The camp was chaos.
Shouts split the night, steel hissed from scabbards, soldiers stumbled half-blind from the blast of Victoria's light. The glow of her power pulsed like a second fire among the campfires, dazzling, unnatural, unstoppable.
But then—
"Stand down."
Damien's voice cut through the din like a blade.
Instant silence followed.
Every soldier froze, weapons still drawn but unmoving, their eyes flicking between their prince and the girl who stood glowing in broken chains. No one dared to breathe too loudly.
Damien stepped forward. The firelight caught his armor, his cloak, the hard line of his jaw. His eyes never left her, locked on hers as though the rest of the world had ceased to exist.
"Not one of you moves," he said, his tone low, lethal. "She is mine."
The words rolled through the camp like thunder. Soldiers shifted uneasily, but none disobeyed.
And so the two of them stood—Victoria, light blazing around her, breath ragged, wrists raw and bleeding but free; Damien, steady as stone, the full force of his presence pressing down on her like a storm.
For a heartbeat, neither spoke.
Then Damien began to walk.
Slow. Deliberate. Each step measured, unhurried, like a predator closing on its prey.
Victoria's chest rose and fell rapidly, the goddess's gift surging through her veins like fire. She raised her hands, light gathering in her palms, though her control wavered, flickering, threatening to lash out uncontrollably.
"Stay back," she warned, her voice trembling with equal parts fury and fear. "I won't be your prisoner anymore."
Damien didn't stop. His gaze stayed locked to hers, his expression unreadable.
"You think you can run," he said softly. "You think light will save you."
Her pulse thundered in her ears. "It already has."
The glow around her flared brighter, spilling across the camp. Soldiers shielded their eyes, cursing under their breath. Some muttered prayers.
Damien kept walking.
"You don't understand your gift," he murmured, his voice carrying low and intimate even across the space between them. "You wield it like a blade, wild, reckless. But it was never meant to free you, Victoria. It was meant to bind you. To me."
Her breath caught, anger sparking hotter. "Lies."
"No," Damien said, his eyes burning with a terrible certainty. "Truth. The goddess marked you. And she marked me the moment I swore you would never be taken from me again. This light—your light—it exists to be mine."
Her fury broke into words. "I am not yours!"
The glow surged, exploding outward in a blinding wave. Soldiers staggered back, shielding their faces. Horses reared and screamed.
Damien didn't flinch.
The wave crashed into him—and shattered, light scattering like water against stone. He kept walking, unfazed, his presence devouring her radiance.
Victoria staggered back, horror clawing at her chest.
"How…?"
Damien's lips curved faintly, though there was no mirth in it. "Because you're not the only one who's changed in eight years."
He was close now, only a few steps away. She could feel his aura, heavy, suffocating, pressing against her very soul.
Her light flickered wildly, unstable, fear feeding its fire.
"Stay away," she whispered, her voice breaking.
Damien stopped at last, mere feet between them. His eyes softened, though the storm within them never faded.
"I can't."
And with a single motion, he closed the distance.
Victoria cried out, releasing another burst of light, but his gauntleted hand shot through it, seizing her wrist with brutal strength. The flare sputtered, her power recoiling painfully under his grip.
She struggled, pulling, twisting, her free hand glowing as she tried to strike. Damien caught that wrist too, locking both her hands in his grasp. Their light flared between them, wild, crackling—but he held fast, unmoving, his face inches from hers.
"Look at you," he whispered, breath hot against her cheek. "Even now, you shine for me."
Tears stung her eyes, fury and grief tangled until she could barely breathe. "I shine in spite of you."
His grip tightened, pulling her closer, their chains clinking together where fragments still clung to her ankles. "No. You shine because of me. Because I am the only one who sees you. Who has always seen you."
Her voice broke, ragged with desperation. "Damien, please—"
His eyes flickered at the sound of his name on her lips, the faintest crack in his mask. His hands trembled, just slightly, though his hold never loosened.
"You beg me to let go," he murmured, voice low, dangerous, intimate. "But if I did, if I truly let you go, would you run? Or would you fall?"
"I would run," she spat, defiance blazing in her eyes even as tears spilled down her cheeks. "I would run until the ends of the earth, and I would never look back."
For a moment, silence was heard.
Damien's jaw tightened, his face hardening as if sealing something deep inside.
"Then I will never let you go."
With one swift motion, he twisted her wrists behind her back, forcing her to her knees. The soldiers flinched as the sound of new shackles snapped shut, heavy and final.
Victoria gasped, her light sputtering, trapped, her body trembling under the weight of his control.
Damien lowered himself before her, one knee in the dirt, his hand cupping her face again with startling gentleness.
"You hate me," he said softly. "You may always hate me. But you'll live. You'll live at my side, where you belong. And in time… you'll understand."
Her tears blurred his face, turning his features into shadow and flame.
"I will never belong to you," she whispered, her voice breaking but steady. "Not in time. Not ever."
His thumb brushed the tear from her cheek. "We'll see."
He stood then, towering over her, turning his gaze to the soldiers who still stood frozen in shock.
"Break camp," he ordered, his voice cold once more. "We march at dawn."
Not a man disobeyed.
And in the center of the firelit camp, bound once more, Victoria bowed her head. Her body trembled, her wrists throbbed with pain, but inside her chest, the goddess's light still burned.
Faint. Flickering. But not extinguished.
Not yet.