Firefly Glen "Through the Refiner’s Fire" (Malachi 3:3)

periane listened, the conviction in hemera’s voice as unwavering as stone. there was no doubt, no hesitation—only fire, only faith.
a declaration, firm and unyielding.
periane did not challenge it. she understood it. faith, after all, was not always gentle. sometimes, it demanded. sometimes, it consumed.
your devotion is unquestionable, she said, a quiet acknowledgment, neither praise nor judgment. she had met many who clung to faith as tightly as breath itself—who feared what might happen should they ever loosen their grip.
her gaze lingered on the sandwoman, watching the way her tail quivered, the sharp inhale that followed her words.
it is improper for you to travel alone.
she tilted her head slightly, studying hemera in the pale moonlight. priestesses are not meant to wander unaccompanied. is it wise, then, for us to walk this path together?
it was not quite an offer, not yet—but it was something close. a question left open, waiting to be answered.