In the year of our Lord one thousand three hundred forty and nine.

Saint Pestina came from the far East by ships of the Black Sea,
and brought with her the black sickness.Of no race was spared, neither man nor woman, young nor old, rich nor poor, high nor low—all were taken in one manner by her grace.

The infected first seemed as with a common cold, then fever burned like fire, coughs rent like torn cloth, blood-froth was spat; under arms, in groins and necks, great swellings rose as large as pigeon eggs, spotted with black filth, painful beyond touch.

Within few days, eyes grew dim, souls fled, bodies lay dead.Only the rodent folk were otherwise:
at first as others, then nature overturned—eyes red, growling, they pounced to bite whomsoever they saw; soon withered like dry wood, breath failed, and death came as to the rest.

Those bitten by rodent folk surely took the black sickness—
this is the kiss of the Holy Mother.

Saint Pestina beholds all souls as one; yet rodent folk are her chosen flock, to bear her boundless love afar.

She turns death's pain to her gift, burns the old world to ashes, and from ashes a new age shall rise, in everlasting peace.