𝑯𝒊𝒔𝒕𝒐𝒊𝒓𝒆 𝒅'𝒂𝒎𝒐𝒖𝒓 [Lyney x reader]

𝟐𝟕

"Forget me, the worst is you and I"

A gasp escaped your lips, a sharp intake of breath that echoed in the oppressive silence. Your body, seemingly beyond your control, moved towards Lyney, drawn by an unseen force. Your hand trembled as you reached out, your fingers hovering over his bruised and battered face. With a delicate touch, you gently traced the line of his jaw, the curve of his cheekbone, searching for any sign of life, any flicker of recognition.

His eyelids, heavy and bruised, fluttered open. His eyes, usually bright and full of mischief, were now dull and clouded, filled with a pain that mirrored your own. He blinked slowly, his gaze struggling to focus, and a faint tremor ran through his body.

"Lu– Lyney, what did they do to you?!" you muttered, your voice thick with a mixture of anger and despair. Your hand, trembling slightly, moved away from his face, leaving a lingering warmth on his cold skin. The sight of his injuries, the brutal evidence of his torment, was almost unbearable.

Tears welled up in Lyney's eyes, shimmering in the dim light that somehow permeated the darkness. He tried to speak, but his voice was a mere rasp, a broken whisper that struggled to escape his lips. His gaze, clouded with pain and exhaustion, met yours, and a silent plea passed between you. He didn't need to speak; his eyes told the story of his suffering, the tale of a cruel and merciless torment.

The sight of his tears, the silent testament to his pain, was a sharp, agonizing pang in your heart. You wanted to rage, to lash out at the unseen entity that had inflicted such cruelty. But you knew that anger alone would not save him. You needed to find a way to break these chains, to free him from the darkness that held him captive.

"It will not be that easily, chère lune," the voice echoed, its tone a silken caress laced with a sharp, cruel edge. The French endearment, "dear moon," a twisted mockery, hung in the air, a chilling reminder of the unseen entity's power. It seemed to revel in your despair, drawing strength from your pain.

The voice's words were a cold, hard truth. Lyney's chains were not mere physical restraints; they were imbued with a dark magic, a binding force that held him captive on multiple levels. The entity controlling this space enjoyed the torment, and would not let it end quickly.

" Aurélie," you called out, your voice a low, dangerous growl. The name, a venomous whisper, cut through the oppressive silence, a stark declaration of your recognition. Your blood boiled, a surge of righteous fury that threatened to consume you. You turned towards the source of the voice, your eyes blazing with a cold, unwavering determination.

The darkness, like a retreating tide, receded, revealing the true form of the entity that had tormented you and Lyney. Standing before you, amidst the cold stone and the lingering shadows, was a young girl. Aurélie.

She appeared delicate, almost ethereal, her features pale and sharp, her eyes dark and knowing. Her presence, however, radiated an ancient, malevolent power, a chilling contrast to her youthful appearance. It was as if a dark spirit had taken residence within her, twisting her innocence into something monstrous.