Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

I doubt Father ever intended for me to own a small business.

Then again, I never would’ve guessed even half the things I’ve gone through in just twenty-one years of age. From being...sired by the most evil creature in the universe, to becoming a teenaged superhero to try and atone for the apocalypse I was made to – and did – bring about, to saving the world by reclaiming my heritage and embracing the people I grew to call my friends – my family.

It’s just a shame that last one didn’t last.

My name is Rachel Roth – daughter, by way of ancient, demonic ritual and good ol’ fashioned sexual assault, to Arella Roth and the ancient, primal demon lord known as Trigon the Terrible. I am the last survivor of the interdimensional realm of Azarath, one of Earth’s most powerful sorcerers, and a founding member of the now defunct Teen Titans.

I also own and operate the White Raven, a cozy little tea shop-slash-bookstore located in downtown Seattle.

It’s been about three years since the Titans disbanded. People at the time said it was a long time coming – something about hormone-addled teen vigilantes, wanton amounts of property damage, and like, zero accountability, if I recall correctly – but the truth of the matter is that, without Starfire, the team simply wasn’t the same. When Blackfire crash-landed on Earth, beaten, bloody, and desperate for Kori’s help, we knew she wouldn’t hesitate to uphold her royal duties to the people of Tamaran. We knew, relationship with an earthling notwithstanding, her people had to come first. Robin was heartbroken, of course, but I don’t think he was surprised.

Star’s goodbye was tearful, to say the least – even from me. I may or may not have busted every lightbulb in the Tower, that day – my old philosophy of ‘people come, people go’ had long since been abandoned, and it showed. I was going to miss my best friend, the bright, sunny side to my gloomy darkness, and I couldn’t even fault her. If I were given the chance to save Azarath, to bring my home back to life, I would’ve done it in a heartbeat.

Robin followed, shortly after Star’s departure. I knew some about his exploits with the Team, mind-meld and all. I knew he’d broken cleanly with them after going home to Gotham and finding another Robin had taken his place – only for the Joker to kill Jason, shortly thereafter. Leaving Batman and the Team behind helped, somewhat, but it was in leading the Titans that he found balance and stability – growth, perhaps, that he felt he couldn’t achieve under Batman’s shadow. But Star’s departure broke something in him, and so he quit. In public, he said he was retiring from the hero business. In private, he took off the domino mask for the first time.

Dick Grayson would be Robin no more.

The edgy bastard called himself Nightwing – the same persona from that tragic, Starfire-less alternate future Kori had accidentally visited. He quietly slipped away, leaving us no way to reach him, very healthily dealing with his grief by beating up criminals in Gotham’s sister city of Blüdhaven.

Cyborg tried to lead us, after Dick left. And he wasn’t bad at it, by any means, but...well, he’d had a taste of leadership before, with the short-lived Titans East team, and he knew it wasn’t for him. Robin’s absence didn’t change that – if anything, without the rivalry, he enjoyed it even less – and so he, too left the team. He took up the Justice League’s long-standing offer to join up – to be a part of something bigger. Things were very tense in the Tower, when he announced his departure. Garfield didn’t see it as an opportunity to grow and develop, but rather an abandonment of duty – not just to the people of Jump City, but to his friends, as well.

I couldn’t exactly blame him for breaking things off with me when I announced I was leaving, too.

I don’t regret it. I know some people hated us being together, but it was good, for a time. He was sweet, goofy, and genuinely cared. He knew when to stop and let me breathe, and when to push my boundaries, to help me explore things my earlier, emotionally-stunted self couldn’t fathom experiencing. I might’ve seen a future with him, but...by ourselves, we started going back to our old ways. Thinking himself abandoned, Gar’s insecurities came back with a vengeance.

And me? Well, eleventh hour snow-white costume change or not, I was still His daughter. I feared that, without the others around to keep me in check, an outburst of Rage could prove too much for Gar to help me deal with alone. I was terrified of what I could do if I slipped too far – I had, after all, caused the end of the world once.

I know it wasn’t fair of me. Not only did I fail to trust myself, I failed to trust Garfield. I tried to fix things by offering him a place beside me, as I took a sabbatical of sorts to travel the world as a civilian – no powers, no heroic feats, just some time to really try and find myself in a life and world no longer under my father’s shadow.

He didn’t take it.

So I left, travelling all the way to Blüdhaven, searching the shadows for the friend I knew I’d find within. Dick was quick to greet me, though perhaps not so keen to see me – even though we met in darkness, he didn’t want his new enemies to link his past as Robin to his present as Nightwing. I wisely chose not to tease his Batman-like paranoia – even if the Titans were really only well known in California, there was always the chance that someone might connect the dots.

I asked for something relatively simple; a name, and a life. Something that could get me around the world without attracting too much attention. Probably a difficult task for a regular, run of the mill forger – I didn’t exactly come to Earth with a social security number – but this was Batman’s son. A quick trip to his base and a glamour charm of my own creation were enough to turn Raven, half-demon teen superhero into Rachel Roth, unassuming book nerd.

Dick gave me something of an allowance – several thousand dollars a week, plus paying for my airfare whenever he could get away with it – which I was somewhat uncomfortable with, but didn’t try to argue against. Mooching off Bruce Wayne was still something of a hobby to him, and I didn’t exactly have a job.

It took over a year, but I had my fill of experiences. Knowledge, food, books, and just...people – an enormous, diverse sample of all that humankind had to offer. It reminded me of why I’d chosen the path of a hero, upon arrival – the sheer variety of attitudes, identities, and personalities, of lives, all worth preserving. I’d both condemned and saved every single one I’d met, but only in meeting so many of them did I truly appreciate the magnitude of my deeds as a Titan – and the responsibility I had to take in holding the reigns of my vast power. Depending on the others for help, while nice, was something of a crutch – one I decided to let go of.

