Page 7 of Damian

I hold a lantern to light the path, and the witch shifts toward me. Her wrists are raw and bloody from the unyielding metal shackles binding her to the icy stone wall.

Her shallow breathing worries me. Each inhale is a struggle, while each exhale speaks of her pain.

Bruises and cuts mar her once smooth skin. Underneath the damages, she appears barely eighteen.

Hallie’s gaze, though filled with pain, holds a spark of defiance.

Beside her are the remains of another lying in a twisted repose. The bones appear bleached by time. Could this be the one who stifled the call to my mate? The hollow sockets of her skull stare at me in silent mockery. A grim reminder of the agony I experienced while she lived.

I close my lids but avoid taking a deep breath amidst the stench surrounding me. I summon what little strength I have left. All that’s required of me is to set the food and water down and walk away. But each visit to Hallie is a battle against my own fears and memories.

I turn to leave with my task completed.

“Please, help me.” The whispered request makes me pause. I turn back around with the sound of her chains rattling again.

Her look pleads with me. “I can’t reach.”

Of course she can’t. My need to get as far away from the memories surrounding her presence blinded me to her plight. If I don’t feed her and hold the cup to her lips, she’ll die from starvation or dehydration.

She isn’t the one who ripped my heart from my chest. She tells me her name before I leave and wonders about mine.

“Desdemona,” I tell Hallie before racing away as fast as my feet would carry me. Looking back on my skittish behavior fills me with regret.

This is my new routine, night after night.

Other than the “thank you” she croaks out, we don’t talk when I come to feed her each evening.

Each visit, the chains bite deeper into her flesh, the bruises darken, and the light in her gaze dims slightly more.

Tonight’s the night I risk everything by telling her my plight and ask for her help. My heart pounds in my chest as I approach her, and my mind races with a thousand fears.

“How far along are you?” Hallie asks before I can say anything, her tone laced with genuine curiosity.

I look down at my stomach, gently rubbing the place where my precious children grow, their tiny lives just beginning. My heart aches with the conflicting emotions of love and fear. “Ten weeks,” I admit softly, my volume barely above a whisper. I spoon the meager, tasteless food into her mouth.

“You must be overjoyed,” Hallie suggests. Her curiosity searches within me for a spark of happiness.

I shake my head, feeling the sting of tears welling up. “They’re destined for slavery like the rest of us,” I say, my voice breaking. The thought of my children growing up in this cruel world, raised in fear and oppression, is too much to bear. Hallie accepts several more bites without comment.

“Can you help me?” I dare to ask, the words escaping my lips before I can second-guess myself.

An expression of confusion and concern washes over her. “Help you how?”

My first thought had been to beg her to abort them, to spare them from the horrors of this life, but I’m already in love with them. The very idea tears at my soul. “Escape. Find them homes where their father will never get his hands on them,” I plead, my desperation clear.

“A task this big would require a great sacrifice,” Hallie informs, her tone serious, as if weighing the gravity of what I’m asking.

“Anything,” I whisper, my resolve firm despite the fear gnawing at me.

“I need time to plan,” she says, her eyes meeting mine with a promise of hope.

“I’m here every evening,” I reply. The words came out more sarcastic than intended. The truth behind them remains, though. It’s a small sliver of optimism in a world devoid of mercy, but it’s all I have.

I walk away, and the chains rattle behind me. A blatant reminder of our captivity. The dripping water echoes in the silence—each drop a countdown to the inevitable. The tunnels, dark and oppressive, symbolize the cages we are all trapped in, both physical and emotional.

“How come you don’t cast a spell and escape?” I ask Hallie one night in between bites.

“I could remove the shackles binding me to this wall, but then I’d end up lost to the maze, protecting your people from non-demigods. There isn’t a spell that can override what your god has ordained. Maybe death lost in your tunnels would be more merciful, but I fear it still.” She shakes the chains holding her here. “At least in this spot, I know what my fate is.”

---