Abigaille's smile softened as her gaze swept across the grand celebration. Everywhere she looked, there was laughter, glowing lights, and joy.
But as she observed the crowd more closely, something peculiar began to stand out.
Something so absurd that she couldn't help but giggle to herself.
Because it wasn't just her and the others.
There were pregnant bellies everywhere.
And not just one or two.
There were dozens.
Some of the expectant mothers were goddesses draped in silken divine robes; others were demi-gods glowing with faint celestial halos.
And, to her utter disbelief, most of them were actually mortals—real, ordinary women—who were walking through the festival, chatting and laughing while gently patting their round bellies.
Abigaille blinked, rubbed her eyes once, and counted again.
"36." She whispered. "At least 36…"
Then she clasped her hand over her mouth and burst into quiet laughter.
