The Last Prayer

Apr 12, 2025 | Fiction

The alleyways of Seville were silent under the weight of fear. It was the year 1492, and the fires of the Inquisition burned hotter than ever. Across Spain, edicts had been issued: Jews and Muslims must convert, flee, or face death.

In a small, dimly lit home near the city’s edge, Yusuf and Daniel sat across from each other. The two men, a Muslim physician and a Jewish scholar, had been friends since childhood. Their fathers had once debated philosophy in the open courtyards, their mothers had traded spices and stories over shared meals. But now, all of that was ending.

“They came to my neighbor’s house last night,” Yusuf said quietly, his fingers tracing the rim of his cup. “Took the whole family. No one knows where.”

Daniel nodded, his face pale. “I heard the same about the Levi family. They were given two days to leave. Those who stay…” He didn’t finish the sentence.

The room was heavy with unspoken grief. They both knew that soon, their names would be on the lists. Yusuf had already heard rumors of forced baptisms, of trials where confessions were wrenched out with fire and iron. For Daniel, it was worse—the Inquisition’s hatred of Jews ran deep, and even conversion could not always buy safety.

“We have to go,” Yusuf said finally. “Together. To the coast. There are ships leaving for North Africa.”

Daniel hesitated. His heart ached at the thought of leaving his books, the streets where his ancestors had walked for centuries. But what choice was left?

Before he could answer, a knock at the door sent a chill through them both.

Yusuf stood first, pressing a finger to his lips before moving to the door. When he opened it, a young girl stumbled inside—Daniel’s niece, Miriam. Her dress was torn, her face streaked with tears.

“They took my parents,” she whispered. “They’re coming back.”

Daniel gripped the edge of the table, his knuckles white. Yusuf acted quickly, pulling off his cloak and wrapping it around Miriam’s shoulders.

“We leave now,” he said. “No more waiting.”

As they slipped through the back streets, the bells of the church tower rang, signaling another trial at the Inquisition’s court. Neither man looked back.

That night, under the cover of darkness, they reached the coast. A ship bound for Fez waited in the harbor, its deck crowded with others like them—Jews and Muslims, families torn from their homes, now bound together in exile.

Before boarding, Yusuf and Daniel turned once more to the land they had loved, the home that had betrayed them. Then, side by side, they stepped onto the ship.

Neither knew what awaited them across the sea, but they carried with them something the Inquisition could never take: their faith, their friendship, and the hope that one day, their people would return.

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