The market square was alive with the usual chatter, but a new sound threaded through the voices—a voice smooth and commanding, singing promises of wealth, protection, and hidden secrets.
Elham paused. The words were easy to believe. Gentle, persuasive, as if the wind itself had learned to speak.
He turned and saw him: a man draped in golden robes, his staff carved with strange symbols that shimmered in the sunlight. The crowd parted for him, hanging on every word.
"Behold," the man said, his eyes scanning the villagers. "Those who follow me shall know power beyond their imagining. Abundance will flow into your homes. No shadow shall touch your lives."
Elham's chest tightened. Something about the man's eyes felt… wrong. Cold. Like watching ice spread over fire.
John was at the edge of the square, watching silently. He noticed Elham's gaze and gestured subtly.
"Who is that?" Elham whispered.
"Beware the voice that smiles too easily," John said. "That is Malchiel. He calls himself a prophet, but his truth is false. His goal is not the glory of God—it is the corruption of men."
Elham's stomach knotted. He remembered the warmth Johnathan had shown him, the quiet power that seemed natural in the old man. This man—Malchiel—felt like the opposite: a shadow pretending to be light.
Malchiel raised his staff, and a shimmer of power rippled through the crowd. Some villagers gasped, others bowed, some even knelt. Elham's hands clenched. He felt a tug in his chest, a quiet resistance stirring deep within him. Something old, something righteous, whispering.
John stepped forward, calm but firm. "Elham," he said, "watch carefully. Not all power is from God. And not all men who claim to speak in His name… do so honestly."
Elham swallowed. "I… I can feel it. Like something is inside them. Wrong."
John's eyes narrowed. "Yes. That is the demon's presence. But it is subtle. You must learn to sense it, to see it hiding behind smiles and gilded words."
The crowd shifted as Malchiel lifted his hand. A merchant behind him suddenly clutched his chest, stumbling, as if invisible chains bound him. The man's eyes widened, pleading. No one else noticed—everyone else was enthralled—but Elham saw it. The darkness clinging to him, whispering promises that weren't true.
"Can… can I stop him?" Elham asked.
John shook his head slightly. "Not yet. But you will learn. You must trust what you feel. Faith will give you authority beyond any staff, any gold, any trick of a false prophet."
Elham stepped closer, his heart hammering. He lifted his hand, almost instinctively, whispering a silent prayer. Warmth spread from his chest into his fingers, faint but certain, like the seed John had told him to protect.
Malchiel paused, as if sensing it—but he only smiled, that cold, practiced smile, and continued speaking. The demon inside the merchant hissed and recoiled slightly, as if resisting a force stronger than Malchiel's will.
Elham gasped. His first real taste of power. Small. Weak. But real. Faith, he realized, was not just belief. It was authority. It could command the darkness, even if only in tiny sparks.
John placed a hand on his shoulder. "You are beginning to see it, Elham. Not through your eyes, but through your heart. That is how you will fight. That is how you will lead."
Elham clenched his fists. He could feel the presence of the demon retreating from the merchant, tiny tendrils of shadow flinching from the light in his chest.
Malchiel's gaze flicked briefly toward him, and for a heartbeat, his smile faltered. Then it returned, sharper this time. The battle had only begun.
By the time Malchiel left, the villagers were murmuring with wonder, convinced of his power. But Elham and Johnathan knew the truth. Evil sometimes wore the brightest robes, smiled the easiest, and spoke the sweetest words.
Elham looked up at John. "I… I think I understand now. This… faith… it's not just belief. It's… authority."
John nodded. "Yes. And one day, it will be your sword, your shield, your command. But authority alone is not enough. You must learn discernment, courage, and patience. All three, or you will fall to shadows like Malchiel."
Elham's chest tightened with resolve. The world was larger than he had imagined. Darker. Full of deception hiding behind familiar faces. But he would not be afraid. Not if he could wield the authority of God Himself.
And he would.