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Chapter Text

A shadow had fallen upon Arkham. Not that anyone had noticed. Not the guards, or nurses, not the inmates, or even the Bats and Birds that nested in Gotham City. The shadow was smart after all. He had been taught by the best of the best and had come back home with an objective in mind.

It shouldn’t have been as easy as it was to break into one of the most secure places in Gotham. It was the place where the worst of the worst, the rogues of Batman, spent their days incarcerated. Yet, it had been so easy… maybe this was why Arkham was known to be a revolving door.

The shadow was as silent as death, as he entered the cell of the most infamous criminal to have ever roamed the streets of Gotham City. The shadow made sure to never allow the monster to realize he was there.

Joker did not deserve to breathe the same air as the shadow. He did not deserve the honor or the fanfare of an elaborate plan. He did not deserve to control the shadow’s dreams and his desires.

The Joker had hurt so many people. Killed so many citizens of Gotham City. Tonight, the shadow was the hand of Lady Gotham. Tonight, the shadow was the Knight of Arkham. He will bring the justice Batman had refused to give to his Lady. The justice he had refused to give to his son.

The shadow could feel it. The tugging coming from withing him. The shadow did note even try to resist, he allowed the sword to appear. The All-Sword. The sword that only appeared before the face of true evil.

The shadow could have laughed. The Joker was so evil that he summoned the All-Sword. Something not even Ra’s al Ghul had been capable of. However, the shadow did not laugh. The Joker did not have the right to know that tonight he would breathe his last breathe.

Standing behind the monster, as this one laughed maniacally and planned the bombing of Gotham’s Children Hospital, the shadow swung his sword. It was a small cut, one that left no DNA or proof that could be linked back to the shadow. No one would ever know the shadow had been involved, or that the Joker had died of anything but natural causes. But death was brought upon the Joker that night, even with a small cut. Because a cut from the All-Sword was all it was needed. No one could come back from it.

The Joker was dead.

Finally.

In one clean cut the shadow ended the nightmare that had plagued Lady Gotham for over a decade.

The shadow let out a shaky sigh as he felt it. How the chains weighing him down broke. The last of the green mist leaving his mind. The shadow smiled as he felt Lady Gotham thanking him. But there was no need for any thanks. Tonight, the shadow had freed Gotham. Tonight, the shadow had freed himself.

When the shadow opened his eyes, they were back to the beautiful blue they had been before his death. The shadow welcomed the world once more as who he had been.

After all, Jason was finally free.

“I thought that you had other plans to end that monster?” A beautiful woman asked curiously.

The red shadow turned towards the green shadow with a warm smile. “I had. But my time in the All-Caste changed many of my plans. That monster did not deserve to have his wish fulfilled. After all, making the Batman a killer through him would have been a dream come true, not a punishment.”

“Your father has a way to gather twister characters around him,” the green shadow chuckled.

“What brings you here T?” Jason asked calmly.

Talia al Ghul stared at the boy she had given back life to with a pensive expression. When she had met him, he had been but a shell of a broken boy. A corpse wandering around the streets of Gotham City, with no recollection of who he had been or what was going on. Someone that only the Lazarus Pits could have saved and healed his mind. But miraculous cures always came with a price. The boy’s mind was back, but it was twisted within the corrupted green mist of the Lazarus Pits. The boy was angry and vengeful, motivated by a rage that was closer to demonic than inhuman.

She had trained him. She made sure that the best trained him. All with the wish that he could control this rage of his or that he could become her sword against her Beloved. However, with time she had come to care for him. Her prince had come to care for this red shadow of theirs. In one last ditch effort she had sent him to the All-Caste. Maybe they could aid him, with all their knowledge of unknown and demonic entities.

A plan she had come to despair and regret when the news reached them that half of the All-Caste had perished against their sudden war with The Untitled. How will Talia tell her beloved prince that his adored akhi had fallen? It might have been an honorable battle, worthy of a son of the al Ghuls. However, she mourned the loss of the child she had come to view as her own.

Six years she had nurtured him. Six years of battling together, of having each other’s backs. Six years of her beloved prince being raised by his adored akhi, being taught by him. Six years of her pushing her red shadow to pursue his passions outside of revenge, in an attempt to fix the mess, the Lazarus Pits had left behind. Six years of being proud as her Alexander finished his studies and went to a prestigious University like Oxford, worthy of his pedigree.

Watching him graduate of his Undergraduate course in English Literature in record time had filled her with so much pride. Pride which only grew as he followed it with a MSt in Creative Writing. She still has the framed picture of her beloved Alexander receiving his DPhil in Literature and Arts hung on the wall of her chamber in Nanda Parbat.

Instead of saying all of that, Talia simply commented: “The war against The Untitled seem to have been good for you.”

Jason laughed. It was loud and free. A laugh which Talia had never witnessed before but was so glad to be able to hear it now. “You’ve got no idea! The Lazarus Pits are like poison, whispering in your ear. It is constant and it drives you mad. It wants blood… so much blood. The war allowed me to satiate it, something I had once thought impossible. But the war was long and shed so much blood… from both sides.” Jason sighed, looking at the sky with clouded eyes. “Using the All-Sword as much as I had been pushed to also aided to purify most of the evil that coursed through my veins because of the Lazarus Pits. What was left, is gone now that I’ve fulfilled my objective.” Jason took a deep breath and closed his eyes, allowing himself to enjoy the breeze. “After the war, after the death of Ducra, I had to remain to aid Essence stabilize her reign as the All-Caste’s new leader.”

“Your paramour,” Talia hummed. “She was a good choice. Good fighter, powerful, beautiful, smart, and loyal.”

“That is quite high praise coming from you T!” Jason chuckled, bringing a smile to Talia’s face. She had never seen her red shadow be this happy and carefree before. It lightened her hardened heart. “She is quite something,” Jason smiled fondly. “We parted ways in amicable terms. The war…” he sighed, shoulders slumping. “It was hard on all of us. It changed us, it changed the All-Caste. I was not the same angry boy that had come looking for a way to get his revenge. I left a man who had recovered his mind and was ready to live again. For himself now, and not just for revenge.”

“I am glad,” Talia smiled, a lone tear of sheer relief rolling down her cheek. “So, glad.”

“Now T, don’t cry,” Jason smiled, though there were tears in his eyes as well. “Otherwise, I will think you care.”

“Oh, my Alexander. Of course, I care,” Talia scolded him, hands cradling his face softly. “You are my son. I did give life back to you, don’t you ever forget that.”

