The morning sun shimmered across Caldera Pass, a mid-sized city built into a mountainous area. Streets buzzed with life—shoppers, students, traffic—and the soft hum of air trams gliding overhead. Among the crowd, three teens strolled down a busy strip of shops, locked in their usual banter.
"I'm telling you, that deck build is trash. You overloaded on reaction cards again."
"Reaction wins games! You just don't know how to bait properly."
"Guys—guys. Focus. The new expansion drops today. That means new mechanics. We should be at the shop now before the rush hits."
They turned the corner, passing by a large holo-poster flashing animated artwork:"Mission Vector – Mythic Pulse Set Out Now!"In smaller text: Tournament qualifiers open next week.
"I heard someone from the outer districts is entering—some new kid. Nobody really knows much about him, I heard he's a monster at the game."
"Urban legend," one of them scoffed. "Like the Hollowborn don't exist anymore."
Before the argument could continue—
CRASH!
A massive explosion of glass and concrete burst from a nearby office tower, raining debris onto the street below. Panic erupted as a swarm of giant mutated bees—each the size of a motorcycle—screamed from the ruptured building. Their massive wings vibrated the air like jet engines, and their compound eyes gleamed with sickly green light.
"An insectoid Blightkin! On the move!" one teen shouted, instincts kicking in.
They split formation and activated their powers:
—One's skin twisted into hardened bone armor, protrusions growing like jagged shields along their arms.—Another's body shifted into liquid metal, reshaping arms into bladed weapons.—The last summoned a chill wind, condensing floating shards of ice around them.
The mutated bees dived as one, stingers glowing with venomous charge.
With practiced grace, the ice wielder launched a burst of frozen spikes, impaling one mid-air. The metal morph leapt from a streetlamp and cleaved through another bee's thorax, while the armored teen shielded civilians and countered with brutal melee strikes.
Screams and buzzing clashed in a cacophony of chaos.
Amid flashing lights and crumbling signs, the trio dismantled the swarm one by one. Ice rained down like glass; chitin and venom sprayed across the road. A camera drone buzzed overhead, broadcasting the fight live across the city .
The final bee shrieked and dove for a lone child.
Before it could strike, the ice-wielder thrust their hand forward—a javelin of frost pierced through the creature, pinning it to a nearby car in a frozen explosion.
Stillness. Sirens in the distance. The fight was over.
Applause broke from the crowd, but the teens were already gone—slipping into the alleyways before the authorities arrived.
As the drone feed zoomed out, it caught a glimpse of the damaged card shop behind them. Its holo-sign flickered, still glowing with the name of the expansion.
A young boy stared up at the TV, watching the broadcast with wide eyes, full of admiration.
"I wonder if I can get as strong as them one day," he whispered to himself.
"Damian," his mother called from the kitchen.
He turned his head. "Yes, Mom? Do you want me to help you do anything?"
"Yes. Can you help your father grab some of the brioche from the oven and pack them up?"
Damian nodded and walked to the back of the bakery. There, he saw his father pulling trays of fresh bread from the oven—using his bare hands, without any oven mitts.
"Damn, Dad," Damian said with a playful grin. "I'm so jealous you can grab those trays without burning yourself. That ability of yours is seriously useful for this."
His father laughed. "Haha, yeah, kiddo. It's really convenient. Now help me out—move some of the bread to the cooling rack. We've got a lot of orders today."
Damian smiled and grabbed the food tongs, carefully transferring the hot loaves to the rack.
"Hey, Mom," he called out. "When's Jessie coming back home?"
"Your little sister should be back by 3 p.m.," she answered from the front.
A few minutes later, Damian was sweeping the floor near the counter. His mother peeked in from the kitchen.
"Damian, sweetie," she said gently, "can you deliver some of this bread? Everyone's already busy today."
"Don't worry, Mom. I can do it," he replied cheerfully. He grabbed his jacket, slipped on his helmet, and headed for the door.
"Here you go, son," his father said, handing him a paper bag filled with warm loaves.
"Thanks, Dad! Alright, I'm off!" Damian called out as he pedaled away on his bike, balancing the bread delivery with practiced ease.
Damian was cycling across town, a basket full of warm bread bouncing with every bump on the road. He wiped sweat from his forehead, panting hard.
