Chapter 301 — Waking Up

[Valcor Estate - Norrington City - Damian’s Room]

Damian’s eyes snapped open.

His heart was hammering against his ribs, each beat slamming so hard it hurt and his breathing came in short and sharp gasps.

Thump... thump... thump... thump

He could hear his own heartbeat in his ears, feel it pulsing through his entire body.

For a moment he didn’t know where he was. The ceiling above him wasn’t the white sterile surface of the interrogation room and the bed beneath him was soft and familiar.

His breathing started to slow as recognition settled in.

This was his room... The room where he’d spent fifteen years of his life. The same walls, the same furniture and the same faint smell of home that he’d almost forgotten existed.

’How did I get here?’

He tried to remember... Luna holding him, her voice saying something about staying and then... nothing. Just darkness and mercifully dreamless sleep until the nightmare had dragged him back up.

’Mom and Dad must have brought me home.’

The thought settled some of the remaining panic. He was safe and he was finally home.

He lay there for another few minutes, just breathing, letting his heart rate come back down. The hallucinations were still there at the edges of his vision, shadows that moved wrong, whispers that had no source. But they were quieter now and less insistent than before.

Sleep had helped. His mind felt less like shattered glass and more like something that might eventually heal given some time.

After a while, he sat up slowly and swung his legs off the bed. His body felt strange, like it belonged to someone else, too light in some places and too heavy in others.

He walked to the window and pushed it open.

Night air rushed in, cool and clean, carrying the familiar scents of Norrington City. The moon hung full and bright in the sky, its gentle light washing over everything in silver.

Damian closed his eyes and just stood there, letting the breeze touch his face.

For the first time in what felt like years, he wasn’t fighting or running or trying to stay alive. He was just... existing.

Whoosh

He turned around.

And Alaric stood in the middle of the room wearing pajamas, of all things. Simple cotton pants and a loose shirt that made him look nothing like the legendary awakener.

Before Damian could say anything, Alaric grabbed his arm as space folded around them.

And suddenly they were on the roof.

The night sky stretched out above them, stars scattered across the darkness, the city lights twinkled in the distance, Norrington quiet and peaceful at this hour.

Alaric waved his hand.

And a table appeared alongside two chairs, plates of food that smelled incredible and two bottles of what looked like expensive alcohol.

"Sit... Eat something first." Alaric’s voice was casual,"You must be starving."

Damian stared at the setup, his mind still trying to catch up with the sudden change of location.

"I... what are we doing?"

"Eating, drinking and talking." Alaric pulled out a chair and sat down. "Your mother thinks you’re still sleeping. We have maybe an hour before she realizes I kidnapped you."

Despite everything, Damian felt a small smile tug at his lips.

He sat down across from his father as his stomach growled immediately at the smell of food, loud enough that Alaric raised an eyebrow.

"See? You are starving."

Damian reached for the nearest plate that had some kind of meat dish that looked and smelled amazing. He picked up a piece and took a bite.

And the taste hit him immediately.

Rich, savory, perfectly cooked.

And all he could think about was the texture of Monster flesh between his teeth, the way Monster blood had tasted and the sound of bones crunching as he’d–

His face twisted in discomfort and he put the food back down, his appetite vanishing.

Alaric noticed but he didn’t comment directly, just reached for one of the bottles and poured dark amber liquid into two glasses.

"Phoenix," he said quietly, pushing one glass toward Damian. "One of the best alcohols in the entire Federation."

He leaned forward slightly, lowering his voice like he was sharing a secret.

"Don’t tell your mother about this. She’ll kill me! This stays between us father-son duo."

Damian looked at the glass. He’d drunk Phoenix many times before, including back when he had taken Ariana and Zavier to dinner. The familiar label brought back memories that felt like they belonged to a different person.

He picked up the glass and drank the entire thing in one swallow.

The burn felt good.

"I’ve drunk it before."

His voice came out hoarse, rough from disuse and screaming.

Alaric stared at him for a moment, then started laughing.

"Of course you have." He shook his head, refilling both glasses. "You’re not exactly a normal kid, are you? I guess you must have drunk alcohol in your previous life as well."

Damian took another sip, slower this time.

"They were of different kinds... Weaker stuff mostly. Nothing like this."

"Yeah?" Alaric settled back in his chair, genuinely curious. "What did they have in that world?"

"Beer, wine, whiskey, vodka..." Damian listed them off, the familiar names feeling strange in his mouth. "None of it had Aura infused. Just regular fermented drinks."

"Regular alcohol." Alaric poured himself another glass. "Must have been boring."

"It got the job done."

"Which was?"

"...Making me forget things I didn’t want to remember."

Alaric’s expression shifted slightly, something understanding passing across his face.

"...Some things don’t change between worlds, I guess."

They drank in silence for a moment. Damian tried the food again, forcing himself to chew and swallow despite the memories it triggered. His body needed fuel and he could deal with the discomfort later.

After a while, Alaric spoke again.

"Come to think of it, how old were you in your past life when you died?"

"Forty."

"Forty." Alaric nodded slowly. "So forty plus the sixteen years here makes you fifty-six total."

He grinned suddenly.

"I’m still older than both your lives combined. Hehe."

Damian blinked, the alcohol making his thoughts fuzzy around the edges.

"How old are you exactly? You look like you’re in your early thirties."

Alaric waved his hand dismissively.

"Looks can be deceiving in this world. High-ranking awakeners can use Aura to manipulate how they appear."

"That’s not an answer."

"And don’t you dare ask a man his age." Alaric pointed at him with mock severity. "I’ll have you know I’m still a youngster at heart."

"That’s definitely not an answer."

"I’m giving you the only answer you’re getting."

Damian snorted, something that might have been a laugh if he’d had the energy for it.

They kept drinking and kept eating. The conversation drifted to meaningless things, small talk that didn’t require thinking too hard.

Alaric told a story about him trying to teleport for the first time and ending up being stuck halfway through a wall. Damian found himself almost smiling at the mental image.

The alcohol was definitely hitting now. The edges of the world had gone soft and blurry, the little hallucinations he had, fading further into the background.

Then a quiet silence fell between them, comfortable but weighted with things unsaid.