“And you are my umi,” Jason assured her, allowing his tears to fall. “So, do not hate me when I tell you the following…”

“Oh, my abni, I know,” Talia smiled a smile so sad that it broke Jason’s heart to be the one to put it there. But it had to be done. “Damian cannot stay in Nanda Parbat any longer. He is now eight and my father would never allow him to stay unbled any longer. He will start sending him on missions. Worse, he might force him into a Year of Blood.” Jason hissed at the mention of the horrible al Ghul tradition. “My son cares… too much. He tried to hide it. Which is quite smart on his part. He knows that if my father would ever find out about his weakness,” Talia beautiful face twisted into a grimace as the utter the word. “The Demon’s Head would punish him. My father showed that he cared not for blood when he sentenced my sweet niece Mara to death for not performing as good as my beloved prince.” Jason looked away at the mention of Mara. She was just a little girl. A girl that none of them were able to save. It was a dark day in Nanda Parbat when she had been killed. “I cannot allow him to be sent into a Year of Blood. It will break him.” Talia’s eyes were filled with fear. “I’ve always known that my father had to be stopped. After Mara even my sister Nyssa decided to join forces with me. But until now I had no one who I could completely trust to leave Damian with. My Beloved might be respected by my father, but after…”

“After I died,” Jason finished for his mother, when she did not want to remind him of his tragedy.

“After you died, I could not risk it,” Talia shook her head. “He had already lost one son; I would not allow him to lose mine as well.”

“It was a smart choice,” Jason chuckled humorlessly. “He has not been taken good care of his last Robin or the one that followed… a second Robin gone and dead.”

“Oh, that blonde girl is alive,” Talia waved her hand dismissively, even as Jason turned to her startled. “She was patched up by my Beloved’s doctor friend and sent to Africa for her safety. However, the doctor wished to teach my Beloved a lesson… not that he seems to have learned it.”

“He never does,” Jason sneered.

“Now, abni, no sneering,” Talia chided. “I taught you better manners.”

“Sorry, umi,” Jason apologized.

“It’s ok, it’s been a long night,” Talia sighed, before turning to look at him with pride. “Before tonight, no matter how much I loved you, I could have not left Damian with you.” Jason winced, looking away in shame. He knew that he had been quite unstable after all. Though, it did nothing to stop the pain. “But now I can. And I will.”

“Leave him with me. I will keep him safe.” Jason promised her.

“I know you will,” Talia smiled, turning to walk towards the edge of the rooftop after one last forehead kiss.

“Umi! Be careful!” Jason called out.

Talia stopped and turned around, gifting her son with one last smile. “Do not worry about your mother abni. I know how to take care of myself. Who do you think taught you how?” Her smirk was cocky and playful. “Oh, by the way, congratulations!” Jason tilted his head in confusion. What was she talking about? “Your novel was such a wonderful read. I’m so proud of you.”

Next time I see her, I’m going to kill her, Jason thought, seething internally as he smiled externally and signed the book of the next fan in line.

A Death in the Family was a huge success. Making it to the top of the New York Times Best Sellers and The Guardian’s Best Books of the Year.

It was a 1000 pages long novel he had worked on while he had attended to Oxford University and had finished before he had gone to the All-Caste. He made sure not to make anything too incriminating, that might put the Bats on his trail for the similarities to the Lazarus Pits and the League of Shadows- in case the manuscript ever got found.

A chilling story about a young boy and his family. They lived in a crime-riddled city, with a notorious serial killer dressed as a clown terrorized the place. Unfortunately, the boy fell victim to this killer, leaving his family heartbroken.

His father, his grandfather, and his older brother were devastated by the boy's death. The whole family was in turmoil because of this tragedy. But here's where things get eerie. The father started seeing his son everywhere he looked. He saw fleeting shadows and distant figures that looked like his lost son. He was convinced he was losing his mind.

But guess what? These visions weren't just figments of his imagination. They were the spirit of the dead boy. The poor boy's soul couldn't find peace, and he wanted revenge on his killer. So, he started guiding his father to uncover the truth and find the clown murderer.

The father was driven by grief and a burning desire for justice, so he followed these ghostly signs and clues. It was like his son was leading him on this eerie quest for vengeance. He eventually discovered the identity of the clown killer and his twisted motives. With his son's guidance, the father hatched a plan for revenge.

When the climax of the story hit, it was intense and terrifying. The boy’s ghost became more powerful and managed to appear in the physical world. With a chilling determination, he enacted a horrifying revenge on the clown killer, a revenge so gruesome it even shocked his own father.

After getting his revenge, the boy’s spirit finally found peace. He was no longer consumed by anger and was able to move on. And his father, who had witnessed this haunting retribution, was left deeply scarred by the violence he had seen.

In the end, the father decided to take his family away from the cursed city, hoping to escape the memories of the tragedy. He wanted to preserve the memory of his son as the vibrant boy he had been in life, rather than the horrific way he had died. So, they left the city behind, carrying their love and memories with them, as a reminder that even in the face of darkness, love and remembrance can triumph.

The final scene was a lovely touch to Jason’s past as Robin, with the family driving away and the father seeing a lone robin bird flying past the car. In that scene, the father recalls that robins were his son’s favorite bird and prays to God that his son could find freedom in his next life as a robin. As the father recalls the vengeful spirit his son had become, the book ends with him wondering, praying, that the robin bird he had just seen could be his son’s soul reborn.

Talia had found the novel, read it, and made sure to have it published. The publishing company threw all their backing over the book, half of it was Talia, the other half was the Horror Editor Head pushing for it. Calling it the big next thing since Stephen King, the King of Horror.

She was right.

A Death in the Family won the Bram Stoker Award for the Best Novel, the Edgar Award for Best Novel, and the British Fantasy Award for the Best Horror Novel- also, known as the August Derleth Award.

It sold over millions of copies worldwide and there were fans demanding a second book from Jason, even though the book tour was not even over!  

Jason’s editor, which was the Publishing Company’s Head Editor for the Horror Department, was already all over him to advance on his next novel: The Risen. Luckily for everyone involved, writing was Jason’s coping mechanism to destress- it also doubled as good therapy. He was already half-way through with it, 500 pages down retelling all his time training with Ducra and Essence, his love story with her had also made his way through the story- something that his romance fans will love. The first half was about the main character joining a religious group, which had dark secrets within them. They were a group of warriors battling the demonic. However, at the start the main character felt as if he was going mad, before joining and starting his training. Now, all he had to work on was the war against The Untitled and Ducra’s death.

Esperanza, his editor, was over the moon with the news and was already reviewing what he had sent her over.

