Damian al ghul 14.

Damian al Ghul had turned forty and ruled an empire built as much by inheritance as by conquest. Entire cities, trade routes, and territories flourished under his name, where his authority was unquestionable. Some admired him; others only dared to fear him.

The palace shone that night with unparalleled luxury. Crystal chandeliers cast golden glimmers upon marble columns, while musicians filled the hall with elegant melodies. Servants strolled the corridors with trays laden with delicacies, attentive to their sovereign's every move.

Damian watched the celebration from a raised divan, dressed in dark fabrics adorned with gold details. At forty, experience had replaced the impulsiveness of youth, but it hadn't softened the intensity of his gaze.

He had known victories, betrayals, and alliances. He had built a family and secured the future of his lineage. Yet, the feeling of emptiness still surfaced at the most unexpected moments.

The dancers twirled amidst silk veils, the nobles conversed amidst measured laughter, and the banquet continued without pause. Everything was perfect.

Too perfect

With an indifferent gesture, she placed her glass on a carved table and scanned the room with her eyes.

Damian: This has become predictable.

The music slowed down for just a moment

Damian rested an arm on the back of the chair and gave a slight smile, one that rarely foretold anything good.

Damian: Surprise me.

The atmosphere changed immediately. The musicians exchanged nervous glances, and the servants lowered their heads.

Because everyone in that palace knew one truth: when Damian al Ghul desired something new, someone's destiny was about to change.