The promise Part I

[Damian, 8 years old]

Damian woke with a start, his thick, unruly reddish-brown hair sticking out in every direction as warm golden-brown eyes gleamed with boundless excitement.

A few small scratches dotted his face, the inevitable consequence of a boy who treated every day as an adventure.

With a tiny wooden sword clutched tightly in his arms, his first instinct was to swing it wildly in every direction.

"The great warrior and his trusty blade, Brightfang, will bring all our enemies to their knees!"

He pointed the wooden sword toward an imaginary foe, his raspy, animated voice echoing through the room as he declared, "Beware, villains! Run while you still can!"

After a few enthusiastic slashes at the invisible enemy, he finally hopped out of bed.

A quick wash and change of clothes later, Damian made his way to the bakery.

"Morning, Dad! Morning, Aunt Gemma!"

"Morning, lad. You hungry?" Stefan asked with a smile.

Now in his fifties, the baker's brown hair was streaked with white, while warm, kind blue eyes reflected the gentle nature Damian had always known.

"Starving, as always."

Damian beamed, throwing his arms around Stefan in a quick hug that lasted only a moment, though it was more than enough to brighten Stefan's day.

Beside them, a tray of muffins slid from the oven with a flick of Gemma's fingers, and after a brief glance, she sent the tray back inside while freshly baked loaves assembled themselves neatly upon the display counter.

He gobbled his breakfast down with remarkable urgency before hurrying to the front of the bakery as he spotted the usual faces arriving.

"Hey, Mr. Levi, your croissants are ready. Try the new bagels—they're delicious."

Mr. Levi gave Damian an appreciative pat on the head, handing over a few coins and saying, "Thank you, Damian."

"Enough, Levi. Move along. I haven't got all day," Old Man Serge grumbled, shuffling forward and adjusting the monocle over one eye.

"Hello, old man," Damian greeted with a grin.

"Yeah, yeah. Whatever. Hand me the bread."

"Coming right up, sir."

"Move fast, you lazy kid."

Damian picked up a loaf and handed it over, watching as Serge inspected it through his monocle.

"No, no. Too old. Mouldy even. Get me another one."

Trying not to laugh, Damian put the loaf back, pretended to pick out a fresh one, then handed Serge the exact same loaf.

Serge examined it again through his monocle.

"Now that's more like it," he muttered, tossing a few coins onto the counter before grabbing the bread and shuffling away.

"Miss Aubrey, the muffins you ordered—raisins and walnuts," Damian said, handing her a neatly wrapped package.

"I'll take a cupcake as well, please."

"Packed and ready to go."

"Thank you," Aubrey said with a smile.

"Damian, school. You need to hurry," Gemma said.

Brown hair, now threaded with a few strands of silver, framed her gentle hazel eyes as she brushed a loose lock behind her ear, quiet concern evident in her expression.

"Okay, Aunt Gemma!"

Stefan handed him his packed lunch and backpack just as he did every morning, telling him, "Your favorite pie. Enough to share with a friend."

"Thank you, Dad!"

"I leave this post to you, Commander Stefan!" Damian declared with a crisp salute, earning a smile and a soft "At ease, soldier" from Stefan.

Kyle and Cody were already waiting outside, and a quick round of high fives later, the three boys were sprinting toward the school, chasing one another in a game of tag.

They cut through the town square where the old fountain stood, children chasing pigeons around the stone basin while Cody, Kyle, and Damian splashed one another with handfuls of water.

"You're going to pay for that, Cody!" Kyle shouted.

"Catch me first!"

Before long, they were soaking wet after an all-out water fight until a fierce growl suddenly froze them in place, leaving a large, drooling dog to fix the three boys with a menacing stare that sent all of them running as fast as their tiny legs could carry them.

Miss Lily, a petite woman with round glasses and the kindest brown eyes, waited at the entrance of the quaint little schoolhouse where children from the modest households of farmers, craftsmen, and shopkeepers gathered each morning.

"Welcome, my lovely students," she greeted.

"If we add these two numbers right here we get an odd number," Miss Lily explained while Damian rested his feet on the desk, one crossed over the other, a book propped open to hide his closed eyes as he had the best nap of the day.

A piece of chalk bounced off his forehead.

"We've been attacked!" Damian exclaimed, springing to his feet as the classroom erupted in laughter, though Miss Lily simply laughed with them.

"Damian, a warrior needs to know numbers, letters, and reading. How else will you deal with your enemies if you can't even count them?"

Suddenly, Damian's interest returned, and he sat a little straighter, knowing Miss Lily always knew exactly how to deal with him.

By lunchtime, Damian opened his lunch, and Kyle's eyes began to shine at the sight of the pie.

Damian smiled and broke it neatly into three pieces.