Damien strolled peacefully towards the benches, his every thought arrested by the memory of him and Jessica holding hands. He continued undisturbed, through the now blanket of gentle snow covering the large courtyard. There were many massive buildings dotted around the 82 acres of the orphanage. Some were more modern looking like the shoddy greenhouse the Sisters maintained, while the vast majority were broken down gothic style buildings, giving a slight hint at the true age of the orphanage while making the scene more ephemeral and timeless in the gentle snowfall.
As Damien gently walked down one of the many cobble stoned paths lining the campus, through the snowfall he saw a few figures walking around in various states of awakeness. Some of whom were Sisters, conducting their evening nunley hymns, a few of them were the remaining kitchen aides and some of the Fathers. They were hauling massive troughs of groceries and very large bags of grain. Standing in lone pairs randomly dotted around the campus were the few Dragon Class Lancers from the UWM. They were incredibly powerful mages, world renowned heroes, soldiers of all genders and races that had gained godhood under the tutelage of the UWM's trainers, sharpening their magic against the horrors of creation. They were the pride of the UWM, and the first rank that displayed its true absolute power. The orphanage, despite being a hotbed of rampant teen angst filled with equally rampant magic, had never once been found nor attacked. The Dragon Class Lancers were a large part of why that was. Ma LaCroix, Former Lance Commander Lord Jurovi, and Father Clyde's pedigrees as incredibly powerful gods that, although neutral, were on friendly terms with the UWM, were the only reason the UWM spared as many as 12 of these divine Lancers to keep the orphanage safe.
Damien waved to the soldiers and members of the orphanage as he walked. Many smiled and waved back at the boy, as most had garnered a positive outlook of him despite the horrific stories and constant fires he seemed to start. Continuing his walk, he noticed another figure in the snowfall sitting on a lonely bench. This figure was much smaller than the adults before and had a mess of beautiful brown and red curls spilling from her hood. Damien lost the ability to breath. His seemingly unstoppable, joyful pace had ground to a halt. Despite the cold, sweat began to bead slightly on his brow. Even without reading her aura, Damien had a feeling he knew who was sitting there. The feeling was confirmed as he got closer and a familiar pair of golden-green, wolfish eyes stared intently at him.
'Jessica,' he thought, as his heart started to beat slightly faster.
The werewolf girl smiled silently to herself. Her enhanced hearing had heard his heartbeat increase as he approached her.
'Good,' she thought, 'that makes this a little easier.'
She shifted over as Damien reached the bench she was sitting on, and sat on a patch of soft, powdery snow covering the bench seat next to her.
"Hey Jess," Damien said sheepishly.
He didn't know what it was about her, but she took over his every thought whenever they were together, his powers couldn't terrorize him when he was with her. Though he knew in his heart he never wanted the girl to leave him, he knew he couldn't say anything. A relationship started in an orphanage, when one partner could one day be taken hundreds of miles away, wasn't a very good idea. Both would either have to constantly live in fear of one of them one day getting adopted and vanishing from the other's lives or stick together and eventually face graduation together.
"Hey D," she giggled, smiling into her hood slightly. "12pm huh?," Jessica said with a coy smile, "a new record."
Damien exaggeratedly rolled his eyes with a playful huff, looking away for a bit before asking tentatively with a smirk, "you wanna take dish duty wolfie, ya think you can waste time lookin' as good as me?"
Jessica nearly fell off her seat into the snow in front of her, doubling over with laughter. "Yo I went past the infirmary on my way here," she huffed, "dude Nelson actually shat himself, that's gotta be Guinness worthy my boy!" She cackled harder, slapping Damien on the back with a heavy thump, as she thought back to the earlier fight. Now that she had time to process what had happened, learning that Ivan and his group were to be expelled upon recovery from the infirmary, the girl lost any notion of being angry. All she could feel was vindication for her lost friend, and it admittedly felt sweet.
'That one's for you Anna,' Jessica thought to herself, as she wiped a single tear, hiding her momentary sadness with laughter, 'stay safe sis, we'll definitely laugh about this together someday.'
The passing adults and soldiers looked over in amusement at the two kids laughing and joking together, pushing each other off the bench into the snow and casting snow clouds at each other's faces. They all began exiting the area to give them some privacy.
The two kids eventually just sat together in the soft light of the street lamps, watching the snowfall gently and not saying anything. Under the soft light of the stars, the evening snowfall looked serene and magical, a scene in the great, chaotic play of life that they could remain forever. Safe, content, happy...
"Hey," Damien, started hesitantly, shuffling some snow aside with his old, orphanage issue boots, "you know we can both be gone from here at any time right?"
"Oh sure," Jessica snorted sarcastically, "a mystery creature, black kid that can become an arsonist's ultimate wet dream at a moment's notice, and a sweaty werewolf Latina coupled with that oh so pleasant ,sporadic teen wolf-rage hormones and obnoxious sometimes uncontrollable strength." She threw her hands up incredulously, "we're practically beating off the prospective parents by the bus full!" She started imitating the scene, swinging around wildly with an imaginary bat and a crazy, exaggerated look plastered on her face as she yelled in crazed rage.
