This was a basement on the outskirts, surrounded by darkness and silence. Only at the very back of the basement did a dim yellow flame burn faintly.
It was a crude altar covered in candlesticks.
The candle flames burned quietly, and the air was thick with the pungent smell left behind by cheap candles.
Before the altar, a middle-aged woman wearing a plain headscarf knelt on the ground, praying silently.
Directly before her, at the center of the altar, was a round stone with a carved pattern upon it. Facing that pattern, she murmured softly.
Most of her words were pleas for miracles and whispers offering up her faith.
When she finished reciting, she bent down, pressing her forehead deeply against the floor as her hands slowly stretched forward, as though she were prostrating herself. Then she suddenly straightened up, sat kneeling on the ground, raised her head, and cried out in a strange tone.
As those words fell, a breeze inexplicably blew through the sealed basement, making the flames atop the candlesticks sway without end.
After remaining still in the breeze for several seconds, the middle-aged woman sat on the ground and sighed softly. "What a pity. Ever since His Eminence the Bishop went to the Divine Kingdom, the latter half of the sacrificial prayer has lost its meaning. Otherwise, how could it have raised only this tiny breeze?"
"I remember His Eminence the Bishop once said that only the power of death could water the bursting forth of sprouts. Now that the complete sacrificial prayer is gone, perhaps only when I am at death's door will the Sprout God notice this humble believer of His."
The woman rose with considerable emotion. "Sigh, if not for fulfilling His Eminence the Bishop's wishes, I would have left this world long