"Only after facing truth shall you stand before Doom."
Damon's mind drifted back to a passage he had once seen in a half-burned religious text. He never truly understood it, but in this moment, it felt like something he should have. The idea that they had already failed the Unknown God's trial lingered in his thoughts. If that was true, then what truth had they failed to grasp?
He stood before her.
The Goddess of Doom.
Ashcroft had forced him down at first, a firm hand pressing against his shoulder and the back of his neck, trying to keep him lowered. But Damon did not resist. Instead, he slowly lifted his head anyway, not with defiance, but with confusion so deep it bordered on emptiness. His brows were slightly furrowed, his mouth parted just enough as if he was trying to form a question that refused to exist.
For a moment, he simply stared.
Not at her face.
At her existence.