"Okay... a couple more deliveries and then I'm done," he muttered to himself. His legs were burning after ten minutes of non-stop pedaling.
Then, like something out of a movie, he spotted someone ahead.
"No way..." Damian blinked. "Zach?"
A familiar kid with slicked-back, dyed-blond hair and a wild smile was walking down the street. When he saw Damian, he lit up.
"Hey, Damian!" Zach waved with both arms.
Damian hit the brakes and rolled up beside him. "Dude! You're finally back! How was the White Star training camp?"
"Oh man, it was hard," Zach said, throwing his head back. "Felt like military boot camp or something."
"Haha, yeah sure," Damian laughed. "So? Can you control your Stratum star power now?"
"Well... kinda. Check it out!" Zach brought his hands together, then slowly pulled them apart. Tiny, tiny red threads stretched between his fingers—made of blood.
Damian made a disgusted face, smiling through it. "Oh my god, that's so gross."
"I know right?" Zach grinned.
Both of them burst out laughing.
"So let me get this straight—you've got blood manipulation, yeah?" Damian asked.
"Yup! It's not super strong yet, but I think I can make some sick blood weapons with it soon," Zach said, eyes shining with excitement.
"That sounds so cool," Damian said, then looked back at his bike. "But I gotta go. Still got bread to deliver."
"No worries, man. I'll wait at your family bakery till you're done. See ya later!" Zach jogged off with a wave.
"Later!" Damian shouted, hopping back on his bike and riding off again.
The sun was high when Damian rolled back into town square, his last delivery bag now empty and slung loosely over one shoulder.
He coasted to a stop outside the bakery, hopping off his bike and stretching his arms with a tired groan. His shirt clung to his back from the ride.
"Finally," he muttered. "Break time."
But just as he stepped up to the front door, he paused.
Someone was already there, standing on the sidewalk, looking up at the bakery's old sign. Her hands were behind her back, hair pulled into a short ponytail, and a canvas bag dangled at her side. She wore a faded yellow tee and scuffed black sneakers—familiar as anything.
Damian blinked. "Wait... Emily?"
The girl turned, and when her eyes met his, her face broke into a wide, bright smile.
"Hey, stranger."
"Holy crap," Damian said, grinning. "You're back!"
Emily stepped toward him, arms open—and without hesitation, they hugged.
"You didn't say you were coming today," Damian said, stepping back.
"I didn't know until this morning," Emily said. "Dad got off work early, so... surprise visit."
Damian laughed. "Well, best surprise I've had all week."
"Even better than Zach grossing you out with his bloody spaghetti trick?"
"You heard about that?"
"Zach texted me," she smirked. "'Mission accomplished,' he said."
Damian groaned. "Figures."
They stood in the warm sunlight, the bakery door creaking gently as the breeze nudged it open.
Emily tilted her head. "You finished delivering?"
"Just got back. Zach's probably inside waiting."
"Cool." She nudged him with her elbow. "Walk me in, delivery boy."
He rolled his eyes. "After you, mystery visitor."
As they stepped inside together, the smell of fresh dough and cinnamon filled the air.
The bell above the door jingled softly as Damian and Emily stepped inside the bakery. The smell hit her like a warm hug—sweet cinnamon, toasted crust, a hint of honey. Zach was already leaning against the counter, one foot propped on a stool, halfway through a still-steaming butter croissant.
"You seriously didn't wait?" Emily asked, raising an eyebrow.
Zach shrugged with his mouth full. "I figured you guys will take longer to come back."
"Unbelievable." She dropped her bag on a chair and stole a chunk from the croissant in his hand without asking.
"Hey!" Zach yelped, holding what was left like it was a wounded animal.
Damian tossed his empty delivery bag behind the counter. "Should've known better than to touch anything without offering her some Zach."
"Thanks for the warning Damian," Zach muttered, licking butter off his fingers.
Damian's mother peeked in from the kitchen, wiping her hands on her apron. "Emily, sweetheart! I didn't know you were visiting today!"
"You know the reason why I am here, ma'am," Emily said politely.
"Damian mom smirk knowingly, Oh, well, help yourselves to the leftover buns, but don't fill up—dinner's going to be ready in 3 hour."
"We'll behave," Damian promised, then added under his breath, "probably."
