“What do we do, Miss? Are we going to die?”
“I don’t want to die, please! I haven’t lived enough!”
“God, please save your faithful servants!”
The cries of the servants echoed around me. Their tear-streaked faces turned to me, eyes filled with desperate hope, silently pleading for salvation. But I was powerless. Just an ordinary person. All I could do was pray for a miracle.
A hot tear fell into my palm, and I fixed my gaze on Easton. I was furious, unwilling to accept that I had to die here, especially when I had done nothing wrong. More drops fell onto my hand, but they were no longer warm; they were cool.
I looked up. It wasn’t my tears. The sky was crying.
“Rain! It’s raining! The rain has started!”
“God must have heard our prayers!”
Without warning, the rain poured down
