Opalina (prime)/The Quiet Answer
The Quiet Answer
Title: The Quiet Answer
Author: Opalina Jalcon
From the journals of Opalina Jalcon- 2002
Silence has a weight.
I had never known that until I stood beneath the frozen light of Koar's hall, where the sun itself seemed imprisoned within the ice. It shone so brightly that I could scarcely keep my eyes open, yet for all its brilliance, I had never felt more alone.
The councilman's words still lingered like poison.
Accept him... and he will spare the town.
Mercy, offered by those who trafficked in death.
How easily desperation dresses itself as hope.
I knelt before the white altar, my knees pressing against the frozen stone until the cold seeped through cloth and flesh alike. I bowed my head because I no longer trusted my own heart. Every path before me seemed to end in ruin. If I accepted his bargain, perhaps the town would live...
Or perhaps I would become the instrument of its destruction.
What frightened me most was not dying.
It was becoming someone who could no longer recognize herself.
So I prayed.
Not with elegant scripture or practiced devotion, but with raw, desperate honesty.
Help me do what is right.
Help me protect them.
Help me not become the evil I seek to stop.
The words echoed through the chamber before disappearing into the endless quiet.
I called upon Koar again and again—King, Protector, Watcher—and begged Him to awaken. To raise His voice. To save the council. To save the town. To save all of Elanthia if such a thing were possible.
Nothing answered.
Only silence.
I closed my eyes to meditate, hoping perhaps the stillness itself would reveal something.
Instead, the world answered with wind.
It came without warning—a fierce howl that tore through the chamber, wrapping itself around me with enough force to stagger my footing. My cloak whipped against my legs as though unseen hands sought to pull me from the altar.
I looked up.
There He was.
Carved into the wall yet somehow more alive than stone had any right to be.
A king seated upon His throne, weary eyes carrying the burden of every soul beneath His watch. Golden light flowed across His brow until the entire mural seemed to breathe.
Power.
Authority.
Compassion.
Not spoken.
Simply present.
My trembling hands reached toward the altar.
"If I cannot know the future," I whispered, "then let me at least remain honorable."
Those words mattered more than victory.
More than survival.
Darkness could promise life.
Fear could demand surrender.
But honor...
Honor was something no councilman could bargain away.
I prayed once more for the hidden vessels—for the chance to free those trapped between life and death. I prayed not for miracles, but for courage enough to seek them.
When I finished...
Nothing.
No voice thundered from the heavens.
No radiant vision descended upon the altar.
Only silence.
But this silence was different.
It no longer felt empty.
It felt patient.
As though the King had heard every word... and trusted me to walk the path myself.
I opened my eyes.
The answer had never been hidden within the wind.
It had been waiting within my own resolve.
Even when Heaven speaks only in silence... faith still answers.