❝Jack be Nimble,
Jack be Quick,
Jack be Felled.
Upon The Candlestick.❞
He was supposed to have saved the world.
He failed, drowned, betrayed by the very beings who summoned him.
Given another chance by the Gods in another world,
He finds himself in the renewed arms of the Pagan Saint,
Her hair was black with split ends, cut short by a dull blade.
Her eyes were hollowed emeralds, fit for a Saint, glossy with tears.
Her skin distinctively tan, like that of a farmers, and dirtied by soil.
Her form petite, her face commonly pretty, dressed in uniform.
The story is coming soon