Anyway, being on the road was good. It kept Jason and Damian in the media focus, popping all over the US and UK, even some other countries, making it hard to snatch or attack any of them. Luckily, they both wore their umi’s last gift to them, beautiful, enchanted pendants that made it impossible for others to recognize them as Jason Todd and Damian al Ghul. A beautiful work of art of gold and ruby for Jason, and gold and emerald for Damian. A work of art that made everyone else see Jason Alexander Head and Damian Alfred Head.

“Jason! My boy!” A British man, with more grey hairs than black, approached him with a huge smile on his lips. His eyes crinkled in happiness as he wrapped Jason in a hug. “It’s so good to have you back home!”

“Professor Lang!” Jason laughed receiving the man in a tight hug, ignoring all the cameras flashing around him. “It’s good to see you again!” 

Right now, Jason and Damian were in Oxford University, in Jason’s book tour. Of course, the university wanted their raising super star to come back. The publicity Jason brought had the board quite pleased. Not that either Jason or Professor Lang cared much for any of that. They were both more of book people, than a people person.

“Akhi,” the soft, yet confident, voice of his little brother had Jason turning around with a smile. The young eight years-old-boy was as perfect as a doll. His skin was flawless, his bone structure was sharp, but the baby fat gave it a soft ethereal feeling, and those eyes… they were as beautiful as two emerald gems.

“Dami! Do you remember Professor Lang? He was my Creative Writing professor during my Undergraduate program,” Jason presented them again. “He was the one who wrote my recommendation letter for my masters and the one who oversaw my PhD.”

“I remember,” Damian nodded politely at the man. “We met at your graduations.”

“Is that a copy of your brother’s novel?” Professor Lang inquired, as he noticed the book that Damian was hugging to his chest.

“Yes, I was reading it as my akhi was singing,” Damian showed it proudly. “It is a first edition, the very first copy printed! Akhi gifted it to me!”

“Wow! That’s quite the gift,” Professor Lang laughed fondly. “Normally a young boy like you would be told that he should not read it or could even understand it.”

“Dami here is a bright boy, we have to homeschool him because schools can’t keep up with him,” Jason told his professor proudly, making Damian preen pleased.

“Just like your brother then,” Professor Lang laughed, making Damian bloom in happiness even more. “I’ve always known he was a bright boy and meant for great things, ever since our first lesson.” Professor Lang knelt before Damian to look him straight into his eyes. “I can’t wait to see you come to Oxford. When you do, please sign up to my class, no matter what Undergraduate program you are in. I will always have an open seat for a brother of Jason’s.”

“I will!” Damian beamed, even when Jason said: “Come on old man! Don’t start pushing weird ideas on him! He will go to whatever university he wants, ok?”

“Of course, he will,” Professor Lang laughed, standing up. “Now, let me invite both of you to dinner tonight!”

“Only if you pay!” Jason replied, making him laugh even more.

The professor was in quite a good mood after seeing his favorite student again.

All the good mood Jason had in Oxford was gone by the time he made it to Metropolis. Jason’s heartbeat stuttered when he saw who the journalist interviewing him was.

Clark Kent.

Well, shit!

Jason’s hand went to his pendant, just to make sure it was there, and the magic was in effect. Though, his nervousness spiked when he noticed Clark frowning, surely wondering why this stranger’s heartbeat became so high after seeing him.

“Did you lose a bet?” Jason blurted, taking a deep breath to get his heartbeat under control. Noticing how Clark relaxed, mostly because of the suddenness of his question having startled him. But Jason will take it. “Or had to be here for someone else?”

“Ex-excuse me?” Clark stuttered.

“I mean, a Pulitzer award winning to interview an upcoming novelist. Isn’t that a waste?” Jason drawled, now much calmer after having regained control of the conversation.

Jason’s words got the expected effect, as Clark blushed under the praised, having been distracted successfully. “Oh, I am honored that you recognized me?”

“Recognized you? I used many of your articles for my essays back at Uni!” Jason exclaimed, he added some more drama than needed, but he did not say anything that was not true, and Clark could not check out if needed.

“Oxford-recognized? Now that’s quite an honor.” Calrk’s blush and awe in his voice were honest, which made Jason feel a little guilty, but he could not risk anything going back to Bruce.

“Not as much as Pulitzer-recognized!” Jason continued theatrically; he has always been a theater boy.

“Well, I must admit that I am quite a fan. When the Daily News heard that you were stopping by Metropolis, I asked my editor to allow me to come and interview you,” Clark’s confession froze Jason on his seat. He had not expected such a praise from someone like Clark. He might be known for being a goofball, but he was a harsh critic when it comes to any kind of writing. “Your novel is wonderful, heartbreaking but beautiful.”

“I am quite honored to receive such high praise from another writer,” Jason replied, this time without any theatrics and being 100% honest, before finally starting their interview.

Meanwhile, outside the interview room in the Daily News building, Damian was waiting for his brother to finish, so they could go and get lunch. When Lois Lane entered the waiting room with an apologetical smile, with a young boy around Damian’s around behind her.

“Excuse me, but my son’s teacher is sick, and the school could not get a substitute in time. Could he stay waiting with you?” Lois asked gently.

Damian simply nodded “shyly”, he had to act his age around adults. His akhi and umi made sure he knew what was at risk. Damian quite liked traveling around the world with his akhi. He visited all kinds of museums and historical places. He ate all kinds of foods and made sure to tell his akhi what dishes he preferred, so Jason would know what to cook for him. He trained every night, in secret, with his akhi. But this was nothing like the harsh training at the League of Assassins, it was fun. So much fun! Especially, when Jason had started teaching Damian about the magic he had learned at the All-Caste.

“Do your parents work here too?” The boy asked excitedly. “Oh, sorry! I did not introduce myself! Mom would be so angry at me! Ah! I am babbling now! Earth swallow me!” The boy groaned blushing, while Damian stared at him with wide open eyes- or as wide open as League trained shadow could. Was this how boys his age conducted themselves? Magic, does he wish it was not. “I am Jon.”

“I am Damian Alfred Head, nice to meet you,” Damian presented himself as his akhi had taught him to. Receiving a blinding smile from the boy. How could a human boy glow that much? Was he part of the sun of something? “To answer your question, no, my parents do not work here. But my akhi, my brother, is being interviewed by a reporter.”

“He is? What does he do?” Jon asked excitedly, eyes shining.

Damian puffed his chest proudly at his brother’s achievements. “He is an award-winning novelist.”

“That is awesome!” Jon praised, not knowing that he had just won over Damian- the young boy adored his akhi after all. “What did he write?”

“A Death in the Family,” Damian informed his new friend. Because of course he was Damian’s friend, he had after all recognized the great worth of his akhi. “It a complicated and intrinsic horror novel, that has become a best seller in various countries. My akhi is only twenty-two.”

