Chapter 70 Isaac
Ara carried Isaac back to Canaan from the mountain.
It was already past midnight.
The moonlight was clear, the clouds half-stained with a pale yellow hue.
The twinkling stars, like soldiers, guarded the bright silver moon.
In the cool summer night, the moonlight shone unimpeded on everything on earth.
Even every blade of grass in Canaan was bathed in the cool moonlight.
Ara walked across the grass, stepping on the light.
The moonlight and stars were behind him, and in his arms, little Isaac slept peacefully, snoring softly.
In the distance, the village was lit, and sparks moved incessantly around it.
Occasionally, anxious calls could be faintly heard.
It was Sarah, the wife. Seeing her husband leave with the children, looking strange, and not return by midnight, she frantically gathered the Canaanite villagers. They lit torches and searched for her husband and children in the darkness.
"Yara—"
The Canaanites searched every corner of the village, retracing their usual paths to the river and into the woods, but still found no trace of Yara.
They were planning to check the mountains if they still couldn't find him…
And then,
Yara's voice came from afar—
"I'm here!"
The voice carried on the wind, and the villagers, torches in hand, rushed towards Yara's direction. Sarah, in particular, ran faster than anyone else, nearly tripping over a stone…
Finally, the villagers successfully met Yara…
The torches illuminated everything around them.
Seeing that Yara and baby Isaac were unharmed, the villagers were relieved, but their hearts were filled with doubt...
Just then,
His wife stepped forward, tears welling in her eyes, her gaze resentful as she looked at Yara, complaining:
"Yara, where have you been...?"
"Do you know how worried I was about you and the child?"
"And, from the very beginning, you've been acting strangely..."
Yara lowered his head, placing the sleeping infant in his arms into his wife's hands. He sighed softly, looking towards the mountain he had come from, illuminated by the silver moon, and explained:
"It's complicated..."
"And dangerous..."
"But, God protected us, we're alright..."
Not only his wife, but now even the villagers were filled with curiosity. Their eyes, illuminated by the flickering firelight, all looked at Yara with curiosity, wondering what great adventure this messiah had experienced...
The group, carrying torches, walked towards the village.
Yara, still shaken, recounted his ordeal:
"The existence of some evil spirit, or a wicked god, corrupted my mind…"
"It made me sacrifice my son…"
At this point, his wife and the other villagers were shocked, involuntarily turning their heads to look at Yara with strange light in their eyes.
Especially his wife, she instinctively tightened her embrace of Isaac, her pupils trembling as she looked at Yara, covering her mouth in shock:
"You took the child out… to sacrifice him??"
"Oh, God…"
Yara quickly explained:
"That monster corrupted my mind…"
"In my eyes…"
"I only took a lamb…"
The villagers listened as if to a ghost story. Hearing this in the night, they were somewhat frightened, yet also intrigued, and wanted to hear the rest. They asked:
"And then?"
"You…" "How did you notice and escape?"
Yara shook his head guiltily, sighed, and his voice faded into the long night:
"No..."
"I never noticed...or rather, I was simply unable to notice..."
"That monster is similar to a dream monster, but far more dangerous..."
"It doesn't simply control illusions; it's also particularly adept at bewitching minds..."
The villagers, holding torches, listened intently. They had actually reached the village entrance, but Yara's story was so captivating that everyone stayed there instead of going home, waiting for Yara to finish.
"The lamb is a sacrifice..."
"And the child is the lamb..."
"It tempted me, saying that God needed sacrifices..."
"Ultimately, it made me choose between God and the Son..."
"Either forsake God, or kill the child."
The villagers listened, their hearts pounding. Imagining themselves in Ara's shoes, they all wore expressions of horror and anguish. If they had to make this choice, they would most likely turn their backs on God and save their children...
His wife, Sarah, also turned pale. She exclaimed in surprise:
"My God..."
"Then how did you save the child...?"
Before his wife could finish speaking, a blasphemous thought surged through the villagers' minds...
Could it be...?
The Messiah of God had forsaken his Lord?
Is this really possible?
But if not, how did the Messiah's son return alive?
A chilling sense of dread spread among the villagers. Some even felt a chill, a shiver running down their spines...
As the atmosphere reached its heaviest point,
Yara spoke, her eyes filled with utmost piety, and her voice carrying a hint of relief—
"I have neither forsaken my Lord..."
"nor have I killed my Son..."
"In my deepest despair, in the most agonizing moment—"
"The messenger of God appeared!"
Everyone listened, mesmerized.
Ara paused, then asked the villagers, "When I was about to offer my offspring as a sacrifice to the Lord, God said something. Do you know what God said?"
The villagers asked, "What did He say?"
Ara thought for a moment and said,
"God himself will provide the lamb for the burnt offering."
"Then the messenger replaced the monster on the altar, in place of my offspring."
"To become a sacrifice to God..."
Finally, looking at the villagers engrossed in the story, Ara seized the opportunity and appealed:
"So...Canaanites..."
"You must..." "Believe in the Lord, practice the Nine Commandments, and become righteous..."
"If you are possessed by evil spirits and demons, only if your faith is steadfast enough..."
"Then the messenger of God will save you..."
Upon hearing this, the villagers and their wives' initial panic and tension vanished,
transforming into worship and reverence. They continuously praised the greatness of the Lord in their hearts...
Some Canaanites whose faith was not pure, fearing possession by evil spirits, returned home and burned their hidden Olympian idols, keeping only objects related to their faith in God, which they devoutly worshipped daily.
And this story gradually evolved into several versions in the Canaanite retelling...
Soon afterward, passing merchants heard of this,
and carried the story along trade routes to various parts of the world, where it took root in different city-states.
Countless poets have drawn inspiration from this, creating numerous poems and legends...
So much so that even when Isaac was still an infant, stories already circulated—
He was a burnt offering forgiven by God...
The one who witnessed the miracle in the fire...
The son of Canaan.
...