Amelia stood there, baffled and intrigued, as she received an unexpected response from her fifteen-year-old companion. His response to her question is something she never saw coming. It left her mind swirling with questions, but she could sense that Damon needed rest so she left. His bandaged hands looked painful, and she knew he could barely feel them. Damon was a powerful being, but even he had his limits.
With a heavy sigh, Damon stared at his hands, contemplating the consequences of using his bold power in such a weak and injured state. He had unleashed a devastating blast of death magic that had obliterated the enemy forces, but at a great cost to himself. The idea of permanently damaging his hands weighed heavily on his mind. Despite the urgency of their assignment, to eliminate the rebel forces at the hospital and take command of their team, Damon now found himself feeling utterly useless.