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Chapter 3: Azrael’s POV
I was in bed asleep when I started dreaming. In the dream, Vozreal appeared in front of me. I was standing in a field, in Ireland. Allison was in chains, on Vozreal’s left-hand side.
“Hello, Azrael Reaper,” Vozreal said.
“What do you want?” I asked as I tried to summon THE GRAVE (my scythe), but I failed.
“Not so powerful without your scythe, are you?” Vozreal taunted, “There’ll be a day where you and your scythe are separated, and that day will mark your undoing!” Vozreal finished. I woke up in a cold sweat. I rolled over to look at my alarm clock. 4:19 A.M. it showed.
“I have 3 hours and 2 minutes until I have to get up,” I mumbled to myself.
God, I love my life I thought, which wasn’t entirely true, but not entirely false either. I didn’t hate my life, but I didn’t love it. I tolerated it.
I went into the kitchen and grabbed a Potato Beer (a type of beer that they only make in I-317, aka the Irish universe) out of the fridge. I opened it and took a sip of it. I sat down in front of the TV and turned it on. it was now 4:20 AM. I got the bong in front of me, and smoked a bit of it.
That's the stuff I thought as I smoked the bong that was in front of me.