The Lord Himself goes before you and be with you; He will never leave you or forsake you.
Do not be afraid, do not be discouraged.
Neva draws in a slow breath, Deuteronomy 31:8 unfurling within her, a whispered prayer braided into the steady rhythm of her heart.
"I'm hungry." Her son's voice is soft,
his eyes still heavy with sleep as he rests his chin on his father's shoulder.
"We'll eat once we reach town," Rhett murmurs,
his warmth brushing against her side.
Her gaze drifts to the silhouettes of their companions, fading into the misty morning as they move ahead through the clearing.
"Can I have cake?" Rhean mumbles, her steps slowing without thought as Canawood comes into view.
She turns toward the dark forest beyond the open field where their car is hidden, a blur of green amid drifting wisps of fog.
"No," her husband says lightly. "I'll get scolded if I let you have that this early."
Their son's whining protest follows.
Rhett halts, turning as he realizes she's fallen behind.
"Angel?" A frown creases his brow.
She presses her lips together and pulls the shawl over her head.
He reaches out a hand. "Come on."
She closes the distance in quick, eager steps.
His warm fingers slip between hers, firm and certain.
It has been three weeks since Jeriah brought her the message,
that the remaining days of ministry are destined to close before the snow melts beneath the young sun, before the earth gives birth to shoots and bloom.
Their routines have been hectic, traveling, ministering, rescuing, and offering shelter.
Food and clothing are provided for everyone, especially for those rescued with nothing to call their own.
The better-off believers, God bless them, give what they can. Even the agents contribute from their own pockets.
For essentials, two agents are always sent to the nearest island that remains connected to the outside world, for fuel, weapons, or gold in place of cash.
The scent of fresh bread and cheese drifts through the air as Canawood wakes around her, cobblestone underfoot, brick buildings rising between the trees.
"I miss Zoro," Rhean murmurs, his gaze lingering on a faded golden street dog crossing the bridge.
Her husband meets her gaze, silent, knowing.
She knows how strange these circumstances are, a strange place, strangers everywhere.
Rhean often feels homesick.
And despite the strain of these weeks wearing on their bones, and the danger of their travels, her heart lightens at the thought that they chose to bring him along.
He had been so quiet, so mistreated, trapped in the camp while they were gone.
"Adam!" Rhean waves, spotting Apphia's grandson with his grandmother and Sky as they move toward the converging path beneath the shelter of ancient evergreens.
At his grandmother's cue, Adam glances back and waves. A smile brightens his sweet face as Rhean slips from his father's arms and hurries toward him.
Rhett glances around quickly. A few people move along the path toward town, but theirs is secluded, hidden beneath ancient trees, out of sight of soldiers patrolling below.
A voice drifts ahead as they follow their companions, before familiar faces emerge, the narrowing distance dissolving fog and the shadow of tree.
"Sister Neva!" Maria, who had been greeting Apphia and Sky, rushes toward her.
Bright-faced, Maria embraces Neva tightly. "How agonizing these hours are without you!"
Neva chuckles softly, patting Maria's back. "I missed you too, Maria,
but I can't really breathe right now."
"Oh... forgive me."
Maria gently pulls away, then turns aside, wiping a tear from her cheek.
When she meets Neva's eyes again, she laughs softly. "I hope the journey has been pleasant."
Neva smiles,
but worry flickers as she catches the unguarded pain in Maria's eyes, something deeper than the ache of separation alone.
Still, she only replies, "It was," her gaze drifting to Maria's husband, Jeremiah, speaking with the other guards.
Maria has been asking her to pray for her, about the child she has not been able to have.
They have been trying for years, and though Jeremiah appears calm, steady as ever, she fears he is slipping away from her.
"Everyone's here, Boss," Ace says as he moves into step beside Rhett. "What's the plan?"
As the guards gather before them,
Neva and Maria move toward Apphia and Sky, joining them in a corner set apart from the waiting guards.
"Split into three units," her husband says, arms crossed.
"Outer watchers on every road into town. Mid-layer inside the crowd—no clustering, no patterns. Inner circle stays with my wife at all times." His gaze moves across them.
"No one arrives together. No one leaves together." A pause.
"If signal goes out, the gathering dissolves. No hesitation."
"And remember—names, numbers, routes stay buried."
"Any seekers of shelter are to be redirected in small groups," he adds.
"We regroup here at five sharp.
That's all." The gold lid of the Full Hunter pocket watch flashes as it snaps shut.
An accord of voices answers him, and the guards disperse in layers from the shaded corner into their assignments.
A few linger behind, disguised, ready to melt into the crowd and guard them unseen.
"What about the rest?" Rhett asks, extending a hand as their son bounces toward him.
"They'll be here by evening," Ace replies.