His mom chuckled and disappeared back into the kitchen.
The three of them settled into their usual corner booth, worn from years of use. A tray of soft rolls sat in the middle, and they each grabbed one like it was routine—because it was.
"So," Emily said between bites, "what's the plan?"
"Plan?" Damian echoed.
"Yeah. You, me, Zach—back together, no school today. What're we doing?"
Zach leaned back in his seat. "I say we go to the card shop. That new expansion just dropped. Haven't had a chance to test my deck in person yet."
"You brought your deck?" Damian asked.
"Of course I brought my deck. What do I look like, a casual?"
Emily smiled. "You are a casual."
Zach put a hand to his chest, wounded. "Ouch. Betrayed by my own crew."
Damian laughed. "The shop's probably still open. We could head there now. It's only a few blocks away."
Emily gave a small nod. "Cool. I'm down."
Zach grabbed another roll for the road and stood up. "Let's make it interesting. Winner of the first match gets free pastries from the loser."
"No way," Emily said. "We all know Damian's gonna sweep us."
He smiled, not denying it.
As they walked out together, the late morning sun Pouring on them with slight heat. The streets were quieter now, kids getting out of class, shopkeepers readying for the afternoon , a breeze curling between the buildings.
Their steps fell into sync as they made their way toward the card shop, laughter echoing faintly behind them. It felt easy. Like they'd never been apart.
Just three friends, walking together in the fading light.
The card shop sat wedged between a florist and an old stationery store, the windows slightly fogged from the difference in temperature inside. A wooden sign hung crookedly above the door, painted with a sleepy owl clutching a deck of cards in its talons.
As they pushed the door open, a cheerful chime rang out.
"Well, well, look who finally decided to visit me," came a warm, teasing voice from behind the counter.
The woman standing there was older, silver streaks woven into her thick black hair, glasses perched on the bridge of her nose. She wore a knitted vest over a long-sleeved shirt, a ribbon tucked into the collar like always. Her smile was wide, genuine, the kind that came from knowing someone for years.
"Miss Aliah," the three said almost in unison, voices overlapping. It was half greeting, half affection.
She stepped out from behind the counter and pulled them each into a quick hug, even Zach who grumbled softly but didn't pull away.
"It's been ten years I think," she said, holding them at arm's length like she was inspecting a painting. "Ten years I've had you three in and out of here. You look Older."
"That's because we are," Zach said, puffing out his chest.
"Still can't beat me in a match though," she quipped.
Emily snorted. "He barely beats anyone."
Zach turned to protest, but Damian stepped forward, already eyeing the new display case near the center table. It gleamed under the overhead lights, shelves stocked with the latest expansion boxes and promotional packs.
"You said the new set came in?" he asked.
"Just yesterday." Miss Aliah's eyes sparkled. "And I saved a box just in case my favorite trio showed up."
Zach clapped his hands together. "See? This is why we love you, Miss Aliah."
"Flattery won't get you free cards," she said, already walking to the table. "But I'll give you a demo."
She cleared the small circular table, pulling out a pre-made starter deck from behind the counter. "It's a simple build—just enough to learn the rules and feel out the mechanics. Damian, you're up first."
He nodded and took a seat, Emily and Zach crowding behind him. Across from him, Miss Aliah sat and fanned out her cards.
The board was minimalist—zones for battle, support, deck, and discard. Each player placed a "Core Unit" face down and drew five cards.
Miss Aliah went first. "I summon Ember Moth to my Support Zone. Its passive raises my attack if my Core Unit is fire-aligned."
Damian studied the field for only a second before nodding. "That means your Core Unit must be Blazewarden or something similar. I'll play Stone Sentry in defense. Then, I activate Scout's Draw—discarding one, I search the top three cards of my deck."
He moved quickly, efficiently, placing his cards with calm precision.
Zach leaned in. "You're not even hesitating."
"He doesn't have to," Emily said. "He's already four turns ahead in his head."
By turn four, Miss Aliah was laughing. "You little monster, you baited my burn trap with a zero-cost sacrifice card just to flip me into cooldown."
"You telegraphed the fire combo when you played that moth," Damian said, smiling faintly. "So I deck-thinned with a lure to get you to waste your boost early."
