“So what story shall we have this evening?” Amilia asked as the two girls lay across from each other, bathed in the light of the candles. “How about Kile and the White Feather? Our monsignor used it from time to time when he wanted to make a point about penance and redemption. Have you heard that one? Do you like it? I do.

“Well, you see, the father of the gods, Erebus, had three sons: Ferrol, Drome, and Maribor; the gods of elves, dwarves, and men. He also had a daughter, Muriel, who was the loveliest being ever created, and she held dominion over all the plants and animals. Well, one night Erebus became drunk and raped his own daughter. In anger, her brothers attacked their father and tried to kill him, but of course, gods can’t die.”

Amilia saw the candles flicker from a draft. It was always colder at night, and she got up and brought them each another blanket.

“So, where was I?”

Modina merely blinked.

“Oh, I remember, racked with guilt and grief, Erebus returned to Muriel and begged for her forgiveness. She was moved by her father’s remorse but still could not look at him. He pleaded for her to name a punishment. Muriel needed time to let the fear and pain pass, so she told him, ‘Go to Elan to live. Not as a god, but as a man, to learn humility.’ To repent for his misdeeds, she charged him to do good works. Erebus did as she requested and took the name of Kile. It’s said that he walks the world of men to this day, working miracles. For each act that pleases her, she bestows a white feather to him from her magnificent robe, which he places in a pouch kept forever by his side. On the day when all the feathers have been awarded, Muriel promised to call her father home and forgive him. The legend says that when the gods are reunited, all will be made right, and the world will transform into a paradise.”

This really was one of Amilia’s favorite stories and she told it hoping for miraculous results. Perhaps the father of the gods would hear her and come to their aid. Amilia waited. Nothing happened. The walls were the same cold stone, the flickering flames the only light. She sighed. “Well, maybe we’ll just have to make our own miracles,” she told Modina as she blew out all but a single candle, then closed her eyes to sleep.