Nerra's skin was pale, drained of all life. Her lips were blue from oxygen deprivation. The marks around her neck stood out starkly, purple and black bruises where the rope had cut deep into flesh.
Her eyes were open.
Dead eyes that had lost their light hours before he'd arrived, staring at him with the same empty gaze he'd seen when he'd cut her down.
But now those eyes moved. Now they tracked him. Now they spoke.
"It's your fault."
Her voice was hollow, echoing from somewhere beyond the corpse.
"I died because you were too slow... Because you weren't strong enough... Because you weren't there when I needed you most..."
The fog grew thicker, crawling up Damian's legs like living darkness.
The pressure intensified, crushing down on his shoulders with physical weight, forcing him to his knees.
But he didn't move to defend himself, didn't argue and didn't try to explain or justify.
