"You've gone soft… you don't even know where you're going or what you need to do."
The reflection mocked him, its voice echoing faintly as if the air itself was sneering.
"Thats why you're always contradicting yourself…. Ashcroft had a plan he had a path he was absolutely certain of …. Then there's you.."
The insults kept coming, each word growing more vile than the last. They hung in the reflective air like poison.
Damon bit his lip as he walked toward the distant cathedral. His steps were slow, heavy, the ground shimmering beneath him like liquid glass.
He could feel it in his chest, a certainty pressing like stone. He would not pass the Trial of Truth. All he could do was delay the inevitable.
"You're right," Damon admitted. He forced a small smile, the muscles in his face tightening unnaturally.
