October 17th,
Sometimes the Lord doesn't just rescue.
He restores.
And sometimes…
He sends instructions wrapped in fire.
***
We started the fast that morning.
Just the three of us: Tony, Anita, and me.
No announcements. No grand declarations.
Just whispered agreement.
Dry lips. Focused prayers.
And hearts burning for clarity.
We needed to understand what we were walking into.
By afternoon, the signs were already manifesting.
That evening, as we were journaling and praying, we found it.
Our prayer journal — the shared one — had something extra scribbled on the last page:
"Stop praying. Or else."
Black marker. Bold and jagged.
Tony looked up slowly. "Did either of you...?"
We all shook our heads.
Anita closed her eyes, visibly shaken, then whispered, "It's empty threats. They want us scared."
I nodded slowly. "That means it's working."
Later that night, around 2 a.m., an alarm blared through the hostel block.
A blinding siren.
Girls screaming, running into the hallway in panic.
We scrambled out too, only to be told minutes later: no fire. No smoke. No technical glitch.
Just a triggered system.
By what? No one knew.
But we did.
Atmospheric resistance.
They were trying to drain our strength. Wear us out.
But that night, in our room, even with the electricity out and the windows shaking slightly, we knelt and prayed.
And the wind calmed.
The next morning, my phone buzzed with a voice note.
It was Raymond.
"Sis Sandra, I saw something. In my dream, there was a chapel… but not the normal one. It had stairs underneath — like a basement. And there was this door. A strange door. It was sealed with wax and chains, but the chains were breaking.
Mum said to tell you to pray about it."
A door beneath the chapel?
We'd passed that chapel a dozen times on our prayer walks.
I made a mental note.
Then came the knock.
Soft. Gentle.
We opened the door and froze.
"Hey," came the soft voice.
Mayumi.
Healthy.
Clean.
Smiling.
Her face was different now — not because it had changed, but because something in her had.
Her eyes were calm. Her aura felt… light. Delivered.
"I'm back," she said, "and I think I understand now. I've seen what you're fighting. And I want to fight with you."
We rushed to hug her, nearly toppling her.
Anita was the first to whisper, "Thank You, Jesus."
***
God doesn't just return the lost.
He restores them.
And He arms them with light.
We are not three anymore.
We are four.
And this time…
we are ready for the next level.