High above the chaos, perched atop the massive mahogany bookcase, you sat with your legs dangling into the abyss. In your lap, your younger self lay fast asleep, her breathing shallow from the mental strain of whispering destiny into a young boy's ear.

Future Damian, the 25-year-old Demon’s Head, ignored his father’s cape. His emerald eyes were locked on you. He noted the slight, rhythmic sway of your ankles—a nervous habit he’d memorized years ago.