The Emperor’s Angel of Death

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Over the years, she has always dreamed of that strange dream, the one she should never have remembered.

She was very troubled by it at first, but after a few years she realized-

It wasn't a dream at all, but something that had happened deep in her consciousness.

Adriana Willetts still vividly remembers, as a child, that she would echo through the hallways of the manor for hours at night, with only a shadow-chasing lamp and no servants and nanny to follow.

At first the family would panic, but her father would always find her at the top of the bell tower because she could find peace in the chirping of the birds.

On the top of the tower is a nest of black swallows, where she often feeds them.

There the sun could be seen rising over the mountains, and her father, the heroic father who had been a high-ranking officer in the Astral Army, would sit on the floor next to her and ask her the same question, every time .

"Daughter, what are you thinking?"

She would tell her father about her dream and the scene there, and he would listen patiently as the birds fluttered their wings quickly over their heads.

And after she finished speaking, he would put his hand on top of her head, then smile and say the familiar sentence.

"They're just dreams, Anna, that's all."

For a long time, she believed in him.

She no longer wandered the corridors or climbed to the top of the tower.

Then one day, when she dreamed of the winged creature coming to tell her father about death, she didn't tell him - she just consoled herself with his words.

"They're just dreams, that's all."

But they are not just dreams. They rarely do.

Her father eventually died in a car accident when she was 14, and when she found him, black crows surrounded him, overhead, jumping and flapping their wings.

The doctors and priests who came later blamed his death on his wounds in the war, and a moment of trance, and the wine he drank as he missed the war and her mother.

They even blame the weather, but none of that should be blamed, nor should it be.

Adriana Willetts knew it was her who should be blamed, because she touched the dream and kept it hidden.

If she told her father, maybe—

Adriana Villetz's father left her a considerable amount of wealth and high status. Her aunt was also the wife of the planetary governor, but she still chose to join the nuns, and she still hides own thoughts and dreams.

After that, she earned her title in the Order, and she followed where her dark dreams led her.

But since she fell into a coma, her dreams have changed.

There was a person who kept breaking into her dreams, calming her inner anxiety and confusion, and making her dreams no longer dark.

It seems not bad if it has been like this, but every time at the end of her dream, there will always be a touch of light blue to destroy everything mercilessly, that person——

"Ok?"

Awakening again, she rose from the wooden chair where she was asleep, but looked flustered and began to fumble around, her desk was piled with scrolls and star maps and books and folders, and the floor around her was Same.

She wears a plain robe that clings to her body as she searches around, framing a graceful figure.

There was confusion in almost everything in the room, except for the little bed in the corner, which she hadn't slept on in weeks.

Some people joked that she had slept all the sleep that she should have slept in her ten years of sleep, and sometimes she took it seriously.

It's actually not a good habit to make everything so untidy, she wasn't always like this, it's so messy here now.

Willetts quickly read the words on the table, lifted them open, and pushed a stack of paper to the ground as she searched for the words she needed.

Every scroll or piece of paper here was ancient, precious, and almost unique, but not what she was looking for.

She stepped over the piles of books and scrolls on the floor, searching for each, until at last she found her target.

"Got you."

She said to the book in her hand.

It was a little book made of old cowhide, it had no title, no author's signature, no edition marks or traces of printing, it was hand-woven and handwritten, and just holding it in her hand let her Think of the air in the mountains, and the cold ancient stones.

It reminded her of her father's voice.

"Daughter, what are you thinking?"

She opened her father's diary, turned straight to the last page, turned to the verse she had clearly memorized since childhood, her fingers swiped the words written in the already dim blue ink, her hand slightly in the process. trembling.

Soon, she reached the end of the page, exhaled slowly, and closed the book even more slowly.

She reached up to the collar and pulled the pendant she was wearing from under it.

It was an item that once belonged to her father, a skull surrounded by a halo of ten spires, and she flipped the pendant in her hand, feeling its weight and texture, feeling its warmth in her hand.

Then she flexed her fingers to grasp the pendant, gripping it so tightly that the spikes on the halo pierced her skin.

She opened her hand and saw ten tiny drops of blood appearing in her palm.

This is a test to prove that she is now awake ~www.wuxiaspot.com~ and not evidence that she is still dreaming.

The reason why she did this was because her dream was so deep that it even gave her the illusion that she had woken up, but in fact she hadn't really woken up. She didn't know if it was a sequelae caused by long-term lethargy.

At least she could be sure that in the dream, the spikes of the pendant never let her bleed.

"He may be in danger..."

After confirming that he was truly awake, Willett leaned back in his chair and recalled his dream, a burning world, countless twisted and grotesque forms, and a gray eagle entangled in fire.

Now that she knows this, she needs the help of another person, someone who shouldn't exist in the order.

She stood up, quickly donning her light, overlapping armor, braided her hair, and picked up her matching sword from the weapon rack by the door.

They are a pair of double swords, two identical curved blades made of steel and polished bone, with prayers and blessings engraved on the blades.

One is the sword she has carried since joining the order, and the other is the symbol of the great nun.

She walked out of the room into the cold stone corridor.

The lights were now at night time, burning with faint starlight, and the seamless obsidian floor and walls absorbed all the light and the sound of her footsteps.

The place has a silenced sacred atmosphere, like a tomb, like a monument to silence.

It wasn't like this before, when the order was at its peak, it was full of young nuns and servants who came and went.

After so many years, the order has barely recovered from the previous blow. The number of nuns has only reached half of what it used to be, and there are still many recruits to be sharpened.

Willetts walked quickly down the quiet hallway to the room she had been going to when she needed to clear her confusion.

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