They stood in silence, both looking out over the damaged city, both carrying darkness they couldn't fully share with anyone else.
"Damien, can I ask you something personal?" Lyristae's voice was quiet.
"Go ahead."
"The High Priestess and Guard Commander – your anchors. Do they know about the corruption's full extent? About how much it costs you to maintain humanity?"
"They know I'm corrupted. They know the shadow magic affects my emotions and decision-making. They don't know – " He stopped.
"Don't know what?"
"Don't know how easy it's becoming to kill without feeling. How the corruption makes lying to them feel tactically appropriate. How sometimes I look at them and have to consciously remember why I care, because the darkness makes everything feel... hollow." The admission came easier than it should have. Maybe because Lyristae understood in ways they couldn't.
"Do you think they'd still love you if they knew?"
