Amara stood frozen, her breath caught in her throat. Damon’s figure, cloaked in shadows, loomed at the edge of the plain. His eyes, once a piercing shade of gold, now glowed a deep, ominous red. The air around him shimmered with unnatural energy, and the bond that usually hummed between them felt fractured—still there but warped like a song played off-key.
“Damon…” Her voice was a whisper, trembling with a mix of fear and hope. “This isn’t you. Fight it.”
He tilted his head, a predatory smirk playing on his lips. “Isn’t it?” His voice was a low rumble, distorted as though it came from more than one throat. “Maybe this is who I’ve been all along.”
Amara’s heart clenched. This wasn’t the Damon she knew—the Damon who had fought to protect her, who carried the guilt of his choices like a we
