Moses knelt by the cracked earth where the river used to run. Dust swirled around his knees. Suddenly — a bush ahead of him ERUPTED in orange and gold flames. Heat washed over his face. The fire did not consume the branches. It only burned brighter.
A voice rolled across the desert. "Moses. Moses." His head snapped up. His lips parted but no sound came out. The command settled over him — lead my people. He had spent forty years in this wilderness. Why him?
Moses rose to his feet. He shook his head and held up his rough, calloused hands. Not me. The flames leaped and shifted. From his wooden staff, a serpent of fire uncoiled — then dissolved back into the wood. His eyes widened.
The voice rumbled again, deeper now. I will be with you. Moses's throat worked. His hand went to his pocket, fingers closing around the smooth river stone he carried. He looked at the burning bush, then at his own hands. Slowly, he nodded.
He marched across the sand toward the limestone palace. Staff in hand. The heavy doors groaned open. Pharaoh sat upon his throne, one eyebrow arched. The ground trembled beneath his sandals. The king's sneer did not fade.
Moses raised his staff. The sky turned the color of bruised fruit. A wind tore across the land, howling like a wounded beast. Before them, the Red Sea heaved — then split open. A corridor of wet sand lay bare, water walls gleaming on either side.
The Israelites stepped into the dry corridor. Water towers rose on both sides, shimmering like panes of green glass. Moses walked among them, watching their faces. Fear unspooled from their shoulders. Wonder replaced it. The sun warmed his back. Salt hung thick in the air.
At the far shore, green grass waited. Fresh reeds swayed in the breeze. Moses stepped onto the soft earth and turned. Behind him, the sea walls collapsed with a thunderous roar, water surging back into place. He looked ahead. The path forward was open.
