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The night air was thick with tension. Anawin’s heart raced as he stood before the flickering flames of the fire cylinder, the script gripped tightly in his trembling hands.
His palms itched, a sensation he couldn't shake off. The ink on the pages seemed to pulse with life, as if the story itself was begging him to stop.
But he couldn’t. This was the only way to erase the chaos Damon had brought into the world.
His fingers twitched as he prepared to toss the script into the fire, ready to end it all. Just as the edges of the paper began to catch the heat, a chilling voice slithered from behind him.
"Do you really think that’s going to stop me?"
Anawin froze, his breath catching in his throat. He hadn’t heard anyone approach. Slowly, before he could turn his head, the script slipping slightly from his grip.
Damon stood just behind him, a manic smirk tugging at his lips, his dark eyes gleaming with something sinister.
And Before Anawin could react, Damon’s hand shot out, grabbing him by the shoulder.
With a sharp, cruel tug, he yanked Anawin backward, sending him crashing to the ground. The script tumbled from his hand, landing just inches from the flames.
Anawin gasped as the impact knocked the wind from him, his body sprawled across the cold pavement.
The fire cast long, twisted shadows across Damon’s face as he crouched down, his dog tag swaying ominously.
It brushed against Anawin’s chest, the cold metal seeping through the fabric of his shirt, sending shivers down his spine.
"You really thought you could burn it all away?" Damon sneered, his voice low and mocking. "Erase me, just like that?"
Anawin’s eyes widened in fear, his chest rising and falling with panicked breaths.
Damon’s hands were on either side of him, caging him against the hard ground.
Damon leaned in closer, his breath hot against Anawin’s face, as if savoring the moment of complete control.
"You… you’re not supposed to be here," Anawin stammered, his voice barely above a whisper. "You’re just a character. I can end you."
Damon laughed darkly, the sound reverberating through Anawin’s bones. "Oh, Anawin… I was never just a character. I was created, given life, And power... ... And now… you can’t take it back."
Anawin tried to push him away, but Damon’s grip on him tightened, his fingers digging painfully into Anawin’s shoulder.
Damon’s face was a mask of cruel amusement, his eyes burning with a twisted sense of purpose.
"You think Finn is the hero of this story?" Damon spat, his lips curling in disgust. "You think good will just triumph, and I’ll disappear into the flames? You’re more naïve than I thought."
Anawin’s breath hitched as he looked into Damon’s eyes—eyes that once belonged to a character he read about but now held a terrifying depth of their own.
Damon wasn’t just a villain anymore. He was something else. Something real. Something dangerous.
"I was never meant to be erased," Damon continued, his voice dropping to a low, threatening growl. "You’re the one who tried to rewrite fate. You tried to change the story—my story. And now, you have to live with the consequences."
Anawin flinched as Damon’s dog tag brushed against his chest again, the cool metal making his heart pound with terror.
Damon’s hands pressed down harder on the ground beside him, trapping him beneath his weight.
"You created a world where good and evil are supposed to be black and white," Damon said, his voice softening into something almost tender, though the malice still lingered in his tone. "But the truth is, there’s always a little darkness in everything. Even in you."
Anawin’s lips parted, but no words came out. He didn’t know how to respond, how to argue with the twisted logic Damon was spitting at him. There had to be a way out of this—a way to fix what had gone wrong.
"You still don’t get it, do you?" Damon leaned closer, his lips almost brushing Anawin’s ear. "You gave me the power to rewrite the story, Anawin. And now… it’s my turn."
Anawin’s heart pounded in his chest, his eyes darting toward the script lying beside the fire.
He needed to destroy it, to end this nightmare before Damon could twist everything beyond recognition.
But Damon’s presence was suffocating, and Anawin could feel his strength draining away under the weight of his fear.
"Stop… please…" Anawin whispered, his voice hoarse with desperation.
Damon pulled back just enough to look into his eyes, his expression shifting to one of cold amusement. "Begging already? You disappoint me, Anawin."
With a cruel smile, Damon grabbed Anawin’s wrist—the one that had been itching since he first held the script.
Without warning, Damon twisted it sharply.
The sickening crack of bone echoed in the night air, and Anawin let out a scream of agony.
His body jerked in response, but Damon kept him pinned down, savoring the pain that flickered across Anawin’s face.
"Now you understand," Damon whispered, his voice dangerously low. "This isn’t your story anymore. It’s mine."
Tears welled in Anawin’s eyes as the pain coursed through his body. His wrist throbbed, and his mind raced with a hundred thoughts, each more frantic than the last.
Damon leaned in one final time, his lips brushing against Anawin’s ear as he whispered words that chilled him to the core.