Feeling myself stabilized, and comfortable enough with control over my powers not to endanger everyone around me, I came back. By then, however, Titans Tower was empty.

I tried to find Garfield, but he didn’t want to be found. Alone in protecting the city, he’d turned to a more traditional approach to vigilantism – which is to say, he patrolled at random, out of an unknown base. I stayed in town for a week, but I never saw him. Maybe I didn’t search thoroughly enough.

Maybe I was afraid of what would happen if I found him.

After that, I found myself in Seattle; I suppose I was drawn in by its typical grey skies, cool air, and frequent rainfall. The cultural scene helped, of course. I was surprised to find Dick there upon my arrival, asking if I’d stay.

When I said yes, he dropped a bundle of keys, a phone, and a photograph – the Teen Titans a couple years back, after Trigon and before Starfire’s departure. He gave me a hug, and wished me good luck before jumping out the window of my hotel room. The keys led me to downtown Seattle, where a rustic, two story building stood. Inside, rows upon rows of books gave away what Dick’s gift really was: a bookstore prepped for business, and a cozy apartment right above. I might’ve shared a tear or two, just thinking about the sheer change in circumstances since I’d first arrived on this world; from sole survivor of the Azarathian Armageddon, to teen crime-fighter, to having this blank canvas ahead of me.

The two years since have been incredible. Whether by design (aka sneaky Grayson influence) or good fortune, the White Raven bloomed. I added the whole teashop angle by myself, deciding it was a good match. My strict ‘no coffee’ policy kind of confused my clients, but it also made the shop a bit more unique, and before long, I was thinking more about employees, new flavors, and scoring new book releases than my past as a superhero.

I brewed tea. I sold books. I made new friends.

Like all good things, it couldn’t last.

Chapter Text

It all started with a tabby cat.

Granted, it was about twice as large as a common tabby, and its fur was the color of fresh blood, but still. Not exactly a glamorous start to the odyssey.

It was a quiet evening, the White Raven calm and mostly empty. Closing time was five minutes away, if that, and the last straggler had just handed me their teacup and left. Bella, my sole employee and best friend in town, was sweeping the floor while I enjoyed the last dregs of my own cup, and strong-armed my way through the final pages of the final book in the Twilight saga.

“So, has it gotten any better?” –Bella asked, raising an eyebrow. “Or does my namesake continue to make the dumbest choices imaginable?”

I snorted. “It’s gotten...weirder. Props where they’re due, ending a book is always hard – and a saga is even harder – but I have to say, I did not see the werewolf falling for the half-vampire baby.”

Bella blinked, entirely confused. “Remind me, why are you subjecting yourself to this?”

“I like reading everything I sell – even if it’s ten years old and kinda trashy.” –she shrugged. “Besides, I never got a chance to read this when I was younger. My teen years were...busy.”

“And still, you never wanna talk about them.” –she noted.

I hummed, noncommittally. “Rather not, no.” –I said.

She shook her head, as usual. “Anyway, there’s this jazz night thing I thought sounded nice down the street. You...wanna come with?”

I looked up – she was doing it again, tucking a lock of hair behind her ear, a telltale sign of her working up the courage to ask me out. Not that I needed it, of course, being an empath – she radiated hope, anxiousness, and that horrible fear of rejection – but I preferred to keep up appearances. I was flattered by her innocent crush, but I was unfortunately not looking to date anytime soon. “Sounds nice.” –I said. “Not tonight, though. I’m turning in early. Maybe next week.”

I could feel her disappointment, but there was some hope in there, too. I’d be lying if I said I didn’t share a little of it. It’d be nice, after the way things ended with Garfield.

“Okay. I’ll hold you to that, dude.” –she said, awkwardly holding onto the broom. She then realized this, and hurriedly left it against the wall, where it promptly started to slide down into the ground. A tiny flicker of my power kept it in place, so as to save her the embarrassment of having to pick it back up. She then nodded at the novel between my hands. “Enjoy your book, Rach.”

“Something tells me I’ll be better served by the fanfiction.” –I said, sarcastic, then offered a small smile. “See you tomorrow.”

My sole employee giggled and waved goodbye, closing the store behind her. As always, I felt the temptation of using my powers to put everything back where it belongs – chairs, tables, books, and cups alike – but I reminded myself of the commitment I’d made. It was a good half hour until the White Raven was squared away and ready for the next day’s business.

My pre-sleep ritual consisted of about fifteen minutes of high intensity training – just enough to stay in  moderately acceptable fighting shape, per Dick’s suggestion – a quick shower, half an hour’s meditation, and another half spent reading whatever book I’d chosen for the night. Couldn’t exactly recommend anything I hadn’t read in good conscience, after all.

No sooner had I settled on my bed, did the caterwauling begin. Cats weren’t exactly an uncommon sight around my store – along with spiders and corvids, cats were among the animals that were naturally drawn to me – so I paid it little mind, for a while.

Still, the cat was determined; it refused to stop his calls, and then began knocking some loose tiles around, until one of them fell to the ground with a resounding crack.

I wasn’t equipped with the patience to just let chaos ensue for the rest of the night, so I went outside, broom in hand. The cat looked at me with curious, inquisitive eyes, which I expected. What I did not expect, however, was the pupil-less red eyes, and the unique coloring its fur had.

The cat was a record breaker, larger than any I’d seen before. Its fur was various shades of crimson, from a light auburn to a deep maroon. It locked eyes with me, its ruby gaze disturbingly intelligent, for about two seconds. Then, it bolted inside the house. I followed after a brief moment of shock, my eyes glowing white before remembering I was a civilian, and thus not supposed to glow supernaturally.

I didn’t expect to find Garfield Logan there, turning from red to green before my very eyes. He looked at me expectantly, though he looked much more tired and haggard than I remembered him. He sat, draped across my sofa, clutching his right side, grimacing at some hidden pain. He gave me a small smile, probably amused that I was more or less gawking at his unexpected presence.

