The wind moved lazily, tugging at Damon’s cape and combing through his hair. His hands rested on the hilt of his sword as the sun brushed his face with warm light.
He looked almost lancholic, distant, as though he were a celestial being observing the world from far above it.
dals adorned his chest. The air around him felt heavy with mystery.
Then he raised a hand.
"Silence," he ordered.
"Erhm, no one was speaking," Evangeline said, pressing her fingers to her forehead as Damon continued posing in front of the gathered crowd.
Today was his sending off ceremony and the formal announcent of his victory against Ashergon the great dragon.
Naturally, Damon was overdressed and standing several steps above everyone else, looking down at them with dramatic intent.
Evangeline silently prayed he would not give a speech. She was certain he would brag about his feat while staring at everyone with open condescension.
Luckily for her, Damon was too eager to return to his daughter. He only said a few vague words, flicked his cape, and turned to leave.
Behind him, an airship had already landed. This was the one that would take him ho.
The war on the front line had shifted. With Ashergon gone, the battle was now focused solely on the forest.
Not everyone was pleased about that.
The elf king Kadelas had reportedly fainted when he heard Damon had succeeded. He was still unconscious, muttering and cursing in his sleep.
Clearly, he did not wish to wake up to a reality where he would have to offer his daughter’s hand to Damon of his own free will.
Evangeline had other concerns. The outsiders were still fighting their own war in the city of Lysithara. At tis the ground rumbled in the distance. Sotis the sky lit up with spells she had never seen or even imagined.
She did not know why Damon was leaving, but she did not try to stop him. He must have had sothing important to accomplish.
Damon, however, misread her expression completely.
He was certain that was the look people gave a hero about to embark on a dangerous mission.
He was not.
He simply wanted to lay low for a while.
Of course, he was also planning to create a weapon capable of killing a phoenix, but that detail felt minor to him.
"Corruption and rot," Damon muttered under his breath.
A phoenix was a pure being by nature, or so the old wizard Orbitus had implied. And because of that purity, it could kill Wendy, who could not be killed by anyone deed impure.
Damon did not know how much of this was part of the Unknown God’s design, but he did not put it past him.
After all, how could one tell where fate began and the Unknown God’s influence ended?
There were no coincidences in this world. Damon had learned that from watching Mugu’s life unfold.
But he still lacked crucial knowledge. He needed the clue that would reveal the location of the Pillar of Conflict.
The mont that location was known, every single player on the board would make their move.
He was certain the Goddess of Doom was waiting patiently, cautious, planning to win with a single decisive action.
But was she above a demon like Unknown?
The demon god redefined the aning of scheming.
Damon had never been more paranoid.
A small part of him had already begun to resign to fate. A seed of quiet defeat had taken root in his heart, whispering that he would never escape the vast, invisible grasp of the Unknown God.
The airship rose into the sky while his gaze remained fixed on Evangeline and Leona below, still standing on the battlefield.
Now all Damon wanted was to stay beside his daughter, watch her grow, cultivate his power, train Iris and Luna, and build his forces for what he knew was coming.
Because he was certain the end waited just beyond the horizon.
This peace he longed for was only the silence before the storm.
Clouds drifted lazily across the sky, unconcerned, unaware.
He envied them.
The scenery passed quickly beneath the airship, and Damon finally lowered himself into the luxurious seat inside.
"I’ve gained so much. I’ve gained so much to lose."
He was certain despair was the only thing waiting ahead.
Like Mugu, he had been given hope only for it to be crushed.
Like Ashcroft, who had stood at the edge of his greatest victory only to be defeated.
Now it was Damon’s turn.
He would be betrayed by soone he cherished.
At first he could narrow the list.
Now he loved too many people.
The list had grown dangerously wide.
It could be anyone.
Before long, the airship arrived at the Brightwater household citadel. His aunt was waiting when he stepped off, carrying baby Ranar in her arms.
That night, there was a feast to celebrate his return.
The next day, Damon stood before a tomb and placed a small flower on it.
This was Wendy’s grave.
He had taken her body from his shadow storage, cleaned her, and proper prayers had been said before she was buried.
Only a few people were present. Damon did not want a large ceremony.
She had been dead for three years.
But she was buried only today.
The baby in his arms tugged at his hair and laughed, unaware that her mother had just been laid to rest. She would never see her. Never hold her.
She was motherless.
But not an orphan.
She had family.
Damon would make sure his daughter never lacked for anything. For Ranar, he would give everything.
He raised his hand slightly and muttered,
"Stop ti."
Nothing happened.
He had not expected it to.
It was simply sothing Waton of Valtheron used to say. He had been Wendy’s first friend.
Right now, Damon truly wished ti would stop.
Because he had learned to fear tomorrow.
For truly, tomorrow was an unknown, and the fear of the unknown was the oldest form of fear.
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