The men continued to prepare for war while Sera sat on the sofa and watched.

Luci was sitting on her feet, letting out huffs of annoyance every so often. Sera didn’t bother holding back her smile as she watched Alexei hiding knives around the room like a distorted Easter Egg hunt.

With Sera’s suggestion, Lachlan placed four chairs where they could sit and look like they were listening. Elias straightened a picture that didn’t deserve the respect, but his OCD would allow him to do nothing less.

Alexei unrolled a coil of paracord and looped it casual around the banister, not to bind, but it was better to have it on hand and not need it than need it and not have it.

Luci refused to give up his post on top of Sera’s feet and set his chin on his paws, the low grumble in his chest steady as a generator at idle.

The booklet the man had given them lay open on the table.

Illustrations, bright and sweet, showed families at picnic tables, boys fishing in rivers that reflected unbroken blue, lions napping under trees. Scripture ran under each picture in a tidy font.

Sera touched the image of a woman holding a baby. "It seems..." she started, looking for the right word. "Idyllic."

"Lies are supposed to be," Alexei returned. "Otherwise, who would believe in them?"

"Dreams are, too," she countered, with a smile. "But dreams are the best kind of lies, aren’t they?"

Time didn’t seem to pass. Instead, it was almost like it stacked one minute on top of another until everything threatened to fall down. The house was quiet and peaceful while the air outside didn’t stir.

Suddenly, the world flipped.

The sun didn’t dim. There was no warning of what was to come.

The world went from bright to black in the blink of an eye.

The house seemed to have felt it first, the pressure of the air causing the walls to crack and the floors to creek.

Elias reached for the lantern he’d set on the counter and paused, because the windows were already full of light.

Not sunlight.

Brass lanterns, a dozen of them, rose into view at the same height outside every pane, glass clean, flames steady. Voices braided into one tune, softer now, thick with promise.

Zubair didn’t need to lift the curtain; the door’s edge leaked enough glow to paint the hallway.

He moved into position with his rifle held low just in case tonight was going to have a different ending than what the strangers had planned.

Who was he kidding?

Of course it was going to have a different ending.

It was just a matter of how many people would survive it.

Lachlan’s voice dropped to a whisper that didn’t quite hold. "That’s a lot of friendly."

"Stay seated," Zubair murmured. "We don’t want to let them have the upper hand."

"Besides," continued Sera, her voice soft and sweet. "We don’t rush other people’s rituals. It’s rude."

The knock came gentle as before. Three taps. Measured. Patient.

Sera was already at the door, her hand on the knob like she’d planned the motion all day.

She looked to Zubair. He tipped his head just a fraction. She turned the lock and eased the door open to the chain. 𝑓𝓇𝘦ℯ𝘸𝘦𝑏𝓃𝑜𝘷ℯ𝑙.𝑐𝑜𝓂

Lantern light flooded the threshold.

The man in the white shirt stood at the center of a semicircle, his tie perfect, and his smile warm.

The girl in the blue skirt stood to his right with her binder open like a book of blessed names.

Behind them, the line swept across the yard—a congregation arranged with care. They didn’t hold any torches, there were no weapons around them. Only hands, booklets, and light.

"Good evening," the man greeted, as if evening existed. "Thank you for welcoming the Fold."

"We didn’t," Lachlan muttered under his breath.

The man didn’t react. He looked at Sera the way a patient doctor looked at a child with a fever—kindly, as if kindness were a habit. "You asked what forever looks like," he reminded her. "We can show you the first step."

"And that is," Sera prompted.

"Obedience," he offered, tender as a lullaby. "Perfect obedience that can be led by a hair. Kneel in the light and let what is old burn away. Stand, and you will be cleansed of all your sins."

Alexei’s weight shifted, barely.

Elias’s fingers tightened on the back of the nearest chair until the wood complained. Luci’s growl deepened, the sort of sound that meant a body twice his size would think twice.

Zubair held the door at its chain and kept his voice level. "No one kneels here."

The man’s smile didn’t falter. "Pride is a heavy chain, and the greatest of the Seven Deadly Sins."

"And yours," Zubair returned, "is a sales pitch."

The girl lifted her binder as if to read, lantern light gilding the edges of the pages. "Salvation doesn’t knock twice," she warned gently. "When the trumpet sounds, there won’t be time to choose. God has given you a lot of time to select the right path. When the time is up, you get what you have chosen."

Sera’s head tilted again, curiosity bright as a blade. "Then why do you keep giving us time?"

The man’s eyes shone. "Because even stubborn hearts can be softened by love and the light of God."

Zubair felt the night press against the threshold like water against a hull. He didn’t fear the pressure. He feared the patience behind it.

"Last chance," the man invited, and his voice almost glowed. "Kneel... and be remade."

Sera glanced once at Zubair’s hands, at Lachlan’s jaw, at Elias’s knuckles gone white, at Alexei’s balanced stance. She smiled—small, real, hungry for the experience more than the answer.

"Show me," she breathed.

The girl stepped forward, binder closing with a soft, ceremonial sound. Lanterns lifted in unison. The semicircle narrowed.

Zubair slid the chain an inch tighter and set his shoulder into the wood.

The hymn swelled.

The door held.

And the house, bright behind them, waited to see which world would choose the other first.