EUPHORIA

death?

The night was cold, and the moonlight filtered through the cracked window, casting eerie shadows across the room. Raven was cornered, her breaths coming in shallow, terrified gasps as she stared at the masked figure in front of her. She didn't recognize him—at least, not at first.

But then, there was something familiar in his stance, his eyes. The way he looked at her, intense and dark, sent a shiver down her spine. She couldn’t understand why this stranger felt so close to her heart.

"Why… why are you here?" she asked, her voice shaking but steady, trying to keep calm.

Damian took a step forward, the hesitation clear in his body language. He’d been sent here on a mission, but now, standing face-to-face with her, he could feel everything unraveling.

“You shouldn’t be here, Raven,” he said coldly, his voice muffled behind the mask. He had to be cold—he had to be the assassin his past demanded.

But as he raised his weapon, he saw the flicker of confusion and heartbreak in her eyes. “Damian… why are you doing this?” she whispered, reaching out. Her hand, trembling, brushed his arm, her fingers gentle and soft.

He closed his eyes, fighting the urge to throw away the mission. But he couldn’t—he had to follow through, for his own survival. With one swift movement, he made his move.

As Raven sank to the ground, her hands clutching the wound, she let out a small, broken laugh. “So… it’s you,” she whispered, tears in her eyes. “I should’ve known it’d end like this.”

Damian knelt down beside her, feeling the cold sting of regret settle into his heart as her breathing slowed. “Raven… please, I—”

“Shh.” She put a trembling finger to his lips. “It’s okay… I understand. It’s just… I didn’t think… it would hurt so much.” Her eyes were starting to lose focus, and she smiled faintly. “Will you… stay with me? Until… it’s over?”

He couldn’t speak. Instead, he just nodded, holding her hand tightly, his heart breaking with each passing second.

As the life slowly faded from her eyes, she gave him one last smile. “I love you… even if you did this. I still… love you.”

And then, her eyes closed, leaving Damian alone in the empty, silent room.

Damian’s heart raced as he tore through the night, carrying Raven’s lifeless body in his arms. He had one destination in mind—the Lazarus Pit. The pit was his last hope, the only chance to bring her back, even if he had to risk everything.

He pushed his bike to its limit, the roar of the engine piercing the silence of the dark road. The wind whipped against his face, but he didn’t care. All he could think of was her—her smile, her voice, the way she’d reached out to him, even in her final moments. The guilt tore at him like a storm he couldn’t escape.

After what felt like an eternity, Damian arrived at the ancient, hidden pit. The green, bubbling water glowed eerily, and he could feel the power pulsing within it. He didn’t hesitate, lowering Raven gently into the water, watching as the green energy enveloped her. The pit’s magic crackled, filling the air with an electric tension.

“Come on, Raven,” he whispered, gripping the edge of the pit so hard his knuckles turned white. “Please… come back to me.”

For a few agonizing seconds, nothing happened. Then, the water began to churn violently, and he stepped back, bracing himself as Raven’s body began to rise. Her eyes opened slowly, glowing with a vibrant purple. She gasped, disoriented, taking in her surroundings.

Damian’s heart pounded in his chest as he watched her, hoping, praying that she would be the same.

“Raven?” he called softly, approaching her.

She looked at him, her eyes unfocused, as if trying to piece everything together. “Damian?” Her voice was barely a whisper, laced with confusion and vulnerability.

He nodded, relief flooding over him as he gently took her hand. “It’s me. You’re safe now.”

She looked down at herself, her fingers tracing the spot where the wound had been. “I… I don’t remember what happened. How did I—?”

Before she could finish, he pulled her into his arms, holding her tightly. He knew he couldn’t tell her the truth, not now. Not after what he’d done.

“Don’t worry about it,” he murmured, his voice thick with emotion. “You’re here… that’s all that matters.”

As they stood there, the weight of everything he’d done settled over him. He knew he’d have to live with this secret, but for now, all he could do was hold her close, feeling the warmth of her return.

In that moment, he made a silent vow to protect her, to make up for his mistakes. And maybe, just maybe, he’d find a way to earn her forgiveness—even if she’d never know the truth.