Time itself seemed to distort in Damon's perception, stretching unnaturally as his eyes widened, fixed entirely on the sight of Mira struggling helplessly in Ethan's grasp, her feet barely touching the ground as her fingers clawed weakly at the arm around her throat, her breath breaking into strained, desperate gasps that echoed louder than the entire battlefield combined.
A single thought surged through him.
No… she can't die.
Not here.
Not like this.
Something within him snapped, not in a sudden explosion, but in a deep, violent unraveling as a dark haze began to seep outward from his presence, faint at first before rapidly thickening, black smoke trailing from the corners of his eyes like a slow-burning fire, while jagged streaks of darkness crept through his white hair, staining it unevenly as though something buried deep inside him had finally broken through the surface.
And then—He moved.
