Chapter 331: Domain II

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.

Just knelt there, tears flowing, face calm, watching the manifestation his Domain had created from his own guilt.

"You should end it."

Nerra floated closer, her dead face inches from his now.

"Take out your heart... Stop the pain... Find peace in the darkness... It’s what you deserve..."

****

[Physical World]

Damian sat cross-legged exactly as he’d been, his posture unchanged, his breathing still steady.

But his right hand moved.

Slowly, deliberately, his fingers curled into a claw shape.

Then his hand pierced through his own chest.

Through his black shirt and through flesh and bone.

His fingers wrapped around his own heart, feeling the organ beat against his palm, feeling his own blood coating his fingers as it poured from the self-inflicted wound.

His face remained calm and serene.

Blood ran down his torso in steady streams, pooling on the floor beneath him.

The training room was silent except for the sound of blood dripping onto stone.

****

"Take it out."

Nerra’s voice was relentless.

"Rip it free... End your suffering... TAKE IT OUT..."

Damian’s hand moved in the physical world, his fingers pressing deeper, wrapping tighter around his heart.

One pull.

That’s all it would take.

His eyes closed again, fresh tears replacing the ones that had dried.

’That’s right... I should just take my heart out and die... I’ll finally be at peace...’

The fog rose higher, reaching his chest now, cold and thick.

"Heart."

Nerra’s voice became sharper.

"Take it out... The heart! Remove it! HEART! HEART! HEART!"

The word echoed, multiplying, dozens of voices chanting in unison.

"HEART HEART HEART HEART–"

And something clicked.

Damian’s mind focused on the word, cutting through the despair like a blade through fog.

Heart.

A memory surfaced with perfect clarity.

Alaric’s voice, measured and quiet, telling him about that night sixteen years ago.

"Then she plunged her hand into her own chest."

"Her hand emerged gripping her heart while she continued breathing."

"She performed the same technique on herself, extracting something from her own heart, blood that glowed faintly, and transferring it into the baby’s heart."

Damian’s eyes snapped open.

And the chanting stopped.

His hand remained wrapped around his heart, but his grip loosened slightly.

His voice emerged calm and steady.

"Heart, you said?"

Nerra floated silently now, her dead eyes watching him, waiting.

"You know..."

Damian’s voice was soft, almost conversational despite the blood running down his chest.

"In my past life, I didn’t know what a mother was... Not really."

His crimson eyes found hers.

"Then you came into Alessio’s life. Found him bleeding in an alley where everyone else had walked past, took him home, cleaned his wounds, fed him and taught him how to hold a fork properly, how to stand without looking like street trash, how to read."

A ghost of a smile touched his lips, sad but genuine.

"You were the closest thing to a motherly figure he could think of... The only person who’d ever shown him kindness without expecting anything in return."

Nerra’s corpse floated closer, but she said nothing.

"Then..."

Damian’s hand tightened slightly on his heart again, the motion automatic.

"Then I got this second chance... I was born into a new world. And I received love from Lyandra Valcor"

His throat worked, swallowing against the tightness.

"She showed me what a mother truly was. Not just someone who took you in out of pity, but someone whose entire existence revolved around making sure you were safe, happy and loved."

The fog began to thin slightly, pulling back from his waist.

"And she told me something... When I was drowning in guilt about not saving you, when the whispers were loudest, when I couldn’t sleep without seeing your dead eyes..."

His mind flashed back to that car ride, Lyandra’s hands steady on the wheel, her voice cutting through his spiral.

"I’m a mother. And mothers don’t blame their children for things beyond their control."

"That’s a mother, Damian. Blood doesn’t make you a parent... Caring does. And no mother, no real mother, spends her last moments hating the child she chose to save."

"When you love someone, your last thoughts aren’t about yourself, they’re about the people you’re leaving behind."

"I’d be hoping you were somewhere safe, somewhere far away from whatever killed me. I’d be so grateful you weren’t there to die alongside me."

"And I’d be proud. So incredibly proud of the person you’d become. That’s what mothers think about. Not blame or anger... Just love and hope that their children survive even when they don’t."

****

[Physical World]

Damian’s hand stopped moving.

His grip on his heart loosened, his fingers spreading, no longer pulling.

****

"When your hallucinations began to haunt me, she told me that no mother would blame her child. That she would just hope I received love, hope her child would survive."

Damian’s voice remained steady despite the tears still flowing.

"I understood what she was saying was true. Logically and rationally, I knew it made sense."

His jaw clenched.

"But there was still a part of me that doubted... Despite all logic and despite everything, I couldn’t let go of the fear that maybe your last thoughts were hatred. Maybe you died cursing me for being too slow, too weak and too late."

Nerra’s corpse floated silently, her dead eyes still fixed on his face, unchanged, unmoving.

"Then... I lost my real mother in this life too."

His voice cracked slightly.

"Mariana Bloodworth... A woman I never knew. A woman who gave birth to me and was immediately forced to make an impossible choice."