Walking briskly, Damon stepped through the tall double doors into the dining hall, only to be greeted by an all-too-familiar silence.
He took in the room, its structure more ritual than routine. Three long wooden tables stretched from wall to wall, polished by time and discipline. At the far end, bathed in the warm yellow glow of a crystal chandelier, sat nearly thirty children, his siblings, all of them.
Boys and girls, aged somewhere between ten and seventeen, lined the benches in organized silence. Some hunched over their steaming plates, eating gracefully. Others leaned in to whisper behind cupped hands, trading glances and subtle grins as the attendants, tall women in sleek black suits, patrolled the aisles.
And at the center of it all sat Lady Morrigan, regal in her crimson blouse and tailored black trousers. While she was not an imposing figure by size, her presence alone was undeniable. Her slender 1.7-meter-tall figure was poised upright with snow-white hair tucked neatly behind her shoulders. Her golden eyes held a deadly calm that seemed to perceive the smallest detail as if she were a watchful hawk.
"You're late again," said Lady Morrigan, raising a butter knife in her hand. "That's the third time this week."
His mother, Lady Morrigan, didn't raise her voice. She never needed to.
"Yes, Mother," Damon muttered, brushing the sleep from his eyes.
Noticing Vincent waving towards him, Damon lowered his gaze and made his way to the center table, where kids around his age sat. Slipping into an empty seat, he glanced at his brother Fin beside him in displeasure.
Compared to the others, he and Fin did spend quite a lot of time together, but Damon often found himself put off by Fin's appearance and his clinginess. He looked rather fragile with his pale skin, chestnut hair, and pink-framed glasses.
"Morning, Damon. You overslept again, didn't you?"Smiled Henry, his blue eyes buried in the pages of a leather-bound book.
"You could've woken me," Damon muttered. "That book was in my room."
"I know." Fin turned the page with deliberate grace. "But then how would you learn?"
Damon let out a long sigh and sank into his seat. Across from them, Vincent leaned forward, smug, of course. The devil always looked smug.
Damon ignored him, deciding to focus on his meal. His eyes dropped to the food, and he was left speechless.
It wasn't breakfast. It was a banquet.
Beef brisket. Medium rare steak, glistening in its juices. Deviled eggs, perfectly halved. Smoked sausages. Mashed potatoes with creamy sauce. Peas. A small fruit salad. It was decadent, too decadent.
'This isn't right. Not for a Tuesday.' Confused, Damon glanced down the table, yet no one else looked surprised. Then it suddenly clicked.
'So training does start today.'
He picked up his fork, cut into a sausage, and took a bite. The flavor bloomed instantly juicy, rich, layered with herbs. For a moment, his guard slipped. A smile tugged at the corner of his mouth before he realized he was smiling.
That's when Vincent spoke.
"Glad to see you're enjoying yourself, dear brother," he said with that ever-present smirk. "Be sure to eat plenty."
Immediately, the fork froze halfway to Damon's mouth, and his eyes narrowed. Vincent's tone was too casual. Too inviting.
He looked down at the food again. Still steaming, seemingly perfect, yet now he had a suspicion that something was wrong.
'No. He wouldn't… Not in front of Mother Morrigan. Not with the attendants watching.'
But Vincent was still watching him. Still smiling. And that alone was enough to make Damon's stomach twist.
He needed an out.
Turning to his left, he spotted his round-faced brother Josh chewing a slice of meat. He was the perfect scapegoat. The curly-haired glutton was always hungry, no matter how much he ate; however, Damon was honestly clueless about where Josh was putting all those calories in his 1.5-meter frame.
"Hey, Josh," He called out, flashing his most innocent smile. "You want some extra?"
Hearing those words, Josh blinked, surprised. "Wait, seriously? Can I have it?"
"Of course. We're brothers, aren't we?"
Josh beamed. "Thanks, Damon!"
Damon passed the plate over, resisting the urge to pat him on the head for his noble sacrifice. He leaned back with satisfaction, shooting Vincent a look of silent triumph.
