The rhythmic pounding of hooves against the damp earth echoed in the lonely stretch of the forest path. The towering trees loomed over Damien as he rode through the winding road, their gnarled branches swaying gently in the evening breeze. The sun had long dipped below the horizon, leaving behind a blanket of twilight.
But Damien barely noticed any of it. His mind was elsewhere—lost in the shadows of his past.
He gripped the reins of his horse tighter, his jaw clenching. The past had a cruel way of following him, no matter how many times he changed his path. No matter how many villages he moved to, how many identities he took on, the ghosts of his past clung to him like a curse. He had stopped believing in redemption a long time ago.
The steady rhythm of his gallop was suddenly disrupted by an unexpected voice.
"The Dark Soul."
Damien's entire body went rigid.
He yanked on the reins, pulling his horse to an abrupt halt. The beast neighed in protest, but Damien's piercing gaze was already scanning the dimly lit path ahead. A few meters away, a carriage stood tilted at the side of the road, one of its wheels dislodged. And beside it, a hooded woman stood still, her eyes locked onto him.
The way she said those words… "The Dark Soul."
His fingers twitched near the hilt of the dagger strapped to his belt. Not many people recognized him. He made sure of that. Every trace of his existence was carefully erased wherever he went. And yet, here was this woman—this stranger—calling him by a name he had tried to bury.
Damien's voice was low, cautious. "Do I know you?"
The woman tilted her head slightly. Instead of answering, she pointed toward her carriage. "Help me," she said. "The wheel came off when we hit a stone."
Damien hesitated. There was something off about her—something unsettling in the way she looked at him. Her voice was calm, too calm for someone stranded in the middle of nowhere.
His first instinct was to ignore her. Keep moving. He didn't involve himself in the affairs of others. That was the rule. That was how he had survived this long.
And yet… something about the way she had spoken his name—his old name—made him pause.
With a sigh of irritation, he swung off his horse and walked toward the carriage. He examined the wheel, then crouched down to fix it, working in silence. The woman stood there, watching him with an eerie patience.
After a few minutes, he secured the wheel back in place and rose to his feet, dusting his hands off. "Done."
The woman's lips curled into a smile, revealing a set of missing teeth. Her eyes, shadowed beneath her hood, glimmered with something unreadable. "Thank you, Dark Soul."
Damien tensed again. His patience was running thin. "Why do you call me that?"
She stepped closer, her voice dropping to a whisper. "Because that is what you are, is it not?"
His stomach twisted.
"What do you want?" he demanded, his voice sharper now.
The woman chuckled softly. "Not what I want. What you want."
Damien narrowed his eyes, but she continued before he could interrupt.
"A chance will be given to you again. But this time, be careful. Use it wisely… if you truly wish to let go of the past."
His breath hitched. The words slithered into his mind, wrapping around his thoughts like vines. A chance? To let go of the past?
His past wasn't something that could be erased—it was a stain, deep and permanent. He had long accepted that.
And yet, her words struck something in him.
Damien took a step forward, his instincts screaming at him to demand answers. "What the hell does that mean?"
But before he could get another word in, the woman climbed onto her carriage, flicked the reins, and the horses surged forward.
Damien watched as the carriage disappeared down the road, swallowed by the darkness of the forest.
A cold chill crawled up his spine.
He exhaled sharply and turned back to his horse, mounting it in one fluid motion.
Maybe she was just another madwoman. Maybe it meant nothing.
And yet, her words clung to him, heavy and suffocating.
Shaking his head, Damien kicked his heels into the horse's side and took off, galloping back toward his estate.
>>>>>
The scent of burning wood and damp stone filled the air as Damien entered his mansion. The massive estate, hidden deep within the outskirts of the kingdom, was shrouded in eerie silence. The torches along the walls flickered dimly, casting long shadows across the halls.
As soon as he stepped inside, a familiar gruff voice greeted him.
"Took your damn time."
Damien turned to see General Cassius leaning against the stone pillar near the fireplace. His dark humor and blunt honesty were as constant as the scars across his face.
"What is it, Cassius?" Damien sighed, tugging off his gloves and tossing them onto the table.
Cassius pushed himself off the pillar, arms crossed. "News from the palace. Queen Evenly has been poisoned."
The words hung in the air like a death sentence.
Damien froze. His pulse thudded.
Queen Evenly… poisoned?
A strange, hollow feeling settled in his chest. He knew the dangers that lurked within royal courts. Betrayal was as common as the air they breathed. And yet, this news stirred something unexpected in him.
Cassius watched him closely, reading his expression. "I take it you weren't expecting that?"
Damien scoffed, shaking his head. "I guess I have another death to experience soon." His voice was dry, but there was an edge of something else beneath it. Something heavier.
Cassius smirked darkly. "And here I thought you didn't care about the palace anymore."
Damien exhaled, running a hand through his hair. "Don't be stupid, Cassius. This isn't about caring. This is about knowing when it's time to move again."
Silence stretched between them.
Finally, Damien let out a tired breath, stepping toward the grand staircase. "Wake me up when the carriages are ready to leave for the palace."
With that, he turned on his heel and headed upstairs.
As soon as he collapsed onto his bed, the exhaustion hit him like a tidal wave. The moment his eyes shut, the darkness came for him.
His forever nemesis.
And just like that, he was swallowed whole.