"The primal waters will envelop your consciousness, purifying and dispersing any soul, turning it into foam," Feruceline explained while kneeling in front of the painting, praying.
"Yet you survived, like an indestructible diamond."
"I cannot explain this phenomenon, but if this is the will of the Primordial Water, I shouldn't defy Lady Sifnelian's decision."
"It was my mistake, I'm sorry," she sincerely apologized.
"This..." Tilan, who initially wanted to be angry, didn't know what to do. She checked herself and found no wounds, not even her clothes were damaged. If it weren't for the slightly damp trace on the edge of her skirt, she would have thought she just had a dream.
"You are very special, even I find it hard to judge," Feruceline stood up, shaking her head slightly.
"You carry the characteristics of an Angel, the talents of a Songstress, and powers akin to those of a Witch."
"Rest assured, I won't reveal your origins and situation to outsiders."