Damien chuckled despite himself. She was right, given their odds it was more realistic that the two of them would be leaving the orphanage as graduates than anything else.
'That would mean,' he realized slowly, excitement building, 'that we have a potential 5 more years at least...'
"So," he started, trailing off in a mix of wild hormones and fear, looking away sheepishly, "do you want to try it out?"
Jessica smiled, Damien could swear for a moment he saw a sad look flash across her face from the corner of his eye, but it was gone before he could be sure it even happened.
"If by it..." the girl started slowly, "you mean you being my boyfriend... then no."
Damien whipped around, shell shocked and in hurt confusion, until he saw the satisfied smile on the girl's face.
"Oh," the boy said, realization dawning on him, calming his nerves, "you're teasing me."
"And you're lucky you're cute," was all Jessica replied with a giggle.
Damien smiled and took a deep breath, this time, he looked her deep in the eyes. His golden, diamond-hued eyes, to her golden-green wolfish eyes. Maintaining eye contact, he took both of her mittened hands that had been folded on her lap in each of his, and said in the most stable, clear voice he could manage, "Jessica, would you be my girlfriend?"
Jessica flushed deeply, hiding her face in her oversized cardigan she muttered, "about damn time asshole." Before Damien could respond, or even be sure he heard properly, she quickly leaned over and planted a soft kiss on Damien's cheek. Stunned couldn't describe the look on Damien's face. A wild goofy grin broke out as he looked at Jessica's milky brown face and wide wolfish eyes that reflected the same goofish happiness as his did. Damien scooted over closer to her, and the two kids sat under the soft street lamp light and continued to watch the snow fall in silence, holding hands.
Eventually, when each of their legs had properly frozen, they both got up and continued walking through the snow towards the dorms, awkwardly waddling to quickly regain blood flow, as lights out was approaching. Soon they reached the dorms and Damien dropped her off on the girl's wing. Running away from the startled choruses of oohs and ah's that came cascading after Jessica kissed him goodbye at the entrance to the girl's wing. The boy's wing fared little better for him.
'Figures,' he thought with a smile as he was assaulted by a barrage of questions by the sea of boys in the dorm. 'News already travels fast,' Damien thought to himself, 'add magic into the mix and I wouldn't be surprised if the entire orphanage was probably watching us in the courtyard.'
Damien shrugged his way through the boy crowd. He softly projected his aura to push the boys away from him as he moved forward. He couldn't begin to express how happy he felt that the orphanage kids for once weren't avoiding him, but there was somewhere he needed to go. He couldn't entertain any of their questions until after he got some answers.
Going upstairs to the nun's wing of the dorm, he expertly dodged a labyrinth of laughs, coos, jokes and head ruffles raining down from above as all the nuns that were still awake and about, congratulated the boy as he tried to squirm past them. Damien didn't dare even use his aura to softly push the nuns away, he somehow could feel that it wouldn't be very appropriate. However, it confirmed to Damien that the news really had made its way around with gusto. He continued his path until he came before another dingy, hawthorn door with a simple wooden sign nailed to it that read, Hua.
Damien paused. He had largely been running on instinct and emotions up until now, doing his best not to think too deeply on anything that had happened to him that night in a desperate attempt to not crack under the massive weight of his rampant anxieties.
He knew Sister Hua had to have known he was there. If it weren't for the fact that she could read his aura and would obviously had felt it approach her door, she would definitely had noticed that the usually constant, various sounds of the nun's wing had silenced beyond a whisper as the rest of the nuns noticed why Damien had come to their wing that night. Damien knew he needed to nut up and knock, he was wasting everyone's time stalling.
Taking a deep breath, he knocked twice on Sister Hua's door, calling in a soft but clear voice, "eomma, mun yeol-eojuseyo."
"Jamsiman gidalyeola adeul-a," came the reply of a female voice from behind the door. A slightly creaking noise preceded the rusty, bronze handles on the dingy Hawthorne door opening. On the other side, stood a tall, stocky Korean woman with shimmering silver hair and heavy golden eyes in a modest nun's gown, though she never wore anything over her hair. She smiled warmly as she looked down at the boy in front of her and oceans of unconditional love and protection gushed forward from her intent through her aura involuntarily. She reached forward and grabbed her boy into a bear hug, raising him into the air laughing as she stood up. Some of the nuns that had been in their rooms had come out to join the others watching, almost compelled by the most wholesome display of mother and son love they had ever seen.
The nuns all knew that Sister Hua vehemently denied being Damien's mother every time she was asked, but many of the nuns had been mothers in their previous lives, and they called bullshit. Though, out of respect for Sister Hua, her fellow nuns never brought up their true feelings. Many of them chalked her weird actions up to being that she was probably actually seeking asylum in the orphanage, on the run from something or someone. But even then, she wouldn't be the only one.