I recovered soon enough. “You must be the bane of the colorblind.” –I said, drily.

Gar barked a gasping laugh, though it quickly stopped, eliciting a wince. “Damn it, Rae, I’m pretty sure my insides are purée right now. Didn’t your momma ever tell you not to make a wounded man laugh?”

“She did not. Too busy being horribly murdered by an interdimensional demon.” –I answered, curtly. “And it’s Rachel, now. Not Raven, or ‘Rae’.” –I added. The guy was getting dirt all over my lounge, after all.

“Right. Sorry. We’re not there yet, got it.” –he muttered. “So, you’re a civvie now, huh?”

I sighed, then nodded. “Welcome to the White Raven, Garfield.”

“Yeah, I saw the sign. It’s pretty cool. Books, tea...the whole thing suits you. Far cry from your usual décor, though. This place looks nothing like your old room at the Tower. Not even a cursed mirror for your patrons to stumble through.”

“My mirror is not cursed, it’s enchanted.” –I sneered. “But I suppose you’re right. I didn’t want anyone to see me and my business and immediately think ‘Raven’. I chose to leave that life behind – or at least, I thought I did, anyway.” –I said, staring pointedly at him.

Garfield put his hands up in surrender. “Listen, I’m sorry. I know I shouldn’t drop in out of nowhere, but I didn’t really have a choice. Things are...bad, right now.”

I crossed my arms. “Really, now? Because it seems to me like hopping  a couple states over to find a retired superhero instead of going to, I don’t know, anyone else is definitely some kind of choice.”

He snorted. “Well, you’re not wrong. It helped that I got to meet back up with my friend again.” –he said. “I missed you, y’know?”

I sighed. “Right...”

“Hey, it’s alright. I get it, I couldn’t see past my own nose, so you left. I can understand that, and I’m glad you found yourself. But I do need your help.” –he said, almost pleadingly.

“If I were going to say no, you’d be back in Jump already.” –I noted. “Tell me.”

“Right. So...how up to date are you on the whole ‘missing metas’ deal? Did Dick mention anything?” –he asked.

“Not very.” –I admitted. “And no, he didn’t. I know the Reach abducted some a couple years back. I know there’s some buzz in Markovia about metahuman rights. That’s about it.”

“It’s funny you should say that.” –he said. “Heroes have been disappearing, Raven. Not the big ones, of course. The small timers, the younger ones. The sidekicks, if you will. And it started with Terra.”

I frowned. “I heard. Her...statue went missing.”

“You mean her corpse.” –he said, darkly. He pulled up a sort of puck from his utility belt and handed it over. Sure enough, Slade’s insignia was inscribed on one side. The other was cracked, and bloody, likely ripped from the bio-harness she wore on her chest. “This is all I could find of her. No sign of her, not even a trace of her weird...mummy outfit.”

“This blood, its...fresh.” –I noted, disturbed.

He grabbed it back and pocketed it, nodding. “I had it scanned by Cy. Had a hell of a time finding the guy, now that he’s in the Big Leagues. It’s definitely her blood – even has some broken nanites mixed in. And that’s not even the most disturbing news.”

Beast Boy took out a disc, reminiscent of our old Communicators, only much sleeker and likely a lot more advanced. He pressed its surface, and light burst from it in the form of a hologram. I didn’t recognize every single face, but I knew enough of them to pale in surprise.

“I thought you said they went missing, Beast Boy. These kids are dead.” –I said, glowering at the familiar faces. In order, they were Dick’s successor as Robin, Jason Todd, a redheaded Atlantean girl I didn’t recognize, Kid Flash, and Terra.

“That’s where things get weird.” –he said, then started reading some of the attached notes. “Jason died in 2011, killed by the Joker. No body – and sure, he died in a warehouse explosion, that’s not too surprising. Terra died in 2012. Her body became a petrified statue we were never able to revive, and then goes missing, six years later, complete with evidence that she might not be dead after all. Aquagirl died in 2015, killed by an alien weapon called Tiamat. Aqualad and Tempest claimed there was a body, but they weren’t able to recover it, much less identify it. Kid Flash died in 2016, killed by one of the Reach’s doomsday devices – and get this, he just vanished. No body at all.”

I hummed. “I get it, they’re all rather strange circumstances.” –I pursed my lips. “But Gar, that’s par for the course in our line of work. We were always more likely to die at the hands of, say, a monster made out of concrete than some crook with a gun.”

He nodded. “That’s a fair argument, but I’m not done.” –he said. “Because Cadmus personnel or allies were seen at or near the site of every single one of these deaths.”

I frowned. “Cadmus? The think-tank?”

“That’s just a front, Raven. What they really are is a bioweapons manufacturer and research organization for this powerful cabal of supervillains called the Light.”

Memories not my own came, unbidden, at the mention of this shadowy group. Some of Dick’s memories still remained in my subconscious from that time I mind-melded with him. “I thought Dick’s old team defeated them.”

“You know supervillains, Rae. It didn’t stick.” –he shrugged. “In any case, we would’ve never put two and two together if they hadn’t re-abducted Roy Harper, the original Speedy, late last year. Nightwing looked into it, and started noticing those little connections.”

“He never mentioned anything.”

“Probably because he’s gone missing, too.”

I blinked. “I’m sorry, what? Dick disappeared, and nobody told me?”

He winced. “It hasn’t been too long – a month, just about. Most of the League is convinced he’s just undercover – Batman has been known to do that kind of thing before, after all – but Batman himself thinks something’s gone wrong. He’s on the trail of this potentially massive conspiracy and suddenly goes off the grid without letting anyone know?”

I snorted. “To be fair, that does sound like him.”

“It sounds like Robin, circa 2011. He isn’t like that, not anymore.”

My hand went up to my forehead. Though invisible, the jewel embedded there hadn’t gone anywhere. “So, what’s the theory, then? Am I to assume Cadmus stole their bodies? For what? And what’s this about a team?”

