Chapter 135: I Never Left You

Leitana stared down at the Bible on her thighs as she leaned against the headboard of the bed. She was in one of the many spare rooms in the villa, legs drawn up to her chest, the thin cotton nightgown clinging to her still-damp skin. Tears dropped steadily onto the open pages, blurring the ink in small dark circles.

The Bible was open to Psalm 23—her favorite since she was a little girl in the orphanage. The sisters used to read it to her when the storms came and the power went out.

The Lord is my shepherd; I shall not want.

He maketh me to lie down in green pastures: he leadeth me beside the still waters.

He restoreth my soul…

She read it again.

And again.

And again.

But tonight the words felt far away. Distant. Like someone else’s promise.

She whispered them under her breath, hoping the familiarity would bring the peace it always had before. The comfort. The quiet assurance that God was near, that He saw her, that He cared.

Nothing came.

No warmth in her chest.

No gentle whisper in her spirit.

No sense of His presence.

Just silence.

And the echo of Ravial’s voice.

There is only one god who answers when you’re in pain… and he’s standing right here.

She closed her eyes tight.

His face flashed behind her lids, blindfold dark, jaw tight, voice low and feral.

You keep praying to a God who stays silent while you’re hurting. Heaven has already answered. It answered with me.

Her breath hitched.

She pressed her forehead to her knees.

Everything was happening too fast.

Jim’s hands on her throat.

His mouth on hers.

Ravial caging her against the wall.

His palm over her heart.

His calm, terrifying certainty that he was the only god she needed.

Their first real fight.

She had never seen him like that, on the verge of something wild and unhinged. The way his voice cracked when he said her name. The way his hand trembled—just once—when he touched her bruised cheek. The way he looked at her like she was both his salvation and his undoing.

And the worst part?

She didn’t know him.

Not really.

No family.

No siblings.

No childhood stories.

No past he ever spoke of.

He never talked about himself.

It was always her.

It was like everything about him revolved around her.

Never where he came from.

Never what he was before her.

She lifted her head and stared at the open Bible again.

He leadeth me in the paths of righteousness for his name’s sake. Yea, though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil: for thou art with me…

She whispered the last line like a lifeline.

…for thou art with me.

But tonight she couldn’t feel the Almighty.

She couldn’t feel anything except the ache in her throat where Jim’s fingers had pressed, the soreness on her cheeks, the hollow place inside her chest where Ravial’s words kept echoing.

There is only one god who answers when you’re in pain…

She pressed her palms to her eyes.

Was she losing her faith?

Or was she just losing her way?

She didn’t know.

All she knew was that she felt alone.

Truly alone.

For the first time since Ravial found her.

She curled tighter into herself.

The Bible slipped from her lap and fell open on the bed.

She didn’t pick it up.

She just cried, quiet, exhausted tears into her knees.

And somewhere in the villa, in the dark master bedroom down the hall…

Ravial stood at the window.

Staring out at the night.

Listening to the faint sound of her crying through the walls.

His fists clenched at his sides.

He had let her go tonight.

Because she asked.

Because he loved her more than he loved control.

But love, for a creature like him, was never clean.

It was possessive.

Obsessive.

Unforgiving.

And right now it was screaming at him to go to her.

To hold her.

To erase every mark Jim had left.

To remind her that she was safe.

That she was his.

But he stayed where he was.

Because she had said no.

And the devil obeyed.

Leitana

Leitana

Leitana's eyes darted around as she heard her name being called. She looked around in confusion. She was no longer in the guest bedroom. She was in the clouds.

Thick white clouds rolled all around her, endless and soft. Golden light shimmered through them, warm and alive, like sunlight trapped inside honey. The air felt thick with peace, but also heavy with something much bigger than peace. Something holy. Something that made her heart beat too fast and her knees feel weak.

She floated.

No floor. No ground. Just clouds and light.

“Leitana…”

The voice came again. Deep. Gentle. Burning.

It was everywhere and nowhere. It filled her chest, her bones, her soul.

She turned.

And she saw.

Glory.

