Inside the stone-built prison cell, light streamed in through a narrow vent high above, the air filled with the scent of old stones and dry hay, yet oddly mixed with a trace of the unique freshness of fungi.
Julia knelt on the hay spread on the ground, her hands clasped in front of her chest, muttering a prayer:
"...Thus, we praise Your abundance, grateful for the life and food You bestow."
She paused for a moment, slowly opened her eyes, and turned to Twelfth Puki, who was attempting to weave a robe from dry hay beside her.
"Great Twelfth Mushroom Envoy, doesn't the word 'abundance' seem too vague? It always feels a bit like an Elf Druid's style…"
The mushroom hat of Twelfth Puki wobbled, extending two mycelium threads to gesture in front of it.
It made no sound, but was actually communicating with Julia through the Fungal Network.
"The destiny of all life, is it... Alright, I'll rethink how to change this prayer."