She set her cards down with a chuckle. "Tactical genius. As usual."
Zach groaned. "See, this is why we say he cheats. His brain runs on predictive code or something."
"But he does get kinda pretty bad grades in school" Emily said with no remorse.
"Hey I get C and B's in my class I'm not that bad" Damien said annoyed.
"HAHAHAHA" All them are laughing from Angry argument.
They played two more matches, each one faster than the last, until Miss Aliah finally waved them off.
"Go look at the boosters before I cry," she joked, fanning herself with a rulebook.
The three moved to the shelves, scanning rows of packs with wide eyes.
Emily picked up a foil pack and turned it over. "Think we'll get lucky?"
"I am lucky," Zach said, grabbing a few at random.
Damian scanned the shelf carefully, then picked a single booster tucked at the back. The packaging was different—deep violet with a silver outline, a subtle shimmer to the print. It looked...old. Not in a mysterious way—just like it had been forgotten.
He brought it to the counter. "How much for this one?"
Miss Aliah blinked when she saw it. "That? Huh. Thought I sold out of those years ago. That's from the limited Mythos run. Only made 10,000 of those worldwide It really hard to get a good card from that set." She paused. "You sure?"
He nodded. "Positive."
She shrugged, punching the code into the register. "Lucky day, then."
They each opened their packs at the corner table, wrappers fluttering like fallen leaves. Emily pulled a rare spell combo. Zach found a limited creature fusion.
Damian's hand paused midway through his own pack. Nestled in the middle of the cards was a single, glimmering piece of card art—dark maroon with accents of iron and crimson. The title was etched in a stylized font:
[Apocalypse — The Crimson Eclipse]
A powerful figure stood cloaked in flames and shadow, riding a steed of burning metal, the background a crumbling city beneath a blood-red sky.
Emily leaned over his shoulder. "Whoa."
Zach's mouth fell open. "You got.. got.. one of the ancient monarchs!
Miss Aliah looked up from her book, eyes widening. "No way. You pulled that? That card hasn't shown up in a decade."
Damian turned the card gently in his hand, examining its stats. High attack, conditional play rules, and a once-per-game field clear.
"It's powerful," he said simply.
"You've got the core piece for an annihilation deck," Miss Aliah said, clearly impressed. "People will tradde their neighbourhood for that card."
He slipped it carefully into a protective sleeve, then into his deck box. "Then I guess I need to start building around it."
Emily grinned. "Guess we'll be seeing you win even faster now."
"Only fair," Damian said, standing.
"I can't believe you actually get that card there are only 100 in existence and you actually get one off it" Miss Aliah say with amazement.
They smile and grabbed drinks from the mini-fridge and lingered a little longer, chatting, trading cards, talking about new strategies and old match-ups. Just three friends, like always.
They lingered for a while longer in the warmth of the shop, drinks in hand, flipping through cards and swapping strategies until the clock above the register chimed softly.
Miss Aliah gave them a look over her glasses. "You three better not spend the whole afternoon hiding in here. Go do something that involves sunlight."
"We were heading to the field anyway," Emily said, stretching as she stood.
Zach cracked his neck. "Might be time for a little rematch."
Miss Aliah raised a brow. "You still trying to beat her?"
"Someone has to knock her down a peg."
Emily laughed, already slinging her bag over her shoulder. "Bring snacks next time. You'll need the energy after I'm done with you."
The bell above the door chimed again as they stepped back into the summer air, the light now turning gold at the edges. Behind them, the sleepy owl sign rocked gently in the breeze.
They walked without speaking for a while, the familiar route toward the old training field winding between quiet streets and shaded trails.
The ground there was dusty, sunbaked, worn smooth in places where feets had landed too many times to count.
It wasn't much. But it was theirs.
They stepped into the clearing, the sun casting soft gold through the trees. The air held a quiet familiarity, like a space that had watched them grow up.
Damian dropped his backpack beside a fallen log and sat, stretching his legs with a small sigh. "Alright," he said with a faint smile, unscrewing a water bottle. "Try not to break each other this time."
Zach cracked his neck and rolled his shoulders, eyes flicking toward Emily. "You up for a quick match?"
Emily raised an eyebrow, her tone flat but amused. "You sure? Last time you ended up face-down in the creek."
Zach smirked. "That was a tactical retreat."