Sister Hua closed her door behind her as she sat Damien down on her bed. Hua pulled out her ornate, crystal and shimmering diamond hairbrush from a closet at the vanity set the orphanage had gotten for her. Then, she laid down a round pillow from her bed on the floor in front of the boy. While doing so, she handed Damien the hairbrush.
It was a ritual they had done, thousands if not hundreds of thousands of times before. Going back as far as he could remember, Sister Hua would sit in front of him on the hardwood of her room, and while Damien brushed and styled her hair gently, he would tell her all that had been bothering him and she would listen. Responding sagely, and accurately, no matter how long the story dragged on for.
But this time, Damien did something he realized suddenly he had never done before. He really studied the hairbrush of his surrogate mother and for the first time in his life, wondered how she had even gotten her hands on something that could very likely create generational wealth easily if they sold it. Damien took the hairbrush, staring intently at it, pondering. But he had been looking so intently, that he missed the sight of an incredibly pensive and sad look that had crossed Sister Hua's face as she looked down at her boy. Sadly, she watched him suspiciously, desperately trying to piece together a life story from what he could gleam from her. Sighing internally, the middle aged-looking nun completed her portion of their little ritual's set up, sitting on her floor pillow in front of her boy, facing away from him, waiting patiently for him to begin carefully and lovingly tending to her hair while he vented to her his frustrations. Her hope was teaching the boy to remain calm even in moments of intense stress, and also, forging a bond between the two of them that went beyond any words.
Damien sat still as he thought to himself for a second. Taking a slow, deep breath, he began using the pointed end of the incredibly valuable and ornate brush to undo the braids that were already in Sister Hua's hair, prepping it to be properly brushed.
"Eomma," he began slowly, "what am I?"
Hua tensed slightly, her usually perfectly calm demeanor faltering for a second. "Nae adeul," she said softly, "you're my boy."
"Except," the boy retorted with a slight frown, "you keep saying you just found me." The room was painfully silent. Damien, his fingers never stopping, determined even in this headspace, remaining calm and at task, wavered slightly as his vision for a second began to well with tears. "Are you my mother or not?" He whispered.
Sister Hua sagged her usually proud and steady shoulders, looking like the weight of the world had been dropped on her shoulders.
"Ever since I met you," she started in a soft voice, "I have loved you, cared for you, understood you, raised you, as my own." Damien felt her every word, like bullets, rip into his conscious as guilt tore at his hubris. Her words tore him from his tunnel vision of suspicions.
"Have I not been a mother to you?" She asked, as a single, genuine, sad tear fell from her scrunched, pained face as the nun struggled not to cry.
Damien, horrified at what his question had done to his surrogate mother, wrapped his arms around her and held her tightly, burrowing his face in her wild mass of gentle, silver hair. Sister Hua reached up with one hand to hold both of his.
"I'm so sorry," he whispered.
The two of them sat there like that for a minute. Before each respectively regained their composure and continued on.
Damien took a deep breath.
'Alright,' he thought to himself, 'snarky, petulant child got us nowhere, you can do this D, stay calm.'
"Sister Hua," he said in a calm voice, "do you know what I am?"
At this the nun was genuinely silent. She sat in deep consideration, weighting every word of her response before continuing.
"Quite honestly," she said in a voice mixed with curiosity and annoyance, "I'm not quite sure what you are either."
Damien was stunned, he could feel her intent boldly. It lacked any hint of deception of any kind. He knew she had to know something about what he actually was, and yet... even she didn't know with certainty! The boy could feel his head hurting from the consequences of learning this. Steadying himself, he thought about what to ask next.
"Is there something I'm meant to be doing right now?" The boy ventured, "is there some greater destiny for me or something that I need to start training towards?"
Sister Hua huffed. She thought to herself, 'anything I say at this point is not going to go pleasantly.' She rolled her shoulders as she pondered her response. Her nerves that had been peaking since the start of the conversation were being sated by Damien's soft brushes, but now that too had stopped. Damien had gone still as a rock as she quietly pondered how to respond.
'Might as well then,' she thought to herself, 'time to put on your big girl pants Hua.'
"Damien, my sweet boy," she said in her usually sweet and soothing voice, "much will be asked of you in your life, much has already been asked of you and those around you already, that you will never remember, and much will always be asked of you in your life." Now her voice also held a foreign commanding tone that the boy had never heard before, "but the one thing I will ever demand of you, is that you live your life, your way, and let your justice bring peace to you and your own, but to do this, you need strength." She sighed, but continued on, "strive for nothing less than absolute strength, the strength to create your peace, and keep it safe."
Damien didn't know why those words struck such a deep chord with him. Without context it sounded like his surrogate mother was saying a whole lot of nothing, and while he was certain he had no context whatsoever to anything she said, he couldn't deny that that was the exact thing he needed to hear.
"Strength," the boy muttered to himself.
