πΈ⭐π️ THE END OF EXILE
πΈ⭐π️ THE END OF EXILE The Journey to the Perfect House The boy had no name that the world remembered. The world from which he came had called him many things: slave, burden, object, broken thing. The scars upon his body testified against the cruelty of men. Chains had once circled his wrists. The marks of violence remained upon him. There had been nights when hunger had hollowed him. Days when tears had been the only language he possessed. Yet amidst all of it— through humiliation, through mutilation, through loneliness so vast it seemed to swallow the stars— he had remained faithful. He had whispered prayers into darkness. He had forgiven when hatred seemed easier. He had loved when love appeared foolish. And in secret places where no eye could see, he had clung to the One True God. When his earthly pilgrimage ended, he awoke not in darkness— but beneath a sky of immeasurable blue. Living Waters flowed nearby. The air itself carried the fragrance ...