Adam has lived at Angkara Village with Lorna and her daughter Lara for several weeks now. He helps with chores. He's grasp of the local language improves after weeks in the village. He learns by listening to daily conversations. He practices simple phrases with Lorna and the elders. He still speaks slowly, but people understand him. They appreciate his effort and correct him when needed. This creates trust and removes earlier hesitation.
In one beautiful morning, Adam woke early as usual. He swept the yard, carried water, and helped Ernand sort dried herbs. The village felt calm. People greeted him with quiet respect. Some nodded. Some placed a hand on their chest. They used the word they had begun to adopt.
"Barakah."
Adam always corrected them. "Pray… only pray."
They listened, but the word still spread. It was simple. It was easy to say. It became a habit.
Later that afternoon, Lorna walked toward him with an uneasy expression. Her steps were slow. Her hands trembled. Adam noticed her eyes. They looked tired.
"Adam… please…"
She struggled to form the rest. She looked toward her house. Adam followed her gaze and understood something was wrong.
He entered her home quietly. Lara lay on the bed, curled under a blanket. She breathed fast. Her skin looked pale. Sweat covered her forehead. Adam touched her hand. It felt hot.
"Fever… long?" Adam asked.
Lorna nodded. "Yesterday… worse now… medicine… no help…"
Ernand entered the house. He looked at the girl carefully. He checked her pulse and pressed lightly on her neck. His expression tightened.
"Not normal fever… breathing heavy… chest pain…" Ernand said slowly. "Need strong healer… but town… far… too late."
Lorna covered her mouth. She tried to stay calm, but her voice broke. "Please… Adam… help…"
Adam froze. This was different from coughs or joint pain. She looked fragile. Her breaths were shallow and shaky. He felt fear rise in his chest. What happened in Scholar's Town still haunted him. The glowing chest. The crystal. The runes reacting. He did not know if his presence would help or harm.
"Me… not healer," Adam said slowly. "Not mana… only pray."
Lorna knelt beside him. Her tears fell. "Pray… then… Please."
Ernand stayed quiet. He watched Adam. He did not pressure him. He did not exaggerate. He only said one sentence.
"Try… if nothing… we lose nothing."
Adam felt his throat tighten. He understood what they asked. He nodded once.
"I… try."
He sat beside Lara. He placed a cloth on her forehead. He held her hand gently. The room felt heavy. The air felt still.
He whispered prayer after prayer. He recited every verse he remembered. He repeated the ones he had memorized since childhood. The ones he knew from his father's voice. The ones he heard in Jakarta mosques before dawn.
His voice trembled at first. Then steadied.
He prayed for mercy. He prayed for strength. He prayed for healing that came from God alone.
Hours passed. The lamp burned low. Ernand stayed at the door in silence. Lorna sat near the bed but did not speak. The house remained quiet except for Adam's voice.
As night deepened, Adam felt a warmth build inside his chest. It was not the sharp pulse he felt in Scholar's Town. It was calm. Soft. Balanced. He held Lara's hand with both of his.
A faint white glow appeared between their hands.
He almost pulled away in fear, but something told him to continue. The glow stayed gentle. It did not flare. It did not disturb the air. It felt like still water.
The girl's breathing slowed. Her body relaxed. Her fever eased. The glow wrapped around her like a thin veil of light.
Lorna gasped, but she stayed silent. Ernand narrowed his eyes, trying to understand the phenomenon without jumping to conclusions.
Adam finished the last verse he remembered. The glow faded. He slumped forward. Sweat dripped from his forehead. He felt exhausted, but not harmed.
When dawn approached, Lara slowly opened her eyes. She blinked. She looked around in confusion. She touched her chest. Her breathing was steady. Her fever was gone.
Lorna hugged his daugther and cried. Ernand exhaled, relieved but still thinking.
Adam sat back, drained. He whispered softly. "Alhamdulillah…"
Lorna hugged her daughter tightly. When she looked at Adam, her expression was full of gratitude. "Thank… thank you… Adam…"
Adam shook his head. "Not me… God… mercy…"
But Lorna had seen the light. She did not understand his distinction. She placed her hands over her heart.
"Light… gentle… peaceful… You… blessed…"
Ernand stepped forward. He kept his tone firm. "Not mana," he said. "I saw his hands. Different. Calm. No mana surge. No elemental trace."
Lorna nodded, but the meaning she took was different from Ernand's cautious explanation.
That morning, villagers gathered outside after hearing whispers. Word spread fast. They saw the girl walking with her mother. They saw Adam standing beside them, tired but calm.
Someone in the crowd spoke quietly. "Light… from his hands…"
Another added. "Not Mana... Not spell..."
A third voice whispered the phrase that would spread through the village within hours.
"The Light-Blessed…"
Adam immediately rejected that idea. "No… Not me... I pray... Only pray..."
But people already formed their own conclusions. What they saw became stronger than what he said. They believed the light was a blessing carried through him. They believed his presence brought healing.
Ernand tried to temper the excitement. "Do not depend on him... Respect his limits... He is not a mage… Not a healer..."
The villagers nodded. They listened. But their curiosity grew. Their admiration deepened. Some already whispered stories to each other. They said his barakah was stronger than before. They said his prayer was guided by some unseen light.
Adam sat outside Lorna's house and watched the sun that already rise. He felt relief. He felt fear. He felt gratitude.
He wondered if this was another sign. He wondered if the hermit's words were tied to this.
"Borrowed… not reincarnated."
He did not chase the meaning. He let the thought rest. He placed his hand over his chest and whispered a quiet prayer.
He asked for guidance. He asked for humility. He asked for clarity.
The village woke around him. Children ran. Adults prepared their morning tasks. But some paused and looked at him longer than usual. Their eyes held questions he could not answer.
The day began with peace. Yet the change in the village was clear.
His quiet life would not remain unnoticed anymore.
Lara plays outside again the next day. Her laughter echoes through the village. It convinces people that a miracle happened. The title "Light-Blessed" becomes common speech. Adam stays quiet. He chooses to serve rather than argue.
The village begins to change because of him. And Adam senses that change will lead to something larger.