1996, Eton College, England.

Damien sat in another boring class. He played with the end of his longish white blond hair, while his green eyes stared out the window aimlessly. He watched as police took away the history teacher. Damien smiled to himself. That'll teach the foolish creature to betray him. Damien was aware now. Much aware of who he was, what he could do. He had already stopped his mother and father from trying to harm him. Years ago it seemed. And he had stopped his guardian father from harming him too. He saw part of Yigael's wall and took it upon himself to try and kill him. Good thing the Mrs was on his side. His guardian mother was ever a loyal disciple of the watch. But she was a liability and had to go as well.

Now it was just him, under the protection of the president himself. The president saw fit to send him to England's prestige school Eton. The princes themselves attended here. Damien didn't bother kissing their asses as the other boys did. They didn't know true royalty. But Damien did. He knew what blood flowed in his veins. The watch positioned themselves in all aspects of Damien's life, so to keep close to him and protect him.

That wasn't to say Damien didn't have loyal friends. Boys that were of high breeding and easily manipulated and controlled. They fed on power, and Damien showed them true power. The old duck up the front was waffling on about Henry the Eighth or some such. Damien would've rathered listening to nails on chalkboard. He turned to the boy beside him.

"Could this get anymore boring Daniel?"

Daniel shook his head and stifled a giggle. The brunette fringe falling into his dark eyes.

"We still skipping last period and hitting the high street?" Daniel asked, with that odd Italian accent of his. Damien smiled wickedly.

"Absolutely."

Daniel had joined Eton roughly the same time as Damien and the two had become fast friends. Daniel was from Rome, a little too pious for Damien's liking, but did not try to initiate him to the watch. He seemed to have an incorruptible spirit of faith. Everyone has their faults Damien always thought, so long as they don't interfere with my plans. They had similar faces, and loads of people always said that they could've been brothers in another life. Despite his piety, Daniel was after all a sixteen year old boy, as was Damien, with all the earthly delights ahead of them.

The bell sounded for the end of class. Damien and Daniel couldn't get out of there fast enough. They waited by the oval for some of Damien's friends, and made their way out of the school and legged it quickly down the road to the nearest bus stop. Once in the town square, the boys changed into street clothes and stuffed their uniforms into their packs. Some of the boys lit up cigarettes, others bought soda of some kind and took up some seats in the high street.

"Ho ho what we have 'ere lads. Some polished school boys," came a taunt from a passing street hood.

He looked older and had a few friends with him. They circled around the younger boys. Ruffling hair and knocking drinks away.

"Shouldn't you be off holding up a gas station somewhere?"

The lead street punk was taken off guard by Damien's comment. And by Damien's companions laughing. Damien casually continued to drink the cola in his hand. The street punk frowned and grabbed up Damien roughly and held him to his feet.

"Fink ya being funny do ya? Huh? Rich twat."

He roughly shoved Damien backwards. Damien fell back and then stood quickly. He sighed and rolled his eyes and patronisingly dusted his shoulders with one hand. Then he glared hard at the laughing street punk and his friends. They did not know who they were messing with. Damien clicked his fingers loudly, and his disciples were behind him. A few non-disciples sat by with Daniel.

"Damien." Daniel called. Damien turned to his friend and saw him shake his head.

"Don't worry Dan," he said turning his attention back to the street punks. "This Neanderthal won't even get close."

Daniel became nervous. He had noticed a gradual change in Damien. Something almost sinister. And it worried him. What type of person was Damien becoming? Daniel sensed a volatile energy coming from his strange friend. Daniel felt it like a heat wave rolling over him.

"What you call me?"

"You heard," Damien retorted. A wicked grin appeared on his face. He shook his pale hair free of the tie he had used to keep it back. His startling green eyes glared out from under the pale mane.

"We got a wise one here boys."

The hoods cracked their knuckles. The lead street punk pointed at Damien with a threatening finger and shook it at him slightly.

"Just you an' me mate."

"Alright then…mate." Damien patronised again.

The street hood came at him. The bigger and slower boy swung wide, which was easy for Damien to duck and miss. He kicked the larger boy down behind the knee, which brought him down and Damien grabbed a hold of his face. Making him stare the light haired boy in the eyes.

"That's it, kneel before your master." Damien whispered barely audibly for the others to hear.

The Bully's eyes widened, almost in fear as he stared into the green eyes. He couldn't move, paralysed almost. He trembled and almost sobbed. They were interrupted by a whistle.

"Oi what's going on here?"

A police officer approached. Damien let the other boy go and his mates picked their terrified friend up and backed away, not completely sure what had happened. All they knew was this younger boy had turned their leader into a sobbing mess. Damien turned to the puzzled officer.

"Nothing much sir. Just the setting the record straight. As boys do."

"Well, just clear off, and stay out trouble. Go on."

Damien bowed, and the Eton boys grabbed their packs and moved off. Daniel was unsure what had just transpired, but it wasn't good. It was almost like his friend had radiated pure fear. He was confused. He decided not to question his friend and would keep an eye on this development.

France

"Miss?"

"Yes, I'm in here!" the raven haired girl answered. She closed her book and tucked it away again.

The maid came in and handed her some letters. One was from her father, who was away on business as usual. And another came from Rome. She had been writing to a convent there. Some the sisters had been present when the unusual convergence of stars had happened when she had been born in Paris. Apparently two other boys had been born at the same time and also bore a strange mark on the crowns of their heads. Just as she had. She touched under her hair and felt the slightly raised skin there. It was an almost odd symbol. A star, a six and a 'v' shape all together. It was small and only noticeable if one really examined her scalp. Two others like her? She pondered what this might mean.

Something inside her, a woman's intuition if you will, told her that she would cross paths with these others. Destiny had a journey in mind for her.