“That is so cool!” Jon exclaimed. “Your… akhi? He must be so talented!”

“He is!” Damian turned fully towards the younger boy and beamed at him, making Jon stop breathing for a second and blush at how pretty his new friend looked smiling like that.

Unfortunately, the budding duo got interrupted early by the door being opened. Jason and Clark were startled to see their boys sitting together and chatting happily. Jason’s breath caught on his throat at the scene. He had never seen Damian act more like the little boy he was than then.

“Dad!/Akhi!” Jon and Damian turned towards the door smiling, before turning to each other surprised. “That is your akhi?/Your father interviewed my akhi?” They paused for a second time, staring at each other before giggling. “Awesome!”

“Well, it seems that our kids are friends now,” Clark turned to Jason and nudged him playfully.

“It seems like they are,” Jason replied fondly. “Could you give me your contact information?” He asked before he could regret it. It might be hard keeping everything a secret from Superman, but if mini-supes can put a smile like that on his little brother’s face, then everything is worth it. “That way they can stay in touch with each other.”

“Of course!” Clark beamed, looking so much like his son at that moment.

Jason left Metropolis with an apple pie and Damian with a new best friend.

Jason started to believe that he was cursed, as things kept on going. He had planned not to get involved in the superhero community anymore. What happened to him? He gets interviewed by Clark Kent, aka Kal-El, aka Superman, in Metropolis, and invited to dinner with Lex Luthor, who by the way, is a fan as well. Then in Central City he gets interviewed by Iris West and in Star City he gets invited to dine with the Queens, because Dinah is a fan of all the underplays of psychological discussions in his storyline, and Oliver wanted to make his wife happy. And now! Now he was staring into the soulful blue eyes of a homeless, orphan Champion of Magic in Fawcett City.  

“What did the wizard do now?” Jason sighed, making the boy before him flinch.

“Y-you know the wizard?!” The blue-eyed boy exclaimed.

Putting on a kind smile, Jason knelt. “I do. I can do magic like you after all.”

“I can’t really do magic,” the boy shook his head. “Not on this form at least. Only when I say SHA… sorry, I can’t say it now.”

“SHAZAM right?” Jason smiled gently, chuckling at the boy’s wide-eyed expression. The All-Caste has all kinds of information about magic. The Champion of Magic and the SHAZAM Wizard, being only some of it. However, Jason’s smile turned into a frown when he realized something the boy had said. “Wait, you do not know magic? The Wizard put the responsibility of being the Champion of Magic on an underage boy, with no adult supervision, that has no idea of what is going on or how magic works? Has he lost his fu… fudging mind?!”

“I can do it!” The boy pouted, though he was still wondering what he had to do to begin with.

“I am sure you can,” Jason replied honestly. “However, you should not have to. You are a kid, you should be focusing on school and having fun. Not life-threatening situations and magic.”

“The Wizard said I passed the test of temptation, that the Seven Deadly Sins did not tempt me,” the boy mumbled.

Which earned him a raised eyebrow and impressed expression from Jason. “That is quite the achievement. Almost no one can resist the Seven Deadly Sins, they are one of the oldest demonic entities for a reason. No matter how many times they are slayed, they always get a way to reform.”

“You can slay them?!” The boy jumped on Jason in desperation. “Can you help me then? They possessed…” the boy frowned, needing Solomon to remind him the correct name. “Right! Doctor Thaddeus Bodog Sivana! They want the power of the Champion of Magic! And I… I don’t know what I am doing!”

Jason stared at this scared and crying boy, barely containing his seething rage, as he wondered why adults always leave kids with their troubles. “I will take care of it,” Jason assured him. “You have nothing to worry about.”

“R-really?!” The boy sniffled.

“I am the last wielder of the All-Sword, Solomon and all the other Gods can tell you that taking care of demonic entities, like the Seven Deadly Sins, is in my job description,” Jason informed him. “So, I am going to take you to my hotel room, where you will take a shower and my little brother will share some clothes with you. You will then order whatever you want from room service, and I will go and deal with the Doctor. Ok?” The boy looked ready to protest, in some misguided attempt to take care of the responsibilities of the Champion of Magic. But the Gods he now shared a body with, seem to have told him something and got him to agree with Jason’s preposition. “Now, can you tell me your name? I am Jason Alexander Head.”

“M-my name is William Joseph Batson, but call me Billy please,” the boy presented himself shyly, all his bravado and Achilles courage gone.

“Batson?” Jason’s smile froze on his face.

Black hair, blue eyes, and his last name is Batson. The universe was truly playing tricks with him now! He can never allow Bruce to meet Billy! He is quite literally bait-trap to the old man!

The first thing I will do is have Billy change his last name, Jason decided internally, as he guided Billy towards his hotel room. I can’t have a kid with the last name Batson, that such too much!

“That was quick,” Damian commented, as his akhi returned to their hotel room.

Billy and Damian were wearing matching pajamas, Damian’s were green, while Billy’s were gold. They were lying together in bed, with a plate of fries between them. French fries being the only greasy thing that Damian has decided to like from American food, anything else in his opinion was garbage. Much to the horror of Billy, who was a great defender of cheeseburgers.

“The Seven Deadly Sins were still weak from having only just woken up and the Doctor was weak,” Jason grimaced in disgust. “It was a quick job. I erased the memories of the Rock of Eternity, the Wizard, and magic from his mind. Had an ambulance called on him and had him sent to the psych ward for some help. They believe he had a psychotic break. Maybe they will aid him move on from the loss of his father and brother.” Jason sighed. “The Wizard got reckless lately, paranoid. He should have been more careful when summoning possible Champions. Or at least erased their memories from the summoning. Magic! This is a mess!” Jason took off his leather jacket and sat down on the chair beside the bed. He smiled at the nervous Billy, trying to calm the boy’s nerves. “It’s done. You have nothing to worry about. Well, about the Seven Deadly Sins that it. As they were simply accumulations of the sins of living beings, they will come back. They will be different demons then and it will take like a millennium, so it won’t be up to you.” Jason corrected himself. “Now, do you have anyone to stay with?” Billy was startled by the question. “Anyone I can call? Because if you do now, I would like to offer you a home with us,” Jason turned to Damian, who nodded in agreement.

“Em… Solomon is advising me from staying around you,” Billy answered shyly. “That you can educate me about magic, protect me when I am not in my Champion of Magic form and teach me how to protect myself as a mortal human.” Billy looked at Jason shyly, before hesitantly asking. “Can you do that?”

