The pond sat in what had once been a small park, benches shattered, trees toppled, ground cratered where combat had spilled over.
But the pond remained, its surface disturbed only by rain falling harder with each passing minute.
Damian sat on the edge, legs drawn up slightly, arms resting on his knees, staring at his reflection in the dark water.
A face that newspapers had called heroic after the portal incident.
His mind kept flashing back to the child, his small face peaceful in death, and the mother's grief when she'd slapped him.
'She was right.' The thought came quiet and certain. 'Were the children who died today any different from the orphans I saved?'
Rain ran down his face, mixing with the blood still caked in his hair.
'I know this attack wasn't my fault directly… The Shadow Council and Death Cult made the choice to attack. They're the ones who brought this destruction.'
His reflection wavered as more rain hit the water.
