In the ancient town of Bethlehem, under the watchful gaze of the crescent moon, a warm breeze carried the scent of the nearby olive groves. The town was abuzz with anticipation for the upcoming census. The streets teemed with travelers, and the inns were filled to capacity. The only place that offered respite, a quiet refuge, was the humble stable behind the town's small chapel. Mary, a young maiden of 18 summers, her rad...