Inside the storeroom, vegetables and other ingredients for cooking were piled high.
A window sat higher than her head, but even that was covered by a shade to keep out the light, leaving the room pitch-dark.
A pure white light burst forth from there.
More precisely, from Sigona’s cupped hands.
-Fwaash…
“Gah…”
Sigona, the tavern waitress, had the peculiar experience of tearing up from the light emanating from her own hands.
She furrowed her brow and interlaced her fingers again.
Mimicking the clergy she’d seen praying in the cathedral, she focused her mind.
“…”...
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