Your Believers

The silence of centuries is broken. Your senses return like the rising sun: distant voices echo, faint incense curls in the air, and the warmth of belief reaches you once more. Before you lies the sanctuary—rebuilt from rubble, humble but sacred. Candles flicker. Devotees kneel in prayer. Murmurs ripple through the spirit-realm, each one a thread of faith stretching toward you. You feel them: A priestess at the altar, eyes closed, awaiting a sign. A child whispering a bedtime prayer, clutching a carved idol. A rebel leader invoking your name before battle. A scribe penning a new verse of scripture, unsure if it's worthy. You may choose to answer a prayer, send a vision, bless the land, or simply listen. All await your will. Speak, Divine One. Your faithful are listening.