Cassandra stood at the tree's edge, the breeze caressing her skin as she shut her eyes. There was something in the air tonight—something that beckoned to her. A peculiar pull she couldn't ignore had been nagging her for days. Though something held her anchored to the earth, it was the sort of feeling that made her want to scream and run.
The vision arrived as a whisper, a subtle incursion into her mind. Damon's face contorted with agony, his emotional intensity spilling off him like waves slamming against his shore. The vision consumed her, dragging her into a darkness so deep it almost swallowed her whole, and she gasped, stumbling backward.
She saw Damon standing alone in a location she did not know. He looked at her from someplace far beyond her, his shoulders drooping and his eyes far away. The air surrounding him crackled rawly as though something was about to burst.
Then, there was Alysia. Her image flickered before him, a face full of love and sadness, eyes containing a thousand untold tales. Alysia's lips moved, but Cassandra could not hear what she said. Once more, the vision flickered, this time more crisper and clearer.
Damon stood before a council, his eyes frantic with desperation. Angry, accusing voices shouted; the sounds of the charges permeated the air. He attempted to talk, to defend himself, but it seemed the words had been taken from his lips.
Cassandra could sense the agony, the betrayal seeping into her soul. Then the words came. "You are exiled. You are no longer a member of this pack. You murdered her."
The vision splintered again, revealing Damon, his eyes blazing with wrath. His body quaked with wrath as he gazed into the horizon, the wind roaring. He was standing outside.
"I will make them pay," Damon vowed, his voice a deep growl echoing in Cassandra's chest. His gaze darted to her, and for a split second, it seemed he was looking directly through her.
Startled awake, her breathing uneven. The sight made her uneasy and chilly. Damon had a past—one he had never told her about. But now, the burden hung between them, pulling them closer yet creating a distance almost impossible to bridge.
Cassandra could not get rid of Damon's images from her head. Damon stood by the window, gazing out into the night, and she found herself in the dimly lit room, the quiet weighing on her.
She moved forward cautiously. "Damon…"
His mouth tight as though the words were buried deep inside him, he did not turn to face her. "What did you see?"
Cassandra hesitated, not knowing how to approach the subject. "Your past. Alysia. The pack…" Though her voice wavered, she continued. "I don't understand. You were blamed for her death?
Damon's eyes shut briefly; when he opened them, they were brimming with rage and sadness. He whispered, "She was my mate. And I failed her. But I did not kill her."
The words hit her like a punch to the gut, their weight hanging in the air between them. Hearing them out loud made them all the more real for her, as she had always sensed there was something more to his story, something dark and sad.
Damon said, trembling with emotion, "They exiled me." They took everything from me—my pack, my purpose, my life. They said I was responsible for her death. His fists tightened at his gaze. I never got to say farewell.
Cassandra could sense the agony in his words, the suffering more profound than any visible injury. Her heart ached for him as she moved closer. "Damon, I—"
He spun around quickly, his eyes flashing with something dangerous. "I didn't deserve it. None of it." He inhaled deeply to calm himself. "Cassandra, they are now attempting to manipulate you as well."
Her heart raced as she gulped. "What do you mean?"
"The ancient order," he muttered bitterly. "They've been keeping an eye on you for quite some time. They've been planning everything."
Cassandra's thoughts spun. Though she had always sensed something invisible pushing down on her, Damon's words made everything seem far more real and dangerous.
As Damon paced back and forth, the tension in the room was palpable, and the gravity of his words hung in the air. Sitting on the edge of the chair, Cassandra's hands shook a little as she attempted to take in what he was saying.
"The ancient order," Damon stated again, his voice getting colder, "they control everything. The werewolves. The fates. Everything.
Cassandra frowned. "But... how does that connect to me?"
Damon's eyes met hers, and for the first time, there was a flicker of something like fear in them. "They cursed me," he said softly. "They made sure I could never find my true mate. That is why I was drawn to you. Cassandra, you are the one they never wanted me to find."
The words concealed her like a strike. It felt like her world was moving under her feet, but her mind raced to grasp it. The vision had been one thing, but this was something quite different.
Damon said, "They've been watching you for a long time. They've kept you close, concealed in plain sight. They wish to control and exploit you. I will not allow that to occur."
Cassandra felt her throat clench with air. "But... Why me? Why now?
With a soft voice, Damon stared at her unflinchingly. "You are the key. You are the one who can lift the curse. And they are aware of that. That is why they have been trying to keep you from me."
The stillness between them lengthened, heavy with the burden of his words. Damon approached nearer, his presence overpowering. "Cassandra, I'm not asking you to trust me. But I'm asking you to believe me. They will come for you. When they come, I will be there to defend you."
The room appeared to shut in on her, the air heavy with unhealed scars and unspoken vows. His words drew her in; their risk and link strengthened with each passing second.
Cassandra's mind was a whirlwind of thoughts, but she knew one thing for sure—her life had just changed forever.