'Of course!' He almost hit himself in the head with the brush as the realization hit him like a train, 'all this time I'd been worrying about everything I can and can't do anything about, but if I become strong, not just strong, but the strongest, then I can find out everything I need, at my own leisure.'
The boy nodded to himself, firming his resolve, tempering a new mantra into his mind, 'if I become the strongest, it doesn't even matter if I die for my ideals, at least then everyone will have to listen.'
"Thank you Sister Hua," the boy said, having finished his train of thought, giving her a massive hug, he said into her hair, firmly and clearly, "I will become the strongest, I will create my justice and defend it with my magic, and after I prove myself, I will learn the truth."
Sister Hua leaned out of his embrace and turned around with her half finished hair, but the look on her face robbed Damien of his voice. It was still the same face he had always known, but now, it wasn't the half gentle, perpetually serene face of Sister Hua, but the calm, unfeeling yet incredibly astute visage of a terrifying commander of armies. Instead of a nun, Damien saw a conqueror, a true apex predator, a goddess and the voice she spoke her next words in, felt like all smashed into the perfect storm.
"Then fight, Damien," she said, staring the boy directly in his eyes, almost seeing directly into his soul, "Fight, love, cry, and strive. But my boy, never let them forget your name, never let anyone forget Damien."
Damien stared back into her eyes, equally unblinking and simply nodded with absolute conviction.
Sister Hua sighed, as she sat back down, but she remained facing Damien.
"Nae adeul," she said softly, her face and voice returning to normal but now welling with sadness and emotion, "I will have to leave here soon and I don't think I'll be coming back."
Damien, sat as still as a rock as he absorbed the information. A few minutes ago, it would've crumpled him into a sobbing mess, but the 12 year old straightened his back and kept his face resolved, trying desperately to imitate the war goddess he saw before.
'Good,' he thought, 'time to try controlling my voice.'
"I-", he managed, the squeak his voice came out as belying his composed demeanor. "Is, i-", he attempted the second second time but stumbled choking on his own words.
This text was taken from Royal Road. Help the author by reading the original version there.
'Shit,' was all he could think before he went silent, the tears started leaking from his eyes, speaking the words he himself could not. But even then, he forced his face to stand firm.
The tall woman gently grabbed the silently weeping boy and held him in a soft motherly hug as now his composure truly shattered, wailing pitifully.
"This isn't goodbye forever my silly goose," Sister Hua said gently, though she also couldn't stop herself from crying, as now her own tears came gently flowing, "I will see you again, but I need you to stay strong for me, keep defending the weak and lowly, keep being polite, keep brushing your teeth."
At this point she was heaving with tears, her own composure far forgotten, rambling in her own desperate attempt to freeze them both in that moment together.
"Keep that beautiful soft hair well maintained," she kissed his forehead, "and even when times get tough, keep a smile on that beautiful face," she concluded, raising his face and gently kissing him on the nose.
"I don't want to leave, I want to stay like this forever, with my silly goose" she said to the young boy. He didn't even need to read her intent of complete truth pouring from her aura to know that there wasn't a single lie behind those words. Damien couldn't comprehend it fully, but intrinsically, he felt that her words ran deeper than he could ever know. "But I need to go," she reached out and touched the downcast face of the young boy, raising his face upwards to meet hers using a finger underneath his chin, "if you want to see me again faster, you have to become strong, become the strongest you, that I know you can become, as fast as you can."
Damien, nodded. Saying nothing he wiped his tears and gave her another, longer, deeper hug.
'Strong,' the aching boy repeated to himself, 'I will become strong.'
The next day, the nuns awoke to a hushed sight. The dingy sign above a certain door was missing. Horror and sadness rang out amongst the gathering, as the ramifications of the news set upon them. But as news always did, it soared and rang. From lip to lip, from passing whisper to hushed gathering, by noon the entire orphanage was in quiet mourning for its young protector who cried into the arms of his new girlfriend. Her room was empty, her vanity set bare, her orphanage given robes folded neatly into separated piles at the foot of her bed confirmed their worst suspicions. Sister Hua had left the orphanage.
As the following days turned to weeks, which turned to months, Damien threw himself into training with a robotic, ironclad fervency. When he wasn't sleeping, he was training. When he wasn't doing chores, he was training. When he was eating, he was practicing psychic magic that allowed him to shadowbox a figment of his own imagination, that was a perfect replica of his own powers and abilities, in his mind. The only time he wasn't allowed to train, against his will he might add sourly, was when he was with Jessica.
The werewolf girl knew Damien was ailing and suffering from severe depression at losing his only mother figure, and in truth losing the nun deeply hurt and upset her as well, but she needed Damien to not slip further into the void of his own insanity more than he had already. Whenever they were out together, she forced him to put all thoughts of Sister Hua and training from his mind. When he refused to do that, she kindly informed him that it could instead be seen as special training to keep Jessica from maiming and dumping him.
After that, he found new, boisterous vigor in practicing the new "training method".
