Chapter 348: I have one sad mory
Damien’s entire body was wracked with pain. The ashwood drink he’d been forced to swallow earlier was tearing him apart from the inside, making his insides feel like they were on fire.
Every breath was a struggle as his throat alternated between being unbearably dry and agonizingly itchy. Hunger gnawed at him, primal and overwhelming, driving him nearly to madness.
He needed blood—his body scread for it—just a few drops to quench his thirst and stave off the unbearable weakness creeping over him.
Suddenly, the grating sound of tal on tal echoed through the dungeon, and Damien’s head snapped up. The iron gate creaked open, revealing the silhouettes of three figures.
As they stepped into the dim light, Damien’s eyes widened in disbelief. There, standing unhard and very much alive, was Magnus.
His voice, hoarse from the torture he had endured, barely escaped his cracked lips as he croaked out a question, "H-how did you manage to live?" The shock and confusion in his voice were evident, as he had been certain that Magnus wouldn’t have survived after his deadly attack.
Damien’s voice trembled as desperation took hold of him. He was weak, battered, and helpless, with only one thought consuming his mind—survival. "Let
live," he pleaded, his voice cracking under the weight of his fear and pain. "I won’t do anything. I promise you three, just give
a chance to live. Please, I beg you."
His eyes darted between the three princes, searching for even a glimr of rcy. But the cold, unforgiving gaze that t his own made his heart sink.
Izaak stepped forward, his presence dominating the dark dungeon. The corners of his mouth twisted into a cruel smirk as he looked down at Damien, his eyes gleaming with malice. "I don’t think you should be requesting rcy, Damien," he said, his voice dripping with nace.
"Instead, you should be begging us to free you from this tornt," Izaak continued, leaning closer, his breath hot against Damien’s ear. "Every second will only beco more excruciating for you, Damien Von Grimm. The pain you feel now is just the beginning."
"Do you now realize the grave mistake you made?" Alaric asked this ti, his voice low and taunting. He didn’t need to elaborate—Damien knew exactly what he was referring to.
His actions had not only ignited a deadly conflict between the vampires and the witches but had also endangered the life of their brother and Alora, soone he had never intended to harm.
All Damien wanted was a single chance—just one opportunity to escape this place. But even as the thought crossed his mind, he knew it was a futile hope. The odds were stacked against him, and there was no rcy in the eyes of those who now stood before him.
A cold silence hung in the air, thick with unspoken threats, until Magnus finally broke it. His voice was steady, almost too calm, as he addressed Damien. "You asked
a question, Damien. Do you rember what it was?"
Magnus moved with a calculated grace, lowering himself to one knee until his face was level with Damien’s. Magnus rested his right knee on the cold stone floor, his left hand casually perched on his knee, as if this were a casual conversation rather than an interrogation.
"Can’t recall?" Magnus asked, his tone mocking as he peered into Damien’s eyes. There was no compassion in his gaze, only a cold, piercing intensity that made Damien’s blood run cold. "You’re so good at manipulating others, twisting their emotions with their own tragic mories. But you seem to be struggling to rember your own deeds now, aren’t you?"
But before he could speak, Magnus pressed on, his voice turning even sharper. "Gloria didn’t want to go against the King. She was loyal, despite everything, and that’s why you killed her. You made her recall her saddest mory, the death of her daughter, the reason why she fell weak in front of you."
The mory ca rushing back to Damien in a sudden, terrifying clarity. He rembered the question he had posed to Magnus, the one he had asked with a cruel curiosity just before he had plunged the dagger into Magnus’s heart. It was a mont of twisted satisfaction for Damien then, but now, it haunted him.
"Why is there no sad mory in you?" Damien’s voice trembled as he repeated the question, his tone now stripped of the arrogance it once held.
He could barely force the words out, his voice low and broken.
Magnus’s eyes darkened, a flicker of pain crossing his features before it was replaced by a fury that was almost palpable. "I have one sad mory," Magnus said, his voice tight with emotion. "The mory of my aunt’s death. Tell , Damien, that you were the one who killed her."
The words were a demand, not a question, and Damien could see the raw wound that still lingered in Magnus’s eyes. The fury and hurt were unmistakable, radiating off him like a storm ready to break.
For a mont, Damien just stared into those eyes, seeing the pain he had caused reflected back at him. He could sense Magnus probing into his thoughts, and he knew it would take re seconds for him to find the truth. This, however, gave him satisfaction. Finally, he could see that pain in Magnus’s eyes.
And then it happened—Magnus saw it. The truth of what Damien had done, hidden deep within his mind, was laid bare.
In an instant, Magnus’s fury erupted. Before Damien could even react, Magnus’s hand shot out, seizing him by the throat with a grip like iron. The suddenness of the attack left Damien breathless, his eyes widening in shock and fear.
With a strength fueled by rage, Magnus yanked Damien off the ground, his feet leaving the cold dungeon floor as he was lifted effortlessly into the air.
The impact of his back slamming against the wall sent a jolt of pain through Damien’s already weakened body. His vision blurred as he struggled to breathe, Magnus’s hand cutting off his air supply as he held him there, suspended against the rough stone wall.
"Magnus!" Izaak’s sharp voice cut through the tension, but Magnus didn’t seem to hear him.
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