Damien hated the woods.
And he didn’t mean that in any sort of metaphorical way. He just genuinely hated them. Trees were everywhere, all shared the same shade of green. They were all just endless bark and branches and the inkling suspicion that he’d passed the same shrub twenty times.
She used to tease him for it, rolling her eyes before firing off the names of every tree in sight, as if proving how easy it was.
“That’s an oak, Sir D. And that is a pine,” she’d say, her tone just shy of condescending. “Honestly, how can you not tell the difference between a pine and a palm tree?”
He never could. And yet, here he was, wandering through these woods once again like a fool.
Because he couldn’t let go.
He wanted to remember her laugh. The tilt of her head when she teased him. The way her eyes sparkled right before she said something mildly insulting. The slight twitch of her fingers as she tucked a strand of hair behind her ear, distracted by whatever miracle she spotted in a pile of leaves.
As if they were more than just leaves.
As if they held onto secrets that only she could see.
And he wanted to see it, too.
He’d noticed her. The slight sag in her shoulders after healing someone too far gone. The way her voice hardened when she gave orders, masking the grogginess from lack of good sleep.
She was a paradox: kind yet sharp, pure yet fierce. There was an edge to her that only those who truly knew her could understand.
He noticed that. She didn’t.
Yes, she saw everything, from every micro detail and nuance to every larger shift in the world around her.
Everything.
Except him.
Which was exactly why he hated the woods.
Because here, even worlds apart, every root and every rustle still reminded him of her.
He sank onto a rock. The sky was lightening just enough to make him feel worse for not knowing how long he’d been wandering.
“Oi, you’ve been walkin’ in circles for hours. Aren’t you tired or what?” A man in an old, dirty coat grumbled. His hair was matted, eyes bloodshot, and he smelled of cheap ale.
“Sir Damien, if you please. And… do you know how to exit this forest?”
The man snorted and sat up, the blanket pooling around his dirty boots. “Forest? You jokin’? This ain’t no forest, mate. You’re in Central Park.”
“Central Park… woods, then. Can you guide me back to my lodgings on Fifth Avenue?”
“Fifth Avenue? Lodgin’s? You’re havin’ a laugh, yeah? What’re you, some kinda weirdo?”
“Not at all.”
The man shook his head, extending a hand. “Right, then. Gimme your wallet.”
Damien raised an eyebrow.
“Wallet, cash, coins. Whatever it is you weirdos carry. Hand it over.” The man squinted at him.
Damien stared.
The man took a step closer, wobbling. “You deaf, rich boy?”
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“You would rob a knight of the realm?”
“Knight of the—what now? Just give me the damn wallet!” He lunged, aiming for… a swing, probably.
Damien sidestepped, watching the man stumble past him. “A thief in these woods. Have you no shame... mate?”
The man swung again. This time, Damien caught his fist and lifted him effortlessly off the ground.
“Release me, you pompous brat!” the man spat.
“I should take you to the authorities. But… I suppose I’m in no position to judge. I’m a little…” Damien cleared his throat. “Lost.”
The man huffed, dangling in Damien’s grip. “Lost? Alright, fine! Put me down, and I’ll help. Deal?”
Damien set him down slowly. “Speak, then. How do you propose to assist me?”
The man grumbled under his breath, rummaging through a bag before pulling out a thin, glowing box. “Welcome to New York, city of broken dreams, sky-high rents, and apparently meeting a lunatic like ya in my first goddamn week.”
“What is that?”
"You serious? It’s a phone.”
“A phone? There’s a larger box in my chamber they call a TV. But this looks like a crystal ball, only flat," Damien said.
The man stared at him. “Mate, hopeless! Follow me. I’ll show you how it works, but it ain’t free. You’d better cough up some cash when we get there.”
As they strolled out of the forest and along the empty street, Damien eyed the glowing contraption that the man kept checking every minutes.
“This… ‘phone,’” he said, “is it common in these lands?”
“Common? Mate, no one steps out the door without one. It’s like havin’ an extra arm, innit? What cave you been hidin’ in? Middle-earth? Or one o’ them posh wizard schools in, what, One Eye Land?”
“I’ve been here for months, and I’ve just now learned of this?”
“Of… Alchymia?” The man’s jaw dropped as Damien’s silver eyes began to glow.
“Of this phone,” Damien said slowly, coldly. “What can it do?”
The man clutched the device closer. “It’s—uh—it’s a phone. You know, for taking pictures, going online… stuff like that.”
“Online? Why would one need to… go online?”
“Seriously?! You can do everything! Maps, news, videos, chatting or whatever. Everyone uses it!”
An access to infinite knowledge. Yet no one had mentioned it. Not the professor, not even his guides.
What were they trying to hide?
Damien’s gaze flickered around the area. “Change of plan. Let’s discuss this somewhere less exposed.”
“Less exposed? Oi, you tryin’ to mug me, yeah? Or… nah, forget it. Just—for the love of my rent—forget it.” The man took a cautious step back. “Look, silver Superman or whatever, I got my own problems, so how about—”
“Your problems?” Damien raised a hand, and the air around him rippled, light solidifying into a massive diamond blade.
The man stumbled back, and his hands flew up. “Oi, easy there, big guy—I mean, sir! SIR!”
Damien leveled the blade at him, the edge glowing faintly in the pale light of dawn. “Do you require further convincing, or shall we proceed?”
The man gulped audibly. “N-no convincing necessary! I-I know a place! We’ll just need a taxi!”
“A taxi?”
“Yeah, a car.” The man pointed nervously toward the street. “Horseless carriage? With wheels? Just put the goddamn sword away, alright?”
As Damien’s blade faded from sight, the man released a trembling breath and moved toward the curb. He barely made it a few steps before Damien caught him by the collar and lifted off.
“Sweet mother of—! PUT ME DOWN YOU NUTTER BUTTER!” He clutched Damien’s arm for dear life.
“No cars. Point me to this place where we can speak in private.”
The man pointed toward the city below. “There! That place! Underground bar! Just get us down, you cosplaying Storm wannabe!”
“Storm? A holy knight of this land?”
“Oh, for crying out loud! Forget it! Just—just land already! Why didn’t you just fly out of the park? You could’ve saved me a lifetime of trauma!”
Damien soared higher, his eyes scanning the city below. Golden light reflected off endless glass towers, streaking through rows upon rows of cold concrete.
“One forest after another. And still, I am lost.”
Every realm, every city, every life. It was all the same. The faces, the structures. All of it, an endless, indistinguishable blur.
He hated the forests. Yet somehow, this cold grid of steel and stone felt worse. At least the forests had carried echoes of something precious. To him.
Something he had lost.
Someone he could never get back.
Callista. The only light he had ever truly cherished, snuffed out. And the one responsible…
He clenched his jaw, his grip on the trembling man tightening briefly before he forced himself to relax.
He shouldn’t have hesitated, shouldn’t have honoured old notions of chivalry by allowing the accused to speak. But when he met Eydis, there had been nothing in her eyes, no remorse and certainly no humanity. Only the cold amusement of someone who thought wrecking their realm was a pastime for entertainment.
As if extinguishing Callista’s light had been as inconsequential as brushing away dust.
Beside him, the hostage rambled about being scammed out of rent, arriving from the South last week, the cost of pizzas, and a streak of bad luck with strangers. Damien barely listened though.
Scam? Perhaps…
Had the professor deceived him from the very beginning? If every word had been a lie, then it could only mean one thing…
She was here.
The Queen of Shadows.
