The rain outside suddenly stopped.
The four of them looked back, and outside the door, on the street, stood many people. Each of the believers who had previously died in the aftermath had come back to life,
standing stiffly on the long street, unmoving – as if at a certain moment, time had paused for them.
They turned their heads back once more.
And they saw the first innate member of the Pantheon who had been hunted down, whose Grotto Heaven was shattered, and who was beaten to the brink of death,
standing beside that youth facing away from them, playing the zither.
The Divine Favor Envoy, covered in tattoos, glanced sideways and gave the four of them a smile uglier than crying.
Coldness rose from the bones.
The young man pressed both palms down, and the zither music abruptly stopped.
Outside, the sky brightened, the dark clouds dispersed, revealing a radiant glow like flowing water.
