The candlelight was bright, illuminating the goddess's side hall and the woman on the white bed groaning in pain. The faint smell of oil candles, the pungent smell of alcohol, the overwhelming scent of blood, the scent of anxious sweat, and the soothing aroma of divine smoke all mingled in the side hall, as if ominously enveloping fate.
The High Priest Itoya finished speaking in a low voice, glanced at His Highness's reddened eyes, and then immediately lowered her head, silently. At this moment, a feeling of facing a dangerous beast surged in her heart, as if encountering a suffering and about to erupt jaguar in the deep of night.
Xiulote pursed his lips, clenched his fists, seemingly on the brink of an outburst, silently roaring for a long time. However, the terrifying eruption never came. After a while, the silent prince exhaled a long breath, letting out a painful sigh.
"Hoo! Fate! My child!..."
"Your Highness Xiulote?"
