POV: Damieon (Prophetic / Unborn)
I am not born.
But I exist.
I feel the world before I see it—
the pulse of my mother’s heart,
the steady rhythm of my father’s soul oath,
the fierce glow of my aunt’s power wrapped around us like a shield.
I float in warmth and light.
But even here…
the darkness can still find me.
The fire comes first.
It always does.
I stand in a field of ash beneath a blood-red sky. I am small, yet the ground bends beneath my feet as if the world already knows my name. Shadows stretch toward me—twisting, whispering, hungry.
“Come to me, little king,” the darkness croons.
I do not answer.
I lift my hands.
Fire answers instead.
Silver-gold flames roar from my palms, tearing the shadows apart. They shriek as they burn, peeling away into smoke and screams. P
