Damien was sure the message he'd been sent couldn't be right, it had to have been a trick, except the countersign was correct and the warden knew him by name so it had to be right. Fifteen wardens had entered a building supposed to be filled with red court vampires, and none had come out. So why would they send him in next? This was a job for the truly hardened combat specialists of the council, he had a few tricks up his sleeves to be sure, but this was a whole other level. However, fear didn't mean he could shirk his responsibilities, he had been sent to the location and if he was told to fight then that was what he would do. He just really hoped he didn't have to. 
 The building where he'd been told to meet the others was covered with a blanket of fear, it moved across Damien's skin like grease and oil, trying to seep through the pores and get into this brain. He adjusted the bandanna on his head, making sure the protective spells had the most coverage. His master had told him that this was pointless, that the spells were useless, but wardens were allowed to have superstitions. He walked up the stairs and knocked on the door, entering when he heard a whispered voice. Two wardens were already there. The one with mismatched eyes, Jimmy, he knew only by reputation. The other one he didn't know at all, but she looked strong enough to snap his arm in four places if he offered it to shake, so he settled for a polite nod. He knew there was going to be more than this, but sitting still was not his thing. So he placed a dreamcatcher on the door, and using it as the focal point of his spell, started spinning wards around the room. He couldn't keep out much but he could keep the oppression of dark magic from interrupting their sleep. That had to be good for something right?