Damien found that he could hold his SuperComputer state for longer and longer without blacking out the more time went on and he felt his power grow. He also felt his control firm a little more, now he was up to 2 minutes of control.
"It's a week till my birthday now," he said to himself one morning in his bed. He was laying in his room practicing one of his oldest exercises Ma LaCroix had started him on when he had turned 10, telekinetically dancing multiple palm sized, steel balls in various different patterns above him. The weight of the balls helped with develop his mental control over casting multiple simultaneous spells, and the various different patterns helped increase his energy efficiency and general power output. He had finally gotten up to controlling all 10 training balls, all gently dancing about in the air as he thought to himself.
It was a calm and gentle day in May. The calendar marked the 5th and the weather marked a particularly cool and brisk Saturday morning.
"I'm almost about to hit a new power spike from the massive power spurts that start when you hit 13," the boy held out his right arm into the air and stared at his hands. "Thankfully," Damien muttered, continuing, "the pre-13 window is also going to close for me in a week."
He smiled, this was a good thing for him. It had confirmed what Jessica had suspected, no one wanted the two of them. Jess had turned 13 the week prior and they had been eagerly anticipating his 13th birthday as well. It seemed like their safety blanket, allowing them a cover of 5 blessed years to roam the orphanage care free with each other.
"And 5 precious years to figure out how to get as strong as I can," he said with rigid determination, getting up from the bed, "the longer I stay un-adopted, the more time I have to find Sister Hua." The boy got into a push-up position. Using magic to increase his body weight evenly by 15 pounds, he began slowly doing as many pushups as possible, all the while not dropping a single one of the 10 balls.
Jessica was raking leaves in the courtyard that morning. She had her dingy earbuds in and was dancing around while she raked. She was in her shoddy spring female uniform, a crumpled egg white button up blouse that had 2 buttons missing, and a slightly too large, many decade old cotton plaid skirt. She was wearing a new, oversized, blue cardigan that Damien had knitted her for her birthday. It had a simple pink rose embroidered onto the back, it was her favorite flower, the one that was on her when the orphanage found her discarded as a baby in front of their gates. She whistled the tune of the song in her earbuds while she worked. While the girl raked, she thought about the events of the last few months since Sister Hua had left. She hated what it had done to Damien, but she understood that nothing more could be done about it as they currently were.
"I can get him out of his funk at least 3 days a week," she said shrugging to herself, "good enough for me." Jessica went back to raking, slowly piecing together an idea for their date that evening, as a certain scent started gently drifting towards her. It smelled of bourbon and old cornstarch, "eugh," the girl wrinkled her nose, 'smells like priest.'
The girl thought that last part to herself as some of the priests employed at the orphanage were gods or close to attaining godhood. Ascension always seemed like it gave those nosey, glowey assholes some way of knowing everything anyone weaker than them was saying about them. She, like Damien, was also unable to even feel any divine aura, making it so that she couldn't sense their approach. This made it so that she only had her senses to rely on while attempting to not get caught doing something she shouldn't be doing. Although being a werewolf, even one whose magic hadn't solidified yet and was still early in the growth phase, gave her access to amazing senses, it was nothing compared to what happened to one's senses if they were ever able to attain sagehood or even godhood.
'Cheating pussies,' the girl grumbled to herself.
Nevertheless, she decided to continue raking and let the godly priest approach her whenever he got there. Looking up from the pile she had gotten together, she nearly jumped out of her skin as she saw Father George floating before her. The 6 foot, divine elf priest with emerald green hair and cold blue eyes, smiled warmly down at the girl. The priest patiently waited for her to regain her composure, while slightly levitating above the ground with his hands behind his back. Jessica stuck her tongue at him in mock anger but still bowed in respect to the priest and the deity just chuckled.
"Come child," Father George said, his deep elvish voice radiating softly with power. He held out an inviting hand to the girl, his smile reaching softly to his eyes, "I believe something very fortuitous is about to happen for you."
Confused, Jessica laid the rake down and straightened out her dingy clothes. She had an idea of what was happening, it was an orphanage after all, and the implications of it terrified her. She gulped and tried desperately to beat down her anxiety. She shuffled towards the priest.
'I really hope I'm wrong about this,' Jessica pleaded silently.
The young girl could count on one hand the amount of times in her life she had ever seriously prayed for anything, this was going down as one of those times. As she took the god elf's hand, a shimmering ring of blue energy then wrapped itself softly, and slowly around them, covering them from head to toe. When the energy disappeared, they too were gone. A cloud of blue particles appeared in front of the administration building, and when those particles disappeared, in its place were Father George and Jessica. The young girl, as her eyes registered which building they were standing before, felt her heart turn to stone and drop to her stomach.
Father George felt the unconscious sea of sadness deeply stitched through the girl's intent, coming cascading uncontrollably from her aura. He gave her hand a slight squeeze, and gave her a somber, knowing smile. Jessica looked up into his cold-blue hawkish eyes, giving a deep sigh, she turned to face the ornate double front doors.