Damian snorted from the log. "You screamed 'I regret everything' before you hit the water."
"Details details," Zach grumbled. But when he pulled off his hoodie and extended his hand, the mood shifted just slightly. Red lines crawled up his arm as his blood twisted into shape—a short blade coiling into his grip. His smile wavered for a second. There was always that moment—an ache in the back of his skull, a twist in his gut. His own blood answering his will. It wasn't natural. It never felt natural.
Damian noticed. He didn't say anything, just leaned forward slightly and gave Zach a nod. "Looks sharp."
Zach exhaled slowly, tightening his grip.
Emily didn't draw a weapon. She stepped forward in her sneakers and loose sweatshirt, shaking out her arms. "Come on, then," she said, casual as ever. "Let's see what you've got, Blood Boy."
Zach rushed forward, slashing. She sidestepped easily, ducking the arc of the blade.
Zach swung again, faster now, pushing through the resistance in his limbs. Blood dripped from his palm—he was already pushing too far, but he didn't stop. He wanted to land a hit.
And then he did—barely. A shallow graze along Emily's arm.
She blinked.
Then she smiled.
The air shimmered.
To Zach, the world tilted sideways. Emily moves so fast he can't even see her . One second she was in front of him—the next, his feet were off the ground, the blood blade knocked from his hand, and he was airborne.
He landed with a thud.
Damian winced, but still clapped politely. "Hey, new record. I think that's eight whole seconds."
Emily walked over and offered Zach a hand. "Not bad," she said with a smirk. "You grazed me. That's... progress."
Zach grumbled, taking her hand and pulling himself up. "You didn't even try."
"I didn't need to," Emily replied, brushing dust from her sleeve.
Zach flopped beside Damian, catching the towel tossed his way. "I think my rib or Shatter."
Damian grinned. "That's fine. I'm sure you only need, what, five of them?"
They laughed, the kind that came from years of knowing each other. No pressure, no judgment. Just bruises, sweat, and the familiar comfort of being among the people who knew you best.
Emily stretched her arms above her head and flopped beside them. "Next time, I'll actually use both hands."
Zach groaned. "Next time, I'm bringing a taser."
The trio walked side by side under the golden wash of the evening sky. The training ground behind them, the warmth of the son ahead. Their shirts were damp with sweat, laughter drifting between them.
"We're training again tomorrow, right?" Zach asked, blowing a bubble with his gum before popping it loudly.
Emily gave him a look. "Only if you promise not to trip over your own blood again."
Zach groaned. "It was one time! One time that happened!"
Damian chuckled softly. "I'll join in. Not like I'm doing anything tomorrow anyway."
"Good," Emily said. She nudged him with her elbow. "You need to work on your reaction speed."
"You saying I'm slow?" Damian raised an eyebrow.
"In school? Yes, you are," Emily replied with a straight face.
"HEY—"
"But I'm saying you fight like nothing will go wrong with your plan. Might wanna fix that naïveté of yours." She smirked, and Zach snorted with laughter.
Damian shook his head, but his smile lingered. They walked past the iron fence around the small playground where they'd once scraped knees and broke their first bones, through a familiar alley behind the town square, and toward the quiet bakery.
As they approached the storefront, something felt... off. The windows were dark. No soft golden glow from the kitchen. No scent of warm bread in the air.
Damian stopped at the door, frowning. "That's weird. It's not closing time yet."
Zach looked around. "Maybe your mom went out?"
Emily shrugged, casually checking her phone like she wasn't hiding a grin.
Damian pushed open the door slowly. "Mom? Dad?"
Silence.
He stepped inside—and suddenly, the lights burst on with a click!
"Happy Birthday, Damian!!" his mom, dad, and little sister Jessie shouted in unison from behind the counter.
Confetti shot into the air as Zach and Emily jumped out from the side, holding party poppers in each hand.
Damian blinked, stunned. "Wait—what?"
His mother rushed over and pulled him into a tight hug. "You forgot your own birthday again, dear!"
"I... I did?" Damian laughed, the realization finally hitting him. "Oh man... I actually forgot again."
"We didn't," his dad said, ruffling his hair.
"Come on, you big idiot," Zach said with a grin, leading him toward the back. "We saved your favorite."
