"All that prevails is wrought by the King of the Universe;
And what He has not created, is nothing at all," she continues, chin held high, her voice alight with fervor,
a song of fire and light burning around her.
The people remain unmoving,
unshaken by the cold, for the flame seeps into every crack, into every corner of their hearts and skin.
"Men—set as rulers of the garden,
Stewards of every good alms—
Were meant to be the better of all the earth.
Yet their eyes desired the jewels,
Glistening dim in the mountain cave,
Lit only by the last flicker of Light.
They reached, they plucked, they claimed them all—
But the more they tore, the more the pillars trembled."
"The darkness prevailed, the light within grew dim,
Until from the rift, a blinding light broke forth.
Soon the mountain shook, the cave collapsed,
And what once glittered became a grave,"
"The pleasures of this realm are tempting,
But do not fall—for they are fleeting.
Sin is what draws you closer to the grave of eternity. A calling for despair.
We were born in sin,
And in sin we live.
Strengthen your hearts,
Seek the Son of Man—
The Maker of the Way,
Whose blood has washed all sins away.
Open the door of your heart for Him,
Seal every crack in the house against evil.
Take up your cross and follow Him,
The road ahead will be rough,
But you will reach the end.
There you will find a golden gate,
And beyond it, eternal life with the Light of the World awaits.
Remain steadfast in faith,
The hour of the second coming is near.
There, you shall be freed from all pain,
From the shadows of death."
"Spread the good Word of what the Lord has done for us,
Teach what He teaches us, and let His love shine through your life.
Love one another as you love yourself,
No matter who they are, or what they have done to you.
Pray for those who persecute you,
For the world hated the Lord, and so you will face it too.
But do not be afraid—
He will always deliver you.
Always with you,
Watching over you."
"And so, the Father has prepared a land," she declares, her voice gentle yet aural.
She inhales the crisp air, as snowflakes drift from a sky washed in grey and pale–violet.
Evening descends, the faded twilight of winter casting a gentle glow over the world, while Heaven itself showers a feathery balm as the sermon nears its close—souls, hearts, and skin still alight from its flame.
For this sermon ignites the dim orb within the spirit—even those long astray, who have now opened the doors of their hearts.
They glance at one another, eyes wide, wonder and hope flickering like a candle's flame in the dusk.
A smile, a quiet peace—earned through a thousand hardships—dances across their faces. Some clutch the hands of their loved ones, others bow their heads, letting tears streak down their cheeks.
Neva sees them all, yet continues speaking, for she knows the multitude is listening—every eye, every ear, every trembling heart attuned to the Word.
"The Lord spoke to me
Through His messenger.
On the coldest of nights,
You shall sail there—
To the island where your brothers and sisters wait, prepared in God's name."
"There you will remain,
Until that blessed day arrives.
When the Son of Man shall blaze through the clouds,
The Second Coming of Jesus.
A fire for justice, light for the faithful."
She finishes with a soft exhale, closing the worn Scripture with gentle care, letting the words drift and linger in the crisp, cold air.
"Is it true?" someone murmurs.
A sacred hush settles over the gathering. Tears glimmer in unveiled eyes,
and the fear and grief—once shackled hard as iron—shatter, releasing the raw folly and conflict of their souls.
Neva searches for the voice and finds a frail woman rising from the crowd,
her hands trembling, eyes brimming with tears.
The woman meets Neva's gaze, tears streaming down her bruised face.
"Yes," Neva says, her eyes softening, her voice steady, carrying the weight of truth and grace.
"He sees His children crying out to Him.
He will rescue you,
for none can love as He loves.
When all hope seems lost, when even the righteous are haunted,
You will never sink so deep that He cannot lift you," she says, calm and hopeful.
"You always heal with Him,
And always find peace in His presence."
"Wh–when will it be?" the woman asks again, adjusting her veil, her voice trembling.
More voices rise, joining hers, the sea of people swelling like a tide.
Murmurs ripple through the crowd, growing louder...
"I do not know the exact day. But it is not far," Neva says, her eyes drifting to the two familiar guards closing in, shielding her.
Her brow furrows as she sees Rhett making his way toward her, moving through the sea of people that begins to falter, murmurs rising with unease.
The volunteered guards press the crowd back, their unanswered questions sparking confusion.
"We need to go," he says, grabbing her hand.
"Is something wrong?" she asks, frowning at the sharp alarm in his gaze.
"Royal guards were seen," he replies, eyes darting to Jack, who stands at the side, speaking quietly to two guards.
Jack turns, nodding grimly at him.
Neva grips her shawl, pulling it tighter around her shoulders, her gaze drifting over the crowd. A flicker of hesitation crosses her, a quiet regret that she couldn't end with the ritualistic prayer she had hoped for.
"I haven't even prayed—" her murmur catch as her heart drops.
Amid the throng, a silhouette clad in black from head to toe stands unnervingly still.
Her eyes dim as he lifts his head, meeting hers with those bleak, shadowed eyes.
The winter wind blows harsher, tugging at their clothes, stray strands from her braided bun brushing her cheek, the chill biting through her skin.
Footsteps and murmurs twist into a dissonant hum. Suddenly, as Rhett pulls her away, the dispersing crowd seems to slow, melting into a blur of grey and pale, kaleidoscopic shades.