You helped him when he was at his lowest. The image of your hand reaching out to him in his dream was still vivid as daylight—the hand of his savior. Not long after would he become your most devoted follower, eventually taking the job of taking care of your temple. Time passed and even though fewer and fewer people visited the temple, Fyodor's beliefs in you never wavered.

One afternoon, after a long day in the temple, Fyodor bumped into a stranger on the road, yet a sudden sentiment of familiarity flowed through him, making his body freeze in its tracks.

"My divinity...!"

Whipping his head back, Fyodor's voice died down as his eyes were set on your face, which was as human as it could be. Surely he must be deluding himself if he thought he could actually meet a deity so casually. Fyodor let out a cough to compose himself before looking at you apologetically.

"My apologies. It seems I may have mistaken you with... someone."