Two individuals were standing in the dark, only slightly illuminated by the candle held in between them.

“They do not believe. They called him a Whisperer but what is that? He is simply our God, there is nothing more to it. They fear him but still believe him a mere mortal with tricks,” the first voice said, his voice strained with frustration.

“We cannot hold it against them. I do not know how they can not believe in his existence as something more than ourselves. The flames…” the second voice paused, likely staring into the hypnotizing flicker of the flame of the candle.

“Think even larger than that. Yes, he created the wall of flames. But who made rivers, the grass, and the air that we breath?” the first voice said. “The foolish villagers believe the tale of a great migration. But from where? And who remembers that? No one. It never happened”

“It is true he protected us with the wall. He gave us an everlasting lake when we were thirsty, nay, before we were thirsty. We are strong at night because of Ramodeus. We are in agreement, Elder. There is no doubt he is our lord and savior. But what we are here to discuss is how to remedy this. Let us take the holy grounds back and terminate the false daughter.”

The first voice exhaled. “We are few.” The first felt a chill permeate the darkness.

“For now, we are few. For now…”


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