He was about to answer, when suddenly, a crossbow bolt whizzed by my head and pierced his chest.

Chapter Text

Word to the wise: it’s rather rude to shoot someone mid-conversation. Especially if the person you didn’t hit has a temper, and more power than she knows what to do with.

My powers lashed out almost immediately after Garfield was thrown backwards onto the floor, groaning as he fell. I must’ve hit someone, because I could hear a number of groans behind me. I dove to Garfield’s side, standing over him protectively, and conjured a shield between us and the attackers.

I was mildly impressed with myself; I’d pegged the projectile as a crossbow bolt perfectly, judging by the weapon held by the lead assassin. He was young, a redhead though his hair was neatly buzzed, barely peeking out from his scalp. His right arm was metallic, presumably mechanical up to his bicep, and the left held a compact, collapsible crossbow. Around him, two men and two women stood back up, recovering from my instinctual attack. I vaguely recognized their somewhat anachronistic attire – they were enveloped in flowing robes and leather armor, and wielded swords and wooden bows, as members of the League of Shadows were wont to.

For a moment, I cursed Garfield; he’d led his pursuers right to me, blowing my cover and putting everything I’d worked towards building here at risk. The sentiment blew over quickly, though, as his pained moaning reminded me of my priorities.

“Step away from the changeling.” –the redhead commanded. The voice seemed familiar, but not to me – it was actually a voice I remembered from delving into Dick’s memories back in the day.

“Speedy.” –I said, only about fifty percent sure of the name. “What the hell do you think you’re doing?”

“The name is Arsenal, witch.” –he said, though it lacked the venom I’d expected. “And our business here is none of yours.”

I scoffed. “Trying to murder my friend in my living room seems like it’s my business.” –I said, sardonically. Gar’s life force beneath me started to decline, so I knew to hurry along. “So, try again.”

“He’s already dead, we just need the body.” –he said, nonchalant. “Walk away, and we’ll leave this place standing.”

“Not an option.” –I ground out.

He was about to respond, when he suddenly tapped his ear, presumably receiving new information. He smirked, then, and pointed his crossbow at my head. “I guess it isn’t. New plan, Raven; come with us, and we’ll let the shapeshifter live.”

“Oh, I thought he was already dead.”

Arsenal shrugged. “He will be, in a few minutes. Same difference, unless you stand down and come with.”

“Guess I should stop wasting time, then.” –I said, and thrust my hand out.

I may have tried my best to keep up appearances, and thus the use of my powers to a minimum, but I figured it couldn’t hurt to keep a few safeguards in place, in case anyone ever figured out who Rachel Roth had been before. I’d placed customized wards as traps, in case anyone with ill intent came in – they should’ve activated on their own, but I guess Garfield’s presence had kept them dormant.

That was easily fixed.

“Azarath, Metrion, Zinthos!” –I yelled, and the wards flared to life, massive raven talons sprouting from the walls, grabbing and holding down the League assassins against the ceiling and floor. Arsenal’s metal hand morphed into a pronged barrel, glowed crimson, and shot some kind of energy beam, but my barrier held.

If I was by myself, I could’ve done this all day, but I could feel Gar’s life force slipping away at an alarming rate. On top of that, I could feel Rage start to gnaw at my psyche – my annoyance mounting, as the consequences to my life became all too apparent. I needed out, and quickly.

My astral form was projected, engulfing everyone in the house and transporting us away – not just from Earth, but from our entire dimension. I chose Azarath as the destination, knowing all too well that there’d be no one to hurt there.

Garfield was unconscious, and the dimensional travel didn’t affect me, but the other five were clearly disoriented. I pushed one of the assassins through a marble column, and flung the other against a broken fountain. Then I turned to face the former sidekick, just in time to block another crossbow bolt.

“Where the hell are we?” –he demanded.

“My own little version of Hell.” –I said, bitterly. “I hope you enjoy it, because I don’t have time to enjoy dealing with you.”

Before he could fully process what I meant, I transported Garfield and myself back to Earth.

Healing was oddly easy for me.

It was a delicate process, to be sure – pouring the boundless power of my soul onto someone’s physical body, gently coaxing the flesh to knit back together in a way resembling the natural healing process, accelerated tenfold. The monks of Azar had often joked about it – who could’ve ever imagined Trigon’s daughter would be good at something so opposed to his brand of death and hellfire?

At any rate, I was fairly confident in my work. Considering who my patient was, however, I’ll admit I was somewhat afraid of messing anything up.

I sighed as I stared at Gar’s sweat-covered face, his features contorted in unconscious pain. It’d been far too long since I’d last seen his massive, fanged grin, his obnoxiously wiggling eyebrows. His pointed ears, such snitches for his mood, betraying the pain and loneliness he tried to hide behind laughter. It hadn’t been intentional, of course, but we’d all, in our own way, abandoned him. True, he’d willingly chosen not to join any of us on our new journeys, but none of us had exactly insisted that he do so.

For better or worse, I promised myself I wouldn’t do that to him again. I wasn’t sure what to do next – even the lack of follow-up attempts on our lives was confusing, knowing the League’s doggedness when it came to their targets – but it was clear that my time at the White Raven was at an end, perhaps for good.

It was hard, coming to terms with leaving. The White Raven had given me comfort, happiness, and anonymity. Sure, I’d had my fans, back in the day, but I’d never been the most popular Titan – most of the time, and especially after, y’know, the apocalypse, I was fifth out of five. I was a grey-skinned half demon shut-in at the best of times; the sneers and double-takes had never stopped until I started wearing the glamour charm. I’d made friends here – was even someone’s crush, all on my own merits. I loved being part of the Titans, of course, but those relationships had been born out of necessity, out of a shared sense of otherness.

It was...nice, not being an outcast for a while. I don’t know that I liked what that said about me.

