Elham woke before the sun fully rose.
The room was quiet.
Still.
He lay there, staring at the ceiling.
And the memory came back.
Clear.
The water rising around him.
The cold against his skin.
The light breaking through the sky.
"I choose God."
The way everything stopped.
The silence that followed.
And then—
The voice.
"Come."
Elham's grip tightened slightly against the blanket.
The white space.
The light in front of him.
"You have chosen."
"…Gabriel."
The name formed quietly in his mind.
It didn't feel unfamiliar.
It felt placed.
He exhaled slowly, staring upward.
"It wasn't a dream," he murmured.
He pressed a hand lightly against his chest.
The warmth was still there.
Steady.
Real.
"Elham."
His eyes shifted.
His mother stood in the doorway.
He hadn't heard her approach.
"You're awake," she said.
Elham sat up slowly.
"Yeah."
She studied him for a moment.
"You've been up for a while."
It wasn't a question.
Elham nodded slightly.
"Just thinking."
She stepped inside.
"There's food," she said. "Come eat."
Elham stood and followed her out.
The house was simple.
A small table. A few chairs. Worn but cared for.
He sat down quietly.
His mother placed a piece of bread in front of him.
"Eat."
Elham took it, but didn't start right away.
"…Something happened yesterday," he said.
She didn't react immediately.
"What kind of something?" she asked.
Elham hesitated.
"I don't really know how to explain it."
She sat across from him.
"Try."
Elham exhaled slowly.
"There was a man in the square," he said. "People believed him."
She nodded.
"I heard."
Elham glanced up.
"But something felt wrong," he continued. "Like… it didn't match."
His mother watched him carefully.
"And you trusted that feeling."
Elham nodded.
"…Then there was light," he said. "At the stream."
He paused.
"And I heard something."
Her hands stilled slightly.
"…What did it say?"
Elham met her gaze.
"That I have to speak," he said. "And not stop."
A long pause followed.
His mother leaned back slightly.
"…Then it's started."
Elham frowned.
"What has?"
She didn't answer right away.
Her gaze drifted slightly past him.
Not at the door.
Not at anything in the room.
Somewhere else.
Then she blinked, and it was gone.
"This land isn't just this village," she said.
Elham blinked.
"I know that."
"Do you?"
Her voice was calm again.
"There are twelve regions across this land," she continued. "Each one ruled differently."
"Twelve tribes," Elham said.
She nodded.
"They've been divided like that for generations," she said. "Different leaders. Different ways of living."
A pause.
"And different problems."
Elham listened quietly.
"…What does that have to do with me?" he asked.
His mother's gaze returned to him.
"Because things don't stay in one place," she said.
A pause.
"If something changes here… it spreads."
Elham felt that settle.
The man in the square.
The voice.
The light.
"…So this isn't just happening here," he said.
"No," she replied.
Silence filled the room.
Elham looked down at his hands.
"…Then what am I supposed to do?"
His voice was quieter now.
His mother studied him.
"You said you were told to speak," she said.
Elham nodded.
"Then start there."
It sounded simple.
Too simple.
But not wrong.
Elham exhaled slowly.
"…You believe me," he said.
She held his gaze.
"I believe you felt something real," she said.
Her hand moved slightly across the table.
Stopping just short of his.
"What you do with it… is what matters."
That stayed with him.
Elham stood.
His mother didn't stop him.
"Be careful who you listen to," she said.
A pause.
"…And don't carry more than you understand."
Elham nodded slightly.
"I won't."
He stepped outside.
Behind him, his mother remained still.
For a moment—
Her composure slipped.
"…Not again," she murmured under her breath.
Then she straightened.
And the moment was gone.
Outside, the village stretched out before him.
The same.
But not the same.
Elham looked toward the distance.
Twelve tribes.
One land.
Divided.
And now—
He was part of something moving through all of it.