The words hung in the air between them, heavy with implication. For a moment, Mimic thought Damien might strike her. Instead, he seemed to deflate, the burst of energy leaving him as quickly as it had come.
Damien's eyes, which had flared with anger at Mimic's outburst, suddenly dimmed. The fire in them extinguished, replaced by a profound weariness that seemed to age him centuries in an instant. His shoulders slumped, and for the first time, Mimic saw the full extent of his vulnerability.
"You're right," Damien whispered, his voice barely audible. He looked up at Mimic, his face a mask of exhaustion and defeat. "I am... pathetic. A shadow of who I once was."
He closed his eyes, a single bloody tear trailing down his cheek. "I don't know who I am anymore, Mimic. Everything I built, everything I was... it's all slipping away. And I... I don't know how to stop it."