Back in my present conundrum, I pondered what the best course of action would be. Seeking asylum from the Justice League was a no-go; they’d never approved of the Titans to begin with, anyway, and most of them full-on hated my guts for letting Trigon kill everyone.

Justified, I suppose.

Dick had once assured me that Batman would take me in, if necessary – and sure, he seemed the type, considering he was three Robins in – but I wasn’t keen on leaning on the Dark Knight for help. I’d only met him after reversing Trigon’s destruction, and he hadn’t exactly been a fan. Plus, from Dick’s memories, I knew him to be a very harsh man, even to his loved ones.

Garfield had mentioned Cyborg, though: I’d mostly fallen out of contact with him after his acceptance into the League – each of us occupied with our wildly different but equally busy career paths – but we were like siblings, and I knew the distance hadn’t changed that. Barring a last minute appearance from Dick, it looked like Victor would be the man to find.

That the left the matter of how to find him. Gar mentioned they’d been in contact, so I rummaged through his pockets and found a phone that definitely looked like a burner. My tech skills were a bit subpar at the best of times, but even I couldn’t miss the single number on the contact list, registered to ‘Cy’.

Taking a deep breath, I pressed ‘call’.

Chapter Text

A hot shower in Cyborg’s guest bathroom at his home in the suburbs of Detroit later, I stood in front of the mirror, wearing nothing but my glamour charm as I looked at myself – truly looked at myself, for the first time in years.

I’ll admit, I hesitated; I’d gotten used to my warm skin tone and the short brown hair. It was normal, in a way I never could’ve managed without, no matter how much I tried to adjust to life on this world that my late mother remembered so fondly, despite the horrific circumstances she left it in.

Cyborg’s single raised eyebrow upon meeting him again had been very clear, however: this wasn’t truly me, no matter how much I had attempted to make it so. I took the glamour charm off, seeing rather than feeling as the pale, ashen gray of my half-demonic skin returned, my hair turning an unnatural, dark purple. I uncertainly met my own gaze as my irises, too, changed from a dull green to a vivid lilac.

Raven was coming back. Whether or not that was for the best, I still didn’t know.

I didn’t quite feel ready to try on my old leotard and hooded cape – which I’d foolishly brought, even though I was almost certain I wouldn’t fit in them anymore, and I wasn’t all that keen on showcasing my naked thigs and half my ass to the world these days – so I opted for some casual clothes instead. I took a deep breath, and headed out to talk with the man I considered to be the closest thing I had to an older brother.

I found him in his living room, a cable snaking out of his left arm and plugged into his enormous television, reviewing what little data he’d been able to gather on Garfield’s case. Cyborg was looking very well – better adjusted than Garfield or myself, to be sure, as the Leaguer he so deserved to be. He’d replaced the sort of transparent-looking blue armor pieces with silver ones, keeping the blue only as thin highlights all over his armor. It gave him a more mature and serious air – even if he did look rather out of place in the middle of his two bedroom apartment.

“Hey, Raven.” –he greeted. “Grass Stain’s looking nice and stable. And you’re looking like you again.” –he said, with an easy smirk.

I raised an eyebrow. “Good. If an arrow did him in, I’d never let him live it down.”

He chuckled. “I know, right? Little fella beats the crap out of Slade back in the day and Speedy’s gonna take him down? No way.”

I offered a small smile. “I take it you know everything he’s been up to, then.”

He sighed. “The whole damn League does. Arsenal disappeared a while back – of course Green Arrow is going nuts worrying about him.”

“Well, he’s not gonna find him anytime soon.” –I said quietly.

Cyborg’s single human eye blinked. “What, uh…what did you do to him?” –he asked, clearly apprehensive.

I rolled my eyes. “Relax. The former sidekick lives, for now. I’ve trapped him in the realm of Azarath.”

He snorted, trying to hide his relief. “Right. I guess an interdimensional timeout is just what the doctor ordered.”

I scoffed. “He deserved a lot more. I was feeling merciful, on account of my former boyfriend dying in my arms.”

Cyborg shook his head, crossing his enormous arms. “I don’t know what’s more disturbing: you talking about murking an eighteen year-old so nonchalant or admitting to dating the Tofu Kid.”

My patented Death Glare made an appearance as my only response, Cyborg raising his hands in defeat. “Sorry. Force of habit.”

I took a deep, calming breath. “Anyway. We need help.”

“Well, you already have me on board; I’m on leave from the League right now, and even if I wasn’t, Titan business takes precedence.” –he said, giving me a thumbs-up.

“They know that? Or is that just your rebellious streak showing?”

He shrugged, which I’ll admit looked kind of hilarious with his rather ample armored shoulders. “Bit of both, I guess. The League still respects what we achieved as the Titans, even if they never liked us being autonomous – y’know, as much as we ever could be on Robin’s dime.”

“You mean Batman’s dime – which is to say, not as much as we thought.” –I said. “What about him? Have you had any contact with Dick lately?”

A brief shadow passed through what little remained of his human visage. “Not since he lost the cape. Far as I know, you’re the lucky one on that front, if what you just told me is true.” –he admitted. I’d given him the cliff notes on my life as a regular person while we waited for Gar to pull through; needless to say, he’d been way too amused for the situation at hand.

I sighed. “Don’t remind me. I miss my civilian life already.”

Cyborg seemed skeptical about this. “Is that right? Are you telling me you prefer running a book shop to saving the world on a regular basis?”

I turned away for a second. I knew him well enough to know he wasn’t trying to guilt trip me or anything – genuine curiosity, instead, from a man who’d never stopped being a hero – but his question echoed my own doubts, regardless. “I wouldn’t turn my back on Earth, should it ever truly need me again.” –I said, after a moment’s deliberation. “But…I liked not being needed. Liked getting to be someone other than the unlikely half-demon heroine, for a change.”

“Fair enough. Still, I don’t think denying who you are is very healthy – and believe me, I know all about denial. Maybe who you are is not a Titan anymore, but you couldn’t get me to believe you’re not a heroine at your core.” –he mused.

