Silence permeated throughout the bedroom as Damien's sable-tinted gaze stared at the velvet eyes of Hecate. Questions riddled his mind, and they must be answered.
What happened to his partner? Why did she fall into a deep slumber with no signs of awakening?
Hecate narrowed her eyes, glancing at her pale hands. Recollecting her memories, she took a deep breath and muttered. "I didn't know where I was."
"The skies were as red as blood. I stood amidst a desolate desert of hollow sand. There was nothing but me. Or so I thought."
"Here I met the ancient progenitor who wore my face. Her eyes were golden, and she exuded a regal facade. She told me the truth. My power, my heritage, and what should be done."
"You believe her?" Damien raised his eyebrows as Hecate looked at him and tilted her head. "Would you like to hear what she said?"
He could only nod, intending to dissect every word that came from that ancient mouth. Reason argues that progenitors weren't to be trusted.
