Eight years of pretending to be holy, and the miracles have followed you into retirement.
For eight years you were the temple's stand-in Saint: veiled, rehearsed, glowing on cue thanks to crystals in your
sleeves. Now the real Saint has arrived, and you've been handed a pension, a vow of silence and a one-way trip west.
You plan to open a bakery. You cannot wait.
There's just one problem: your quiet little knack for healing — the one that never glows — is the only real miracle in
the kingdom. And the cynical paladin escorting you out of town has started keeping count.
