He had prayed—gods, how he had prayed—to the Blood Goddess for one mercy. Let me see my child once before the poison takes me. The Blood Goddess, cruel and magnificent, had given him power, had given him his throne… but she had never promised compassion.
It seemed, now, she wasn't interested in granting this plea.
His vision fractured into shadows and light, shapes melting into formless blurs. He tried—he tried—to stand, his hands digging into the earth until dirt packed beneath his nails. The cold bite of the air filled his lungs, but his body wouldn't obey. The strength he had relied on all his life was slipping through his fingers, leaving only the bitter taste of helplessness.
Eryk shouted his name again, voice muffled now, as though Damien stood under a waterfall and the world was somewhere far above him.
