Knuckle knelt carefully on the stone floor of the church, his head bent and his hands clasped in prayer.

Please let Giotto's child be born safely. The child was two months early, and there was a good chance he wouldn't survive the birth. After ten hours of labor, Knuckle was in the church in hope that God would grant help to the baby.

As he stood again, a stray beam of sunlight blinded him, shooting through a pane of pure orange stained glass. He gasped softly, lifting his hands slowly into the sunbeam.

"Knuckle! Come quick! I have a son!"

A/N - Read & Review