Divergence

Damien's boots crunched on shattered glass as he followed Indigo Crane, the newly arrived Watcher, deeper into the ravaged church. The air thrummed with a sickly metallic energy, a tangible residue of the battle that had just played out. It was a smell only Hunters, attuned to the celestial plane, could recognize. Though not his first encounter with such devastation, a familiar coldness settled in Damien's gut. The weight of the night pressed against his chest, a constant reminder of the never-ending war between humanity and the creatures of the night.

He'd been a prodigy, power manifesting at a terrifyingly young age. Fourteen. The Watchers, shrouded in secrecy and tasked with safeguarding humanity, saw only potential. They whisked him away from his quiet life, transforming him into a weapon within hidden Sanctuaries. Years bled into relentless training, forging him into an instrument of lethality. No emotions, just cold steel and celestial fury.

Until Callista.

Her arrival wasn't met with the usual terror or despair of new recruits. Instead, a defiant fire blazed in her crimson eyes, a fire she quickly encased in a shell of ice. It was clear she'd already built a wall around a shattered heart, a casualty perhaps of the very creatures they hunted. Damien, raised within the rigid structure of the Watchers, watched silently, a silent witness to her growth, the slow thaw beneath the icy exterior as she learned to command her own celestial connection.

The memory shifted. The clang of steel echoed through the training arena, a familiar sound within the high walls. Damien disarmed her with a flick of his wrist, celestial energy coursing through him. Frustration crackled in the air as Callista, barely fifteen, glared at him. The ice around her eyes flickered for a moment, a glimpse of the fire beneath.

"Patience, Callie," he murmured, his ashen hair catching the morning light. "Find the opening."

She skidded on the polished stone floor, retrieving her fallen sword and lunging for his knee. He dodged easily, but a glint of steel surprised him – a second knife hidden behind her other hand, aimed straight for his throat. His breath hitched.

A grin, the first crack in the ice he'd ever seen, stretched across her face. Ignoring the unfamiliar pang in his chest, a sensation forbidden within the Hunter's code, he forced himself to focus. There was time for such feelings later, not when she still wrestled with the demons that haunted her past.

"Careless, mentor," she scoffed.

Indigo approached, his gentle face breaking into a smile. "You've passed, Callista. You're a full-fledged Hunter now."

A smirk played on her lips. "Does that mean I can dust these bloodsuckers solo?"

Indigo chuckled, shaking his head. "Not quite yet, not without Damien." He earned a playful scowl from Callista, a sight that sent a warmth through Damien he couldn't explain.

Watching them together, a flicker of hope ignited within him. Maybe, one day, when she was ready... perhaps he could tell her.

Years bled into years, a relentless pursuit of shadows. Each mission etched a line on their faces, a grim reminder of the fallen comrades they left behind. Grief, a constant companion, had hardened them, honed their skills into instruments of lethal precision.

Callista and Damien, the Council's most potent weapons, were forged in this crucible. Fate, however, seemed to have a cruel sense of humour. Just as their bond grew, their paths diverged, each sent on a solitary quest to hunt ancient evils. Years passed, filled with rumours of their ruthless efficiency.

Then, they were reunited. The fiery spirit that once blazed in Callista's eyes had dimmed, replaced by a cold glint and a chilling efficiency in her movements. It was as if the darkness they hunted had seeped into her very being.

He yearned to shield her from this carnage, to offer her a semblance of normalcy. But the warrior within her shone brightly. Callista was forever changed by the darkness, the line between hunter and killer blurred. Her playful banter often masked a chilling efficiency.

Recently, however, a shift. The mindless slaying stopped. She saw them differently… humanised them. Was this a sign of strength or weakness? A flicker of pain crossed her face whenever Indigo inquired about Athena. Pain she swiftly masked with icy indifference.

Damien knew. He had watched her for years. The same yearning he felt for her reflected in her eyes.

His heart clenched. This couldn't be happening. 

Feeling empathy for vampires was one thing, but longing…

He watched her from afar, a silent guardian as she interrogated a captured vampire. The creature writhed under her gaze, fear twisting its face into a grotesque caricature. Yet, Callista seemed… conflicted. A flicker of something akin to pity crossed her features before she steeled herself once more.

The realisation struck him like a bolt of lightning. Perhaps empathy wasn't weakness. Perhaps it was the key to saving Callista from the darkness that threatened to swallow her whole. Maybe, just maybe, by understanding the monsters they hunted, they could find a way to break the cycle of violence.

But a new fear bloomed in his chest. If Callista could see the humanity in vampires, could she see it in him as well? A weapon honed by the Watchers, a killer cloaked in righteousness? Or worse, could she see the forbidden yearning that burned within him?

Damien took a deep breath, the frigid air stinging his lungs. He had to talk to her. He had to bridge the growing chasm between them, for her sake and his own. But the words wouldn't come. Fear, a new and unfamiliar sensation, coiled in his gut. He wasn't sure how she would react, what she might see when she looked into his eyes.

The vampire's whimpered pleas – "Please, I had no idea about this mutated ghoul!" – were cut short as Callista, with a growl unlike any he'd heard before, slammed him back to the ground.

Turning to Damien, she said curtly, "Let's go."

Surprise flickered across his face as he followed her out. Did Callista just… let a vampire live?

The drive back was a tense tango with silence. The usual metal music, their shared rebellion against the world, was absent. In its place, the radio crooned a forgotten love song, a melody that scraped against the raw edges of his unspoken feelings.

Finally, Damien broke, the words tumbling out like a confession. "Have you ever considered… a different path? Leaving the hunt behind?"

