My voice.
My energy.
The connection that exists between us because of bonds I didn't choose but refuse to reject.
I reach for him.
Not physically—physically he's still fifteen feet of three-headed hellhound preparing to obliterate me with hellfire. But mentally, spiritually, through whatever channels the bond between us has created, I extend myself toward the creature that was once my bond mate and is now something that barely remembers being anything else.
Damien.
Can you hear me?
Somewhere beneath the rage and the fire and the curse that made you this way—can you hear me?
The connection forms with difficulty—like pushing through walls that don't want to yield, like forcing open doors that have been sealed for too long. His consciousness is buried beneath layers of instinct and fury, the man I know hidden beneath the beast that Elena's curse created.
But he's still there.
Faint.
Fighting.
Waiting for something to reach him.
I send my message through the bond with everything I have—not words exactly, but meaning that transcends language, emotion that communicates more effectively than any vocabulary could achieve.
Redemption is bliss.
The concept flows from me to him—the particular understanding that what we've done doesn't have to define what we become. That mistakes and cruelty and the things we did when we didn't know better can be forgiven. That the path forward isn't determined by the road behind.
And sacrifice is all you've known to do.
I acknowledge his history with the particular compassion of someone who has learned to see past surfaces to the wounds beneath. Damien has given everything for purposes thatweren't his own—his humanity, his autonomy, his very identity surrendered to serve agendas he didn't choose. The hellhound curse is just the latest in a lifetime of sacrifices demanded by others.
For once... I want you to stick up for yourself.
The request carries weight that I hope he can feel—genuine desire for his wellbeing rather than simply his usefulness, care for who he is rather than what he can do for me.
Do what you think will get you the ending you desire.
Not my ending. Not what I need from him. Whathewants. Whathehas been fighting for beneath all the layers of obligation and curse and the expectations that everyone keeps placing on his existence.
I trust you.
The declaration flows through our bond with the particular totality of faith that doesn't demand proof.
And care deeply that this rebirth will bring you safe haven.
Because that's what this is—rebirth. Transformation. The death of what he was forced to become and the potential emergence of what he chooses to be.
So do what you think is most deserving to those who hurt you.
The permission carries implications that extend in multiple directions.
Justice.
Revenge.