Not a man. Not a shape she could name. Just… fire. Living fire. Gold and white and crimson, swirling, blazing, never consuming itself. Brighter than the sun, but she could look at it. It hurt to look, but she couldn’t look away.

She fell to her knees, hard, onto the soft clouds that somehow held her.

Tears poured down her face before she even realized she was crying.

She couldn’t speak at first. Her throat felt too small for the words she wanted to say.

Finally she whispered, voice shaking:

“Papa God…”

The glory pulsed, brighter for a moment like it heard her.

She trembled so hard her teeth chattered.

Fear and awe crashed through her at the same time. Fear because she was nothing, dust, a breath, a heartbeat in front of the Maker of everything. Awe because He was here. He had come. For her.

She bowed lower, forehead almost touching the clouds.

“Mi… mi no worthy,” she choked out. “Mi no clean. Mi let anger take mi. Mi fight with mi husband. Mi feel dirty. Mi fail Yu. Mi sorry… mi so sorry…”

The burning flame of Glory shifted, slow, and gentle. The fire didn’t burn her. It warmed her. It wrapped around her like arms made of light.

A voice spoke not loud, not booming. Soft. Like wind over water. Like love made sound.

“My daughter.”

Leitana sobbed harder.

She felt a hand on her shoulder.

Not a hand like human hands.

Warm. Steady. Burning without pain.

She looked up, tears streaming, her face wet.

She still couldn’t see a face. Just glory. Just fire. Just love so bright it hurt.

“Papa God…” she whispered again. “Mi… mi see Yu.”

The touch squeezed her shoulder gently.

“You have always seen Me,” the voice said. “Even when you thought I was silent.”

She shook her head.

“Tonight… mi no feel Yu. Mi read Yu word. Psalm 23. Mi read it over and over. But mi feel nothing. Mi scared mi lose Yu.”

The glory brightened, soft, not blinding.

“I never left you.”

Leitana’s lip trembled.

“Mi fight Ravial. Mi yell at him. Mi tell him no. Mi run from him. Mi… mi doubt. Mi doubt if mi know him. Mi doubt if mi strong enough. Mi doubt if mi can do this… the Celeste thing… the danger…”

The touch moved from her shoulder to her cheek. It wiped her tears. The touch was fire and comfort at once.

“You are not strong in yourself,” the voice said. “You are strong in Me. You are not called to be fearless. You are called to trust Me when you are afraid.”

Leitana hiccupped.

“But mi husband… him say him is the only one who answer when mi hurt. Him say Yu silent. Him say Yu let bruises happen.”

“I am not silent. I speak in ways he cannot hear. I speak in the still small voice. In the word you read. In the love you give. In the courage you find when you think you have none.”

She swallowed hard.

“Mi no wan’ lose him,” she whispered. “But mi no wan’ lose Yu either.”

The hand cupped her face both sides now.

“You will not lose Me,” the voice said. “I am with you always. Even when you cannot feel Me. Even when you doubt. Even when you fight. Even when you fall.”

Leitana’s tears slowed.

She leaned into the touch like a child leaning into a father’s hand because this was her Father.

“Mi sorry,” she whispered. “Mi sorry mi get angry. Mi sorry mi doubt yu.”

The glory brightened again, warm, and forgiving.

“I forgave you before you asked,” the voice said. “My mercy is new every morning. My love is not earned. It simply is.”

Leitana closed her eyes.

She felt peace small at first, then deeper. Like cool water on a fever.

“Help mi,” she whispered. “Help mi be strong. Help mi forgive Jim. Help mi love Ravial even when him scare mi. Help mi keep going for Celeste, for mi sister and mother. Help mi trust Yu more than mi trust mi own fear.”

The hand on her face grew warmer.

“I already am,” the voice said.

And then soft as a breath…

“Sleep, My daughter. Rest in Me.”

Leitana felt herself sinking, gentle, weightless back into the clouds.

The glory faded slowly.

But the peace stayed.

She opened her eyes in the spare bedroom.

The Bible was still open on her lap.

Psalm 23.

She touched the page, wet from her tears.

She smiled.

“Tank Yu, Papa God.”

She closed the book.

Curled under the covers.

And slept, dreamless, and peacefully.

For the first time that night.