The sun, a fiery orb, cast long, distorted shadows across the Brambles, but Damon, unlike his brethren, felt no immediate threat. He stood outside his family's mansion, a relic of forgotten eras, a vague sense of ennui settling over him. Another day, another hunt. His thoughts, a cynical murmur, drifted to the pitiful existence of humans, their screams a predictable symphony.

"Damon!" His mother's voice, Arianna, cut through the quiet, sharp as a whip. He sighed, the sound barely audible. The King, again. Always the King, demanding his presence, disrupting his perfectly aimless existence. He hated being ordered, hated the reminder of any authority over him.

He entered the house, the cool, stale air doing little to soothe his irritation. "What do you want?" he scoffed, the words laced with impatience. He knew what she'd say, what they always said. Another problem, another demon-possessed vampire, another task for the 'strongest'. He just wanted a smooth, uncomplicated existence. Was that too much to ask?