"Let's go," she muttered in a small voice.
"As you can see Mr. Jeras, Jessica is growing fine and well," Lord Jurovi said as he gestured to the girl, sitting in one of the 5 ornate armchairs, currently in the headmaster's office. Seated in two of the other chairs were: Ma LaCroix, her elderly ebony hands folded delicately on her lap with her staff standing on its own nearby, and Father Clyde who was gently sipping tea. Across from the three, incredibly powerful deities and the young girl, was a man in a navy blue 3 piece suit. He had a blood red button up shirt buttoned most of the way, pristine black suede shoes, and a loose Armani silver tie. He had thick brown curly locks, slightly brown skin, and golden-green eyes. He had a thick mustache and beard that was trimmed well and cut close. He had one leg resting on another, both eyes closed and looked deep in thought.
He opened his eyes, gazing at the girl before speaking.
"Girl-," he began.
"Jessica," Ma LaCroix cut in with a simple, unamused voice.
"Apologies, Jessica, I am the alpha of the Great Crystal Pack," the man said in his heavy Colombian accent. "I am going to be direct and honest with you as that is the way of the wolf," the man continued, never breaking eye contact, "I am looking for an heir, to my throne, to my magic, and to my divinity."
Jessica was floored.
"So," she began slowly, "so you want me to become... a wolf god-princess?" She howled in laughter as Amos sat unbothered. Lord Jurovi looked on slightly uncomfortably, Ma LaCroix continued also appearing unbothered, and Father Clyde took a very long, quiet sip of tea.
"I'm serious," was the only thing the man said after her laughter had awkwardly died down as she realized she wasn't getting a reaction from anyone.
"...Why?" The girl said with sagged shoulders, "and why me? You're a werewolf, dude. I know you have good eyesight, especially if you claim to be a god!" She was almost yelling at this point, her pain and guilt at wanting to leave, to touch the godhood being handed to her on a silver plate, but also wanting to live the life she had convinced Damien into accepting with her. For her, because of her. The emotions warred viciously in the young girl's mind and it all came freely cascading through her aura, permitting her intent so thickly the three gods on her side looked away, each with very uncomfortable looks on their faces.
"I'm damaged goods!" Now she was yelling, her eyes streaming with tears, "I'm 13! I'm too old to be adopted! Too old to have a future! Why now?!" The girl weeped wretchedly as she held herself, rocking herself in her chair in desperation. Ma LaCroix, saying nothing, snapped her fingers, teleporting the young girl into her lap and she gently and silently held the crying girl.
"To answer your first question," the man continued, unphased by the crying girl, "too many people in my pack want me dead." He shrugged, "when you're werewolf royalty and hail from a Great Pack, you're born with more enemies than you can ever fully kill off or ever hope to peacefully coexist with." He looked up at the ornate ceiling wistfully, "that means, for as long as I have been processing conscious thought, I've known very well that I can trust little to no one," he said simply, "too many are insane, want me dead, or both."
Looking back down at the crowd that was silently watching him, he continued, "as for why you," he continued, "as I said before, I need an heir." He adjusted his necktie uncomfortably, showing the first bit of emotion since he had arrived. "I also may or may not have also maintained a carefully crafted lie for many years about a secret daughter I was training in isolation, that would just happen to be in the ambiguous age range of 13-14, be a Latina with Golden-green eyes and brown hair, and have wavy locks." He gestured to himself, "as you can see, we ironically look similar enough that no one will question anything," he sighed deeply, his cool, suave demeanor dropping for a second, "and I am running out of time to produce an heir to back my story."
"That seems incredibly irresponsible," was all Father Clyde said, his eyes that had been slowly turning into the feared vampire scarlet red while listening to Amos' story, while he studied the werewolf alpha unblinking. Behind them, held barely contained rage.
"Agreed," Ma LaCroix stated coldly, calmly smoothing Jessica's hair.
"Hrrrmph," Lord Jurovi grumbled as he cracked his ancient, divine orc bones, tied his long purple hair back, and folded his massive arms across his broad chest.
"Amos Jeras," he said in a calm, but dangerous voice, "I offer to help you with a plight when you reached out as an old fellow Lancer, asking for such a suspiciously unique child." His voice became laced with deep rumbling power, "I offer to give you a chance to state your plea for adoption out of old friendship with your Great Crystal Pack." He spat out the last words, his divine aura started gently leaking from his body, undetectable to Jessica, but the other deities in the room could feel Jurovi's intent through it, and he was beyond furious. The former Lance Commander huffed angrily and Jessica could swear she heard the structures of the administration building strain and creak, as if some invisible force was trying to cause the building to implode.
"Explain yourself Amos," Ma LaCroix said in a flat, level voice, but it escaped no one, that her own eyes had started turning deep green.
Amos suddenly stood up, and Father Clyde and Lord Jurovi, instinctively started allowing their divine auras to flow, anticipating a battle. The two co-owners of the orphanage knew they each were powerful, war hardened gods, but they knew Amos was as well. Both held a suspicion that Amos could very likely take them on at the same time. Given the particular nature of his magic, and his immense strength, even for a werewolf deity, that was not a pleasant thought.
