Damon took a deep breath, suppressing the bitter taste of regret that threatened to rise. He hadn't meant for things to go this far. His original plan was to simply smash Sylvia's bracelet, but his shadow—the darker part of himself—had overridden his intention, guiding his blade instead.
The cruel words he'd spoken to her had been deliberate. They weren't born of malice but necessity. If she'd resisted or fought back, her healing magic would've made things infinitely more difficult, especially since he hadn't prepared any poison to ensure her defeat. Still, the sting in his chest lingered, a sour reminder of what he'd done.
He pushed the feeling aside and turned his gaze to the others.
Evangeline stumbled back, her light sword trembling in her hands, its radiant glow flickering unsteadily.
'Damon… what have you done?' she whispered, her voice trembling, barely audible against the crushing silence.