the past we never saved.

"The future…?"

Damian repeated the stranger's words, their meaning lost to him. 

The man standing amid the wreckage of the safe house looked awfully familiar. His features were like a blurred combination of Xavier, Uncle Leon, and Damian himself. 

Dark bags hung beneath the stranger's eyes, and his gaze was somewhat distant, as though he was looking far into the past, recalling a horror he wanted to forget. He wore dark combat material, the type issued to the Royal Soldiers on the border with Rastia—tough and rugged, designed to hold up against physical and Heavenly attacks.

"I understand this might be difficult to accept, but I have something very important to tell you. It concerns your future, and the reason why I came back to talk with you."

He righted two of the fallen chairs and sat down heavily. Indicating the spare seat, he added, "Please, sit. There's a lot I need to tell you."

Damian blinked. 

Is this guy for real?

The surrounding room was a mess of splintered timber, broken furniture, and shattered dishes and glasses. Scarlet blood was splashed across the walls and floors, and where the Deepshadow had been destroyed, it left behind an inky stain.

Damian stood and wiped a hand over his mouth, flicking away the last traces of vomit and saliva. When he spoke, his voice was strained.

"Do you hear yourself right now? The safe house has been compromised. Lynn and Tia are missing. I need to—"

"—report back to Leon?" 

At Damian's shocked expression, the other man gave a low laugh. 

"I told you, kid, I am you.  I know what you're thinking right now. Or, close enough, anyway."

"If you know what I'm thinking, then you know the last thing I want to do is sit around talking to some stranger! I don't have time for this!"

Damian moved to walk past the stranger, but the older man reached out and seized his arm tightly, fingers digging into his flesh.

The Crown Prince turned a withering gaze on the pretender king.

"Unhand me."

"Or what? You'll fight me? I'm a hundred times the fighter you are right now."

Tension crackled between the men, the amber flecks in their eyes glowing with the fierce intensity of the Flame. 

In a battle between two children of the Flame, the one of greater faith would win—but that assumed they possessed a similar level of control. 

Damian had seen the other man's invocation—it had banished an entire roomful of the Deep, and eviscerated five Apostles.

We're not enough close in strength. Lynn wouldn't stand a chance. Hell, even Titus would get his ass handed to him. I wouldn't last five seconds.

Damian ripped his arm free.

"Fine, you wanna talk so badly? Tell me where Tia is. If you're really from the future, then you should know exactly what's about to happen, right?"

The other Damian sighed, running a hand over his gray-flecked stubble.

"The future… It doesn't work like that, sorry. The future I'm from didn't play out like this. So, I don't know where the girl is."

"How convenient."

"Listen, I told you I'm here to help you, right? All I want to do is talk to you—that's it."

"And you expect me to believe this crazy story of yours? That you—you've come back from the future? Why the hell would I believe you?"

The stranger raised a hand, showing off the Rosa Regalia on his ring finger.

"This convince you?"

"It could be a fake."

"My power isn't a lie, and you know that. Only the Regalia could channel the Flame like that."

"Even if I did believe you were me…how the hell did you travel through time? Neither the Flame nor the Deep can accomplish that."

For the first time, the other Damian hesitated, a shadow of doubt crossing his face. He rolled his words around his mouth, speaking deliberately and carefully.

"The future holds many surprises for us both. You don't know everything there is to know about the Angels. That's all I can say for now."

"Convenient, once again."

Damian turned away in a huff. His mind was spinning, blood pounding in his ears. He didn't have time to stand here and entertain this madness. True, there was no valid reason that an exact replica of the Rosa Regalia was in the room with him, nor a good reason that the other man looked so similar to him—aside from, perhaps, a long-lost relative he knew nothing about.

Either way, standing here talking wouldn't accomplish anything.

"You want to talk to me so badly about the future, or whatever? Fine, I'll listen. But only after you help me find Tia and Lynn. Then we'll sit down and have a nice long chat."

The older man furrowed his brow, then spontaneously laughed—a sharp, bark-like noise that was terribly out of place in such a macabre scene.

"Well, damn, I forget what a little shit I used to be!"

The other Damian smiled wryly, and shook his head.

"All right, kid, you've got yourself a deal. But if you want my help, we're doing things my way. Agreed?"

Damian swore under his breath. He took a step back and ran a hand through his hair, wincing at the sharp pain in his chest. He'd definitely fractured a rib, and his breaths came uneasily—perhaps the after-effects of being attacked so heavily by the Deep.

I don't have time to argue. Every moment here is wasted. Whatever he wants, I'll go along with it—and once I have Lynn and Tia back, we can figure out who the fuck this guy is and what he wants with me.

"Fine then, let's hear your brilliant plan. All that wisdom from the 'future' has gotta mean something, yeah? What do you think we should do?"

"You want to contact our uncle, right?"

"My uncle."

The other Damian spread his hands wide.

"Same thing, kid, but you keep telling yourself that. Listen, this safe house doesn't have a telephone, so your options are going to the Palace or finding another telephone. The first option is out for obvious reasons. You have Apostles all over your ass—you'll be bringing trouble right to your family's doorstep if you return to Rossheim. I'm sure that's the last thing either of us want."

"So, what then?"

The other Damian rolled his neck and flashed a charming grin that had undoubtedly wooed many a young lady over the years.

"Let's kill two birds with one stone. First, we go after the Apostles who took Tia—and if we do that, we'll find a way to contact Leon. How's that sound?"

Damian hesitated, thinking. He desperately needed Lynn, but she hadn't returned to the safe house yet. She couldn't have gone that far—what if she'd been attacked by Apostles and needed his help?

He curled his hands into tight fists, the Regalia cutting into his flesh.

"What about Lynn? I'm not going to leave her behind."

The other Damian sighed deeply and looked Damian directly in the eyes. His mouth twisted slightly, and he shook his head.

"Sorry, kid. I don't know where Lynn is."

"Dammit. Well, let me leave her a note, at least."

"And what? Allow the next Apostle who waltzes in here to follow your trail? We can't risk that."

Damian bit his bottom lip, blood beading onto his tongue.

He knew his older self was right, but he hated the idea of leaving Lynn in the dark like this. What would she think when she came back to an empty safe house with signs of a struggle?

If he didn't leave some kind of note, she'd turn the city upside down searching for him. But the older man was right—at this rate, leaving anything behind would only endanger Damian and whoever came after him.

I just have to trust in Lynn. I know she'll be fine by herself—and that she'll find me, one way or the other.

Reluctantly, Damian turned back towards himself.

"What's our first move then?"

A wicked grin spread across the older Damian's face.

"How do you feel about a nighttime stroll through Tenebrae?"