The fire hissed and flared, and Jaguar Paw’s voice deepened as though the spirits spoke through him.
“I see them… men of the future. They march in endless lines, not with spears, but with thunder in their hands. Great beasts of iron crawl across the earth — jaguars made of metal, breathing smoke, crushing the bones of villages beneath their feet. The sky is filled with fiery serpents — birds of iron that spit fire and thunder, raining death upon the earth. And from their bellies fall false suns — burning brighter than the day, devouring whole cities in an instant. Men vanish into dust, and shadows of their bodies are burned into the walls.”
He paused, trembling, eyes wide as though he watched it happen before him.
“I see rivers turned red, oceans boiling with fire. Men carve the earth open, spilling her blood, choking her lungs with smoke. I see children screaming, not knowing why they are sacrificed. I see women searching the ashes for their sons. This is their sickness — their worship of death.”
Jaguar Paw drew a circle in the dirt with his finger.
“But the circle does not end there. When their altars of war have consumed them, when their false suns have burned even their kings, the earth will take back what is hers. The iron jaguars will rust. The fiery serpents will fall from the sky. The false suns will fade into cold silence. But the jungle will breathe again. The river will cleanse. The corn will grow.”
He turned to his children, his eyes blazing.
“Remember, my blood. The sickness is not in the earth — it is in man. When the fire of sacrifice comes again, do not follow them. Do not bow to their false suns. Run to the roots. Return to the mother. For she alone will cradle the survivors. And from her womb, the world will be reborn.”
The fire cracked, sparks rising like spirits into the night sky.
Joe leaned a little closer, his voice teasing but warm. “Maybe your first boyfriend was Mr. Right. Maybe you just had to dance with all the Mr. Wrong’s to remember him.”
Nelly laughed, shaking her head. “Oh, please. If he was Mr. Right, why didn’t it work out the first time?”
Joe grinned. “Because sometimes the heart takes the scenic route. You had to try the wrong steps before you found the right rhythm again.”
Nelly smirked, nudging him with her shoulder. “And you think you’re the rhythm?”
Joe winked. “I don’t just think it. I know it.”
Her laughter softened, and for a moment, she just looked at him. “Careful, Joe. Lines like that might actually make me believe you.”
Joe leaned back with a crooked smile. “You know, Zach Morris and Kelly Kapowski? They had chemistry. Everyone saw it.”
Nelly laughed, rolling her eyes. “Saved by the Bell? Really, Joe? That’s your comparison?”
He shrugged, eyes never leaving hers. “Yeah, they had chemistry… but you and me? We’ve got history. And that’s stronger. Chemistry can fade. History? That’s written in ink.”
Her smile softened, lingering. “You always know how to say the one thing that makes me stop joking.”
Joe grinned. “Good. Then maybe you’ll finally start believing me.”
Joe and Nelly stood at the steps of the great church in Sinj, the bells echoing across the Dalmatian hills. Pilgrims knelt, whispering rosaries, while the golden crown of Our Lady of Sinj glimmered in the candlelight.
Joe turned to her. “Here, Nelly… you don’t need a stage, or a microphone, or the approval of the world. Here you are free to hear yourself. Speak. Let the vision come.”
Nelly closed her eyes. A stillness fell over her, as if the centuries of prayer inside those walls wrapped around her like a mantle. She whispered, almost afraid of her own voice: “I see… children in the fields, laughing. Their mothers working with their hands, their fathers blessing the bread. I see a world without warlords, without greed. Only families, gathered around the table.”
Her voice grew stronger. “But I also see… a warning. The world wants me to sing illusions, to give them empty beauty. But the truth is sharper than any sword. If I speak it, they will mock me. If I sing it, they will try to silence me.”
Joe nodded, remembering Isaiah’s words. “They told the prophets: ‘Prophesy illusions.’ But God called you to truth, Nelly. And truth cannot be silenced—not here, not in Sinj, not anywhere.”
Nelly’s eyes opened, filled with tears but burning with conviction. “Then I will sing truth. Not for awards, not for money. But for the children, for the poor, for the ones the world ignores. I will be a voice, even if they call me mad. For in this place, I know Our Lady hears me.”
The bells tolled again, and Joe whispered with a smile: “Now you are not just Nelly the singer. You are Nelly the visionary.”
The bells of Sinj fell silent. A hush spread through the church as if the very air was waiting. Nelly’s breath slowed. Her body trembled, yet her voice rang out with authority not her own.
“I see the great cities fall,” she declared. “The towers of glass shatter, the engines of greed grind to dust. The merchants of the earth weep, for no one buys their cargo anymore—gold, silver, pearls, the souls of men. Their markets burn with fire, and their lies rise like smoke.”
Her eyes widened. “I see the rulers of the nations. They hide in their fortresses, crying to the mountains: ‘Fall on us, hide us from the face of the Lamb!’ But there is no hiding. Their crowns turn to rust, their armies to dust. The ones who made war for oil, who sold children for pleasure, who drank the blood of the poor—they are judged, and none can escape.”
Joe bowed his head, whispering: “Revelation… it is happening before our eyes.”
Nelly’s voice softened, and her trembling gave way to calm. “Yet I see hope. From the ashes, a river flows—clear as crystal, giving life to every nation. The hungry eat, the thirsty drink, and no child cries in fear. The lion lies beside the lamb, and swords are broken into ploughshares. War is remembered no more.”
She lifted her hands toward the icon of Our Lady. “And I see her—Our Lady clothed with the sun, crowned with twelve stars. She gathers her children from every land: the forgotten, the broken, the rejected. She places them under her mantle, saying: ‘Be not afraid. My Son has conquered.’”
The light of the candles shimmered against her tears. “Out of Dalmatia, a song rises. It is not sung in English or Croatian alone, but in every tongue. It is a hymn of truth, a hymn of justice, a hymn of love. The world cannot silence it, for it is the song of the remnant, the song of the children of light.”
Silence followed, heavy and holy. Joe whispered, barely breathing: “Nelly… what you have seen is not just for you. You must carry it. You must sing it to the nations.”
Nelly closed her eyes, her voice breaking into a prayer: “Then let my voice burn with fire. Let me sing until the last illusion falls, and the new dawn rises.”
🎶 Hymn of the Visionary 🎶[Verse 1 – The Fall of the False] The towers of glass are broken, The merchants of lies are gone. Their treasures have turned into ashes, Their kingdoms swallowed by dawn.
[Chorus – The Cry of the Nations] Kings tremble in their palaces, Armies fall without a fight. They cry to the mountains, “Hide us, hide us!” But there is no dark from His light.
[Verse 2 – The Fire and the River] The fire will test the nations, But the faithful are not consumed. From ashes a river is flowing, A garden where life is renewed.
[Chorus – The Cry of the Nations] Kings tremble in their palaces, Armies fall without a fight. They cry to the mountains, “Hide us, hide us!” But there is no dark from His light.
[Bridge – The Lady of the Stars] Clothed with the sun, crowned with stars, She gathers the lost in her arms. She whispers, “Be not afraid— My Son has conquered the grave.”
[Chorus – The Song of the Remnant] From Dalmatia rises a hymn, From every tongue it is sung. A song of truth, a song of peace, A song the world can’t undo.
[Final Verse – The Dawn of the Lamb] Behold, the Lamb has conquered, The earth is washed in His name. Illusions fall, the dawn breaks forth, And Love forever reigns.
