When my mother died, she gave me an apple that would enable a woman to have a child. When the aging queen realized that she might never have a heir to rule the kingdom, I gave her the apple. Then I returned to the spinning convent where I live. It is located underground, in the hollow of a mountain.
Here our beds are made of solid rock, and all the nuns sleep around a single light. It is our job to spin by day and keep the light burning through the night. May it never go out, and woe to she who does not tend it, for she will die.