Pope Allegro III had been losing sleep lately.
Even when he closed his eyes out of exhaustion, he couldn't fall into a deep slumber. And when he finally did, disturbing nightmares would wrap around him like a suffocating blanket.
He woke every dawn, soaked in sweat, kicking off his bedding in a panic.
Clutching his chest, he gasped for air as his heart pounded like mad.
He couldn't explain the source of his anxiety, but the unease clung to his chest like a leech.
A creeping sense of doom wrapped tightly around his body.
"Something isn't right."
Since his coronation as Pope, Allegro III had ruled the Holy Kingdom with unwavering confidence and conviction.
As the divine representative of Light, he believed it was his sacred duty to restore order to the world and bring all beneath his heel.
But nothing was going as planned.
Michael.
The mere thought of the so-called hero's name made him nauseous.