On the table sat a red velvet cheesecake—perfectly frosted, a swirl of creamy white and crimson, with a single sparkler burning down in the center.
"You guys..."
Emily leaned against the wall, arms crossed, eyes soft. "Just sit and eat before you cry or something."
Damian laughed again—light and warm—and pulled out a chair.
His mom, drying her hands with a kitchen cloth nearby, looked at him with a half-smile. "You know… every time you laugh like that, I remember the day you were born."
Damian raised an eyebrow. "Not this again."
She ignored him with a light chuckle. "You were trouble from the first breath. Or rather—from before it. You know what was happening the day you were born, right? That was the day the sky turned red."
Zach, sitting at the table, leaned forward. "The Blood Rain?"
Emily whispered, "Apocalypse."
Damian's mom nodded. "No one even knew his name. He wasn't a person. He was… something else. A storm of power. A natural disaster with a face."
She took a slow breath. "We were at the hospital when he died. Miles away. But the shockwave still shattered every window, knocked out the power. It ripped you right out of my arms, Damian."
Her voice trembled slightly—not from fear, but from the memory.
"For eight minutes, I couldn't find you. The walls were cracked, alarms screaming, the sky outside bleeding red. And all I could think was: he's gone. My son is gone. The world was ending and I never even got to say your name."
The room was quiet.
She continued, softer now. "We finally made it outside. The sky was still raining—slow, heavy drops of crimson. Not water. His blood. No one knew how that worked, only that it didn't burn or sicken anyone. It just… fell. Quiet, endless."
Her eyes found Damian's.
"And there you were. In the middle of the street. So tiny, so new. Sitting up in a puddle of red, playing with it like it was just rainwater. Laughing."
Damian blinked. "You're making that up I sound like a demon !."
"I would never," she said, hand on her chest. "That was the most terrifying eight minutes of my life. But when I found you again, nothing else mattered. The world could've ended right then and there. I had my son back."
She gave him a fond, bittersweet look. "And you've been causing heart attacks ever since."
Damian shook his head with a sigh. "You're unbelievable mom."
Emily nudged him. "You're lucky to be alive."
Zach grinned. "Born under blood rain. That's gotta be some kind of omen."
Damian smirked and finally sat down. "Or it just means I've always had terrible timing."
He blinked back into the present as his sister climbed onto his lap, shoving a party hat on his head.
"Open your gifts!" she chirped.
Damian glanced at the table. A few small packages and a cloth-wrapped bundle were laid out beside the cake. He hesitated for just a second—then reached for the one wrapped in faded red paper and crinkled ribbon.
His dad raised his eyebrows. "Starting with ours?"
"I'm playing favorites," Damian deadpanned, and his mom gave him a playful swat on the arm.
He peeled the wrapping away carefully, revealing a deep red jacket. Heavy, lined, worn in just enough to feel familiar even though it was new.
"We figured," his mom said, crossing her arms with a warm smile, "that you were due for something sturdier."
"You've been stealing my jackets for years," his dad added. "That one's yours now. No take-backs."
Damian ran his hand along the sleeve, lips parting in a quiet breath. "It's perfect. Thanks."
Next came the cloth-wrapped bundle from Zach.
"No wrapping paper?" Damian asked.
Zach shrugged. "It's cooler this way."
Damian unwrapped it, and the gleam of polished steel caught the light—short, clean, and balanced. A dagger. The kind made to be held fast and used without flair.
"Damascus steel," Zach said with a crooked grin. "Saved up a while for it. Figured you could use something that doesn't snap if you look at it too hard."
Damian blinked. "You got me a knife?"
"Better than a coffee mug," Zach replied. "Besides, you always act like you're gonna jump in front of danger. Might as well look the part."
Damian gave a soft laugh and shook his head. "It's great. Really. Thanks, man."
From the side, his sister clambered back up onto the chair beside him and handed him a small, floppy plush.
"This is Snowball," she said proudly. "You said he looked like he wanted to fight you."
Damian stared at the stuffed wolf, its eyes lopsided, one ear stitched awkwardly. He let out a laugh, full and sudden. "He still does."
"You can keep him now," Jessie declared, puffing her chest a little. "He's brave."
Damian pulled her in with one arm. "Like someone else I know."