Ma LaCroix remained sitting, casually holding Jessica. Her own divine aura however, remained perfectly constrained.
Amos however, immediately fell into a deep bow on both knees, head pressed to the polished hickory wood flooring beneath them.
"I swear on my life and by my power," he began, "on my fangs and by my pack, on my honor and by my sword, I will keep this girl safe and raise her as a daughter first, heir second."
Jessica didn't know why but she could tell that what Amos had just said was no simple promise. She felt... something appear, but she didn't see anyone extra in the room. Yet, the young werewolf knew beyond any doubt, something was there watching them now that hadn't been before. Something far, far more powerful than anyone in that room. None of the gods dared to move. Even Ma LaCroix had a look that Jessica knew for a fact that she and a great many others had never even believed was possible. It was fear.
Genuine fear.
But Amos stayed in his pose, unmoving, and yet his intent shone through with oceans of genuine resolve. The werewolf deity held nothing back, and let his heart be felt completely by even Jessica. After a moment, the feeling of massive tension surrounding that silent, watching feeling, disappeared. It was at that time that Father Clyde and Lord Jurovi's auras immediately died down, restraining themselves as Amos too, retook his seat. Curiously, Jessica noticed, each man had beads of sweat on their foreheads, and Amos' shirt was partially dark from sweat. Even Ma LaCroix softened her gaze, her eyes returning back to their usual rich dark brown, her past face of fear somewhat still there, but she was back to doing her best to reassure the child in her lap.
"So what do you say child?" the ancient creole goddess asked Jessica who had long since gone silent while she pondered everything that had happened deeply. The blood witch gave the small girl an encouraging smile.
"Um," she started, still overwhelmed by everything that had transpired, "Um..."
"I understand baby," the old goddess laughed warmly, "go tell your sweetums, he's probably first in line of the crowd that's been forming outside ever since everyone found out you were in here."
Jessica gulped as she felt the color drain from her face. Closing her eyes and forcing her aura to fan out as much as possible, she strained to maintain it long enough for it to envelop the entire administration building and a few meters around it, holding it for a few seconds before collapsing in exhaustion.
The three gods around her and even Amos stared at her momentarily, in open amazement. Aura control of that level, at her age, was unheard of, and she wasn't even training with Ma LaCroix like Damien was. Jessica had just taken pointers here and there from Damien's occasional rambling. Understanding dawned upon the 4 gods, the girl was a prodigy, and an incredibly powerful one at that. But Jessica failed to notice any of this, as the girl counted the aura signatures she had read from spreading out her aura.
'Jeeze,' she thought sadly, 'he is at the front, the front of the actual entire damn orphanage.' She gave a sad chuckle, "don't these people have jobs" she muttered.
All of the adults erupted in laughter, even Amos. Amos gripped his hand and a bright, silver light poured from his enclosed fingers. When he opened his hand he was holding a small green orb.
"When you meet him, squeeze this and think of one place you want to go," he said softly with his own encouraging smile, gently handing the little girl the green orb, "it only works once so choose wisely."
"Thank you Amos," the girl said, warmly smiling up at him. Amos said nothing, but smiled back genuinely in reply.
Jessica straightened her clothing, tussled her hair to give it its usual wild look, took a long, deep breath and walked out the office, down the long hall towards the front double doors. But as she left she could hear Ma LaCroix's voice with her enhanced hearing say, "next time you invoke the will of Taboo, Amos Boy, ya could at least warn someone."
'Taboo?' She thought for a moment, before shaking her head free of distractions. She squared her chest and threw on her signature face of mischief, as she opened both the big doors with iron resolve. She momentarily faced the mammoth crowd standing there and her conviction started to crumble. Looking briefly at as many faces as she could, she saw a great many mixes of emotions. Desperately shoving as much of it out of her mind as she could, lest her conviction finally die. Locking eyes with Damien's sorrow and betrayal filled, gold and diamond ones, she grabbed the young boy's arm before he could even react. Immediately, Jessica squeezed the orb and her eyes tight, and in a bright flash of green, both kids were gone.
"Damn," was all Damien could mutter defeatedly as he absorbed the news. It belied the massive, neigh, cataclysmic panic attack he was currently doing his best to mentally beat back.
"Yeah," was all Jessica said, laying her head in his lap. They were sitting on her bed in her room, letting the news that Jessica had just unleashed in a hectic, screaming rant, soak into them.
Damien felt anguish like he had never felt before. His head felt like it was about to crack open. First his surrogate mother had left months prior, and now... and now he was about to lose Jessica as well. Damien could swear his throat was trying to capsize in on itself choking back tears.
Jessica wasn't even trying to hide hers, she had been freely crying gentle rivers down the sides of her face the entire time.
