By the time Jonah saw the old, crumbling shrine on the third day, he was half-delirious from heat, dehydration, and conversation with his sword.
It was a sorry thing: a few leaning columns, the roof caved in, ivy choking the altar.
He staggered toward it anyway, muttering.
"Place of worship. Perfect. I'm the warrior of God. Maybe he'll finally pick up the phone."
Val's muffled voice vibrated at his hip.
"You're going to pray?"
Jonah dropped his pack, slumped on a stone step, and dragged the sword out of its sheath.
"I don't know. Maybe. I've got… questions."
"Let me guess. 'Why me?'"
Jonah scowled. "It's a perfectly reasonable question."
Val sounded bored.
"Everyone asks it. Kings. Peasants. Idiots."
Jonah blinked. "Which am I?"
"I think you know."
Jonah sighed and rubbed his face. "Helpful as always."
He sat for a while in silence.
The wind whistled through the broken columns. Birds chirped in the weeds.
Finally, Jonah got to his feet.
He walked to the cracked altar.
Knelt.
Held Val's hilt in both hands like a holy relic.
He cleared his throat awkwardly.
"Um. Hi. God. It's… me. Jonah."
Val coughed.
"Smooth."
"Shut up," Jonah hissed. He turned back to the sky.
"Look. I don't know how this is supposed to go. I wasn't exactly… pious. Sorry about that."
The wind blew, uncaring.
Jonah bit his lip.
"I'm scared. Okay? That's the truth. I don't want to die. I don't want to kill people. I don't want to be this."
Silence.
Jonah's voice cracked.
"I don't even know what you want from me. You say 'fight evil.' Which evil? There's so much of it. How do I even know I'm on the right side?"
Val was silent now, watching.
Jonah's eyes stung.
"I'm not strong. I'm not good enough. I can't do this alone."
He lowered his head to the altar.
"I'm begging you. Help me."
Nothing.
The wind died.
The birds stopped singing.
An oppressive silence crushed the air.
Jonah felt the hair on his neck rise.
Val glowed.
"Incoming."
Jonah lifted his head.
The shadows of the columns twisted, pooling into a single shape behind the altar.
Eyes opened in the dark—a hundred pinpoints of unholy light.
A voice like knives scraping on bone spoke.
"HELP YOU? YOU ARE ALONE."
Jonah's breath caught. He scrambled back.
Val burned in his hands, blue flames guttering in terror.
Jonah stammered. "Who—what—?"
"PRAY, AND WE ANSWER. YOU PRAYED. WE HEARD."
Jonah's heart thundered.
Val growled.
"Demon. Don't listen."
Jonah swallowed. "You're not God."
"WE WERE ANGELS ONCE. WE KNOW HIM WELL. BETTER THAN YOU."
Jonah tightened his grip.
Val spat.
"They lie."
The demon's mass shifted, whispering.
"YOU DON'T HAVE TO BE HIS PAWN. WE OFFER POWER. CLARITY. CERTAINTY."
Jonah's hands shook.
Val flared brighter.
"Jonah. Decide."
Jonah licked his dry lips.
"Why me?" he rasped.
The demon laughed.
"BECAUSE YOU ARE WEAK. EASY TO BREAK. EASY TO USE."
Jonah's face twisted.
He blinked away tears.
He raised Val.
"Not by you."
He lunged.
Val screamed in holy fury as the blade cut through the shadows.
The demon howled, its shape boiling away like smoke.
The eyes blinked out one by one, leaving nothing but silence.
Jonah collapsed to his knees, panting.
Val flickered, voice weary.
"Good choice."
Jonah wiped his face.
"Is this… is this what it's going to be like?"
"Yes."
Jonah sobbed once.
Then pushed himself to his feet.
"Fine."
He sheathed Val.
"Let's go."
"Where?"
Jonah looked south, at the burning line of desert dunes.
He set his jaw.
"Toward whatever comes next."
They walked away from the ruined shrine.
The wind picked up again, clearing the dust.
High above, the clouds parted just enough for a single beam of sunlight to fall on the cracked altar.
End of Chapter 3: The First Prayer