In the land of Israel, under the warm, golden sun, Hannah, a woman of deep faith, journeyed to the temple in Shiloh. Clutching her young son Samuel’s hand, she carried offerings—a three-year-old bull, an ephah of flour, and a skin of wine. Her heart was heavy yet hopeful, for she was about to fulfill a sacred promise. Years ago, she had stood in this very place, tears streaming down her face, praying for a child.

In the realm of the mighty, where power and authority reigned, the kings and princes were reminded of their sacred duty. They, who held sway over multitudes, were given a stern warning from the heavens. Their authority, a divine gift, demanded righteousness and adherence to God’s law. But they faltered, swayed by their own judgments, neglecting the holy path. A prophecy was given, foretelling a swift and terrible reckoning for the exalted, for the Lord, the maker of both the great and small, shows no partiality.