Zahir was a humble blacksmith from a fairly large village near the city of Hesh. He and his family—his father and younger brother—came from a long line of blacksmiths.

His mother had died when he was young, and it was his father who raised them. He had known how to work a forge since he was a child. He enjoyed working the forge; the Great Shepherd guided their hands, and they were the most sought-after blacksmiths in the region.

Zahir was an ardent follower of the Great Shepherd and led a life of pacifism, a trait he inherited from his father. His brother was not as faithful as he and his father were, but still would regularly pray with them.

He knew life in Lhazar was perilous. They were peaceful people, and that pacifism had been exploited by the Dothraki. Though he had not witnessed a raid in his lifetime, he was always suspicious that his mother had died or was captured in one.

It was a day like any other that Zahir and his brother Darab set off for Hesh. They were traveling there to buy supplies. His father would travel there every six months or so for buying valuable ores and other tools; this time, he had entrusted them to do it alone.

They bade farewell to their father and set off. In Hesh, they learned of the coming Dothraki threat. They heard rumors of villages along the river being raided. Zahir decided to return home immediately. To their horror, they saw their village in flames; it had been raided by the Dothraki. They rushed to their home to find their father.

Darab had found him lying lifeless in the street. Zahir stood there, staring at his brother clutching their father's body. He did not know what to do; his life was turned upside down.

Life went on after that, just as it did in Lhazar. Raids were a part of life, his father had told him; they had to move on.

Grief filled him during these dark times. Zahir found solace in the teachings of the Great Shepherd. He took advice from Godswives.

Forgiveness, they preached, was the path through which peace could be reclaimed. It was a bitter pill, yet Zahir forced himself to swallow it, his faith the only light in the engulfing darkness.

His brother's reaction, however, was a stark contrast to his own. Anger consumed him; his already waning faith in the Great Shepherd shattered. He relentlessly began to question their beliefs.

"How could the Great Shepherd allow this? Where was his protection when our father needed it the most?" he raged.

"Darab," he scolded.

"No, brother. The Shepherd is a weak god; he is not worthy of our worship if he cannot protect his flock," Darab retorted bitterly.

The rift between them grew over the years. Zahir became more devoted to the great shepard and this enraged Darab. Zahit tried to get his brother to understand the teaching of their god but they fell on deaf ears. His brother's heart had hardened; there was only hate vengeance there now.

The village was left a husk of its former self after the raid; survivors like Zahir had to pick up the pieces of their shattered lives and start over again. Just like many others in Lhazar, over time, they rebuilt and survived.

Three years later, the village had almost returned to its former self; peace had once again returned. His brother was speaking to him but was still adamant about his opinion on their god. However, Zahir still tried, but that always led to heated arguments.

Zahir was preparing to leave for the city of Hesh to buy more supplies; there had been rumors of Dothraki again that had put the villagers on edge.

"Brother, perhaps it's wiser to delay your journey to Hesh," Darab suggested.

"I have delayed long enough, brother," Zahir responded.

"The Great Shepherd will watch over me," he added.

"Yes, like he watched over our father," Darab retorted, his voice tinged with bitterness.

Zahir stayed silent, knowing responding would only lead to an argument.

"At least take this with you," Darab said, offering something covered in cloth. He unfurled it to reveal a sword.

"Where did you get that from?" Zahir asked, his anger rising.

"I forged it myself," Darab declared, pride evident in his stance.

"So that's why there was a shortage in the supply of iron," Zahir observed dryly.

"Please brother, take it with you. For protection." Darab pleaded.

Zahir's anger flared at the sight of the sword, a symbol of violence.

"This goes against everything we believe in, Darab. How could you?" he asked, disappointment lacing his voice.

"No, brother, only your beliefs," Darab fired back.

"We will talk about this when I return," Zahir said, leaving the house.

---

Zahir arrived in Hesh without any trouble. After securing his cart and horse, he went to the markets to get the supplies. It was in the market that he heard startling news.

"You headed to Kosrak?" the shopkeeper asked the merchant who was buying a lot of products.

"Yes," the merchant replied.

"Are you mad? I heard Jhoggo is planning to attack the city," the shopkeeper claimed.

"Ha, it seems you are behind on the news, my friend," the merchant said with a smile.

"Has Jhoggo sacked the city?" Zahir asked, interrupting their conversation.

"I heard that he did," the merchant replied. Zahir felt great sadness for the people of Kosrak, but then the merchant continued.

"But it seems fate had other plans. Jhoggo's Khalasar has been defeated," the merchant added.

"How? By what army?" the shopkeeper asked in disbelief.

"Not by an army," the merchant said, leaning in as if sharing a secret.

"But by one man."

Zahir's heart skipped a beat. "One man?" he repeated.

"Yes, they say he is a powerful sorcerer. Some even claim he is a god."

"The road to Kosrak is still dangerous, but I am willing to take the risk," the merchant said, leaving with a cart full of goods.

The shopkeeper shook his head in disbelief. Zahir's expression mirrored his.

Buying more than he usually did, Zahir left the city and it took him a while to travel back to the village as his cart kept breaking down.

What awaited him there was a scene he still had nightmares about. His heart dropped when he saw smoke over the horizon.

"No, nooo!" Zahir yelled, leaving his cart and running towards the village.

He ran to his house, not caring for anything else; images of his father's lifeless body filled his mind.

"Darab... DARAB..." he shouted. Zahir's voice cracked with desperation as he burst into his home. It was then he realized that his house was not damaged. He walked outside; only a few houses nearby had small signs of damage.

'Was this not because of a raid?' he thought.

"ZAHIR!" he heard his brother's voice. Darab was running towards him.

"You won't believe what happened," Darab exclaimed.

