Over the years, she always dreamed of that strange dream, the dream she shouldn't have remembered.
At first she was very troubled by it, but after a few years she realized-
It was not a dream at all, but something that had happened deep in her consciousness.
Adriana Villets still clearly remembered that in her childhood, she would echo in the corridors of the manor for several hours at night, with only a light to drive away the shadows, no servants or nanny to follow.
At first, the family would panic, but her father would always find her on the top of the bell tower because she could find peace amid the chirping of the birds.
There is a nest of black swallows on the top of the tower, where she often feeds them.
There you can see the sun rise from the mountains, and her father, the heroic father who was once a senior officer of the Astral Army, would sit on the floor beside her and ask her the same question, every time.
"Daughter, what are you thinking?"
She would talk to her father about her dreams and the scenes there, and he would listen patiently as the birds shaking their wings quickly over their heads.
And after she finished speaking, he would put his hand on the top of her head, then smile and say the familiar sentence.
"They are just dreams, Anna, that's all."
For a long time, she believed in him.
She no longer strolls in the corridors or climbs to the top of the tower.
Then one day, when she dreamed that a winged creature came to tell her father about death, she didn't tell him--she was just comforting herself with his words.
"They are just dreams, that's all."
But they are not just dreams. They rarely do this.
Her father eventually died in a car accident when she was 14 years old, and when she found him, a black crow surrounded him, jumping over his head, shaking his wings.
The doctor and pastor who came later blamed his death for his injuries during the war, and for a moment of trance, and the wine he drank while missing the war and her mother.
They even blame the weather, but none of these should be condemned and should not be.
Adriana Villets knew that she should be the one who was condemned because she touched the dream and hid it.
If she told her father, maybe—
Adriana Villets' father left her a considerable wealth and noble status. Her aunt was also the wife of the Governor of the Planet, but she still chose to join the nuns, and she still hid her own thoughts and dreams.
After that, she received her title in the sect, and she followed her dark dreams to where she 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 chaos, and making her dreams no longer dark.
If this is the case, it seems good, but every time in the end of her dream, there will always be a light blue color that will destroy everything ruthlessly, that person-
"Um?"
Once again, she stood up from the wooden chair where she was asleep, but looked flustered and began to grop around for something, her desk was filled with scrolls and star maps and books and folders, and the same was true on the surrounding floor.
She was wearing a simple robe, which was pressed against her body as she searched around, outlining a graceful body curve.
Almost everything in the room was a little confused, except for the small bed in the corner, which she hadn't slept on it for weeks.
Some people joked that she slept all her life after ten years of sleeping, and sometimes she also deeply believed it.
In fact, it is not a good habit to make everything so untidy. She is not always like this. It is too messy now.
Villets quickly read the words on the table, lifting them up and turning them open, pushing a stack of paper to the ground while searching for the words she needed.
Every book scroll or piece of paper here is very old, extremely precious, and almost unique, but there is nothing she is looking for.
She stepped over the piles of books and scrolls on the floor and searched separately until she finally found her target.
"I found you."
She said to the book in her hand.
It was a small book made of old cowhide. It had no title, no author's signature, no version mark or print mark, it was hand-woven and handwritten. Just holding it in her hand reminded her of the air in the mountains and the cold and ancient stones.
It reminded her of her father's voice.
"Daughter, what are you thinking?"
She opened her father's diary and turned to the last page, and turned to the poem she had clearly written since childhood. Her fingers streaked through the words written in dim blue ink, and her hands trembled slightly in the process.
Soon, she read to the end of the page, slowly exhaled, and closed the book even more slowly.
She reached her hand toward her collar and pulled out the ornament she was wearing from under her collar.
It was an item that once belonged to her father, a skeleton surrounding ten pointed halos. She flipped the pendant in her hand, feeling its weight and texture, and feeling it warming her hands.
Then she bent her fingers and held the pendant tightly, and the force that was so strong 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 awake now, not in her dreams.
The reason she did this was because her dream was too deep, which even made her feel that she had woken up, but in fact she had not really woken up. She didn't know if this was a sequelae caused by long-term sleep.
At least she was able to confirm that in her dream, the pendant's spikes would never make her drip blood.
“He might be in danger…”
After confirming that he had truly awakened, Villet leaned on his chair and recalled his dream, a burning world, countless twisted and weird bodies, and a gray eagle wrapped in flames.
Since she knew this, she needed another person to help, someone who should not have existed in the Cultivation.
She stood up, quickly put on her lightly overlapping armor, tied her hair, and picked up her sword from the weapon stand by the door.
They are a pair of double swords, two identical curved blades made of steel and polished bones, and the sword edge is engraved with prayers and blessings.
One of them was that she had carried a sword since she joined the sect, and the other was a symbol of the great nun.
She walked out of the room and came to the cold stone corridor.
The lights are now at night, burning with faint starlight, and the integrated obsidian floors and walls absorb all the light and the sound of her footsteps.
This place has a sacred atmosphere that makes people silent, like a tomb, like a monument to pay silence.
This was not the case before. When the sect was at its peak, it was filled with young nuns and servants coming and going.
It took so many years for the Cultivation Society to barely recover from previous attacks, the number of nuns has only reached half of the time, and many new recruits are still to be tempered.
Villets quickly walked through the quiet corridor toward the room she had been going when she needed to relieve her confusion.