He looked around the table, at his parents, at Jessie bouncing her heels on the edge of her seat, at Zach pretending not to grin too wide. But then his gaze landed on Emily.
She was quiet, arms crossed, a small black box in her hands.
She hesitated—just a second—and then walked over and held it out.
"This one's from me," she said, softer than usual.
Damian took it, brow raised. Emily didn't do nervous. Not unless she was angry. Or thinking too hard.
He flipped open the lid.
Inside was a bracelet—hand-braided, black and gray threads knotted into a clean, simple weave. A small metal ring sat looped in the center. Not polished. Not shiny. But real.
"You… made this?" he asked.
Emily nodded. "It's nothing fancy. Just something I thought you might actually wear."
"I love it," Damian said, voice catching for half a second. "Really."
Emily stood there for a beat, her weight shifting from one foot to the other—then she leaned forward and wrapped her arms around him in a quick, tight hug.
Damian froze, then returned it, a bit more gently.
"Happy birthday," she murmured into his shoulder.
Zach made a loud gagging noise. "Okay, that's enough emotion for one day."
Emily gave him a look over Damian's shoulder. "Keep talking and I'll braid you a choke collar."
Zach shut up.
Damian laughed and leaned back in his chair again, his new bracelet snug against his wrist and Snowball sitting proudly on the table beside the cheesecake. The red jacket hung over the back of his chair, and the dagger still rested in its cloth near his plate.
He looked around at all of them—his weird, chaotic, loud group—and smiled.
It wasn't much. But it was home.
The sun had long set. The last laugh echoed as the front door closed. Damian's house fell into silence, the kind that pressed on your chest
Damian walked quietly into his room, still carrying the buzz of laughter and warm light in his chest. The door clicked shut behind him with a soft thunk, sealing the noise of the world outside.
He hung the red jacket on the back of his chair, the fabric still smelling faintly of cake and candle smoke. His hand lingered on it for a second. A gift from his parents — simple, sturdy, warm. It made him feel safe. Loved.
He moved to his bed, flopping onto it with a soft sigh. The mattress groaned in familiar protest. His fingertips idly brushed against the bracelet on his wrist — the one Emily had given him. It was plain, a single loop of woven cord with a small silver bead in the center, the kind of thing you'd miss if you weren't looking. But it was hers. It meant something.
He smiled to himself, remembering how her hands shook a little when she gave it to him. How her voice stumbled. How she gave him that awkward hug — tight, a little too long, like she didn't want to let go.
Damian closed his eyes.
Today was a good day.
Then, faintly — a flicker.
He opened his eyes.
The bracelet was glowing.
Not brightly — more like the last light of the day, trembling at the edge of dusk. He stared at it, confused. It didn't have any batteries. It wasn't a toy.
His brows furrowed. He touched it. It felt... warm. Warmer than it should. Then his head snapped back suddenly, like something invisible had cracked against his skull.
A flood.
His pupils dilated.
The warmth turned to fire.
Images. Feelings. Screams. Blood. The smell of ash. Grief so heavy it crushed his lungs. Emily, older, scared, powerful. Zach—laughing, bleeding, gone. The world breaking. Him, breaking. Over and over.
His breath caught in his throat as he sat up violently, grabbing his head. His body began to tremble. The bracelet was no longer glowing — it pulsed faintly, as if finished.
His fingers dug into his scalp, pulling at his hair in a desperate attempt to stay here, to stay now.
And that's when he saw them.
His hands.
They were flickering — like a glitch. One moment his own familiar fingers, the next: monstrous things. Pale skin torn and lined with veins, drenched in blood not his own. Nails too long. Scars that didn't exist. Arms not meant for human.
His breathing grew ragged.
He couldn't even form words. Just ragged gasps, whimpers broken by pressure behind his ribs. Tears spilled down his cheeks, unannounced.
And then—
A scream.
A raw, aching cry torn from somewhere deep inside. Not a shout. Not rage. A scream made of grief, fear, and knowledge no one his age should carry.
He curled in on himself, clutching the bracelet like it might hold him together.
But he was already unraveling.
"No. No. No no no no no—NO—""Please. Please make it stop no—"
Tears flowing like water and his hair turning white.
"Aaaaaaaaaaahhhh!".
Damien fall down on conscious.