I rolled my eyes. “Right. The little she-demon that could.”

“You know it’s more than that.”

“I don’t know, Cyborg. Maybe all of that’s best left in the past. The closest I’ve come to fighting the good fight was stopping a man who tried robbing my store at gunpoint.”

Cyborg gasped amusedly. “No way. What’d you do to him? And did it leave a body?”

I smirked. “None of that. I just disarmed him and flipped him through a table. Had him pay for the table afterwards.”

Victor cackled. “Oh, man. Wish I could’ve seen that.”

“I’m sure someone took video of it.” –I said. Then I sighed. “Just what are we gonna do, Cyborg? Where do we even start, just the two of us? Star is light years away, Dick is missing, Garfield is down…and knowing their opinion of me, I’m sure we can expect no help from the Justice League.”

“Don’t be so sure, Raven; I might’ve made a few calls while you showered. C’mon, follow me.”

I narrowed my eyes, but did as he asked. He led the way with half-a-ton steps down to his basement, where I spotted a covered washing machine, a sizable workstation framed by racks of tools I couldn’t make much sense of, and a large, square metal panel, twice as tall and thrice as wide as I was.

He pressed a few buttons and it slid open, revealing a cylindrical metal tunnel dug into the wall. It began to spin, and the air within it became charged with glowing yellow particles – it felt strangely familiar, but I couldn’t place why.

“Recognized: Batman-02.” –the panel Cyborg was operating chimed with an artificial female voice. The yellow particles coalesced around a pair of tall figures, and the glow around the first swiftly subsided.

There are few words appropriate to describe being in the presence of the Batman. Logically, I knew he was simply a man – though one who’d trained himself to the absolute peak of human ability, clothed himself in billions of dollars’ worth of advanced protective tech, and probably had a greater IQ than the combined intelligence of half the League, of course – but still, I couldn’t help but feel a sort of ever-present dread.

It was amusing, in a way. I’d been sired by the cosmic equivalent of Satan himself, and this rich jerk dressed like a bat was somehow more intimidating.

The Dark Knight of Gotham strode out in all his dark glory, his body completely hidden by a pitch-black cape – even his eyes were covered by white lenses, the same kind of tech that Dick as Robin and then Nightwing had used for the domino masks that (somehow) concealed his identity. Only his mouth and well-shaven cheeks betrayed the presence of a real, flesh and blood human under the suit, as even his chin was covered by some kind of protective guard.

The machine kept spinning as the second figure was transported. “Batgirl-B16.” –the machine said, and slowed down to a stop just a moment later.

Batman was joined then by a young woman, around my own age, wearing a similar cowl and uniform to his. A long mane of bright auburn hair protruded from the back of her helmet, and unlike the other Bats, her blue eyes remained uncovered. I knew who she was already, of course: Barbara Gordon, daughter of Gotham’s Police Commissioner, and one of Dick’s oldest friends. I could feel her glare boring through my skull – a clear reminder that, twenty or so years old or not, she was still very much one of the Dark Knight’s protégés, and as such, a force to be reckoned with.

“Batman. Thank you for coming.” –said Cyborg, unconsciously standing a little straighter.

The Caped Crusader gave him the barest of nods, then he turned to me. “Rachel Roth?” –he asked.

“…Raven will do.” –I said, holding his gaze. It came out a bit testy, which I suppose was a result of how uncertain I felt about his involvement.

He narrowed his eyes for a second, then he turned towards the machine’s panel, Cyborg following along for some conversation not meant for unholy non-Leaguer ears, I imagined.

Unfortunately, that left me alone with Batgirl.

“You know who we are, don’t you?” –she asked, in a way that screamed ‘secret identity business’.

“What if I do?” –I said, flippant.

She crossed her arms. “We care about him too, you know. He might’ve spent his golden years in Jump, but he was his son and my friend before he was ever a Teen Titan.”

“Seems awfully arrogant of you.”

“So is your scowl.” –she countered, and then pinched the bridge of her nose, clearly trying to simmer down. “Look: we know you don’t like us. You met Robin at a time when tensions between him and Batman were at an all-time high, and I’m sure that’s colored your perception of the rest of us to this day. But whatever he might’ve told you, or…shown you through whatever magical memory sharing bullshit you can do, you only got his side of the story – and that story is in the past. The only thing that matters right now is that Nightwing is missing. He’s our family, too, and we’re helping you whether you like it or not, so how about you quit it with the glare so we can get to work?”

I’ll admit, I was a bit incensed, but…she was right to say we had more pressing matters to attend to. Regardless, Batman chose that moment to step in. “If you two are quite done, we need to get going.” –he said, his voice low but his tone brokering no arguments, then he looked at me. “You’ll want to look the part, where we’re going.” –he said, then produced a small package from the back of his utility belt, and handed it to me.

“It’s a WayneTech design. Nightwing helped design it not long before he disappeared.” –Batgirl explained. “…I guess he saw you getting back into the fray sooner rather than later.”

Before I could protest, Batman dismissed me with his legendary squint. “Change quickly. We leave in ten.”

For the second time that day, I found myself staring at my reflection, trying to recognize the woman staring back.

The suit was certainly a departure from my original costume, though it still took inspiration from it, mainly notable in the cloak and torso piece. It was still shaped like a long-sleeved leotard – and I’ll admit, I felt a great deal of relief that it wasn’t some sort of cleavage showcasing corset the way some heroines preferred to wear their suits, very much not my style – but the material was, of course, no longer simple Azarathian cotton. The fabric had the same kind of flexible padding I’d noticed on Batgirl’s suit, some sort of composite Kevlar-based mesh, completely bulletproof and fire retardant – neither of which I needed, to be honest, thanks to my dense demonic skin, but I suppose the thought was appreciated. It still very much hugged my figure – perhaps a little inappropriate when I was younger, in retrospect, but very flattering and striking now, as an adult.

