Sanguine Rose

Chapter 2

In the quiet solitude of a room bathed in shadows, Damian found himself entranced by the grandeur of Mansion d'Aragon. The mansion, a testament to opulence and power, stood majestically against the backdrop of the night, its silhouette a stark contrast against the moonlit sky.

Damian is a man of mystery, an enigma wrapped in a riddle. His past was a closed book, his future a blank canvas. He moved with a quiet confidence, his every action calculated, his every word measured. His eyes, a rich tapestry of brown, mirrored the depth of an ocean, reflecting a mind teeming with profound thoughts and unspoken secrets. His gaze is intense, piercing through the veil of pretense, revealing the truth that lay beneath. His silence speak volumes, his words, when spoken, carried the weight of wisdom.

The silence of the room was broken by the soft rustle of parchment. "Good evening, Mr. Guevara, I came to inform you that the invitation has been dispatched," came the voice of Lucas, his trusted personal assistant. Lucas is a man of few words, his loyalty to Damian unwavering.

"Excellent. What's her answer?" Damian asked, his voice as smooth as velvet, yet carrying an undercurrent of authority.

"Unfortunately, Mr. Guevara, it was Sonya who had received the invitation. Ms. de Aragon was already ensnared in the arms of Morpheus when I arrived at the mansion. But worry not, for Sonya pledged to present the invitation to Ms. de Aragon upon her emergence from the realm of dreams."

A sigh, as deep as a canyon, escaped from Damian. He turned away from the window, his silhouette merging with the shadows. His gaze fell on a painting hanging on the wall, a hauntingly beautiful portrait of a woman. Her eyes, much like his, held a depth that was both intriguing and intimidating.

"Thank you, Lucas," he said, his voice barely above a whisper. "You may now return to your orbit of duties."

As Lucas left the room, Damian found himself once again alone with his thoughts. The room, once filled with the soft murmur of conversation, was now silent, the only sound being the soft ticking of the antique clock on the wall. Damian returned his gaze to the window, the Mansion d'Aragon still standing tall in the distance, a constant reminder of the task at hand.

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"Your eyes, like relentless captors, torment my heart and soul. They hold within them a void, devoid of any trace of the memories we once shared. Each glance, a dagger that pierces my very being, reminding me of the irrevocable loss that lingers in the depths of your gaze.

In the abyss of your eyes, I search desperately for a flicker of recognition, a glimmer of remembrance that would breathe life into the fragments of our past. But alas, all I find is an emptiness that echoes the silence of our shattered connection.

Oh, how it pains me to witness the erasure of our shared moments, as if they were mere figments of a dream that never truly existed. The absence of remnant of our history in your eyes is a cruel reminder of the irreversible distance that now separates us.

Yet, in the midst of this desolation, I find solace in the beauty of our memories, preserved within the chambers of my own heart. Though your eyes may no longer hold the key to our past, they cannot extinguish the flame of love that still burns within me.

So, I shall carry the weight of this unrequited longing, knowing that the echoes of our love will forever resonate within me. And though your heart may have forgotten, my soul will forever cherish the bittersweet symphony of our shared existence, etched in the depths of my being.

But know this, my love, Catarina, I will not give up. I will not cease in my efforts to awaken the slumbering memories within your heart. I will traverse the darkest corners of your mind, tirelessly seeking the key that will unlock the floodgates of remembrance.