His breath came in ragged gasps, his reflection glaring back at him from the smooth, polished surface of the mirror. His hollow eyes, bloodshot and ringed with dark shadows, seemed almost lifeless, a stark contract to the vivid horror of his dreams.
He grabbed a small, circular device from the counter. It was no larger than a coin, smooth and metallic. Placing it against his chest, he pressed the button in its center. A white light burst forth, washing over his body, cleansing his skin and erasing the grime of another sleepless night. The button shifted to a dull brown. Damien peeled it off and dropped it into a slender charging tube mounted on the wall, where it clicked into place and began to glow faintly.
"Clean," he muttered to no one, his voice hoarse. He swayed slightly on his feet, steadying himself against the counter before shuffling back into his bedroom.
The room was a stark blend of minimalism and technology. A sleek circular object hovered in the corner, projecting a transparent screen that displayed the morning news. The headlines scrolled across the holographic surface, but Damien paid them no attention. His bed, a floating platform suspended by invisible forces, seemed more inviting than ever. Still, he ignored its siren call and trudged into the kitchen.
Eden was already there, a vision of grace and calm. She stood by the sleek, glossy counter, her silhouette bathed in the soft glow of the morning sun filtering through the glass-paneled walls. Her auburn hair flowed in loose waves down her back, framing her delicate features. Her skin was soft and golden, her every movement poised, as though she were a living work of art. When she turned to face him, her hazel eyes sparkled with warmth, and a faint smiles touched her full lips.
"You look like death warmed over," she said, her tone playful yet tinged with concern.
Damien collapsed into the nearest chair, resting his head on the table. "Oh shut it. Been having that damn nightmare again," he grumbled, words slurring slightly.
Eden pressed a button on the counter, and plates of streaming food materialized on the table before them. "Again?" she asked, shitting across from him with a graceful ease. "What's it about this time?"
He groaned, rubbing his temples. "It's hard to remember," he said vaguely, his voice trailing off mind-sentence. He yawned, leaning on the table for support.
Breakfast passed quietly, through Eden's gaze lingered on Damien, worry etched into her features. After the meal, she moved to the living room, lounging elegantly on a futuristic crescent-shaped sofa that conformed to her form.
"You've got to visit Ellen today, don't you?" she asked, tilting her head slightly. "Are you sure you're in any condition to drive?"
Damien waved her off, though his head shook slightly. "If you're offering to take me, I won't say no."
She smiled softly. "Have a good time," she said, her voice laced with affection.
He sighed, grabbed his keys, and stumbled out the door. His car, a sleek metallic craft with sharp edges and an almost predatory design, awaited him. It hovered silently until he climbed in and activated it. The dashboard glowed with vibrant, shifting lights, and the vehicle rose into the air, joining the flow of other flying cars zipping between towering skyscrapers.
Damien fought to keep his eyes open, but exhaustion weighed heavily on him. His head dipped forward, and the car veered off course. A sharp jolt from the vehicle's auto-correction system snapped him awake. He steadied the craft, muttering curses under his breath as he continued toward his destination.
When he finally landed, the small suburban house was a stark contrast to the towering cityscape he'd left behind. He stumbled to the door, knocking loudly. A tall man answered, his warm brown eyes lighting up at the sight of him. James's dark hair was neatly combed, and his broad frame filled the doorway. His easy smiles radiated warmth.
"Damien, good to see you," James said, stepping aside to let him in.
Damien grunted a tired greeting, stepping inside. His eyes immediately landed on a little girl playing with toys on the floor. She was no older than five, with wild, untamed hair that framed her cherubic face. Her big blue eyes sparkled with delight as she looked up and saw him...."
"Uncle Demon!" she cried, bounding over to him.
"It's Damien," he corrected with a sigh, though his lips twitched into a small, reluctant smile. She clung to his leg, giggling.
As Damien glanced around the room, his gaze fell on a picture frame on the wall. The photo inside made his breath hitch. A familiar face stared back at him—Luna, her wild hair and piercing eyes frozen in time. Her expression was fierce, yet warm, a mix of strength and love.
"Hey, sis," Damien whispered, his voice barely audible.