As long as the lights of Jerusalem cast shadows around them, the Magi travel through the night's stillness with trepidation in their hearts, but finally they broke free from of the city's grasp and give their attention completely to the star.

"Now, that's a reassuring sight!" Afsar sighed, letting his body sag somewhat with relief, "I almost feel like I could relax."

"What's stopping you?" Armaan, asked.

Afsar laughed softly, "Guilt, I guess—I keep thinking that I should have talked you two out of going to Jerusalem."

"Fat chance of that," Kerman said, "We were tired, and we wanted what we wanted, when we wanted it—I'm sorry, Afsar, you were wise and we should have listened."

I'm sorry too," Armaan said.

"Still…"

"Oh, come on, Afsar," Armaan cut in, "We all messed up back there—it's not your fault alone—you didn't stop us because we didn't want to be stopped and you aren't a tyrant."

"Still…"

"Afsar…"

"Look!" Kerman interrupted suddenly, pointing ahead, joy radiating from his face.

The others turned and saw the star's radiance pouring out in great, nearly blinding, beams on the little town of Bethlehem.

"My fellows!" he said, excitedly, "I believe we have arrived!"

"Oh! Who would have thought that such a little town could be the birthplace of one as grand as the King of the Jews?" Armaan murmured.

"Ah, have you forgotten your lessons, friend?" Afsar asked, "The great King David was born in this town."

"Oh, yes, I do remember that!" Armaan cried, his face lighting up with recognition, "Oh! So…it must be that the new king wasn't born in the town where King David ruled, but in the town where he was born."

"Do you suppose that the new king comes from the same family?" Kerman asked.

"I'd say there's a very good chance of that," Afsar replied, "Don't the prophets of old say that God will put someone on David's throne to rule forever?"

"Yes, I believe they do!"

The three camels ambled easily along the quiet empty streets, shuffling the sand with each step. The streets were well lit by the star's radiance and the Magi could see everything quite clearly. They wove through the crooked streets with joy and thankfulness in their hearts—Herod was long forgotten now—and finally came to a small house that bathed in the glow of the star's light.

Each man looked at the others, hardly believing that a king could be dwelling in such a humble abode.

"Do you really think…?" Armaan started to ask, but Afsar cut him off.

"What is the star telling us, Armaan?" he asked, "Goodness knows, we got into trouble the last time we didn't follow the star."

"I know, I know, and yet, I can hardly understand…"

"I don't understand either," Kerman admitted.

"Do we need to understand?" Afsar taught them patiently, "Look, at what you see?"

He went on, saying, "I see the star that we've been following for weeks has its beams pointed squarely at this little house—why do you hesitate now that our goal sits in front of us? Does it cease to be our goal if its shape is different than what we expected?"

Afsar began to slide down from his camel's back, eagerness on his face, as he finished his thought, "No, let that not be so—let us follow the star wherever it leads and not have preconceived ideas about what we'll find when we get there—preconceived ideas are only distractions, and I'm sure you remember what I said about distractions this morning, don't you."

"Yes, Afsar," the younger men murmured in reply, slowly climbing down from their camels. Armaan couldn't help but let out a sigh; it was a relief to stand on the ground again and it was a relief to arrive at their true destination.

They moved stiffly toward the door and knocked softly, mindful of the late hour and the young child inside. A regular man opened the door, seemingly completely unfazed by the three Magi standing before him.

Afsar spoke for the group, saying, "Excuse me, sir, but we have followed the star that illuminates this house for many weeks. It is our understanding that the star is pointing the way to the newborn King of the Jews, and given that its light clearly rest on this house, we assumed that the royal baby must be inside."

The man nodded, understandingly. "Come in," he said opening the door and beckoning them though, "My wife has not yet gone to bed, though the Child is sleeping." The Magi stepped over the threshold, and the man added, "Forgive me—my name is Joseph. My wife is Mary."

Surprised, Afsar asked, "So you are the father of the newborn king?"

Joseph hesitated, searching his mind for an explanation that sounded believable to someone who had not seen and heard all the things that he and Mary had seen and heard, but found none. He opted to just tell the story like it had been told to himself and his wife. When he was finished, the three Magi could only stare at him with expressions ranging from astonishment to wonderment.

