For angels, falling was like terminal cancer—beyond cure. They could only wait for their allegiance to change, because from that moment on, she was no longer a pure angel, but a fallen angel of Hell. A change in allegiance also meant a change in relationships.
A gentle breeze blew, stirring the clouds of Heaven. The gloom in the sky gradually dispersed, and the black pillar of light from before vanished as if it had never existed. Yet the atmosphere around them did not improve; it only grew more sorrowful.
Heaven was still so white and radiant, spotless and pure. Yet the muffled sobs continually battered everyone's ears. Each sob was not particularly heartrending, but it carried a sense of despair, as though the sky had collapsed, the earth had split apart, and the sun and moon had lost their light. There was no distant horizon in sight, only endless darkness in which to lose oneself.
"Vlad! Wake up!" Mirena's voice had already become hoarse. She did not scream like an ordinary woman. Instead, she repeatedly slapped Dracula's cheek, seemingly trying to wake her beloved. But after failing again and again, her gaze gradually turned vacant, and her movements became mechanical, repeating over and over as though clinging to an unattainable dream.
Watching the lovers embrace amid the stench of blood, the angels around them fell silent. It was not as if they had never witnessed tragedy. As eternal beings, they had seen too many families torn apart and too many loved ones separated over their long lives. They should have become numb to it all, yet the genuine love between these two still shook their souls.
Even these fanatics felt a trace of regret.
Yes, regret and nothing more.
They had long since become incomparably steadfast in their beliefs, their