Music

Maari felt it before she heard it.

Something in the wind shifted—tightened. The kind of shift you feel in your gut before a storm. She was harvesting bright yellow arnica when the kids ran by. Little Melody greeting her and stopping to grab a hug, Harmony watching from the porch with crossed arms. “Melody, no!” Harmony shouted, then she flashed a death glare.

The pack is circling, Maari thought.

A few minutes later, Elira approached with Duke trailing behind like her royal footman. Her lips were overly plump, red and shiny like raw meat. Her linen robe moved like something conjured, not worn.

“Maari,” Elira said, voice sugarcoated and insincere. “We’d like a word.”

Maari stood slowly, wiping her hands on her skirt.

“Alone,” Duke added, gesturing toward the pines. “Just us.”

How incredibly fair, thought Maari, discerning.

They walked a short way down the hill, toward the spot where the trail forked. Maari didn’t speak. She let them.

Elira folded her arms like a judge.

“We’ve noticed some tension lately,” she began. “And I want you to know—I’m not offended. I’m used to this kind of energy. People have been jealous of my beauty and my golden anointing my whole life. So your… attitude... isn’t a surprise.”

Maari blinked. Slowly. Is this real?

Elira’s eyes gleamed. “I just want to see you healed, Maari. I mean that. But when you challenge me, it creates confusion in the Spirit.”

Duke cleared his throat and stepped forward.

“My wife is the anointed head over this land,” he said. “It’s my duty to submit to her as she receives instruction. And it’s yours to listen. Understand?”

She was only four years older than Maari, both in their fourties. But Elira tilted her head with a patronizing smile.

“We’ve both noticed it, young lady. This resistance. This spiritual defiance. And we just don’t want to see you forfeit your inheritance.”

Maari stared at them, her face unreadable. But inside?

Crystal clarity.

They are not sent. They are counterfeit.

“You done?” she asked.

Elira recoiled slightly, but said nothing.

That’s when Maari’s phone buzzed.

Federal. Private Line.

She answered.

“Hi My Love.” It was her husband’s voice, crackling through the static. “You okay?”

Maari exhaled a little tremble. “They’re circling.”

Silence on the line. Then:

“Don’t give them the Trust. I need to have a conversation with Duke, man to man, before any of that. Got it?”

“I got it.”

He was quiet again. Then: “I love you. Stay sharp. YAH is with you.”

She hung up and slid the phone back in her pocket.

When she looked up, Elira was trying to smile again.

Maari smiled back. A slow, quiet smile.

“You don’t have the range,” Maari said.

Then she walked away.