'So this is how the stage is set,' Damien whispered, dragging his fingers through the cooling water one last time. 'You give them a destiny, a purpose, a throne to reach for. And now, you've given me the ability to ruin it just by existing.'
His smirk returned, slow and cruel.
He stood.
Water cascaded down his body in sheets, steaming faintly against the chilled air of the room. His form had changed—sculpted tighter, leaner, honed from within. The bath hadn't made him stronger in power alone—it had redefined his frame.
He caught sight of himself in the full-length glass across the room.
He looked like a weapon.
No longer a boy wrapped in pride and privilege.
Something different now.
Something that didn't belong.
'Well,' he thought with a flick of his wrist, letting a towel wrap lazily around his waist, 'fitting of me indeed.'
