/it's a ratty book, the cover merely cardboard with pages stitched in. This one is new, pristine. She handles it gently, smiling, before she settles down to write in it./
I remember my first miracle. It seems so simple, now. I need light, I call for light. I did it today as I went through that disgusting crypt again, putting the people back to sleep. (I need to do something about that crypt. How can the Dragon have something like that next to His temple and do nothing?)
There was nothing to it. But that first time - ah, that was a miracle.
I'd been locked in my room, yet again, for some transgression or other against the laws of the temple. Something minor. Probably not doing a chore, or something else that struck me as silly. There were a lot of things that were done not because they did anything useful, at least that I could see, but because they kept people busy.
Busy people don't have time to think. They just follow rules to get it done. I wonder if that's why so many Toranites are so rigid. No time to think.
But I was in my room, to think about what I had done. And it was dark, and I was scared. And I prayed. And light just filled me and bubbled forth with gleeful laughter. The matron that checked up on me was appalled. A gift of Toran shouldn't be greeted with laughter! But with humility! Respect! Dignity! A proper way to be, and to do, and everything else!
But the light still makes me laugh. I cannot believe Toran is as rigid as he is made out to be. Why would a god that rigid accept me? No - there is much to be done, and people to aid. The world can be dark and gloomy. But - there is also laughter, and love. And light.
The light of Toran laughs.
