Her Majestic Battle Cry

Her Majestic Battle Cry Chapter 1066

Chapter 1066

Barrett gasped for air, his chest tightening as though gripped by a massive hand, making it impossible to breathe.

“What’s wrong with you?” Viola had been woken by the commotion. She looked at him. sitting up, clearly in a daze.

“Another nightmare?” she asked impatiently.

Lately, he had been having nightmares every night. Viola couldn’t help but wonder how much guilt weighed on him to make it happen so often. What frustrated her most was that he often called out Aurora’s name during these nightmares.

When he didn’t respond, still clutching his chest and gasping for breath, she sneered, Dreaming about Aurora again? Did she die in this one too?”

“She’s dead,” Barrett murmured, his face drenched with either sweat or tears–it was hard to tell. “It felt so real… I dreamt that the villagers hacked her to death. She died miserably. Her head was severed, and there was blood everywhere. Her body…was torn apart.”

Hearing him say this in the middle of the night made Viola’s skin crawl.

“Enough!” she snapped. “Whether she lives or dies is none of your concern. Just go back to sleep.”

Barrett swung his legs off the bed and stood up, his body heavy with exhaustion. “You sleep. I’m going to the study.”

Viola’s frustration flared. “You always go to the study. What do you think the servants will say about me?”

words. He stood, clinging to the edge of the bed for support. His mind was consumed by the echoes of Aurora’s

roof catching his attention. It had started

the flickering lamps outside swayed violently in the wind, their light casting eerie shadows.

The thought of Aurora’s anguished cries from his dream made his chest ache. It felt as though his heart had been tossed into

to

Chapter 1066

+25 BONUS

time he pushed open

month or two, the once well–kept residence had

in to clean, and the place was engulfed in darkness. The only light came from the lamps outside, casting

down in sheets. Barrett stood in the yard,

hall, the same ones he had passed through countless times before. Each time, Aurora would emerge with a mocking expression, her voice sharp as she asked, “So, you still remember the way to Blessed

would never ask that

feeling twisted in his chest. Was it

dream–it had been too

eyes wide with terror and hopelessness. He had even heard her voice calling his

tell if

he met Aurora. Aurora had made his heart race. When he held her hand, his pulse quickened. He wanted to

beautiful, nor was she gentle. But there was a wildness about her, like a wildflower blooming in his heart. Her boldness made him smile and made his eyes sparkle

had he ever