CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN
Pampir held aloft the book in front of him in an open palm and waved his empty hand over the pages. A faint white glow emanated from the register pages before strands of snowy white magic flowed upward. The lowing fibers twisted and danced together before they arched into the sky and down into the crowd. The warm strands glided among the crowd and brushed against their wrists. The few lucky ones were gifted with a faint glow around their right wrists. Cries of joy and groans of sorrow mixed into a chorus of life’s trials and tribulations.
The strands reached the end of the crowd and faded, but the white ribbons remained. Pampir clapped the book shut and tucked it under one arm. “All those with ribbons may step forward and form yourselves into a line. Everyone
