(Damien POV – fragmented)
The first thing I knew was stone.
Cold, rough granite under my palms. Knees aching from kneeling too long. Mouth tasting of copper and ash—blood, old and new. I blinked against gray dawn light filtering through a narrow ravine. Shadows clung to my skin like wet tar, reluctant to let go. Horns throbbed at my temples—half-emerged, receding slowly with a dull grind that made my skull ache.
I had no memory of how I got here.
No memory of the last… hours? Days? The blackouts were longer now. Stretches of nothing that swallowed time whole. I pushed to my feet—legs shaking, muscles knotted—and looked around.
The ravine was narrow, walls rising sharp and sheer on both sides. A thin stream cut through the center, water black and sluggish. Claw marks scored the rock beside me—deep, frantic, as if I'd tried to climb out and failed. Or fought something that wasn't there.