“I can and I will,” Jason nodded his head. “I finished my training with the All-Caste and have built up my own grimoire. I already put a basic grimoire for Dami, I can do the same for you. But I hope you hear me carefully. I will not allow you to do any more hero work or Champion of Magic wok until you are eighteen years old. Got it?”

“But…” Billy tried to protest, but Jason cut him off.

“You are ten years-old, no matter how old you look when you transform into the Champion of Magic form, your age does not change,” Jason raised an eyebrow. “You are given powers, you have a responsibility, but the world has survived without a Champion of Magic until now, it can survive another eight years. Wonder Woman, Superman… Batman, did any of them go to the streets as ten years old?” Jason asked him and continued without waiting for an answer. “No, because that would be reckless. One needs to train their powers, their decision-making abilities. It takes a lot of training; it took me eight years to get to where I am. You have eight years now, focus on your duty.”

“My duty?” Billy repeated confused.

“To grow, train, hone yourself, and learn,” Damian answered for his akhi. Knowing that from a peer it would sound better than from an adult. “Just see those untrained underage “heroes”. They think that simply because they’ve got powers that make them heroes. But they are untrained and reckless, they do not know what they are doing or how to react to situations half the time. Which leads to more destruction and even loss of life that could have been prevented if they had just allowed the respective forces to deal with it.”

“Dami is right,” Jason sighs. “The police and firefighters are there for a reason,” unless you are in Gotham, and they are just corrupted as Hell. “If they cannot deal with it, let the other heroes do it. You will need to focus on magical situations. Magic knows there are many of them and not enough magic-specialized heroes as it is. You want to join a League? Joining the Justice League Dark, but other than world-ending crisis do not mix with the others. Like I do, I focus on what I specialized.”

“Evil and demonic entity eradication,” Billy repeated Solomon’s words.

“There are many demons,” Damian sighed. “Akhi had to deal with so many during the book tour.”

“Do not anchor yourself to a city, even if it is the city, you live in. Magical occurrences pop up everywhere.” Jason advised. Wishing that his new brother will never have the responsibility of saving a city, that weight will crush anyone- even great heroes like Batman and Superman. Better for Billy to just go from one magical disaster to the other. “Leave Fawcett City to the police and firefighters to do their job.”

Billy looked conflicted. He wanted to help. His dad always said, do good and good will come your way. However, Solomon and Jason were right. The road to Hel is paved with good intentions. Good intentions are not enough if he cannot control his powers or knows how to use magic. Or what if some kind of magical creature pops up and he has no idea of what to do, because he literally knows nothing.

 “Ok,” Billy finally relented, much to everyone relief. “I will train and focus on my growth. But the moment I turned eighteen I will join you on the field!”

“I would have not expected anything less,” Jason smiled warmly at Billy, bringing him and Damian into a hug. “Welcome to the family.”

Billy held on tighter to his new brothers. He had brothers! A family! He had not been this happy in… forever. Maybe his dad was right, if you did good, good will come his way.

“Mr. Head, your papers seem to be in order,” Billy’s social worker, E.B Glover, commented. “You are young, but your finances are perfect, and your studies are commendable. Here it says that you got a new job.”

“Yes, I had an interview with Fawcett University and got accepted as the new Creative Writing Professor,” Jason answered politely, with his lawyer, a League of Assassins asset, next to him. This was serious business after all. “Plus, my work as an author, which I will continue on the side.”

“That’s impressive,” Mrs. Glover hummed. “I’ve got nothing to protest the placing of Billy in your new home. Especially, since this is the first time he has not run away from an adult and even seems to be agreeable to staying with you. A miracle on its own! Though, I must inquire why you wish to homeschool him? I can see that it seems to be a family tradition, but young boys like Billy and your brother Damian need social interactions with children their age.”

“We understand that” Arianne picked up for Jason he had been tasked by her Mistress Talia to aid her sons and she will not fail. If worse came to happen, Mrs. Glover could always end up having an accident and a more willing social worker can be placed in charge of Prince William’s case. “Having young William homeschool will allow him to catch up to his peers, as he had been homeless for a while.” Which was real, but it also gave Prince Jason the opportunity to start adding to his physical and magical training, and him trying to control his new powers without hurting anyone.

“Young Damian is also home schooled because he was too smart, and we did not want him to get bullied.” Not that insipid civilians could even match with the splendor of Prince Damian, he was Mistress Talia’s son after all. But better to have him educated by Prince Jason, rather than infected by the ineptitude of the American school system. “However, you are right, social interactions are important, which is why young Damian is going to volunteer in the animal shelter with Mr. Head and enter the Art Institute in Fawcett City for his extracurricular activities.” Which of course was being overseen by a League of Assassins’ assets, who would give him private lessons in forgeries and a more elevated education of art and culture than normal civilians would have.

“While young William would volunteer in the soup kitchen with Mr. Head and be signed up under a coach to train his skateboarding professionally to do tricks and maybe enter competitions.” Another League asset who would instruct the future Prince William on how to blend in the masses and pursue or lose a pursuer while skateboarding, a perfect method of transportation for someone as young as the boy.

Mrs. Glover took the papers and forms Jason’s lawyer had handed her and hummed. “All seems in order. We’ve already checked out your home, and it is more than ideal for children to live in.” Mrs. Glover looked up to smile warmly at the two of them. “Congratulations, your Foster Parent permit and the placement of William Joseph Batson has been granted to you.”

Jason smiled in relief at her words, while Arianne frowned slightly. “What about our request to adopt young William?”

“We will review that issue in half a year, we would like to see first how Billy assimilates to living with Mr. Head,” Mrs. Glover answered firmly, gaze not wavering as he locked eyes with the pretty redhead lawyer. Mrs. Glover knew lawyers like her, who believed that they could walk over anyone because of their position. Luckily, Mr. Head seems to be more levelheaded and a good fit for Billy. “I will be coming to your house for monthly surprise visits.”

To Mrs. Glover’s warning Jason simply smiled. “Come for dinner time one of your visits, we would love to have you over. Thank you for your time and all the care you’ve given Billy.”

“Take good care of our boy, Mr. Head. I am trusting you,” Mrs. Glover shook his hand firmly.

“I will,” Jason promised seriously, as both Arianne and Jason walked out of the office. “That went better than expected. Thanks for all the help, Ari.”

“Don’t mention it,” Arianne smiled at her prince. The prince that has had her back since day one in Nanda Parbat. The one who vouched for her with Mistress Talia and gave her the opportunity to pursue her dream of becoming a lawyer, but also kept her as an asset for the League. “My deepest apology for not granting you Prince William’s full guardianship.” Maybe Arianne should start planning an accident for Mrs. Glover to happen after all.

