Survival Guide After Accidentally Kissing a Demon - Chapter 177

Chapter 177

The first time is awkward, the second time is easy.

With the ease of experience, Beili located Bertie Swan and Bertie Swan’s Father as they hurried toward the Altar. Once again, she disguised herself as an ornament on Bertie Swan’s cloak.

This was Cyril’s dream.

At this point in time, the master of the dream had not yet learned how to walk and was being held in the Queen’s arms.

Beili didn’t know what this dream looked like from Cyril’s perspective. Perhaps, through his eyes, he would only ever see his mother.

As her thoughts drifted, she followed the two of them to the Altar where the divination and prophecy rituals were held.

After Bertie Swan’s Father finished the divinations for the King, the elderly Former King, the Queen, and Cyril, Bertie Swan stepped onto the circular Altar, which was lit by nine hundred and ninety-nine candles, and took a seat in the very center.

To ensure she could hear exactly what Bertie Swan said, Beili specifically moved her position from the cloak to the girl’s right shoulder.

By now, Bertie Swan had closed her eyes, her eyeballs rolling rapidly beneath her lids.

Beili felt a sudden twinge of nervousness. She prayed silently in her heart-this time, the dream must not cut off at the critical moment again.

No matter how cautious the King was, he likely never imagined someone would peer into this period of Cyril’s childhood through the boy’s own dream. This experience wouldn’t even exist in Cyril’s conscious memories.

Sure enough, when Bertie Swan opened her eyes again, the dream continued.

…

Perched on Bertie Swan’s shoulder, Beili noticed a striking change in the young girl’s pupils.

The black pupils had dilated to cover her entire eyes.

There was no longer a trace of white left in her eyes; no matter how they moved, only a deep, abyss-like black remained.

When Bertie Swan spoke again, her voice had changed as well.

It had shifted from the clear voice of a young girl to that of an old woman. She rasped out a few words in a hoarse tone.

“One question.”

After Bertie Swan spoke, a long silence followed. No one said a word.

Beili shifted her gaze toward the Royal Family members sitting on the high seats beside the Altar.

Perhaps because this was a complete departure from the usual prophetic procedure, the members of the Royal Family looked at one another, their faces filled with obvious confusion and surprise.

“Bertie-”

Standing below the Altar, Bertie Swan’s Father called out in a low voice, seemingly trying to remind his daughter that she should proceed with the prophecy according to the traditional ritual.

But with the blackness filling her eyes and the voice of an old woman coming from her throat, it was clear that Bertie Swan could no longer hear any other words.

Only that “one question” could be posed to her.

Finally, it was the Former King who spoke, his tone gentle yet retaining his natural majesty:

“Of course-the prophecies have always predicted the future of the Santos Kingdom.”

As soon as the Former King finished speaking, Beili noticed Bertie Swan’s black eyes rolling erratically, as if she were peering into something hidden.

Two streaks of black tears flowed from her eyes, leaving dark trails on her fair face.

Then, Bertie Swan opened her mouth. Her white, even teeth looked as if they were stained with a mouthful of ink, dyed an uneven black.

Beili heard her clearly as she spoke three sentences, word by word, in that old, raspy voice:
“The Immortal Butterfly is born.”

“Three items returned to their rightful owners.”

“Sainthos meets its end.”

…

Those three short sentences caused the expressions of everyone present to turn ugly in an instant.

This was especially true for Bertie Swan’s Father.

Beili noticed that the man’s face was even paler than the moon hanging in the night sky. The divination bones he held in his hands fell to the ground with a series of sharp clacks, the sound of bone striking stone.

By the time Beili shifted her gaze from Bertie Swan’s Father back toward the high seats, she saw only the retreating backs of the Royal Family as they hurriedly left their places.

A few people had left, but a crowd arrived in their wake.

Members of the Knights strode in quickly.

The entire Altar began to grow hazy, as if shrouded in a layer of mist, and the light dimmed several shades.

Beili looked once more at the tiny figure cradled in the Queen’s arms.

This was Cyril’s dream. If the owner of the dream left this place, she didn’t know how much longer this scene could be maintained.

However, Beili was more curious about where Bertie Swan would go after the prophecy.

Just as the thought crossed her mind, a white object suddenly brushed past Beili’s wing and struck Bertie Swan squarely on the forehead before tumbling to the ground.

Beili looked down.

In the dim light, she saw that it was a skull carved with mysterious runes-one of the divination bones used by Bertie Swan’s Father, and the largest, heaviest piece among them.

When Beili looked up again, she saw Bertie Swan’s Father rushing onto the Altar like a madman.

She saw with absolute clarity his face contorted like a crumpled piece of paper, his eyes filled with a vicious, murderous hatred as if he wanted to skin the young girl alive.

Then, he reached out toward her.

He was reaching directly in her direction.

Oh, no-he was going for Bertie Swan’s shoulder.

Regardless, Beili was thoroughly startled by the man. She frantically flapped her wings and flew back onto the girl’s hair.

At the same time, Bertie Swan, who had been sitting on the ground, was violently hauled up by her father.

“How could the Swan Family give birth to a daughter like you!”

Beili heard him scream in a voice dripping with loathing:

“You killed your older brother! Your mother! Your younger brother! And now you won’t even let your father go?!”

Before the man could finish, the Knights rushed onto the Altar and mercilessly dragged Bertie Swan’s Father down from the platform.

They even skipped the interrogation process entirely.

Through the dim and blurring scene, Beili saw the Knights draw their swords without hesitation. The steel blades glinted coldly under the moonlight as they swung cleanly toward the neck of Bertie Swan’s Father.

“…”

When the Knight raised his sword, Beili sensed from the direction of the blade that he was going to take the man’s head.

So, she didn’t dare watch.

The moment the sword fell, she quickly averted her eyes toward the ground.

But in that inadvertent glance, she saw a tiny black shadow fly out from the rune-covered skull on the floor.

Silently, it landed on a corner of Bertie Swan’s cloak.

The shadow almost completely blended in with the fabric.

A split second before the vision faded entirely into blackness, Beili strained her eyes in the moonlight to see the small shadow clearly.

It was a bat.