The sun was bright. Damon hated how bright it was, but he knew she'd be here anyway.

He sighed, already worried he would get scolded again.

Walking down the path, he smiled when he saw a figure sitting under a tree. Instantly, he crouched, a mischievous grin forming as he began to sneak up behind her.

The woman sat beneath the tree, her long golden hair catching the sunlight. Her blue eyes mirrored the deep sky—the same hue that burned in the eyes of the young man approaching her.

He was still young, a teenager barely touching adulthood. She sat with a book resting in her lap, her light blue dress flowing over the grass, her long hair spilling around her shoulders.

A small pendant hung delicately at her neck, glinting softly with every movement. Damon's footsteps were light, almost soundless, as he closed in on her. Then, with a grin of pure mischief, he lunged forward.

He covered her eyes with his hands and spoke in a deep, playful tone.

"Guess who it is…"

The woman smiled gently, setting her book aside.

"Hmmm, judging by these baby hands, no calluses, no roughness, it must be someone who hasn't fought many battles yet."

Damon frowned, his lips tightening in mock offense. She wasn't finished.

"Let's see… baby hands, sneaky attitude… ah, I think I know who you are. Are you that little girl from the mills?"

She tilted her head slightly, her voice teasing.

"Or… could you be my son?"

Damon groaned and pulled his hands away from her eyes, pouting.

"Very funny, Mom. You knew it was me."

The woman chuckled softly, her gaze warm and amused.

"My, if it isn't my Damon. You really surprised me there, sweetheart. You got me."

Damon gave her a deadpan look, his bright blue eyes meeting hers.

The two shared little resemblance in features, except for their eyes those deep, brilliant blues were unmistakably the same. It was as if someone had taken her gaze and given it to him, only sharper, more intense.

"Mom, my feelings are hurt. Just tell me you don't love me already. The girl from the mills? That was a low blow, and you know it. I'm going to nag about this for days."

His mother smiled, the sunlight flickering through the leaves above and painting her face with gold as she watched her son complain.

"Ah, fine, you win," she said with a mock sigh. "I'm… well—"

Damon leaned closer, waiting.

"Mom, saying you're sorry won't kill you. Parents do that, you know. Well… except you."

She scoffed, rolling her eyes.

"That's them, not me. You want your mother to apologize when you're the one sneaking around? You almost gave me a heart attack."

Damon burst into laughter.

"So I did get you! Ha!"

His laughter filled the space between them, and her smile softened as she watched him. There was light in her expression, but also a faint, hidden sadness in her eyes.

"Damon," she said softly.

He turned to face her, the laughter fading from his lips. She reached out and brushed her fingers through his hair.

"You've really grown up," she whispered. "I… I can't believe it."

Her eyes shimmered as tears threatened to fall.

"Mom, what's wrong? Did something happen? Did I get into trouble again? I'm sorry. I'll apologize to whoever you want, okay?"

She shook her head, smiling through the tears as they slipped down her cheeks.

"It's just… you're seventeen today. You're almost an adult. I'm happy, but also a little sad. It feels like just yesterday you were learning to walk."

She took his hand, squeezing it gently.

"Your mana was troublesome at first, but you worked harder than anyone. You mastered the sword beyond what your father or I could teach. There's nothing more we can show you."

Damon blinked, confused. He held her hand tighter, as if afraid that letting go would make her disappear. He didn't realize tears had begun to roll down his cheeks too.

"You're still a child, even at seventeen," she said softly. "But I can't let your potential waste away here."

Her gaze locked with his calm, nurturing, filled with love.

"Damon… do you remember what you wanted to become?"

He nodded.

"I want to be a hero. Someone who saves those who can't save themselves. Someone who lives by his code of honor."

She bit her lip, forcing a small smile.

"If you had the chance to learn under a true master, a warrior whose strength had reached the very limit of this world would you take it?"

Damon hesitated, his eyes uncertain.

"I… I want to protect you, Dad, and Luna. I want to be the strongest."

She smiled, brushing a hand across his cheek.

"Is that why you want to be a hero? To protect us?"

Damon nodded.

Her expression darkened with concern.

"If you're protecting us… who will protect you?"

Damon's eyes hardened. He held her hand again, his voice steady.

"That's why I'll become strong."

Her lips curved into a faint smile.

"If you want to be strong, you can't do it here. You'll have to go out there, where the strong truly dwell."

She leaned forward until her forehead rested gently against his.

"No matter how hard I've been on you," she whispered, cupping his face, "I want you to know I love you. No matter what you become, I'll always love you."

Damon smiled faintly.

"Isn't that just because you're my mother? Would be weird if you didn't love your own kid."

She chuckled softly, picking up her book again.

"Come on. Your father and Luna are planning a little party for you. Just the four of us."

Damon rose, brushing the grass from his clothes, and began to follow her.

But as soon as he stood, a cold hand gripped his shoulder. He turned and froze.

His own reflection stood before him, eyes dark as the void, face twisted and weary.

In a voice that seemed to echo from the abyss itself, it screamed.

"Wake up…"

"Damon, let's go," his mother's voice called again.

He turned sharply, but the reflection was gone.

For a moment, he stood there, silent, frowning.

"Ah… I really need to catch a break from all that training."

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