“Do not worry,” Jason waved it away. “If anything, I am glad that Mrs. Glover was so throughout. It means that Billy has a good social worker that puts him first, over rich influential adults.”

It seems that you get to live for another day Mrs. Glover, Arianne grumbled internally.

“Akhi,” Damian smiled greeting his brother, from where he was waiting and sitting next to Billy. “Arianne,” he bowed at the assassin/lawyer that used to form part of his akhi’s squad. “Is it done?”

Jason laughed as Damian did not even ask if everything went all right or if there was any issue and went straight to ask if they were done with it all. Jason loved how much confidence and trust Damian gave him.

He knelt beside a clearly nervous Billy and smiled widely. “It’s done. You are now my foster kid.” Billy’s eyes widened in happiness, and he jumped into Jason’s waiting arms. “You are family, always and forever.”

Nestled within a tranquil neighborhood, Talia’s gift seamlessly merged old-world charm with modern luxuries. The five-bedroom, five-and-a-half-bathroom home the new Demon Head had gifted her boys, was breathtaking. Its exterior had a timeless architecture, while, indoors, a blend of vintage aesthetics and contemporary comforts creates an inviting ambiance.

The living spaces are adorned with elegant crown molding and rich hardwood floors that guide you through the rooms. Sunlight cascades through large windows, illuminating each corner with a warm glow.

The heart of the home is the kitchen, meticulously updated with top-of-the-line appliances that coexist harmoniously with vintage-inspired cabinetry. With a large island and a cozy breakfast nook.

The attic was transformed by Jason into a refined library, which offers a haven for book enthusiasts. A reading and study area provides solitude for the kids to study, while a dedicated writing spot offered Jason a serene cocoon for penning his literary creations and to grade papers.

Outside, in the back, a lush garden spread. An oasis of vibrant flowers and well-manicured lawns. The centerpiece is a sparkling pool and the outdoor entertainment area, complete with a pergola-shaded patio.

Yet, the surprises don't end there. Beneath the house lies an underground realm—an enigmatic training area brimming with magic. Here, Jason honed his skills and instructed Damian and Billy in a specialized quarters designed for both physical and mystical development. The training area exuded an aura of mysticism, fostering growth and transformation.

At the moment, Jason was fully focusing on his computer, typing away the next book of his novel. The Risen only had 250 pages left to be done with and Esperanza could not be happier. However, any writing Jason had planned for that night got interrupted by Damian and Billy barging into the library.

“What’s all this racket?” Jason sighed, raising an eyebrow as his two little brothers stood before him, almost vibrating impatiently.

“Show akhi,” Damian demanded, as Billy giddily gave Jason a pendant.

Jason’s breath caught on his throat as he recognized the pendant. It was an exact copy of the pendant Damian and Jason wore, gold, but instead of a ruby or emerald it had a diamond. Engraved on the gold chain, in the League of Assassin’s dialect was written: Always and Forever.

“Well, it looks like T has accepted you,” Jason smiled warmly at Billy, who was blushing pleased. “You are an al Ghul now. Always and Forever.”

“Always and Forever,” Billy whispered in awe. “I like that…”

After one last smile, Jason turned to Damian. “Now, what’s gotten into you?”

“Jon has invited me to stay the night in his grandparents’’ farm. It’s called a sleepover, akhi. He has cows,” Damian emphasized, eyes widening in excitement. Jason will never get tired of watching him act his age. “When informed that I now have another brother, he invited William as well. Can we go and stay with them this weekend?”

“I will contact Clark and see if he was aware of this plan,” Jason chuckled. “But if he says yes, I cannot think a reason for you not to.”

“Here’s some Kanafeh,” Jason smiled politely as he handed the plate to Lois, while the boys were helping around the farm with the Kent grandparents. Much to Damian’s delight who won over the Kent grandparents by helping them with the animals, though Damian did not see it as helping more like having a good time. “It’s an Arabic sweet cheese pastry, one of Dami’s favorites. I hope you like it.”

“I’m sure we will,” Clark smiled back. “It seems that I take my eyes off you for a second and you pop up with another dark-haired boy with blue eyes, just like a friend of mine!”

Jason tensed at the subtle mention of Batman, before rapidly unclenching his body. “Well, I do not know how much research you’ve done of my past,” Jason began, taking a seat by the table.

“Only that you were homeschooled and fast-tracked throughout your university career,” Lois answered, sitting in front of him and next to her husband. “Quite impressive honestly.”

“Thank you,” Jason smiled proudly, before a sad expression overtook his face. “You see, I was an orphan, homeless like Billy used to be. I had a… horrible accident. Umi took me in afterwards and helped me get the help I needed. I wanted to help Billy, the way I was helped.”

“No child should be in the streets,” Clark sighed sadly, mind in another homeless boy that was taken from them way too soon.

“And yet, so many are,” Jason replied drily, before shaking his head. “I was so angry. Blaming everyone and life for all the horrors I was inflicted on. Umi pushed me to pursue my passions. Writing became quite cathartic.”

“You are the boy that died and hunted his father. Though, in your case it would be your mother,” Lois deduced shrewdly.

“That’s the top investigator reporter in the Daily Planet for you!” Jason laughed, before turning to Clark and shrugging. “No offense.”

“None taken,” Clark laughed, looking at his wife with love and pride. “She has won two Pulitzers.”

“The dad is your umi, and the older brother is your little brother, Damian, right?” Lois continued, paying the boys no attention, she had her theories and needed to know if they were right.

“Mmm” Jason hummed, allowing her to make the wrong deduction. Better that way, than having her link him to Jason Todd. “All the best writers pull inspiration from their lives into their work. Though, I added a lot of supernatural occurrences and some creative liberty with my character’s story lines… then, is it really supernatural? We live in a world where aliens, magic, and demons exist. So, you can now a days my genre should not exist.”

“Nah, I always love a good horror novel,” Lois replied cheekily. “I quite like your genre right where it is.”

“I pegged you to be more of a mystery person,” Jason commented, though he already knew her preferences- she had read him, in secret that is, many horror stories while she and Clark had babysat him when he was a kid.

“That’s a job sweetie,” Lois laughed. “Now, how far along is The Risen? I cannot wait for your next novel!”

“Luckily for you, I only have a little over 200 pages left,” Jason assured her, much to Lois delight who squealed. “It should be coming out by the end of the year and if I keep at to my schedule.”

“Did you know that Jon tried to sneak into our room to read your book?” Clark shared in amusement.

Jason raised an eyebrow. “He did?”

“Yeah, he did not believe it was ok for him not to have read his best friend’s brother’s book,” Lois giggled. “He was quite disappointed when we told him he was too young to read it, but we did tell him the summarized story. We did make sure not to mention the more… intense scenes.”

