The first thing Damien felt was pain. It throbbed through every nerve, a deep, hollow ache that spread from his chest to the tips of his fingers.
The ground was cold against his cheek, the forest soil damp with his blood. Somewhere close to him, the once-silent Gate pulsed faintly and he could feel it. The heartbeat of something that shouldn't exist.
He could barely lift his head, but through the haze, he saw the figure standing over him — General Ivaan. Only… it wasn't him anymore.
The man's armor hung in tatters, his veins glowing faintly with dark essence that crawled like tendrils beneath his skin. His eyes, once sharp and commanding, had turned pitch-black, reflecting no light, no humanity.
"You always were too perceptive for your own good," Ivaan said — or whatever was speaking through him. His voice echoed strangely, layered with another, deeper timbre that reverberated through the air. "But still too sentimental to act on it."
