HIGH SCHOOL DIARIES (A Tale Of Love And Deception)

(OCTOBER 2023)

In the early hours of the morning, Damian strode down the narrow streets of Valemont, his steps echoing in the silence. The sun barely peeked over the horizon, casting a soft, golden hue on the landscape. As he passed the opulent estates of Silverhill, his gaze wandered upward. Towering buildings, majestic and cold, mocked him with their sheer size and elegance. Each estate seemed like a fortress of wealth, the glass windows reflecting the sky like smug eyes watching his every step. The vast heights of the skyscrapers, as if scraping the clouds, reinforced the invisible wall between Damian and the occupants within.

He clenched his jaw, determined not to let the opulence phase him. Damian didn't care about material wealth—he never had. Not even Lamia's staggering fortune had ever clouded his mind, though unbeknownst to Damian, Lamia's wealth was only a fragment of his hidden identity. Lamia was royalty, a fact he had concealed to avoid any awkwardness between them.

Continuing his journey, Damian found himself in Goldengate, the second most expensive district in Valemont. The difference between Goldengate and Silverhill was clear: Goldengate was filled with sprawling mansions and duplexes—massive, yes, but not reaching for the heavens like Silverhill's skyscrapers. The mansions were luxurious, but there was an air of pretension around them, as if they were trying too hard to compete with the untouchable elite of Silverhill.

Still, Damian's gaze remained cold, detached. He pushed forward until he arrived at Roselake, a beautiful but modest neighborhood for the middle class. The homes here were warm and inviting, a far cry from the haughty estates of Silverhill and Goldengate. Yet, as stunning as Roselake appeared, it was nothing compared to the memories of his home. His heart clenched as he stepped deeper into the shadowy streets that led to Raven Hollow.

Raven Hollow, his birthplace, was a place forgotten by the world. The homes were small, decrepit, barely standing. Half of them looked as though they would collapse with the slightest gust of wind. Children with only ragged panties wrapped around their waists ran through the dirt streets, their laughter hollow in the stillness. Poverty hung in the air like a foul stench, and yet, none of this moved Damian. His expression remained stony, though his gut twisted with a strange feeling—something was wrong.

As he neared the tiny, weather-beaten cottage that had once been his sanctuary, his pace slowed. The cottage, once full of life and warmth, now stood desolate. His heart sank as he surveyed the ruinous state of his home. A sense of dread washed over him, and for the first time, his cold façade began to crack.

A gaunt man with hollow eyes and tattered clothing shuffled forward, his face lined with years of hardship. He stared at Damian with an air of suspicion.

"Who are you looking for?" the man asked, his voice rough and indifferent.

Damian eyed the man warily, noticing how the weight of poverty had aged him beyond his years. "The people who lived here before," Damian said slowly, his voice steady. "Where are they?"

The man's expression twisted into one of disgust. Damian's fists clenched at his sides, the tendons in his hands standing out as his anxiety grew. "I said, where are they?" he demanded, his voice rising in pitch.

The man grimaced but finally spoke. "The cursed family? They're all dead. Their son vanished mysteriously. The wife died not long after, and two weeks ago, the old man joined them."

A wave of icy anger washed over Damian, his knuckles turning white as his nails dug into his palms. He forced himself to ask, his voice shaking, "They were peaceful people. Why speak of them with such disgust?"

The man let out a dry, mocking laugh. "Don't be fooled. They got what they deserved. A boy like that couldn't have been theirs. They probably stole him. They even killed their own son, Richard Wayne, who died mysteriously. They were cursed. Everyone knows they practiced witchcraft."

Damian's eyes began to darken, a red glow flickering in the depths as the man continued, unaware of the storm brewing before him. "We should've burned them alive, but we let them suffer. Now, they're dead, and good riddance."

Damian's fury boiled over. His voice dropped, chilling and dark, as he approached the man. "I'm Damian Wayne," he whispered, his tone laced with venom. "Their son."

The man's eyes widened in terror, realizing too late that he had insulted the wrong person. He stammered, backing away. "You—you're the cursed child."

Damian's smile was cold, his eyes glowing a deep crimson. "You know, I was going to make your death quick, but now…" His voice trailed off as he began chanting in Latin, the words reverberating with dark energy.

A red glow erupted from Damian's body, enveloping the man in a suffocating aura. The man gasped, his eyes bulging as the sinister energy invaded his nostrils, choking him. He began vomiting blood, black ichor spilling from his mouth as his body convulsed violently. His hands wrapped around his own throat, strangling himself as his face twisted in agony.

Villagers, drawn by the commotion, stumbled out of their shacks in horror. The sight before them was unholy—a demonic power unlike anything they had ever witnessed. Panic spread like wildfire as they fled for their lives, but Damian was not done.

Raising his hand, he cast a destructive spell. The air hummed with dark magic as it unleashed itself upon Raven Hollow. Screams filled the air as men, women, and children alike were torn apart by the violent energy. Bodies were flung against walls, bones shattering, as the village crumbled into chaos. Babies wailed in their cribs, only to be silenced by the dark force that ripped through the town like a hurricane of death.

Damian stood in the center of it all, laughing darkly, the sound chilling and inhuman. His power consumed everything, leaving Raven Hollow a graveyard of ash and broken corpses. When his work was done, he turned his gaze to his grandparents' cottage. Tears filled his eyes as memories flooded back—moments of joy, of love, of peace.

Kneeling before the charred remains of the cottage, Damian whispered a final spell. Flames engulfed the house, the fire roaring high into the sky. He collapsed to the ground, weeping uncontrollably, rolling in the dirt as grief and guilt wracked his body. "I'm a monster," he whispered, his voice hoarse and broken. "They made me into a monster…"

The once-thriving village of Raven Hollow was now nothing but a shadow of its former self, its streets filled with the ghosts of the dead. The few survivors who remained would forever whisper of the demon child who had destroyed their home, a tale that would echo through Valemont for years to come.

---

Present (Mirror World)

Back in the astral plane, Lamia stumbled backward, terror etched across his face. The scenes he had witnessed through the mystical mirror were too much for him to bear. His legs gave way, and he collapsed, trembling uncontrollably.

"No… no, that can't be Damian. That can't be my Damian!" Lamia cried, his voice shaking with fear and disbelief. "You killed those children. You… you murdered everyone in that town."

Damian stood frozen, his heart breaking as he watched Lamia unravel before him. "Lamia…" he whispered, tears threatening to spill from his eyes. "I didn't want you to find out like this…"

Lamia shook his head violently, scattering his tangled hair. His breathing became erratic as the memories of Damian's torment—the experiments, the horrors he had faced—overwhelmed him. "No! This isn't happening! You're not that person. You can't be!"

Catherine rushed forward, wrapping her arms around Lamia in a desperate attempt to comfort him. "Lamia, please. It's okay. We'll figure this out. Please calm down."

But Lamia was beyond reason. His mind reeled as the truth hit him like a tidal wave. "My father… my real father… he's dead. My mother lied to me. Everything's been a lie!"

Damian watched in silence, his heart heavy with guilt. Lamia stumbled toward him, grabbing Damian's collar with trembling hands. "Why didn't you tell me? Was anything we had real? Was it all a lie?"

Damian said nothing, his face a mask of sorrow. Lamia, unable to contain his anguish, screamed as his body convulsed with grief. The silver necklace around his neck glowed, a blinding light filling the room.

And then, without warning, they were pulled into the mirror's depths—straight into the halls of Ivory High.