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The Cloaks of Serpents
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2025-06-10 00:52:27Rain swept across the rooftops of the cloistered city, a cold and relentless downpour that seemed to wash away not just dirt and dust, but hope itself. In the city of Dominus—a place once thriving with the songs of faith and laughter of pilgrims—silence had now claimed dominion. The cathedral loomed like a judge watching its jury, cloaked in shadow and mourning.
Inside the hidden corridors beneath the sanctuary, Isabella moved like a ghost. Her white robe was soaked and muddied, but she held her journal close to her chest. That leather-bound book had become a map of war—her dreams, the visions, and scripture that no one else could understand. But she did now. Every word pointed to this moment. Every whisper of prophecy had woven into the trembling reality around her. And her name—her destiny—was written across it.Arthur followed a few paces behind, the torch in his hand flickering weakly against the damp stone. He had become quieter since the ambush near the old b
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THE ALTAR WE BURNED Ever After Begins
Sunlight poured into the large windows of the lakeside cottage, flooding the cream-colored walls with warmth and golden hues. Isabella sat by the window, her hands gently cupped over her slightly swollen belly. Each morning, she awoke in awe that this life inside her had come from love, forgiveness, and rebirth. The journey had been long, filled with fire, betrayal, pain—but it led to this moment. To peace.Arthur walked in, barefoot and shirtless, a tray of breakfast balanced in his hands. “Morning, darling,” he said, his voice thick with sleep and adoration.Isabella turned to him, her face lighting up. “You made pancakes again,” she teased.He leaned in and kissed her forehead. “Anything for the mother of my child. Besides, you crave them. I know better than to argue with a pregnant woman.”They shared a chuckle, and Isabella watched him as he set the tray down on the small round table beside the window. Arthur had changed. The man who once bat
THE ALTAR WE BURNED A Covenant of Joy
The sun had barely risen, its warm golden fingers brushing across the rolling hills of the countryside, where Arthur and Isabella had retreated for a few weeks of peace. The gentle chirping of birds, mingled with the rustling leaves, gave the world a new rhythm—not one of war or betrayal, but of harmony. They had walked through fire and brimstone, survived scandal, outwitted the scheming clergy, and now stood on the brink of a new chapter.Isabella stood at the veranda, sipping from a mug of herbal tea. Her hair danced softly in the morning breeze, and a gentle smile curled at her lips as she watched Arthur tending to the flowerbed they had planted together just last week."Lavender for peace, remember?" Arthur called out to her, glancing over his shoulder."And rosemary for remembrance," she replied, her voice soft but steady.They both knew how far they had come. Their ministry had blossomed into a safe haven for the broken and lost. What starte
THE ALTAR WE BURNED A Love Sealed in Heaven
The first blush of morning light spilled over the horizon, draping the earth in soft golden hues. The birds sang a gentle tune, the trees swayed with the whispering wind, and the world itself seemed to pause in reverence for what was to come. Inside the small cottage nestled on the outskirts of Florence, Italy, Isabella stood before a mirror adorned with ivy and roses, her reflection calm but radiant.Her hand brushed over the soft lace of the dress she wore. It was not a wedding dress, not yet. But it was special. Arthur had asked her to join him at the chapel that morning, claiming they needed to pray together and discuss something important. It had been months since the trial, since the chains of Catherine and Elder Gregory had been broken by justice. Their sins had not gone unnoticed; their punishments had come not just by man but also by fate. Catherine had lost her position, wealth, and status. The once-commanding woman now roamed the corridors of shame, alone. Elder
THE ALTAR WE BURNED The Bloom of Forever
The morning sun filtered through the white curtains, casting golden hues on the bed where Isabella lay nestled against Arthur. The gentle rhythm of his heartbeat beneath her cheek calmed her, grounding her in the peaceful reality of their lives now. No more dark secrets. No more tormenting dreams. Only promise, love, and a future bursting with light.Arthur stirred and wrapped his arms around her more tightly. "Good morning, soon-to-be Mrs. Maxwell," he murmured against her hair, his voice husky from sleep.Isabella smiled. "Morning, Mr. Maxwell."They had spent the last week secluded in the serene countryside of Tuscany, away from the buzz of their growing ministry and curious eyes. The villa they borrowed from one of Arthur’s oldest friends had become their temporary sanctuary, where their hearts could catch up to their whirlwind reality.Isabella sat up, stretching, her silk robe sliding off her shoulders. Arthur's eyes, still laced with sleep,
THE ALTAR WE BURNED A Season of Still Waters
The rain that had once symbolized chaos had now become a gentle balm upon the city. As if Heaven itself were weeping tears of joy, the soft patter kissed the stained-glass windows of a newly refurbished sanctuary in the heart of the city—the headquarters of the global ministry Arthur and Isabella had founded. "The House of Restoration," as they called it, stood as a towering testimony to what God could build out of ashes. Inside the sanctuary, Arthur stood alone beneath the soft glow of overhead lights, his hands clasped behind his back. He surveyed the altar—once a place of silent battles and desperate prayers, now a radiant beacon. Golden lilies adorned the pulpit, their fragrance mingling with an air of reverence. His thoughts wandered back to that first sermon, the trembling fear in his voice, the uncertainty that clung to him like a second skin. But now, he spoke with fire. With grace. With love forged through testing.
THE ALTAR WE BURNED The Crown of Fire
Golden rays spilled across the quiet meadow, illuminating the soft petals of lilies that danced in the breeze like whispers of praise. The landscape surrounding Mount Thabor had changed over the past year. What once bore the scars of battles, betrayals, and bloodshed now bloomed with peace—a canvas of restoration painted by divine hands and watered by the prayers of those who remained faithful.Isabella knelt at the foot of the stone altar they had rebuilt on the hill, where the final battle of the past had scorched the land. Her fingers brushed over the engraved names of martyrs who had died standing for righteousness. The altar had been consecrated with their blood, and now it burned with a holy fire that never ceased—a miraculous flame that neither wind nor rain could extinguish.Arthur approached from behind, his steps steady, his heart full. He placed a hand on her shoulder. “They live on in this fire, Isa. Just like the promise God made to us. That our obedie
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