A sardonic smile played on Callista's lips. "Suddenly worried about my retirement plan, Agent Doom-and-Gloom?"

Damien smiled at the nickname. "Not exactly. My folks just... they keep hinting at a normal life." His voice trailed off, a transparent lie.

Callista scoffed. "Paperwork? Please, that wouldn't last a week." She made a sharp turn as she murmured, almost to herself, "Never thought about it. Not even…" Her voice trailed off.

Damien's heart hammered against his ribs. "Falling for someone?" he dared to ask, the question barely a whisper.

Callista's eyes flashed, a flicker of vulnerability betraying her usual stoicism. "Why is everyone so obsessed with my love life lately?" 

"Because you didn't seem to care about much else besides… the mission," Damien admitted cautiously.

"Are you saying I have no personality, Agent Discreet?" Callista growled playfully, a hint of her old fire returning. "I'm not one to be defined by someone else's tastes."

He yearned to tell her that he wanted to be defined by hers, but the words wouldn't come. Instead, he mumbled, "It doesn't have to be grand. You just… sometimes the thing you're looking for might be closer than you think."

"Grand romance?" Callista pulled into the driveway of Indigo's mansion with a screech, the sudden stop mirroring the violent halt to their conversation. Leaning back, she gazed at the starless night sky through the sunroof. "Not a single damn star tonight."

He stole a glance at Callista, her profile bathed in the soft glow of the dashboard lights. Her expression remained unreadable, a mask that both frustrated and intrigued him. Damien offered tentatively, "Maybe we could go somewhere outside the city…"

"No time, Damien," Callista sighed, her voice heavy with a hidden emotion. "Let's just… deliver this news to Indigo."

As they stepped out of the car, the weight of unspoken words hung heavy in the air. The night was silent, the city lights painting an artificial dawn on the horizon. Fear, a familiar serpent, coiled in Damien's gut. Another time, he thought, a hollow echo in his mind. Another day.

But the stars, hidden by the city's oppressive glow, offered no solace. No prophecy, no glimmer of a different fate.

Perhaps some loves were never meant to be.

******

The clang of Callista's blade echoed through the dimly lit room, blurring the image of the monstrous ghoul she envisioned. Sweat stung her eyes, but she pushed forward, picturing claws and fangs instead of the familiar elegance of Princess Athena.

She slams her sword down harder with each swing, her movements becoming more erratic.

Her jaw clenches, her brow furrows, and she lets out a frustrated growl. Two weeks had passed since she last saw Athena, two weeks since her own heart had betrayed her with an unwelcome feeling. That path wasn't one she'd tread again.

"Someone switch your tea with rocket fuel again, Indigo?" Callista quipped, wiping sweat from her brow. Despite the intensity of her training, Indigo, hunched over his tablet, appeared more exhausted.

Indigo sighed, a familiar sound that had become a constant in the past few weeks. "The mutated ghoul isn't in our system, and the vampires seemed to not knowing anything," he stated, pushing up his glasses. "Which means..."

"Someone's messing with their genetics," Callista finished, her voice cold.

Indigo nodded, his concern turning to her. "Mind sharing what's bothering you, Callista? The dummy's not to blame."

Callista met his gaze, her silence a heavy weight in the air. Indigo, sensing the delicate nature of the issue, shifted gears. "Any updates on Miss Kruger? Is she truly Queen Eydis?"

"Nothing concrete," she grumbled, rolling her eyes. "Just the whole 'look at me, I'm hot and available' routine..." Her voice dropped to a low murmur. "And thankfully, she hasn't drained me yet."

Indigo's gaze softened. "I understand the strain this situation puts on you, Callista."

A frustrated grunt escaped Callista's lips as realisation dawned. Amelia's overly friendly advances, once merely an annoyance, now felt utterly repulsive. The memory of Athena's touch, undeniably provocative, held a warmth Amelia's never could. Despite the possessiveness flashing in Athena's eyes as she lingered over Theo a beat too long, a deeper complexity lurked beneath the surface. It was this complexity that both fascinated and infuriated Callista.

A sharp, unwanted pang shot through her chest. No. This path held nothing but danger. She wouldn't allow it.

With a guttural growl, Callista unleashed a final, earth-shattering blow, cleaving the training dummy in two. Indigo could only stare, jaw agape, at the decimated practice opponent.

"Not all vampires are monsters," Indigo finally started, rubbing his temples. "But your… entanglement with them could be dangerous."

Callista's eyes narrowed. "I'm well aware of the dangers," she retorted, her voice laced with a sharp edge. "How did you even..." she trailed off, her voice hardening with suspicion. "What are you implying?"

Indigo sighed, his shoulders slumping slightly. "The forbidden love stories you devour, your sudden personal interest... Callista, these creatures are beings of immense age. Their emotions and motivations function differently from ours. They are often driven by primal instincts, not the complexities of human love." His voice held a touch of concern, though his tone remained firm.

"Didn't need a lecture," she snapped, rising to leave. But Indigo's voice, soft and tinged with pain, stopped her.

"Once, I fell for a vampire too," he choked, regret and sorrow battling in his eyes. "As a young hunter, I… believed her for a fleeting moment."

"Did you kill her when her monstrous side took over?" she asked, a tremor in her voice.

He smiled, a sad, raw expression. "Yes. And I still remember the look in her eyes."

"Anger? Betrayal?" Callista whispered.

Indigo shook his head, tears threatening to spill. "Acceptance. As if I gave her the oblivion she craved."

Silence hung heavy in the air. Then, when Indigo finally regained control of his voice, he asked, his gaze locked on hers, "Are you prepared to do that, Callista? When the darkness consumes them, can you offer them the same… salvation?"