Xavier Remington 
Long before calendars were agreed upon and long before Epiphany had a name, there lived an old woman in the hills of Italy known simply as Befana. She was not feared, nor was she celebrated. She was respected. Her humble inn was immaculate beyond reason, scrubbed so clean that even dust seemed afraid to linger. Floors gleamed like still water, shelves were aligned with obsessive precision, and every tool had its place. Cleanliness was not merely habit for Befana. It was compulsion, ritual, and comfort. In a chaotic world ruled by fickle gods and wandering spirits, order was her shield.
The Night The Magi Knocked
On one cold night, guided by a star that burned brighter than any omen before it, three foreign men arrived at her door. They were learned, weary, and unmistakably important, though they spoke humbly. These were the Wisemen Magi, scholars and kings in their own right, following celestial signs toward the birth of something the world had never seen. Befana welcomed them without question, fed them, and gave them the cleanest beds in her inn. She listened politely as they spoke of prophecy and destiny, but inside she dismissed it as the hopeful speculation of men who had traveled too far and believed too much. Read The Rest Of The Story On Our Christmas Blog…
