up his spine. "You're not real. You're temptation."
She smiled. "Then why does my voice sound like His?"
The ground seemed to shift beneath him. For the first time, faith and fear collided inside him, tearing him in half. The woman stepped closer, her voice like a melody wrapped in warning.
> "If you want to save them all, Ezekiel… you must first betray the One who sent you."
He stumbled backward, his breath ragged.
> "That's blasphemy."
"Or prophecy," she replied. "There's a difference only when time reveals who was right."
The fire suddenly flared, light and shadow dancing wildly around them. The figure faded into the darkness as quickly as she appeared, leaving only her words echoing in the air.
Ezekiel dropped to his knees, gripping his chest as a single tear slipped down his face.
> "If this is Your test, Lord," he whispered, trembling, "why does it feel like You're the one being tested?"
The wind carried no answer—only silence, deep and divine.