Damien closed his eyes and saw a crossroads. On one fork he saw himself as he was in that moment. He could feel that the visage of himself standing in the path didn't want anyone else to leave him, at any means necessary. It emanated a feral intent, and Damien could tell that the one in the left fork was himself if he couldn't stand life taking away everything that made him happy. It would become him if he asked Jessica to stay with him; but on the other fork, Damien saw... Sister Hua?
The boy was stunned, the feeling coming from this fork was... fear, but also pain, happiness, joy, sadness, and... peace. He didn't only see Sister Hua the nun, his mother figure, but also Hua the commanding goddess he had momentarily glimpsed for the first time that night.
He remembered the promise he had cried into Sister Hua's embrace all those months ago, to become strong no matter what, and he knew what he had to do. Fighting through the immense sadness and grief he looked down at Jessica's softly crying face. Softly wiping a tear from her cheek, Damien smiled sadly, even he could tell Jessica was a legendary talent, far rarer than one in a million. However, she had absolutely no drive to train or any deep ambition that drove her. Yet Damien knew deep down she wanted more from life, she was just too jaded and frightened to believe it could happen. But now, the golden opportunity had arrived, gift wrapped at his girlfriend's feet. If he deprived her of this chance, he knew he'd never forgive himself, he knew he'd never be able to stand in front of Sister Hua again.
"You should go," he said softly.
Jessica, looked up sharply, shock and anger deeply seared on her face until she saw the visage of utter defeat that was chiseled into Damien's own. And Jessica saw the true depth of his own internal struggle not to break out into tears, for her sake.
"But what about you?" she asked softly. Reaching up to softly cup his cheek, "won't you hate me for making you believe we had time, then lying to your face by leaving?"
"Hey," the boy said with a weak smile, "I'm gonna have a hot crystal werewolf goddess as a girlfriend, at this point I'm more worried about falling behind."
Jessica didn't say anything, but she smiled weakly at Damien's attempt to cheer her up. Though a small, recessed part of Damien's inner psyche, something that felt eerily similar to the strange rage he last felt months ago, admitted to Damien over and over, that the boy was only half joking.
"Hey, Jess," Damien said seriously, looking her straight in the eyes, "I'm gonna become the strongest in the entire Mortal Realms." He pointed a thumb to his chest, "I'm gonna become the strongest even in the Divine realms!" He threw his arms out wide, giving a wild chaotic grin, causing Jessica to giggle despite herself.
"And," he continued softly, smiling down at her, "I'm gonna need an equally powerful partner, to make sure I don't get lonely at the top."
Jessica slowly wiped her tears, she knew what he was trying to tell her. Reaching into her cardigan pocket, she grabbed a small box and handed it to Damien. Opening the box, Damien saw two simple silver necklaces, bound together by a swirling, onyx black, heart shaped, star filled gem in the center. Damien's voice caught.
"Did you..." he started, trailing off.
"Yeah," she nodded slightly, "I saved up all of my allowance and bought this Soul Star necklace just in case I was wrong." She gave a slight chuckle that turned into a brief whimper before she sniffed, stopping herself from falling into another sobbing fit. Damien did his best to smile through the ocean of pain. He would stay strong as long as he needed to, for her.
"We each touch the center," she continued, wiping away a tear, "and add a drop of our aura and intent of... of love."
She blushed deeply. Damien looked away, also blushing deeply. Both of the brown skinned kids were smiling goofily. Despite their current situation, both were brimming with happiness that momentarily pushed back the hurt they were feeling. They were... in love, and now no matter how far they were from each other, they had something to prove it. Touching the gem at the same time, they both added in their aura and intent, causing the gem to begin to glow like a starry night. Splitting the two necklaces apart gently, the center gem split into two smaller copies of itself.
"They'll help us find each other," Jessica said firmly, still laying in Damien's lap, "they'll glow when we're near each other, and no one can wear this besides us." She was silent for a bit then continued, "it'll help prove that this existed, that you were my boyfriend, that we are each other's, even if... even if we forget each other." She sat up staring intently at Damien, speaking feverishly, tears cascading from her eyes. "Even if we forget each other, as long as we're wearing these, we'll find each other again." She slipped on her own necklace and it shone gold once, after, she put Damien's on him and his shone silver once.
Damien nodded weakly, as if he needed any prodding. The second he laid eyes upon the expensive final gift from Jessica, he had sworn internally that until he met her again, there was no force in this or any universe that could or would separate him from that necklace.
She reached forward and grabbed both of Damien's cheeks, pulling the boy into a deep kiss. Their first kiss, each unfortunately aware it could also be their last.
As Damien laid himself to sleep that night, he cried. He cried loudly, until all the tears had dried, and then, he cried even more, harder and more wretched than he ever had before. He cried till he threw up pitifully, then cried more. He didn't care that the entire boy's dorm could hear his wails through the thin walls. As the sorrow and depression wracked his body, thousands of miles in the air, in a luxury cabin on a private jet, that night Jessica also loudly wept herself to sleep, wailing sorrowfully.