Damon paused, eyes flickering open just slightly at Blood Reign's words. "…Feel all of me?" he repeated slowly.

Blood Reign giggled. "Do you trust me, my liege?"

"Yes, I do, you crazy woman." Damon chuckled.

This was one person who had been with him since the beginning. She was the reason for his second chance and everything that he had now. If she had wanted, she could have killed him a thousand times over already. There was simply no reason not to trust her.

"Then allow me to connect with your mind and soul for a moment. Just a moment. That is all I need."

Damon frowned. He could already understand what she was planning, but still letting someone into his mind and soul completely felt dangerous and vulnerable. Was he really ready to trust her to this extent?

Damon thought about it for a moment and then he nodded. While it felt extremely dangerous, he still decided to take the risk here. The reason was simple. If this weapon spirit wanted, she could have harmed him already, there was no reason for her to lie to him now and use a weird excuse to try something.

"Ok do it." Damon gave the nod. "Just don't muck around in there."

The moment he gave his consent, the world around him instantly changed. Blood. Everything around him was red. There was blood and only blood and it felt as if he was floating in an endless sea of blood.

And then she appeared. The outline of a woman formed in the sea of blood in front of him. She leaned closer and kissed him. The moment her lips touched his, the sea of blood surged.

Suddenly, the world around Damon flickered. He was no longer in the sea of blood. He was in a cave somewhere. The cave was cold. The walls were uneven, jagged stone marked by old scratches and dried streaks that Damon didn't need to touch to know what they were.

Blood. Old blood.

A boy sat in the corner of the cave with his knees pulled to his chest, ribs visible beneath stretched skin. His clothes hung off him like rags stolen from a corpse. One foot was bare, toes blue from the cold. His hands trembled slightly, not from fear, but from exhaustion so deep it had become permanent.

Damon's chest tightened at the sight of him.

The boy didn't look up. His eyes were unfocused, staring at nothing, as if the world had already taught him that looking forward was pointless. Every so often, his stomach growled softly, and each time it did, the boy flinched, as if ashamed of the sound.

Damon took a step forward. The cave trembled. The scene resisted him, like a memory that didn't want to be disturbed. He stopped moving and silently observed. He did not want this scene to disappear. He wanted to know more. Where was he and who was this boy? Why did it feel like he and the boy were related somehow?

Snapping him out of his thoughts, a set of footsteps sounded. Two more men entered the cave. Just like the boy, they too did not notice him. Damon was able to silently continue observing them.

The two men's faces were hidden beneath heavy cloaks, some sort of ceremonial clothing.

One of them tossed something to the ground. It skidded across the stone and came to rest a few feet from the boy's hands. It was raw meat, still bloody and warm. The boy stiffened.

He didn't reach for it immediately. His gaze flicked to the men's boots instead, then to their shadows, measuring distance, intent, danger. It wasn't fear in the normal sense, it was conditioning. The reflex of someone who had learned, the hard way, that food often came with consequences.

"Eat," one of the men said lazily.

The boy didn't move.

The second man chuckled. "Look at him. Still pretending he has pride."

A sharp kick landed against the boy's ribs. The boy coughed, curling in on himself, breath wheezing out of his lungs. Blood splattered against the stone as he hacked, thin and watery.

"Eat," the first man repeated, colder this time.

The boy slowly crawled forward, movements stiff and careful. He stopped inches from the meat. His hand hovered above it, trembling.

Five seconds passed. Then ten seconds passed. Nothing happened. Then suddenly the boy grabbed the meat and bite down.

"Good dog." The men laughed and clearly did not notice it but Damon did. At that moment, the body's eyes were not listless anymore.

Damon felt something inside him snap like a lock clicking open. The cave flickered again. Time stuttered.

The boy grew thinner. The cave became darker. The men came and went. Sometimes with food. Sometimes without. Sometimes with lessons that had nothing to do with survival and everything to do with obedience.

Damon watched it all in silence. He watched the boy learn not to cry. He watched him learn that pain could be endured, but weakness was punished. He watched him learn that blood, his own or someone else's, was simply another resource.

And then, one day, the boy stopped flinching.

The man raised his foot to kick him again. The boy caught it. The cave shook violently. Damon froze. That was the moment. The boy's eyes lifted, sharp and burning, no longer empty. They were cold, furious and unwilling to kneel ever again. There was a hunger in them which was undeniable.

Damon's heart raced. His blood boiled. He wanted to see the boy win. He wanted to see that boy survive but the next second, the scene collapsed in on itself.

Blood rushed back in, swallowing the cave whole, dragging Damon upward as if yanking him out of the depths of his own soul. He gasped as he returned to the present, lotus blooms still detonating in the distance, poison still crawling across the city.

Blood Reign stood before him, her expression no longer playful. "My liege… you just now… how did you do it?"

***

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