The questioning segment began right after Jimoh Lawal's speech. A few of the villagers shifted in their seats, some glancing toward Chief Asuquo and others toward Jimoh Lawal, waiting for a signal.
Then a voice rose from the back.
"If Sekara's services are mostly free," the man asked, "how will it fund itself? How will it stay functional in the long run?"
Jimoh smiled, clearly expecting such a question. He nodded, acknowledging the man's concern as valid. "A good question. A very good one."
He stepped forward slightly, hands clasped.
"Sekara isn't funded by service charges. We don't operate on a 'pay-to-heal' model. Our support comes from believers in our cause, people willing to see Sekara grow and thrive. We've been fortunate to receive significant backing from notable figures: Chief Asuquo himself, the King of the Southern Kingdom, and even a few members of the Royal Council. They see the vision. They believe in it."
He paused, letting that sink in before adding, "Now, to be clear, not everyone receives free service. Those who can afford it will be required to pay. After all," he added with a soft chuckle, "if it were completely free for everyone, wouldn't it feel a bit too good to be true?"
Light laughter and a few nods followed.
Then came the next question, one that brought a noticeable shift in the air.
A woman, signaled by Jimoh's aide, stood. "The architecture, the energy, the entire system Sekara runs on, it's remarkable. But over the years, we've been told that divine energy is the only true source of sustainable power. And Sekara, as we all know, has no divine family backing. So where does your energy come from?"
A murmur of agreement rippled through the crowd.
Jimoh smiled again, but this time, there was something sharper behind it. He nodded slowly, as though savoring the opportunity to answer.
"Yes… divine energy has always been presented to us as the only source. The sacred essence from the gods. The light of the world. And let me be clear, I have immense respect for the Divines. They have kept us safe. They've done what others couldn't. But..."
He paused, letting the silence expand.
"But what if I told you... there's more to our world than what we've been allowed to see?"
A few heads tilted. The air shifted again.
"I do not come here to mock or replace the Divines. But for centuries, they've monopolized power and truth. In doing so, they've limited our ability to explore other paths. Other answers. We've been taught—no, conditioned—to believe divine energy is the only energy. But what if… it isn't?"
Now there was silence. A heavy, questioning stillness.
Jimoh continued, his voice smooth and resonant.
"The world is vast. The gods are ancient. Their reach, perhaps even more layered than we were taught. Our history tells us of one energy… but I say to you today: there is another. One that I've been blessed to find. A path I believe is the next step forward, not just for healing, but for freedom."
A weight settled on my chest. I shifted in my seat, my posture stiffening.
Jimoh gestured.
"Let me show you what I've shown to others, those who now stand as proud supporters of Sekara today."
His aide stepped forward, wheeling out three items: a sickly-looking dog, clearly infected with a Fallen virus; a covered object, wrapped in cloth; and a basin filled with water.
My eyes immediately locked on the dog. Its fur was blotched with corruption, black veins pulsing under the skin. I could feel the Fallen essence radiating from it.
Jimoh walked toward the objects.
"This is one of the many strays brought to us by villagers. It's been infected with a minor but fatal strain of Fallen virus. A month ago, it would've been a mercy to end its suffering. But today..."
He pulled the cloth back, revealing a stone-like object shaped like a moon—ash-grey, softly glowing. The texture mirrored the entire theme of the institution. Subtle, yet ominously beautiful.
"This artifact," he said, raising it for all to see, "was crafted by my own hands. Forged from rare earthly materials, substances I believe were placed here by the gods themselves. Yet they pulse with what I call Sekara: God's Forgotten Breath."
He dipped the moonstone into the basin. The water shimmered, its color shifting into a dull ash-grey hue. A mist coiled out, and a faint hum filled the air.
Then, they lowered the dog into the basin.
At first, nothing.
Then—ripples.
The veins on its body began to fade. Its weak body started to twitch, then jerk. And just as they lifted it out, the crowd gasped. The dog barked, eyes alert and alive, tail wagging. The Fallen corruption was gone. Completely.
Shock flooded the courtyard.
Applause erupted. Cheers. Cries of disbelief. People stood from their seats, clapping, crying. I stayed seated, rooted in place, not from awe, but confusion.
Jimoh raised his hand gently to calm the crowd.
"This is but one of many proofs I've shown to the Chief, to the King, and even to some of the Taris themselves."
He stepped forward, face alight with belief.
"There is more to this world. More than we've been allowed to see. If divine energy is real, and we see its fruits every day… then why doubt this, when we now see it too?"
Applause thundered again, louder this time. People were on their feet. Moved. Swayed.
But not me.
I sat still, frozen, even. My thoughts were running wild. If I had been confused before, now I was completely spiraling. What had I just witnessed?
And what, exactly, had I just stepped into?