The hood on my cape still had that pronounced point, giving me that vague avian silhouette, though the garment itself felt a little heavier – probably similarly resistant as the torso piece. Gone were the elf-like shoes I’d brought from Azarath, replaced with knee-length combat boots. My legs were no longer exposed, covered in a lighter version of the leotard’s material, a light shade of grayish violet compared to the near-black purple of the torso and hooded cape.

There were a few ancillary components, but I didn’t pay much attention to those – only at my reflection, and the growing dread, piece by equipped piece of the new uniform, at the prospect of returning to the life I’d left behind. At the end of the day, I knew I had little choice. Garfield had been almost killed right in front of me, Dick was nowhere to be found, and…well, as Cyborg had said, at my core, I was still a heroine.

I wondered, looking down at my new suit, for just how long Dick had known I’d be putting on a costume again. Not wanting to keep the Bats waiting, I stepped out of the bathroom, and walked towards the Zeta tube in the basement. No hesitation, now.

Raven was back.

Chapter Text

He’d only ever heard about Azarath once, ages ago. The legend of a promised land, far, far away – a veritable paradise for the sick and wounded, for the lonely and bereft, where they could feel welcome and safe amidst the kindly monks of Azar.

What a waste of good magic.

At least it was mostly rubble, now, its inhabitants long since dead. He could feel the subdued healing energies shy away from him, while the lingering demonic wrath that had burned this place to the ground clung to him in some form of familiarity. A thousand ethereal voices murmured all around him, calling to him, vying for his attention; in truth, they scared him, if only a little, as they told him of a being whom even him, Klarion, Lord of Chaos, could never hope to equal.

That the child had managed to destroy him was…unthinkable. He needed to confront her, test her…but not yet. There was still, as ever, work to be done.

The puppet was there, still unconscious after his run-in with the she-demon. Interestingly enough, the ninjas beside him were most definitely dead; it surprised him, somewhat, that the witch had not spared the mercy to let them live. It betrayed her current state of mind – shocked, angered…and maybe a little arrogant. Whether her hubris was justified or not, they’d find out before too long.

His familiar hopped atop the puppet’s chest, curious. “Teekl! We do not walk all over a perfectly good little meat puppet.” –he chided, sternly. “You’ll get hair all over it.”

The cat-like creature seemed to pout, but obediently jumped off. He took a step forward, but faltered, his presence in this realm momentarily interrupted. Trans-dimensional travel was beyond him, was the thing – beyond most beings in the Multiverse, at least without some very specific kinds of magic and technology that appeared not to exist at all in this particular dimension. He could feel this plane of existence actively rejecting him, even with Teekl as an anchor; the familiar was sufficient on Earth because the Realm of Chaos existed as part of the fabric of their universe, but Azarath existed in the void between dimensions. The only reason he could even make the trip was the locator spell he placed on the mortal beneath him; without it, he would never have been able to cross into this realm. In fact, once he returned to Earth, he wouldn’t be able to repeat this achievement.

It’s what made the she-demon so special; her old man had custom-made her to be a key into other dimensions, that he could then conquer and devour. No one else in the known universe could do it, and so the Light was in the unfortunate position of requiring her...cooperation.

He flicked a bit of crimson magic at the corpses with a wicked smile. A calling card, if you would, for whenever the she-demon deigned to return to this wretched silent realm full of dead goody-goodies. Klarion then grabbed onto the unconscious puppet, and let go of his grip on this world, returning to the merry little playground they called the Earth.

I learned two things as soon as I stepped out of the Zeta beam teleporter; the first was that it felt like every damn cell in my body had disintegrated for the nanosecond that the trip lasted – an uncomfortable reminder of the time I’d actually died, becoming Father’s portal.

The second thing I learned was that we were no longer on Earth, but rather above it.

The Watchtower was a well-kept secret; only the highest echelons of a handful of the most powerful governments even knew it existed, and only the current members of the Justice League had access to it. The general population had zero clue that a fully armed and operational battle station hovered above their heads at all times – and I doubt they’d be too keen on finding out, even if their guns were pointed strictly away from the planet.

Having been the last to go through – and almost collapsing as I did – I immediately got caught and stabilized by Batgirl, who raised an eyebrow at me.

“Magic user, right? –she asked, just a bit smug, as she obviously knew that I was. I gave her a slightly shaky nod regardless, too shaken for conflict. “Yeah, your kind usually feels some mild discomfort when they first go through a Zeta tube. Now that you’ve been here, though, you should be able to teleport on your own instead.”

I wouldn’t call it ‘mild discomfort’ in a million years. “I can sense the wards around the space station, Batgirl. If I tried to portal in or out of here, I’d get flung to the other side of the cosmos – and not necessarily in one piece.”

“Doctor Fate will add you to the approved guest list shortly.” –Batman said.

I sneered. “Last I checked, he didn’t like me very much.”

“Rae, we let Constantine through; I think Fate can make an exception for you.” –Cyborg says, amused.

Victor rushed off, presumably to coordinate Garfield’s transport and medical attention here. The Dark Knight turned, and Batgirl nodded for me to join them; the billionaire led us through a series of wide corridors, in which I saw some familiar – and, of course, legendary – faces. Everywhere I turned, I found superheroes, in and out of their iconic suits – Black Canary, Red Tornado, Vixen, Mister Terrific, Zatanna, they all nodded respectfully at Batman and Batgirl as we passed.

…and they all glared at me, of course, or avoided my gaze like the plague. As I’d figured, the Justice League still hated me.

I remembered when I’d first stumbled out of an interdimensional portal onto Earth, fleeing from my Father’s burning wrath. I knew so very little about the planet, of course – Arella had never been one to talk much about her years as an Earthling, and the monks of Azarath had lived in their secluded paradise for so long that they could no longer remember what their homeworld had ever been like.

