Damiano pulled the silken cover over his grandmother's frail frame, his jaw clenched tight. Her words echoed, clawing at the walls of his mind.
What could she have meant?
He paced the glowing chamber, boots dragging against marble.
"Luna…" he muttered. "She killed my parents. I saw her… I… I—"
He stopped suddenly, hands trembling. His voice cracked into the silence.
"…Then again… I didn't really see her, did I?"
His chest rose and fell with ragged breaths, fury and doubt twisting inside him like blades.
A weak cough drew his attention. He turned sharply Elinda's eyes had fluttered open.
"Nonna…" he was kneeling beside her instantly, his obsidian hair falling into his eyes. His tone softened, almost boyish. "Are you alright?"
Her lips quirked faintly, the ghost of a smile. "Better than I was." Her voice was weak, but there was an ancient weight behind it. "I was able to seep… a little power… out of the goddess's body, and—"
Damiano froze. His blood ran cold.
"…Goddess?" His voice was a rasp. He gripped her wrist. "Who are you talking about?"
When she said nothing, his eyes blazed. "Luna? Goddess? No. No, you're wrong. She killed Mom and Dad—"
"Enough."
The word cracked like thunder.
Elinda's hand rose, glowing faintly with silver. Even weakened, her power struck him across the chest like a mother's scolding. He staggered back, breathless.
Her voice, though frail, carried the weight of truth.
"Your parents' deaths were at the hands of the God of Death, Damiano. Do not twist the past." Her eyes gleamed, wet with unshed memories. "I was there. I would not even be alive today… if not for her."
Damiano's lips parted, his denial caught in his throat.
"She healed me," Elinda whispered, voice trembling. "She was almost finished saving my life when you stumbled in. The God of Death, sly as ever, cloaked her true form. He wanted you to see a girl, an intruder so that you would hunt her. So that his enemy, the Moon Goddess herself, would fall before she ever rose again."
Her thin hand clutched his. "You were a child, Damiano. You didn't know. But now… you must. She is not your prey. She is your salvation. You must bring her back to me."
Her words ended in a fit of coughing, her strength faltering.
Damiano pressed a hand to her shoulder. "Rest, Nonna. Please." His voice was softer than it had been in years. He stood, cloak swirling around him, before storming from the chamber.
⸻
The mansion's corridors felt colder than ever as he walked. Her words gnawed at him with every step.
Luna… the goddess of the moon. His parents' deaths… not her fault.
And he…he had broken her, scarred her, pinned her to the ground like an animal.
The memory seared into him now, but instead of satisfaction, it cut deeper than any blade.
For the first time in his life, Damiano did not feel powerful. He felt rotten.
A bitter pain coiled in his chest.
"I hurt her… an innocent woman," he whispered to himself, his voice laced with self-loathing. "Not just a woman. The goddess of the moon."
He clenched his fists until his nails drew blood. His reflection in the darkened glass looked like a monster and for once, he believed it.
But beneath the self-hatred, something else stirred. Something even more dangerous.
Possession.
"If she is truly the goddess…" his smirk twisted, though his eyes glistened with pain, "…then she is mine more than ever."
And yet, in the hollow of his chest, shame burned hotter than fire.