“Good, I do not want to get sued for traumatizing children,” Jason snorted.

The boy smiled at the couple, as they continued to talk. It was peaceful, domestic. This was Jason’s new life.

He could get used to it.

Chapter Text

“Something wrong?” Tim asked Kon, tensing up as soon as he realized that something had caught the attention of Kon’s super senses.

“Nothing wrong… there are just two more kids in Clark’s apartment,” Kon informed his best friend with a thoughtful look. “They must be Jon’s friends, Dami and Billy.”

“Jon’s friends from Fawcett City?” Jaime wondered, while Bart’s eyes widened in recognition, though he made sure to keep his mouth shut and his body language silent. Luckily for him, most of their team’s bat attention was on Superboy.

“Yes, he can’t shut up about them,” Kon laughed, as he continued to guide them towards the Kent’s apartment. “Especially, after their sleepover at the Kent’s farm last year.”

“Let them be,” Cassie chided her boys, as they were entering the apartment.

Tim focused his attention, noticing that the apartment looked the same as it did last time he had been there, with the exception of two sketches framed on the living-room wall. The first one was of the Kent grandparents on the Kent Farm, while the second one was of Lois and Clark in front of the Daily Planet building. Both couples had their arms around each other and looked so happy. The sketches were beautifully done, the pencil lines done with so much care and attention to detail, that even without color it made of feel as if the sketch was coming to life. Each sketch had the initials D.A.H written on the right bottom corner.

“It’s so good to see you,” Lois greeted them with a smile and hugs. “How’s San Francisco?”

“Keeping us busy,” Cassie answered with a smile of her own. “Kon told us that there are two guests here.”

“Yes, which means we don’t get to talk about our other activities,” Clark warned them as he entered the living-room. He went to hug Kon, who with whom he had a better relationship now, than he had before. “They are the civilian younger brothers of Jason Head.”

“Jason Alexander Head? As in the award-winning young author?” Tim asked, shocked beyond belief. “I love his work! A Death in the Family and The Risen have become two of my favorite books!”

Clark chuckled at his best friend’s son’s eagerness. “The very same. Right now, he is in a book tour in the Middle East and left Damian and Billy here to babysit.”

Tim squealed. “He is the best! The rights for A Death in the Family were recently bought by Warner Bros and Jason Head will be adapting the script! I just can’t wait for it to be in theaters! It will be awesome!”

As Tim continued to gush over Jason Head and his work, his team turned to look at him fondly while Lois went to get the three little boys to present them to the Teen Titans. Lois smiled when she opened the door of Jon’s room, the three boys were playing on the Play Station, cheering each other on. Her eyes lingered on the framed sketch over Jon’s bed, it was a sketch made by Damian of the three of them when Jon had paid them all a visit in Fawcett City for a sleepover. It had turned into Jon’s most prized possession.

“Children,” Lois called them out. Billy, being the responsible older one, stopped the game, even as Damian and Jon protested, and they all turned towards her. “Kon is here, and he brought some of his friends over. Why don’t you come out to say hi?”

“Kon is here!” Jon jumped on his feet beaming, he then turned to Damian, first like always, and then to Billy, before dragging them out. “Come on! I can’t wait to introduce you all!”

Lois chuckled as she followed the eager trio, she got to the living room just in time to hear Billy present himself as William Joseph Head, but please call me Billy. She smiled as Jon and Billy were socializing with the Teen Titans quite excitedly, but frowned when she noticed how tense Damian was around Tim. Which was weird, because even though Damian was more reserved than Billy, he had quite a welcoming charm when socializing with others.

As much as Damian wanted, he could not act as good as he had been taught. This was after all the replacement of his adored akhi. His akhi might no longer want revenge on the new Robin, but he was still hurt about how fast their father had replaced him with Timothy. With that in mind, Damian had decided to make Timothy into his enemy. He will not get along with him, no matter how smart he is. No, he will not.

Not that Billy even realized what was going on through his brother’s mind. No, he was simply quite happy to meet the Teen Titans, even though they were unaware of the fact that Billy and Damian knew their identities. They were superheroes after all!

However, Bart knew who these two young boys were. Who their older brother was. They were the magical trio that will take the superhero community by storm and headed the war against The Reach with the Justice League Dark. Earth held on for so long because of them. Now Bart looked at the two young boys and wondered how such fierce magical warriors came to be from such cute kids.

Bart wondered, now that The Reach had been stopped, how much it had changed their futures? Will they take on the responsibilities of being a superhero? Or will they be normal civilians? Either way, Bart can’t wait to see what will become of his favorite heroes.

The bookstore, nestled in a charming corner of Paris, was adorned with warm, ambient lighting that cast a soft, inviting glow over the entire space. Shelves upon shelves of books surrounded the eager crowd, creating an atmosphere of literary enchantment. His latest novel had garnered international acclaim, and the anticipation in the air was palpable as fans lined up outside the store, clutching their copies of The Risen.

Jason, dressed in a stylish yet understated suit, sat at the long table adorned with stacks of his books. His striking presence drew the attention of the crowd, and the excited chatter of fans filled the air. As he signed each book with a personalized message, he couldn't help but feel a sense of fulfillment. Writing had always been his sanctuary, his way of making sense of the world.

The book signing event in Paris was a dream come true, and as he sat at the elegant wooden table, he couldn't help but be overwhelmed by a rush of emotions. It was a moment of pure awe and disbelief, a realization that his lifelong passion for writing had brought him to this pinnacle of success.

The event had drawn a diverse crowd, from dedicated fans who had followed his career from the beginning to newcomers who had been captivated by his recent work. A group of college students whispered excitedly among themselves, clutching their freshly purchased books. An elderly lady stood patiently in line, her arms laden with multiple copies of Jason's novel, each intended for a different family member. She was a testament to the power of his storytelling to bridge generations.

Esperanza, the Head Editor of the Horror Department at his publishing company, stood beside him, her eyes sparkling with pride and joy. Her unwavering support and collaboration had played a significant role in the success of The Risen, and they shared a sense of accomplishment that transcended words.

Jason greeted each fan with genuine warmth, taking the time to engage in conversations, sign their books, and even pose for photos. He listened intently as readers shared their thoughts and interpretations of his work, and their enthusiasm was contagious. Some fans shyly admitted that his novels had inspired them to pursue their own writing dreams.

As he signed book after book, Jason's heart swelled with gratitude. It was a moment he had dreamed of since he had first put pen to paper as a child, a moment that had felt distant and unattainable during his early struggles as a street kid and later after having come back to life. Now, his books were not only popular but had touched the lives of people from all walks of life.