"Wow…" Kerman breathed, "Who'd have thought of that but God?"

"So…it seems that our speculations were true," Afsar said, his tone thoughtful. "He is a King and God will set Him in charge of a Kingdom that never ends. He will act as an intercessor between God's people and God, as a Priest does. And He will save His people from their sins—which surely means a sacrifice."

"We have gifts for the Child," Kerman said, suddenly remembering.

They lined up, trembling with anticipation and Afsar stepped forward first.

Looking down at the Child, he couldn't help but to think of the crown that He would wear one day. He couldn't help but to think of what an amazing Kingdom this Child would one day rule. With a smiling and happy heart, he lifted the lid on the little chest that he'd carried so far. The heaping mound of gold glittered in the candlelight.

He said, "Gold for His honor."

Armaan came next; his head bowed respectfully, a humble expression on his face. With an unexplainable peace in his heart, he untwisted the top of the bottle that he had carried so far and the sweet smell of frankincense floated into the air.

He said, "Frankincense for His pleasure."

Kerman came last, his steps weighed down by sadness and grief. It tore his heart that the Child sleeping in that crib would one day pay the price for everyone's sins—but how else could He possibly save everyone as the Angel had told His parents? A sacrifice is the only way to be cleansed of sins, he thought, so how else can it happen?

He stared sadly at his little bottle, filled with oil, saying, "Myrrh for the cross He will suffer."

Now, stepping back, the Magi looked relieved. They'd accomplished what they had set out to do and not many things feel better than that. So happy were they that they sank to their knees and worshiped the Child and the Father who had sent Him.

After a time, they got to their feet, suddenly mindful of the young family who they were keeping awake. "I'm sorry that we've kept you awake for so long," Afsar apologized for the group, "But we're so wonderfully thankful that you've allowed us to intrude and pay homage to Him and the One who sent Him."

"It has been our pleasure," Mary said, smiling tenderly, "He is not for us to contain to ourselves, after all."

"It is late," Joseph added, "Will you not send the night here with us?"

Afsar smiled and nodded. "That is most kind of you," he consented.

Something stirred Afsar in his sleep. He startled awake, thinking that he'd heard a voice. But, as his eyes adjusted to the darkness of the strange room, he realized that no one else was awake.

How strange, he thought, closing his eyes, hoping to return to sleep quickly, I could have sworn that I heard a voice, he thought, but finally dozed off again. He was reawakened within moments, now fully aware that he had heard a voice and suddenly recognizing its message.

His heart pounded with fear and grief. So Herod does mean to do the Child harm, he thought, wholly unable to sleep now.

"Afsar?" Armaan's voice whispered though the darkness, "Are you awake?"

"How could I be asleep?" Afsar muttered, "Did you just have the same dream that I did?"

"Was it about not going back to Herod?"

"Yes,"

"Then, yes, we both had the same dream."

"You mean we all three had the same dream." Kerman's voice joined the discussion.

Afsar ran his hand over his face and groaned. "Oh, what have we done?" he muttered.

"What do we do now, Afsar?" Kerman asked, anxious.

"We go home a different way, of course—just like the Angel said."

Author's Notes: Okay, a very Merry Christmas to all who have read/reviewed. Thanks so much!

When I wrote the scene where the Magi gave their gifts to Jesus, I borrowed lyrics from the song "How Many Kings" by Downhere, instead of using the "We Three Kings" lyrics. I hope no one gets disappointed, but I used the "We Three Kings" lyrics in another Christmas fiction and I just didn't have the gumption to rewrite the same lines. Then while at work, I heard "How Many Kings" on the radio and loved the idea of using their lyrics instead.

I chose happiness and joy to be associated with the gold and Christ's kingship because the coronation of a new king or queen is a joyful occasion. I chose peace to be associated with frankincense and Christ interceding on our behalf because it should be comforting to us who believe that Christ is doing that because none of us is worthy on our own. I chose sadness and grief to be with myrrh and the grave for obvious reasons—myrrh was used as an embalming oil.

Sorry for the late update. I was really hoping to get this up on Christmas Day, but the site seemed to be down...did anyone else have problems posting yesterday?