Morning had dawned and the extra-natural beings were in mourning, all devastated seeing what had done and blood everywhere. The streets of the demon, shrouded with silence, only the faint sound of crying could be heard. though they were accustomed to this annual bloodshed.
Damien, having endured the brutal bloodbath, returned to his chambers to check on Jasmine, who was residing there at her own request. As he entered the room, he expected to find her shaken but safe. Instead, she was nowhere to be seen. A sense of unease crept over him as he spun around, taking in the familiar surroundings. Something felt off.
His gaze landed on a painting that was slightly crooked, and a flicker of suspicion crossed his mind. Could she have used the hidden passageway behind it? But that would require demon blood to unlock... or so he thought.
Without hesitation, he pricked his finger and smeared his blood on the wall. The hidden pathway slid open, revealing the dark and mysterious passage. It seemed Jasmine might have been more smart than he had given her credit for.
As Damien emerged from the pathway, he was met with a sea of demons scattered across the floor. His gaze swept the area, and his eyes landed on an unconscious figure in the center - a girl in a familiar outfit, unmistakably Jasmine. He sprinted toward her, relief washing over him as he confirmed it was indeed her. She appeared unscathed, with no visible injuries except for the blood on the floor that stained her clothes.
Damien quickly examined her and found no signs of infection from the scorpion's venom. This raised more questions - did this have something to do with why Bakshya didn't want him giving her the antidote? Moreover, The demons surrounding her seemed unaffected, almost as if they had collapsed without even attacking her. There were no signs of struggle or defense wounds on Jasmine, and the demons didn't appear to have bitten her. The scene was still mysterious, leaving Damien with more questions than answers. But, his first priority, however, was to get her to safety. He lifted her up from the ground, holding her in his arms.
~~~
Jasmine's eyelids fluttered up, and she was met with an unpleasant smell of blood that wafted through her nose, making her stomach churn. As her vision cleared, she saw a towering figure looming over her. She blinked, and her eyes focused on Damien's face.
Surprised, She jolted upright, bumping heads with Damien in the process.
"Oh, I'm so sorry," she exclaimed, rubbing her sore head.
Damien sat down beside her on the bed, his eyes locked intensely on hers. "Who are you?" he demanded. This was the second time he was asking. "How did you get out of the room? What happened after you left?"
Jasmine's mind whirled, and she tried to piece together the events. But her head throbbed in pain, and a white light flashed through her mind, making it hard to think.
"I...I don't know," she stammered.
His gaze bored into hers. "Think, Jasmine, think. I'm sure you remember something," he said, violently holding her cheeks, his fingers pressing into them, making her forcefully look at him.
Her frustration grew as he bombarded her with more questions. "I don't know, I really don't know," she repeated. Her head spun, and the pain became unbearable. She didn't know which was more agonizing – his fingers piercing into her cheeks or the headache, which made her voice rise and shout, "Stop, please just stop!"
His expression twisted in anger, and he violently threw her head back, making it land on the bed with a soft thud.
Suddenly, the maid's knock on the door seemed to echo through the silence. "Your Highness" The maid's voice was hesitant. Damien who's face, still twisted in anger, slowly turned towards the door.
Jasmine, lying flat on the bed, gazed up at him with a mix of fear and confusion. 'YourHighness?' Who was this person, really? The way he had grasped her cheeks and thrown her head back made her realize that she didn't know him at all.
He opened the door slightly, creating a small gap, and spoke to the maid in hushed tones. Jasmine didn't bother trying to listen; she was too lost in her own thoughts. She glanced down at herself and noticed she was no longer wearing her own clothes. Instead, she had on a simple shirt that reached her knees. A wave of unease washed over her. When did that happen, and why?
As soon as he closed the door, she stood from the bed, her eyes fixed on him. She didn't know what she wanted to do next, but she knew she had to confront him and get out of here.