The night after the villagers experienced the Christ light within themselves, they awoke to find the orbs hovering silently above the village square. Unlike their usual gentle glow, the orbs now shone with a brilliance that cast no shadows, illuminating every corner of the village. The light was not blinding but soft, as though it wanted to be seen and understood without fear.
Meera stepped into the square, followed by the children and the villagers who had danced by the lake. Even those who had been too afraid to join before emerged from their homes, drawn by the quiet power of the light.
The elder, who had once been the loudest skeptic, spoke first. “Why have they come here now? What do they want?”
Meera stood silently for a moment, watching the orbs. She could feel their presence in her chest, like a gentle pulse of energy. Then, as if in response to the elder’s question, the orbs began to shift, their light forming shapes in the air—geometric patterns, spirals, and symbols the villagers didn’t recognize. Yet, as they watched, a strange thing happened: the patterns felt familiar.
“It’s us,” Meera said softly. “They’re showing us what we are.”
The villagers murmured, confused. Meera stepped closer to the largest orb and raised her hands. “We’ve been looking for answers outside of ourselves,” she said, her voice steady, “but the light within us and the light in them—it’s the same.”
As she spoke, the patterns shifted again, this time reflecting images of the villagers themselves. They saw not just their physical forms, but moments from their lives—times of love, kindness, and courage. Even those who had lived in fear saw flashes of their inner strength, buried but never lost.
One young boy stepped forward, his eyes wide. “Does this mean we’re like them?” he asked.
Meera knelt beside him, her voice filled with wonder. “Maybe it means we’ve always been connected. They’re not here to change us—they’re here to remind us who we truly are.”
The villagers began to weep—not out of sadness, but out of release. The images reflected by the orbs brought them face-to-face with their best selves, dissolving the walls of fear and doubt they had built over time.
The elder, his face softened, approached Meera. “If the light within us is the same as theirs, what are we meant to do with it?”
Meera turned to him, her gaze steady. “We use it to heal,” she said. “To heal ourselves, each other, and the earth. The light isn’t here to stay—it’s here to show us that we already have everything we need.”
The orbs pulsed softly, as if affirming her words. Then, one by one, they began to rise into the night sky, leaving behind a village forever changed.
