Chapter 27 A Conflict of Faiths
Misara could see the man in black robes looking directly at Kort through the window. Kort stood there for what seemed to be a very long moment before he spoke.
“He has seen us,” Kort said appearing alarmed.
Misara was bewildered by the miracle that seemed to have taken place before their eyes. This made her recall how she had healed that sick child years ago. She had felt the strength and power of Misar that day. But these new temples and their followers appear to be favored by their gods as well, she thought. And yet something seemed out of place. Something felt definitely wrong.
“He is coming out,” Kort said to them.
“What are we going to do?” Durem asked in a worried tone.
“We will meet him,” Misara said with resolve.
The two followed Misara to the front of the temple and waited for the large door to open. Silently, she prayed to her god for guidance.
The door opened and the man in black robes stepped out in front of them. Two other temple servants followed. They wore white robes. They must be acolytes, Misara thought. The man in black robes smiled at them.
“Greetings, I am Juro a priest of Balkir,” the man in black robes said before bowing. The acolytes bowed as well.
“Greetings to you, I am Misara of the Temple of Misar,” she said to Juro.
Upon hearing this, Juro’s smile changed. There was something about Juro’s eyes that now seemed to reveal a hint of derision.
“A priestess of the old gods,” Juro declared as if announcing this fact to his acolytes. The acolytes did not seem moved by Juro’s words.
And then from out of nowhere, Misara felt an overwhelming sense of melancholy. It was so palpable that she felt as though the weight of her heart increased tenfold. Her surroundings began to appear darker. The audible voices from inside the temple began to sound weaker.
She did not understand what was happening. She looked around frantically but only her eyes could move. She then caught a glimpse of Juro. The contempt on his face was unmistakable now.
And then a voice in her mind began to speak.
Your god is weak.
Your faith is even weaker.
You will soon witness the end of your gods.
As she was hearing this, all she could do was pray. But it was extremely difficult to do so as this sense of hopelessness engulfed her. She seemed unable to form the words of the many ritualistic prayers she had come to know. But she tried even harder. In her mind, she was finally able to muster enough strength to form three simple words, Misar protect me!
The voice inside her head began to fade. The darkness was slowly lifted and the overwhelming sadness gradually disappeared. She could now hear the voices clearly from within the temple. She looked at Juro and his face appeared kind and warm.
“Please enter as our guests,” Juro said to them. “Join us in the celebration of miracles.”
Upon regaining her composure, Misara replied “We - we have urgent business to attend to but we give you thanks for your offer of hospitality.” Misara was still trying to shake off whatever it was that came over her.
Juro and his acolytes bowed to them, turned around and entered the temple.
“Are you alright cousin?” Durem asked her in a concerned voice.
“I-I am alright,” Misara said. “Let us return home.”
“So be it,” Kort said.
As they journeyed home, Misara wondered whether what had happened was all in her mind. Yet she felt sullied by that encounter. It was definitely real, she thought. But as she pondered the incident, her inner peace grew. A sense of calm began to flow over her. The doubts she had entertained were now dissipating slowly. She could only describe what she now felt with one word:Victorious. But she wondered how she would fare if it happened again.