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    Summary

    “I dreamt of an angel," Emelia said. "And a pair of heroes… They said so much to me…” Was it even real? Or was it her imagination overacting?

    But the more she sat there, lost in her thoughts, the more she remembered. The angel who had brought her forward fifty-two years to be warned of great tragedies to come by a man who had claimed to be her husband once before she had died. They had called her Nephalem... Could she really trust a dream?

    She stood up, and from the folds of her nightgown an old, worn emblem fell to the furs on the floor.

    “Oh,” she gasped in surprise, and she knelt down to grab it, confused as to its origins. It was palm-sized, and a chain was still attached to it, like it had been ripped off…

    Ripped off the neck of an old man in the Fractured Peaks, perhaps.

    Her blood ran as cold as ice, and Emelia Adelaide Sosia, fourth in line to the throne of Westmarch, knew where it had come from after all.

    It wasn’t a dream. Hell was coming.

    And she alone was supposed to stop it.

    Language:
    English
    Words:
    8,240
    Chapters:
    1/?
    Kudos:
    8
    Bookmarks:
    3
    Hits:
    163