The Devil's Betrothed novel Chapter 412

Chapter 412: Painful Memories

Yorian remained by Oriana’s side, offering his presence as a source of comfort. However, deep down, he knew that there was little he could do to alleviate the pain that weighed heavily on her. It would be a while before the anguish stemming from another’s suffering would release its grip on her.

"You should rest," Yorian gently suggested, but received no response from her. All Oriana could discern was the heart-wrenching sobs of that young boy, and she could keenly feel the intensity of his torment.

Yorian decided to give her some space, tenderly cradling her trembling form as he moved her to the bed. She reluctantly released the fleeting comfort she had derived from his presence and curled up on the bed. Her grip on the bedsheet was fierce, causing it to tangle and crumple.

In that moment, Oriana was not herself. She had become one with the boy she witnessed in her vision.

In her mind’s, the vivid scene unfolded: a young boy emerged from the door of that cryptic room, its secrets concealed within. His tiny frame swayed as he struggled to take steps away from that ominous place. Before him stretched an endless corridor shrouded in darkness. His weary, half-lidded ocean-blue eyes strained to discern a path forward, and he managed to move a few steps, driven by sheer determination.

Thud!

The door behind him slammed shut, causing his weak body to collapse onto the frigid floor. Desperation gnawed at him as he yearned to escape, but his body, ensnared by malevolent black magic, remained feeble. He writhed in pain, as if his very soul were being torn from his body. In his weakened and bewildered state, he attempted to crawl, his sole desire to put distance between himself and that wretched place. Yet, he could only make meager progress.

Unable to escape, a little boy lay on the cold floor, shrouded in the darkest corner. His fragile small body quivered, ensnared in a web of sinister black magic. He writhed in intense pain, drenched in sweat, eyes tightly shut, tears streaming.

His suffering was more than physical; it was a mental anguish rooted in profound loneliness. There was no one to offer solace, and the isolation felt even more oppressive than the darkness enveloping his existence. His heart ached for companionship, but he remained stranded in desolation, he was lonely even when he was in pain.

His little hands reached out in search of solace but found none, and his quivering lips yearned to utter words, a cry for someone to embrace him.