Chapter 113

• Cesmae’s POV
• Darkness surrounds me, washes over my vision but I feel no fear. In this void, memories awaken, unraveling one by one, as though they’ve been waiting just beneath the surface. With each memory, a truth unfolds, a truth buried deep within me. I’m not merely watching; I’m reliving them. These pieces, once hidden, are part of me—they are me.
• A cold stillness shifts, then melts away, leaving me standing at the edge of a haunting scene: an altar, cold and unyielding, marked with ancient symbols. Damaris lies on it, her face pale, eyes flickering open, helplessly vulnerable. Her body is battered, bleeding, weak, yet she holds onto a defiance that cannot be snuffed out.