The road east stretched long and empty, bending toward hills that shimmered beneath the sun's glare. The heat had not lessened, but the silence felt different now—not lonely, but attentive, as though the land itself listened to the sound of their footsteps.
The boy walked at the front.
Yareach slept peacefully against him, her small body warm, her breathing steady. Lucas followed a step behind, carrying what little they had gathered along the way. He kept glancing ahead, then at the child, as if still unsure whether what he had witnessed was real—or if the world had finally broken him.
They walked like that for some time.
Then Lucas spoke.
"Can i ask?" Lucas spoke confused yet curious.
"Sure..." The boy answered casually.
"What is your name?" Lucas question is simply but yet heavy.
"My name? I don't know. But something within me is saying from now on my name is Bereshith."
At 1st the boy was little hesitant but as soon he explained it and said his name: 'Bereshith', he answered him with bit pleasant voice.
Lucas, he, who heard the voice, ask another question.
"Why did you choose me?"
The question came quietly, without accusation or pride. Just curiosity—honest, uncertain, human.
Bereshith did not stop walking.
He did not look back immediately.
"I didn't," he said.
Lucas frowned. "You… didn't?"
Bereshith shook his head gently.
"Mister, I didn't ask you to follow me."
Lucas opened his mouth, then closed it.
"You followed me by your own will," Bereshith continued. "You could have ignored me. Or walked away. Or stayed where you were."
He glanced back briefly, eyes calm, not accusing.
"But you didn't."
Lucas swallowed.
"I followed because you asked me to come," he said.
Bereshith stopped.
Not abruptly—just enough to turn and face him fully.
"No," Bereshith said softly. "I didn't ask you."
Lucas blinked, caught off guard.
"You asked me where I was going," the child went on. "I answered."
"You told me it was dangerous to go east." and continue "I said I know."
Bereshith paused then—not because he was unsure, but because he wanted Lucas to think.
He shifted Yareach slightly and looked up at the young man.
"Mister," he asked,"why did you try to stop me from going east?"
Lucas hesitated.
Was it pity?
Fear?
Instinct?
"I…" His voice faltered. "Because you're just a kid."
Bereshith tilted his head.
"Is that all?"
Lucas looked down at the ground.
"No."
Silence stretched between them.
Bereshith stepped closer.
"Was it because you were worried for me?" he asked.
Lucas nodded slowly.
"Or," Bereshith continued,"was it because you knew the danger ahead of me?"
Lucas' breath caught.
The answer surfaced before he could stop it.
"…Yes."
Bereshith smiled.
Not brightly.
Not proudly.
But with understanding.
"You followed me with your own will," the child said. "And you tried to stop me because you knew it was the right thing to do."
Lucas felt something shift inside him.
Not fear.
Not awe.
Recognition.
Bereshith looked at him steadily.
"You are a good man, Mister."
Lucas' chest tightened.
"And good men," Bereshith said, voice gentle but certain,"will be blessed ones."
The words were simple.
They landed like truth.
Lucas exhaled shakily, emotion rising unexpectedly. He stepped forward and placed a careful hand on Bereshith's head, patting it once—an instinctive gesture of affection and respect.
"You're right," Lucas said quietly."I am sorry."
He paused, voice breaking.
"And thank you."
Bereshith nodded, accepting the words without pride.
They resumed walking east.
God did not speak.
He did not need to.
The teaching had already been given.
And the first follower had learned that faith does not begin when God commands—
It begins when a human chooses what is rightbefore being told to.