Valarie was quiet. For all her age and wisdom, she did not know what to say—or even if she should speak at all.
So she stayed silent.
She was certain that, in his madness, Damon had denied the true nature of the Ruined Knight. It was a defense mechanism, one his mind had crafted to shield what was left of his fractured sanity.
In life, the most believable lie was always the one you told yourself—the one you forced your soul to embrace. Not because you didn't seek the truth… but because the truth was simply too painful to endure.
The truth is a steel horse—unyielding, inevitable. But why must this steel horse crush everything beneath its hooves?
Why can we not be spared, just once, with a kinder lie?
If the truth were purely noble, then why did it bring with it such sorrow?
That sorrow pressed on Damon's chest, heavy and merciless. He wanted to scream—he wanted to shatter—but instead, he gave the world nothing more than a tearful smile.
