(1890 AH)
The man in the white robes stared at the images on the visi-scan, horrid images of the terror-stricken lands of Tetepe and New Jutland: first narrowly focusing on a mangled government building in the Juteslam capital; now pulling back to show dozens of bodies in the street, rescuers running between them as they desperately tried to assist survivors; now panning to the side to reveal the close-up of a blood-soaked woman being turned over by a rescuer, the woman’s face nearly torn away, her arms still clinging to the few remaining fragments of her infant child; and finally cutting to a Tetepian village, thick black smoke rising slowly from the tangled remnants of the shelling, the whole scene evidencing the Juteslam’s quick retribution for the shaitaanist Demosep bombing in the capital, with the camera now carefully avoiding the dead yet finding no living Tetepians either.
When the man in the white robes closed his eyes, a tear curled down his cheek. He kneeled on the ground and put his palms together. “Father, I shall follow your will in all things. Please, help me understand.” After a few seconds, he sighed. “I can see that this man has suffered and now despairs. Though he has committed such terrible acts, good still dwells within him. I will guide him to the light, though I know he shall cry out before me.”
A minute later, the man, still kneeling, swallowed hard. “Father, must we follow this perilous path? Will these other two human souls justify your trust by placing their faith in You? You must know they will suffer from Your great gifts rather than embracing them. Will they ever understand the truth? In any of our worlds? I could save them both. I could help them see… Yes, I know, they must choose for themselves… If You open their minds to the truth of their souls, will it be enough?” A few seconds later, the man nodded slowly, respectfully. “Of course, Your will as always.”