Who’s the Strongest?
The sky was soft that morning.
Birds moved gently through the Flame Grove's canopy, and golden leaves swayed in rhythm with the laughter of three children chasing butterflies through the roots of the First Tree.
Abraham leaned against the trunk, sharpening a wooden staff with a small carving knife. Saral sat nearby, weaving a crown of flower-vines, her hands delicate, her focus precise.
Their youngest child — a girl with eyes like sunlight and questions like thunder — paused, looked at them, and raised her voice just loud enough to break the morning peace.
Appa… Amma…
Yes, little flame? Saral answered, not looking up.
Who's the strongest?
The words floated like sparks.
Abraham blinked.
He glanced at Saral.
She kept weaving.
The two older siblings immediately froze.
The boy pointed to Abraham.
Appa. He opened the Gate. He held flame with bare hands. He walked into fire and didn't burn.
But the middle one shook her head.
No. Amma carried the Ark when no one else could. She made Appa stop when he got too serious. And she wins every time we argue.
Their youngest blinked.
So…?
Abraham smiled and stood, brushing dust from his hands.
Well, I suppose if you're talking about strength for battle…
He raised his hand and let a small flame bloom in his palm, dancing harmlessly.
…I'm probably the strongest.
Saral looked up with a teasing smirk.
But if you're talking about strength to forgive…
She touched the heart of the flower crown gently.
…to wait, to listen, to carry others when they're too stubborn to admit they're tired…
She looked at him.
Then that would be me.
Abraham laughed.
Guilty.
The children looked at each other, confused.
So who wins?
Abraham knelt.
The world thought power meant lifting a sword.
Saral sat beside him.
But sometimes the strongest thing you can do…
…is lower it.
The three children looked at their parents.
And then, without another word, ran back into the Grove — still arguing, still laughing, still full of light.
Abraham sighed.
I think they'll figure it out.
Saral leaned against him.
I think they already have.
The First Tree rustled its branches.
As if agreeing.
**End of Scene**