Chapter 12 – The Gift of Joy

A desolate field, enveloped in dense and impenetrable darkness.

God, helpless, barely stands as he observes Death, who stands before him, his scythes hanging threateningly at his sides.

God: (in a calm but firm voice)

"Death, I look at you and see a being consumed by a darkness that should not belong to you. You were not born to destroy, but to understand the cycle of life and death. You were created to be part of a balance, not to sow chaos and pain. Why have you chosen this path? Why do you embrace malice as if it were your only nature?"

Death: (with a cruel grin, his voice cold and biting)

"Strange to hear you speak of balance, you who have manipulated your own creations to serve your purpose. Justice, you say? It’s just another empty word you use to cover up your failures. Tell me, God, where is the justice in condemning your son to die for a plan he doesn’t even fully understand? Or is it perhaps just to sacrifice what you love for an abstract idea?"

God: (trying to maintain his calm)

"Sacrifice is not a failure, Death. It is an act of love, a conscious choice to preserve something greater than ourselves. It is through sacrifice that we can build a better future."

Death: (laughing softly, the sound echoing like a funeral bell)

"A better future? For whom? For the terrestrials you cursed with eternal sorrow simply because they couldn’t understand your pain? Or for yourself, to ease your tortured conscience? Your sacrifice is not love, it’s selfishness disguised as virtue. You do not create for the good; you create to control. Look where we’ve ended up: you are here begging me to change, but only because your plan collapsed under the weight of your own contradictions."

God: (with a note of sorrow in his voice)

"You don’t understand, Death. I don’t seek control. I seek beauty, harmony. I do not claim to be infallible, but I believe the world can be a better place if we all act with justice. You have the power to choose, to change. You are free to embrace the good."

Death: (clenching his hands around the scythes, his voice growing sharper)

"The good? What would that be, God? Why should I embrace it? I have watched this world, your creations, and do you know what I have seen? Suffering. Conflict. Lies. The good is nothing more than another face of power. You use it to justify your dominance, while I reject it to embrace the truth. And the truth is simple: the universe is chaos, and only those who accept this reality can truly be free."

God: (with a more decisive voice, but not without hope)

"Chaos is not freedom, Death. It is prison. It is the refusal to grow, to improve. Embracing the good does not mean controlling, but giving others a chance. You have seen suffering, but you chose to fuel it rather than fight it. And that does not make you free: it makes you a slave to your own darkness."

Death: (a moment of silence, then with a whisper that grows into a roar)

"And you are a slave to your own hope! A blind fool who insists on seeing light where there is only darkness. I am not the one in chains, God. I accept what I am. I am the end, I am the truth. You, on the other hand, cling to ideals that will never hold up against reality. Tell me: how many more lives must be sacrificed for your ‘good’? How much suffering must you inflict to chase your illusion of harmony?"

(A heavy silence falls between them. God lowers his gaze for a moment, reflecting on Death's words. Then he raises it again, his eyes filled with determination.)

God:

"Perhaps you are right, Death. Perhaps the good is an illusion. But if it is, then it is the only illusion worth fighting for. I will not stop trying to build a better world, even if it means failing over and over again. Because, in the end, even in chaos, it is the idea of hope that makes us alive."

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Death: (with a sharp smile, turning to walk away)

"Then keep fighting for your empty dreams, God. I will continue to live in the truth. When your world collapses, I will be there to welcome it."

As the conversation between God and Death unfolded, a movement drew everyone's attention.

Martyr, still bent from pain and wounds, gathered the little strength he had left and rose to his feet. Every movement was slow, laden with fatigue, but determined. With uncertain steps, he dragged himself to a point where everyone could hear him, finally stopping at the center of that desolation.

With a deep breath, he began to speak:

Martyr:

"Brothers... you, like me, are enslaved by the power of this being. None of us gains from this slavery.

The Father has gifted you with sorrow, and now you know how to recognize it. You also know where it comes from. But what you lack, what we all lack – Death, the Father, and even myself – is truly understanding what brings happiness.

You lack the knowledge of the feeling that guides you toward what is right. That is why you behave this way, because you are incomplete. I want you to not only know the evil. Whatever the future holds, I want you to also have the opportunity to know the good.

It will be up to you to choose, my brothers. Once you understand what moves you, you can decide for what cause to ignite your soul. You will have everything you need to discern between good and evil, between right and wrong."

(His voice grew louder, an echo of defiance and hope combined.)

"Like you, I once lived with a limited vision, a broken perspective. But then, one day, everything became clear. For me today, life should have ended, and that would have been the culmination of a life dedicated to an ideal.

Father, I forgive you for what you have done. I am grateful for saving me, even though you destroyed my destiny. You make me, at the same time, happy and sad. I know that you too, probably, were seeking joy, and for that, I cannot hate you.

But now the time has come to leave feelings behind."

(Martyr raised his gaze, his eyes burning, filled with determination.)

"Sometimes, we must do what is necessary for what we believe in. We cannot let pain or sorrow bend our will. Today I must die, and I will. And you, my brothers, will witness my end.

You will be sad for my death, but I hope you will also be happy to see me fulfill my destiny. Not just for me, but for a cause I believe in with all my being.

I ask all of you: is it worth paying life for a cause? You can never know, but know this: as long as someone is willing to fight beside you, you will never truly be defeated.

So fight! Ignite your souls! Free yourselves from the condition you are in now, puppets of an evil being. Embrace what you believe in, and honor my last, extreme act."

(Martyr turned his gaze toward God, his voice now softer, almost fatherly.)

"And you, Father, take example from what I am about to do. Leave your feelings behind and act for what you believe in. Only then will you restore meaning to my life, the meaning you took away with your act."

Martyr stopped, breathing heavily but with a determined gaze. With a slow and solemn gesture, he brought his hand to his chest. He felt the heat of the divine weapon, Courage, pulse within him, almost like a heart beating in sync with his will. When he began to draw it, the sword revealed itself in all its grandeur: a colossal weapon, too large for his fragile earthly body. And yet, with superhuman effort, he managed to pull out only half of it, the rest remained lodged in his small chest.

As the sword shone with incandescent light, tears began to fall down his face. But they were not tears of pain. They were tears of joy.

In that moment, he thought of the gesture he was about to make. A gesture that would define not only his existence but also that of all those present. And just as the Father had gifted the world sorrow,

Martyr decided to gift joy. A joy that was not simple carefree happiness, but the awareness of fighting for something greater, the spark of a purpose.

With a deep breath, Martyr took the final step.

He raised the sword above himself, the symbol of his will, and let it fall. He did not absorb it back, he did not stop. The blade pierced his body, ending his life with no chance of return.

That death was not just a sacrifice, but a message.

Martyr had spoken not only to the terrestrials but also to the Father. His speech and his extreme act had a dual purpose:

On one side, he wanted to ignite the hearts of the terrestrials. Encourage them to rebel, to fight, to believe that change was possible. He had sparked in them the flame of hope, transforming them from unaware slaves into determined fighters.

On the other side, the sacrifice was a challenge to God. A final attempt to urge him to follow the plan, leaving him with no alternatives. Martyr was betting everything on those creatures and their indecisive nature; he had lit their flame, and they were finally willing to do anything.

Martyr was dead, but his cause lived on. And in that silence filled with tension, it was understood that nothing would ever be the same again.