♱ Chapter • 147 ♱

♱ •⋅ 1750 B.C. ⋅• ♱ •⋅ Quinn ⋅• ♱

His arms wrapped around my body and then everything seemed to be fine.

I no longer felt the blood, nor the weight of the souls that I plucked, that I hurt.

"Everything will be fine" he repeated as a melodic song and if it was Calisto who told me those things... I na...