The next day, Cindy took time off and went to church. Not far from Jorleston stood Southcrest Church, a place rumored to be a sanctuary for miracles.
Over the year, she had been there more times than she could count, spending each visit in quiet prayer for what felt like hours.
She had prayed for Winter to find peace in the afterlife and for Arthur’s safety and well–being, but now, she might never have the chance to come back This time, Cindy knelt beneath the elm tree in the church’s courtyard. Rumor had it that those who could prove the sincerity of their hearts might receive something rare and precious.
By nightfall, heavy snow hegan falling without warning. The wind whipped the snow against Cindy’s body, leaving her disoriented and numb from the biting cold.
A sharp, unrelenting paintore through her, so intense that even in the freezing alt, sweat beaded on her forehead.
Her body shook uncontrollably until she finally coughed up her first mouthful of blood. Still, she didn’t rise. She stayed on her knees for a full day and night,
At dawn, a priest from the church spotted her partially burled in the snow and walked over. It was only then that he noticed the patch of blood staining the ground beneath her:
“Miss, what are you seeking with such devotion?” he asked.