"I've heard the priests do steal children by daylight here," Maria murmurs as she falls into step beside Neva.
Sky raises a brow, and Apphia ahead of them pulls her grandson closer.
It is no surprise that these priests and the king's men sacrifice people to please their demon king.
Neva bristles at the thought, her fingers brushing against her abdomen as nausea coil through her.
"How's pregnancy treating you?" Sky asks, her eyes flicking to Neva's belly.
Neva smiles softly. "Much better lately."
Sky nods, smiling at her. Maria, however, falls quiet.
Apphia had known before anyone else.
And with Sky and the agents living under the same roof and travelling with them,
they were bound to notice too,
her morning sickness and lingering weakness making it obvious.
Canawood swarms with life. Neva slows slightly, taking it in as movement spills through the streets and tiny stalls stretch along the front of the town.
A pair of silver-armored soldiers move through the throng,
their own guards vanishing into the crowd of townsfolk around them.
Before, they mostly moved through lands hidden from the ministers, priests, and soldiers, among the poor and forgotten.
Yet this final ministry unfolds for all eyes to see, where seeds are sown that her Father has prepared for every heart.
"I want oranges, Dada!" Rhean's voice rings out from behind them.
She turns, waiting as father and son draw near, Ace moving alongside them.
"Mama!" Rhean exclaims, darting toward her through the swarm of people.
"Careful, baby," she says softly, worry flickering as the crowd thickens around them, the town only just waking.
"Hungry?" Rhett asks, stepping forward to meet them.
"A bit," she says, glancing toward the fruit-laden stall ahead where her companions are already gathered.
Ace scoops Rhean up into his arms playfully, earning a whine of protest as the boy squirms while being carried sideways.
He wraps an arm around her waist, pulling her close as they step toward the stall, until her gaze catches a figure, a boy ascending the steps of a tall podium.
He leaves to pay for the oranges their son has hoarded into a little basket.
And with astonishment, and a thread of worry woven through her, she watches the boy, scarcely more than a teenager, fearlessly proclaim the Word of God.
She senses Rhett before he reaches her side. "Reckless," he says. "But brave."
"Where's Rhean?" Neva asks, then spots him with Adam as Apphia peels an orange for them.
"He's having his fill," he says. "So should both of you."
He smiles as she looks at him.
"Apple?" he teases, holding up a scarlet apple and giving it a little shake.
She takes it with a smile. "Thank you."
"Prophetess?" someone calls.
The woman raises a hand to her mouth, a middle-aged man stands close behind her, cradling a little girl.
"Do you need something?" Rhett subtly shifts Neva behind him.
She notices the woman's hand resting protectively over her rounded stomach.
"Is she not the prophetess?" The man draws his wife back by the arm. "The chosen one to deliver us from the king?"
"I am she," Neva says, stepping forward.
"Adonai has answered our prayers." The woman steps forward,
brown eyes lighting up.
"We were there, at the sermon in the Valley of Samaria." She takes Neva's hands with gentle reverence. "We are but among the multitude who long to gather under the mighty protection of the Messiah."
"So you shall," Neva says, her smile soft.
"Where do we journey from here?" she asks, grinning.
"We heard a sermon is to be held tomorrow."
"You are welcome to join us," Neva says. "And yes… there will be a sermon tomorrow."
Her eyes widen as she glances at her husband.
"And have the prophetess and her companions a place prepared for the night?"
"No, not yet," Neva murmurs.
"We have many rooms in our home, come with us! Oh how I forget," she laughs, gesturing. "This is my husband, Samuel,
and our daughter, Zeruiah. I am Arzia."
Neva nods at the family, then meets her husband's eyes, silently asking for guidance. A subtle nod from him is all the reassurance she needs.
"Oh, we have much to prepare!" Arzia exclaims, squeezing Neva's hands softly. "The Lord is so good!"
"My dearest," Samuel begins, concern knitting his thick brows. "Such restlessness will serve you poorly—"
"What is this madness?!" a voice thunders, cutting him off mid-sentence.
Soldiers climb the stairs, swords drawn, surging toward the young boy still preaching atop the podium.
She catches glimpses of a priest with a long greying beard,
draped in dark-green robes, tearing through the crowd as it fractures into chaos.
"Outrageous—utter madness!" the priest shrieks. "Kill him!"
"Kill him now! Let his death cleanse this square of heresy into silence!" The young boy, swords trained on him,
kneels still, unflinching as the priest's voice tears through the chaos of panic.
"Do something, Rhett," she whispers.
He answers with a flick of his hand toward Ace.
A subtle nod, and Ace slips into the crowd.
"Please, lead the way," Rhett says calmly.
Arzia, torn from the sight of the young believer, turns toward them. "Yes, yes… indeed," she says,
the color draining from her face.