My portal had dropped me off on the outskirts of Metropolis, leaving me with nothing but the ragged, charred robes on my body and a desperate desire to hide myself away. Even then, I could feel the altar I’d eventually summon Father through, built by the cult that had seduced my mother – calling to me, reminding me of the purpose of my birth. I don’t know what resonated the most; my portal’s magical energy, or the demonic aura I was surely giving off, but what became immediately apparent is that I drew a lot of attention.

Superman was the first to arrive. My first glimpse of a superhero was also the greatest of them all, his kind, almost heavenly visage marred by nothing but genuine concern – not for what I might have come to Earth to do, but from how I probably looked to him, hurt and destitute like a refugee from some war-torn nation. Despite his alien heritage, I could sense his worry as clearly as anyone else’s – but what I couldn’t detect was fear, as he asked me who I was, and why I’d come.

I told him the truth, of course – you just don’t lie to Superman’s face. He didn’t believe me, however – at least, not the part about me causing the end of the world.

Unfortunately, next came the magic users. Giovanni Zatara and Doctor Fate came in, spells blazing, all but ready to take me out before I could fulfill my intended purpose. Superman stopped them cold; I was only a fourteen year-old kid, in his eyes, completely undeserving of such treatment, regardless of my family tree. The sorcerers knew of Father, of course, and they tried to explain – even if they didn’t know about the prophecy or the circumstances of my birth, they’d correctly deduced that he could have no other purpose for siring an heir than to facilitate his conquest. I confirmed their suspicions, but the Last Son of Krypton remained resolute. Fate is not set in stone, he said. He couldn’t abide the punishment of an innocent – even if I might someday be guilty of the crimes they accused me of.

Once more, the sorcerers tried to convince Superman of the danger I heralded, but in the end, Kal-El’s words carried enough weight that they promised to leave me alone, provided I did everything I could to prevent my demonic heritage from flourishing, and stayed out of their sights.

…sometimes I wondered if Superman hated me now.

I wandered after that, which saw me stumbling into Jump City, and the rest is history. When I reverted the damage Father had caused, I expected the League to come and take me in – or, perhaps, out. Neither happened, though; Dick would later tell me that he’d personally filled Batman in on the situation, and the man had stopped the rest of the League from coming after me. Why, I’d never known. What I did know, is that the greatest heroes on Earth considered me extremely dangerous, and quite possibly the deadliest mass murderer in history.

The Bats led me to a large conference room, where a sizable group of young heroes awaited. I barely recognized half them – mostly some of the older faces, from Dick’s original team, and a couple of young heroes who’d popped up in the news, like Blue Beetle, but most of the younger ones were, at least to me, entirely unknown. There were a lot of them, maybe just shy of a couple dozen; I wasn’t exactly surprised, as I knew Dick had always kept a growing list of young superheroes with the potential to become Titans. It seemed to me like he’d finally acted on it after we’d disbanded and he returned to the Team.

The door closed behind us, and Batgirl joined her teammates, standing next to a blonde girl bearing a version of the Wonder Woman insignia on her chest. “Team, this is Raven. She is a former Teen Titan and a close friend of Nightwing’s, and she was recently attacked after Changeling made his way to her. Unfortunately, the encounter left him critically injured.” –Batman said, addressing the room.

Shock rippled through the people around them – it seemed like Gar had ingratiated himself well with the younger heroes. “What happened?” –Aqualad asked.

“A crossbow bolt to the chest.” –I said. “I…tended to him, as best I could.”

That got people’s attention. “Arsenal?” –Superboy asked, skeptical.

“Yes. As you might imagine, this is currently our best lead on the missing heroes front.” –Batman said.

Miss Martian was about to ask something when the door was kicked open, revealing a seriously pissed off Green Arrow. Unfortunately, that anger was currently manifesting as an arrow, pointed at my chest.

“WITCH!” –he bellowed. “What’ve you done with my boy!?”

To his credit, Batman immediately put himself in front of me – not that he needed to, since it seemed to be just a regular arrow, and thus harmless to me, but the thought was appreciated. “Stand down!” –he barked.

The archer stood his ground. “You’re gonna defend her? After everything she’s done?” –he asked, incredulous. “After leaving Roy to die!?”

His emotions nearly assaulted me in their honesty and intensity – contempt, rage, and of course, some genuine, desperate worry. He was deathly afraid for his former sidekick, and I couldn’t help but feel slightly sorry for him – even if he was all but threatening to kill me – so I stepped out from behind the Dark Knight and spoke. “Arsenal yet lives. I transported him to Azarath, my home dimension, where I left him along two of his fellow assassins. I can’t exactly vouch for their health, but Roy should be fine.”

His nostrils flared. “And you plan on, what, leaving him there to rot?”

I sighed, resisting the urge to roll my eyes. “Azarath may be rubble, but its magical properties survived through me; so long as he stays there, he will never want for anything. He will not age, or need any sustenance. I planned on getting him back, once I’d figured out what the hell’s going on.”

Batman turned to me. “We need him now, Raven. Brainwashed or not, he has information on our enemies, something we sorely lack at the moment.” –he said, then turned to Arrow. “Raven will lead a team and bring Roy back. You’ll see him as soon as we determine it to be safe; until then, stay put.”

The archer gritted his teeth and audibly growled, but ultimately tossed the arrow back in his quiver, slung his collapsible bow on his back, and stormed off. Batman looked at Miss Martian. “Pick your squad and retrieve Arsenal. Take him to the Warehouse for interrogation.” –he ordered. “The rest of you: be on alert. Rescuing Roy may provoke whoever abducted and brainwashed him to action.”

Batman walked off, Aqualad sparing a conflicted look for me before following after him. A handful of heroines joined Miss Martian as she walked up to me, a mixture of determination, wariness, and excitement coloring their minds. I only sighed to myself, and before they could protest, I raised a portal that swallowed us all.