The Prophecy Of The Black Day

Chapter 35

As Damon paced in his bed-chamber, he violently hit his shoulders and hips on every unsuspecting object that found its way into his path. So worried was he, like a man whose wife was in labour, that he barely noticed the wake of damage he had left in his stead.

"Ahhhh! If only I could be with her now." He swore aloud.

Her Majesty was suffering. He could always tell when she was in pain. He longed to enter the room she was concealed but knew she would be horrified by his presence.

She was so bothered by her scars and wounds that she never let him see her face even though he'd said none of it mattered to him. He knew her for what she once was not what she'd become.

They'd grown up together but she'd barely noticed him back then. Two lost souls ravaged by poverty and tragedy. They'd both been selected. They'd both been deemed worthy.

She'd been powerful long before her curse, a prodigy in her own right. By the tender age of 6, she'd been carrying out spells that adults didn't dream of trying for fear of tapping into their life force. The teachers had all sung her praises, remarking on her unusual intelligence which they hadn't seen in over two hundred years.

He'd fallen in love from the moment he laid his eyes on her milky skin and sweet smile. His heart had been broken when he saw the way she'd looked at the boy sitting beside him. He knew she would never love him the way he desired.

Her rare gifts were a blessing and a curse. The hand that had stretch forward to help her had been a façade. They'd broken and robbed her of her innocence, leaving nothing but a shell.

Her Majesty lost her mind. Her quest for revenge drove her into carrying out a Forbidden Spell to protect herself from them. The Finger of Death.

Damon sighed. That spell had ruined her. She'd never been the same after that.

They knew what she had done but they covered it up. No one could ever find out why she had gone insane. Even he didn't know the cruelty and abuse she'd suffered for years. They were all dead and gone.

Damon knew he was partly to blame for the way she'd ended up—scarred and cursed. He'd seen the look on her face after she'd heard the Prophecy. He'd created a monster.

Insanity was not adequate enough to describe the condition he'd put her in. He'd gone after her that day. For the first time ever, she'd looked at him like he meant something. That was why he'd lied to her and given her a purpose for the rest of her life.

He could fix it all. She would be whole again. The Child of Black Day would break the curse like the Prophecy said.

Damon still couldn't believe the child was the daughter of the woman Her Majesty hated the most. The woman she believed had brought her downfall. Such a tasteless irony.

There was no doubt whatsoever that Selene was the child. The power she wielded was incredible. He doubted she could even remember that she had killed all the 12 Hunters who'd been sent to bring her.

Damon had seen their bodies. He'd thrown up after seeing what she had done to them. Those images haunted him at night. He couldn't believe a mere child had massacred them so viciously.

None of it mattered. She was the child of Black Day so it was her destiny to die.

He was still pacing when a firm knock interrupted his thoughts. Terent, the Dream Weaver entered.

His eyes were hollow and sunken, his skin was ghost white and his wounds were still visible. He had not fully recovered but he could be used for the task at hand.