⭐️ Eternal Shadow 🌙 Damian wayne ~~~~complete

Chapter 18: Shadowed Vows

⭐️🌑🌒🌓🌔🌕🌖🌗🌘🌑⭐️

The garden was quieter now.

The soft hum of the Tower's systems was a distant thrum beneath the earth and stone, a lullaby too old for words. The scent of rain and jasmine lingered, and the last light of the city flickered like half-forgotten stars.

Marceline sat curled against a patch of ivy-covered wall, her knees drawn up to her chest, the obsidian charm resting in the cradle of her palm. She toyed with the cord absently, running it between her fingers. The ache inside her was a dull, persistent thing — but for once, it wasn't screaming.

Somewhere in the distance, a song played softly through unseen speakers. A low, steady instrumental piece. No lyrics. Just strings and piano, ebbing and flowing like a tide.

She closed her eyes.

Footsteps.
Soft, deliberate. Too careful to be anyone but him.

She didn't look up at first. She knew it was Damian before she saw him. The weight of his presence pressed against the edge of her senses like a shadow she could never quite shake.

He stopped a few steps away.

Neither of them spoke.

For a moment, the only sounds were the chirping of late-night birds in the treetops and the hush of the city far below. Then — quietly, like he wasn't sure he was allowed — Damian stepped forward and set something down beside her.

His cloak.

The same one she'd tugged over him in the infirmary.

He stayed standing, his posture stiff and guarded, arms crossed like he was bracing for a hit. But his eyes... his eyes betrayed him. They were tired, shadowed, but unbearably soft when they landed on her.

"I figured you might get cold."

It wasn't much.
But it was more than she expected.

Mars swallowed the tight knot in her throat and gestured for him to sit. It took a long moment, but he did — settling beside her, close but not quite touching. They both stared out at the flickering cityscape in front of them.

Neither knew how to start.

Finally, Mars broke the silence.
"Why do you keep saving me, Damian?"

Her voice was small, hoarse from disuse and exhaustion, but steady enough.

He didn't answer right away.

She risked a glance at him. His jaw was tense, his hands clenched loosely in his lap, as if wrestling with words he didn't know how to say.

When he spoke, his voice was quieter than she'd ever heard it.

"Because I don't know how not to."

Her breath caught.

"I've tried," Damian went on, gaze fixed somewhere beyond the horizon. "Tried to stay away. Tried to tell myself you didn't need me. That it wasn't my place. That you'd be better off if I kept my distance."

A bitter half-smile ghosted over his lips.
"But every time... every time you fall, it's like I feel it too."

Mars felt her eyes burn.

"I didn't mean to drag you into my mess," she whispered.

He looked at her then — really looked.
And there was no coldness in his expression.
Just raw, unguarded, aching honesty.

"You're not a mess," he said, voice rough. "You're a storm. And I've always been a fool for walking into storms."

A weak, breathless laugh slipped out of her before she could stop it. Damian's lips twitched, the barest hint of a smile.

They sat in silence after that, the weight of everything too heavy for more words. The music in the background played on, the sky above darkening to deep indigo.

At some point, Mars' head drifted to his shoulder. Neither of them acknowledged it.

Damian didn't move away.

His hand — the one closest to her — hesitated for a second, then settled over hers where it rested on her knee. Not tightly. Not possessively. Just there.

And for the first time in days, sleep came for her like a quiet tide.

As her breathing evened out, Damian turned his head slightly, watching her.

His throat worked, emotion catching there in a way it never did in front of anyone else.

And then, so quietly it was barely a breath:

"I won't leave you again, Marceline. Even if you run, I'll be there."

The city lights flickered on.
The wind rustled the leaves.
And for a while, the world was kind.

⭐️🌑🌒🌓🌔🌕🌖🌗🌘🌑⭐️