Zahir's heart, still racing from fear, began to slow as he took in his brother's unharmed appearance. "What happened, Darab? I thought... I feared the worst."

Darab grabbed his shoulders, his eyes wide with wonder. "It was incredible, Zahir. The village was attacked, yes, but we were saved."

"Come with me. I will take you to see her," Darab said, leading his brother away.

"Who saved the village, and who is 'her'?" Zahir asked.

"You'll see. It was a miracle, Zahir. I didn't see it, as I was hiding in the house, but many saw him defeating the Dothraki," Darab said.

Zahir, still trying to process, allowed himself to be pulled along. He could see that the village was barely harmed and only one house had been burned to the ground.

They stopped in front of a woman who stood confidently, her presence demanding attention. Flanking her were two individuals, their stances alert and watchful. Zahir's gaze lingered on them, noting their unusual demeanor.

"Brother, this is Mariam. She's a priestess of the god who saved us," Darab introduced with reverence.

Zahir looked at Mariam, skepticism etched across his face. "A god? Saved you? How?"

Mariam stepped forward. "Greetings, Zahir. Your brother has told us all about you. Your help will be needed for the village's recovery.

"Your village was on the brink of destruction, but our god, the Liberator, intervened. By his divine will,your village was saved; he left us here for further protection."

Zahir's eyes went to the two men flanking her.

"They are his champions, blessed with his strength," Mariam explained.

"It's true, brother. They have the strength of a hundred men," Darab chimed in.

Zahir turned back to Mariam. "And now? What happens now?"

"We will wait for further men to arrive. The Liberator has decreed all villages to have a small defense force,"

"This is just the beginning, soon all of Lhazar will be under the eternal protection of our God" she declared.

---

Everything changed after that day. His brother and others became ardent followers of this new god.His brother and many of his friends had urged him to join them to hear Mariam preach, but he had refused. He believed no one would turn their back on the Great Shepherd—how wrong he was. In a few months, he had become part of a small contingent of people who still followed the old ways. Yes, they called it "the old ways" now.

He walked through the village, observing the changes over the past few months. He passed by the small temple dedicated to the Great Shepherd at the edge of the village and noticed a small group still gathered there— a few loyal followers of the Great Shepherd who had not abandoned their faith.

More armored men arrived in the following months, fulfilling the promise of protection for the new god.As he arrived at the center of the village he saw Mariam preaching to some newcomers from a neighboring village.

"Our god, the Liberator, has shown His might. He has delivered us from the Dothraki when the Shepherd did nothing. Embrace His strength, and you shall know peace," Mariam proclaimed.

"Those who cling to the past, to a god who has forsaken them, will find themselves left behind. Our god offers protection and strength. The Shepherd offers only silence."

Zahir could not contain himself anymore; he stepped forward. "The Great Shepherd teaches us peace, forgiveness, and love. Your god teaches only violence," he declared.

A murmur ran through the crowd, some nodding in agreement with Zahir, while others looked to Mariam for reassurance.

Mariam smiled, a cold, calculated expression. "Violence? No, Zahir. It is not violence we spread, but hope. Hope for a future free from the terror of the Dothraki. Our god has proven Himself. What has the Shepherd done for you? Your father is dead, and your brother would have joined him if the Great One had not intervened."

His anger only increased when she mentioned his father and brother.

Zahir looked around at the faces in the crowd,some glared at him, some looked afraid . They had decided to embrace this new god of violence.He realized there was no use in arguing further he was alone.

His brother now seemed a stranger to him, drawn into the fold of the new religion. He attended Mariam's sermons daily. Their conversations became fewer and strained. Conversations at home now served as battlegrounds where words clashed more fiercely than swords. His brother echoed the woman's teachings with a zeal that brooked no dissent.

"Our god has shown His power, His willingness to protect us. What has the Great Shepherd done?"

"The Great Shepherd teaches us compassion, Darab. To forgive, to love, to find peace. Does this new god of yours teach the same?"

"Peace? Love? Where was that peace when the Dothraki attacked? No, brother, this god, our god, He fights for us. He protects us. That is the truth you refuse to see," Darab replied, his voice rising with each word.

"Darab, please, remember father, everything he taught us. He believed in the Great Shepherd, in His guidance."

"Times have changed, Zahir. Our father... he didn't live to see the Liberator's might. We have. I have. And I choose to stand with Him."

The village, too, mirrored this familial divide. Those who embraced the teachings of the new god looked upon Zahir and the few remaining followers of the Great Shepherd with suspicion and veiled hostility. The new faith demanded conformity, and those who resisted found themselves isolated.

The final blow came not from the village at large but from within the walls of his own home. His brother turned against him, coming to him one day to seize the family forge.

Zahir stood in the forge, the heat from the flames unable to protect him from the coldness in his brother's eyes. "You can't do this, Darab. This forge has been in our family for generations," he pleaded.

"It now serves a higher purpose, Zahir. Our new protectors need weapons, and you refuse to forge them. You leave me no choice."

"But to turn against your own brother?" Zahir's voice broke with emotion.

"We are on the path to greatness, under the protection of our new god. You chose to stand against that. You chose this," Darab countered, his voice devoid of the warmth it once held.

Zahir was dragged away from the forge by the men his brother had brought with him. With nowhere to go, he gathered what little he could carry and left the home he had known all his life.

He joined up with others like him, those who had been cast aside for their faith, in the outskirts of the city.

"It seems Hesh is our only hope now," one of them said.

"This might be happening there as well," another added.

And so, they set out, a small caravan of the faithful, seeking refuge in a city that might no longer welcome them. Zahir looked back one last time, the village shrinking in the distance, and wondered if the Great Shepherd was watching over them, guiding them to safety, or if they were now truly alone, adrift in a changing world.