Amara froze at the edge of the clearing, her breath catching in her throat. Damon’s smirk was all wrong—twisted, mocking, devoid of the warmth and strength she knew. The chains of shadow tightened around him, pulsating like living veins, anchoring him to the ground.
“Damon,” she said softly, taking a cautious step forward. Her light, though dim from her earlier battles, flickered in her hands, a fragile flame against the encroaching darkness.
“Stay back,” he hissed, his voice layered with both his own and something darker. “You don’t understand what you’re doing.”
Her steps faltered, but she steeled herself. “I know exactly what I’m doing. I’m saving you.”
A cold laugh erupted from him, sending shivers down her spine. “Saving me?” he repeated, mockery dripping from his tone. “You think