However, Vincent's smile did not falter.
In fact… it deepened.
'Why are you still smiling…?' Damon wondered.
Just as he contemplated confronting Vincent, Lady Morrigan rose from her seat, placing her cup down with a quiet click."Finish your meals, children. Those scheduled for training will follow Vincent to the sensory chamber for affinity testing. The rest of you, don't forget your language and botany classes."
A collective groan immediately rolled across the room like thunder.
"Vincent, do remember to educate all your siblings on the affinities before starting."With a nod to her attendants, Morrigan turned and walked out, Castiel and Jacob trailing after her as the hall settled into a restless quiet.
Then Damon felt it.
A firm and heavy hand gripped his shoulder.
He turned slowly. Vincent stood behind him, dirty blond hair falling slightly into his sharp green eyes. He was smiling like a boy about to commit arson.
"Have mercy," Damon said quickly, voice tight.
"Mercy?" Vincent chuckled darkly. "You're not that lucky."
'I really hate this guy.'
***
Elsewhere…
Flip—
A black-gloved hand turned the page of a report. The movement was practiced, elegant, unhurried.
"You're letting Vincent get away with it again?" Rosa's voice cut through the stillness. She stood by the tall window, glasses catching the morning light. "He used a pain enhancer from my med kit. I'm almost certain he laced Damon's food."
"He didn't go overboard," Morrigan replied, eyes still on her file. "He never does."
Rosa sighed. "He's completed five missions already. Technically perfect, but his clients loathe him."
"I'd be happy to discipline him, if needed," Diana added. The red-haired second attendant stood with her arms folded, her tone flat and unreadable.
"That won't be necessary," Morrigan said. She reached for a different file and handed it to them. "Something more important needs your attention."
Rosa scanned the top page, and her brows furrowed. "Koinonia. Multiple child abductions. All from single-father homes. All vanish between school dismissal and parental return. No sign of forced entry."
"The pattern is escalating," Morrigan said. "And no one's doing a thing about it."
Diana's eyes didn't move from the report, but her jaw tightened. The paper trembled faintly in her hand.
She didn't need to read further. She remembered Koinonia.
She remembered the screams. The flames. Her father's body, limp in her arms. His smile, even as the soldiers dragged him away for what she'd done.
With a sharp breath, she clenched her fist, and the file turned to ash.
"Hot..!" A wave of heat immediately rippled through the air, causing Jacob, who stood by the door, to flinch while Castiel merely stood silently by his side.
"Use deadly force if necessary," Morrigan said, unfazed. "Just keep collateral to a minimum. It's almost July, we don't need the churches sniffing around before the summer festival."
"Why aren't they involved already?" Rosa asked. "Surely this threatens festival security."
Morrigan allowed herself a faint smile."That's exactly why I'm sending Castiel. And I suspect our 'guest' in the holding room knows more than he's letting on."
Rosa and Diana exchanged curious glances and said in unison,
"It will be done." They then departed through another corridor
****
Damon jolted awake, heart racing.
He gasped, slowly catching his breath as he began to look around. 'Where the hell…?'
Shockingly, He was now standing on grass, surrounded by trees and soft sunlight. A bamboo fountain tapped rhythmically nearby, echoing through a sprawling, pristine garden. The sounds of birds chirping overhead reached his ears, and the air carried a scent like honey and lavender.
It was beautiful. Surreal. Peaceful, even.
He took a few steps forward, still dizzy. His fingers brushed against a low-hanging pink blossom.
Then a voice drifted in, quiet and calm. "Beautiful, isn't it?"
Damon turned.
An old woman sat beneath a wisteria tree, sipping tea from a porcelain cup. Her hair was pale and long, her face stern yet oddly familiar. Black eyes like bottomless wells studied him without judgment.
He stepped back, instinct prickling.
"Who… who are you?"
The woman didn't move. "Relax, child. I'm not going to bite."