Chapter 65: If you want, I’ll do it for you
It was like fighting against a mirror. Every blow, every dodge, every feint was reproduced with perfect precision. Andromeda had the impression of fighting against herself, but against a version of herself that had no hesitation, no compassion.
Her double suddenly attacked with increased violence, forcing her to retreat. The black blade sliced through the air near her face, and she felt the cold wind of the steel on her cheek.
"You have changed," said her double in a voice that was hers but colder. "Have you become this weak?"
Andromeda clenched her teeth and attacked with renewed rage. But her double always seemed to anticipate her movements, always one step ahead.
"So I am really fighting myself..." she murmured.
Several other enemies identical to herself had appeared, each with those same completely black eyes, those same cruel smiles.
"You have become weaker," one of them had said, her voice tinged with contempt. "You have been poisoned by that feeling!"
Another had approached, her blade pointed toward Andromeda’s heart. "We are going to solve this problem for you!"
And she could do nothing. Her arms were paralyzed, her legs refused to move. She had watched helplessly as the other Andromedas plunged their blades into her body, piercing her from all sides. The pain had been atrocious, real as if it was really happening, before everything went black.
Andromeda opened her eyes, shaking her head to chase away those images. But reality shattered...
It was that night, the night when everything had changed.
She was surrounded by the Sword Clan, her blade placed against Daemon’s neck. The scene was exactly like in her memories.
But there was a difference. The Sword Clan was composed solely of Blood Moon with black eyes. Dozens of herself surrounded her, their unhealthy smiles, their blades ready to strike.
"Shit..." murmured Andromeda in the dream, feeling the weight of the blade in her hand, the warmth of Daemon’s body against hers. "How to kill my demons?"
"If you want, I will do it for you," said a soft voice next to her.
She turned her head and saw Daemon looking at her with a peaceful smile. He seized her wrist with a firm hand, his fingers wrapping around hers.
"It is enough to aim at the heart..." he murmured.
Before she could react, he firmly directed her hand toward his own chest. She felt the resistance of flesh, then the blade sank in, piercing the skin, the muscles, the bones. Hot blood spurted onto her face, and Daemon spat out a red trickle that crashed onto her cheek.
Andromeda tried to support him, but his body collapsed against her, heavy and inert. She felt his arms wrap around her, his head resting against her shoulder.
"I am really bad and irredeemable..." she said, her voice broken by the tears that began to flow. "Why are you so stubborn in seeing me change? I am really scared... scared that one day I will be forced to stab you like this..."
She clenched her teeth, feeling the pain tearing her from the inside. The weight of Daemon’s body against hers was unbearable, and yet she did not want to let him go.
Daemon smiled weakly, his hand rising to touch her face with infinite gentleness. "Then I hope that when you do it, I will disappear with all your demons..."
The scene suddenly cracked, like a mirror breaking. Shards of glass fell around her, and everything went black.
...
Blood Moon woke up with a start, her body shaken by a violent shiver. An unbearable pain pulsed behind her temples. She brought a hand to her forehead, feeling the cold sweat beading on her skin.
’Even my memories are turning into nightmares...’ she thought bitterly.
She remained motionless for a long moment, her eyes fixed on the ceiling, trying to regain her calm. But the images continued to dance behind her eyelids: Daemon looking at her with that peaceful smile, the blood flowing from his mouth, the sensation of his flesh tearing under her blade. And above all, the black-eyed woman, her evil double, who pursued her everywhere, even in her dreams.
She shook her head, chasing away those thoughts.
She got up from the bed and headed to the bathroom. She opened the tap, letting hot water flow into the bathtub. Steam began to fill the room, creating a soothing atmosphere. She removed her clothes still damp with sweat and sank into the burning water, feeling her muscles gradually relax.
"If you are going to so much trouble to force me to abandon my old life... I must try to make some effort."
She stayed in the bath for a long time, eyes closed, letting the hot water dissolve the tensions in her body.
Finally, she got out of the bathtub, wrapped her body in a towel, and dried her short still wet hair.
"I feel a little better..."
It was then that someone knocked on the door.
Andromeda jumped, her hand instinctively going to her blade placed on the bedside table. She had completely forgotten that she had ordered a meal.
"Who is it?" she asked.
"It is your supper, madam," replied a feminine voice behind the door.
Andromeda breathed deeply, forcing herself to relax. "Come in."
The door opened, and a servant entered, carrying a tray with a steaming plate. She had brown hair tied in a bun and a plain face that did not hold attention.
But when she raised her eyes toward Andromeda, all her blood instantly froze. Her irises were black, completely black, crossed by vertical slits like those of a snake.
"Master?!" exclaimed Andromeda, her voice barely audible.
She immediately recognized that presence. It was her master, The Painter, who had taken possession of this servant’s body. She had already seen that gleam in his eyes, that gleam that belonged only to the person she feared the most and did not want to see again in her life.
The servant, or rather The Painter, looked at her with an indecipherable expression. He placed the tray on the table and turned toward her, his black eyes fixing her with icy intensity.
"What are you doing here, Andromeda?" he asked in a voice that was not the servant’s, deeper and laden with an authority that tolerated no lies.
Andromeda felt her heart race. She opened her mouth. But in front of her master, the words seemed to get stuck in her throat.
"Uh... Well, I-" she began, but The Painter raised a hand to interrupt her.
"Now that you know the identity of The Midnight Star... I expect results."
Silence settled between them. Andromeda felt her master’s gaze weighing on her. She knew she could not lie to him, that he would see through any attempt at deception.