The realization that he had become one of the best-selling authors in his publishing company filled him with a profound sense of accomplishment. It was a testament to the years of dedication, creativity, and perseverance he had poured into his craft. The world of literature had embraced him, and he couldn't have been more grateful.

As the event continued, Jason couldn't help but think of all the stories he had yet to tell, the adventures waiting to be written, and the readers whose lives he hoped to touch. This book signing event was not just a celebration of his past work; it was a promise of more stories to come, more dreams to fulfill, and more hearts to capture with the magic of words.

The event went smoothly, with Jason engaging in pleasant conversations with his readers, sharing insights about his writing process, and even exchanging a few smiles and laughs. But as the night grew darker, he felt a familiar restlessness gnawing at him.

When the signing event finally concluded, Jason excused himself from the adoring crowd, promising Esperanza to see her tomorrow. However, instead of heading back to his hotel, he made his way to a discreet alley nearby. There, hidden from prying eyes, he swiftly changed into his Red Ghoul attire—a golden and crimson ensemble that concealed his identity.

Jason had another mission tonight, one that he has been trying to fulfill during his many book tours since day one—one that few knew about. He had taken it upon himself to locate and neutralize the dangerous Lazarus Pits that were scattered around the world, a mission he had inherited from his former mentor and mother, Talia al Ghul. It was a responsibility he took seriously, knowing the potential for destruction that these ancient pools held.

In the dimly lit underground catacombs of Paris, Red Ghoul located one of the hidden Lazarus Pits. The eerie green liquid within the pit glowed ominously, and he wasted no time in taking out the All-Sword and stabbing the pit, burning away the demonic powers in the pool. The reaction was immediate, and the pit's deadly properties were rendered inert.

Just as he was about to move on to the next location, a shadowy figure emerged from the darkness. It was Nyssa al Ghul, Jason’s aunt, though he had never spent time with her alone, and a formidable warrior in her own right. Her presence was unexpected but not unwelcome.

"Jason," Nyssa greeted him with a nod, her tone carrying a mixture of respect and curiosity. “Or should I call you Red Ghoul.”

"Nyssa," Jason replied, acknowledging her. "Please, while I am wearing this attire call me Red Ghoul. What brings you here?"

Nyssa stepped closer; her eyes fixed on the now neutralized Lazarus Pit. "I've been following your actions, Red Ghoul. You've taken up the mantle of eradicating these pits, you have no idea how proud you’ve made us. My father’s power in the League started to crumble with each pit he lost, making it easier for us to take control over the organization. With each pit that is eradicated, the chance of father coming back to life is lowered. And that… that is quite a relief. We are finally free."

Jason's expression was solemn. "I don't want these pits to fall into the wrong hands. Too much pain and destruction has been caused by their misuse."

Nyssa nodded in agreement. "My father's obsession with immortality led to his downfall. He became a tyrant, consumed by his own ambitions.

Jason could empathize with Nyssa's sentiment. "Family can be both a source of strength and weakness. I know that better than most." His mind was in not only Batman but also Catherine, Willis, and Shelia. Too many times he has been burned.

"Talia has provided me with information about a dark artifact hidden in Quroc," Nyssa explained. Jason was intrigued by the small, encrypted data chip Nyssa had handed him. "It's a dangerous relic that must be contained. I thought you might be interested."

Jason accepted the data chip, his curiosity piqued. "I appreciate the intel, Nyssa. I'll look into it." With a nod of acknowledgment, Nyssa melted back into the shadows, leaving Jason alone in the catacombs. "I have a book signing event nearby in about a week. I'll pass by and see what I can do about it. It's not like one dark artifact will cause me any trouble."

Famous last words.

So, the artifact was easy peasy. Now the soldiers shooting at Jason were another issue all together.

“Fucking Hell!” Jason cursed as he dodged.

He dodged bullet after bullet, as he dragged Arsenal through the Quroc prison. Jason had taken a break from his book tour when he felt the presence of some cursed object in a nearby country. Well, technically it had been the All-Sword who had felt it. So, as his Job entailed, he searched for that object and destroyed it.

However, Jason had not expected to find Roy Harper of all people! It did not matter how many speeches he had given Billy about leaving the hero work to the hero community and focus on magic, there was no way Jason would just leave Roy imprisoned. Street kids need to stick together! Also, he and Kory had been the only ones to treat him fairly when he had been Robin.

Jason shook his head, chasing the memory of Kidflash telling him there would only be one Robin, away. He then turned to Arsenal and cursed when he noticed the bleeding shoulder.

"You've been hit! Fuck!" Jason cursed.

"Way to state the obvious," Roy grunted in pain.

"Let me see that," Jason moved Roy, making him cry out in pain. "Good the bullet is out. It means I can do this."

"Do what?" Roy asked warily.

The unknown man might have saved his life, but he was still a stranger. With his red assassin grabs, with golden accents and mask, it did not exude trust. For a second, Roy had thought Jade had sent a League ally other to save him. But the thought vanished as soon as it came, why would she save him when he had let their daughter die?

Sweet Lian... his poor princess...

Arsenal was so focused on his mourning, that he did not notice the guy until he was chanting. "Vulnera Sanetar."

Arsenal hissed, but watched in awe as his wound was stitched back together. "Awesome..."

"The wonders of magic," Jason huffed, smirking under his mask. "Can you keep on going?"

"It takes more than a bullet wound to take down a Titan," Arsenal boasted with a smirk that would have made young Jason blush. "Who even are you?”

Jason froze for a second, wondering how to answer that, in case information leaked out to the Justice League. He needed an answer that would give Batman the incrimination he would be looking for his link to the League of Assassins. But also, an answer that would get the Justice League Dark to tell Batman to back-off and that al Ghul or not, Jason was not his business.

At the end, Jason answered. "I am Red Ghoul, Talia al Ghul's son and wielder of the All-Sword."

"Talia al Ghul has a son?!" Roy exclaimed, eyes widening in shock. She has three now, Jason corrected internally, but kept it to himself. "And what the fuck is the All-Sword?"

"Ask the Justice League Dark when you get back," Jason snapped shortly, as he heard the enemy approaching. "Now, we need to get to safety."

Jason and Arsenal had only met a few hours ago, at least in Arsenal’s case, but the urgency of their situation had forged an unspoken bond between them. The enemy, relentless and well-trained, was hot on their heels as they sprinted through the dimly lit alleyways of a gritty urban landscape.

As they ran, Jason took the lead. His leather-clad form moved with the agility and precision of a trained acrobat. He glanced back at Arsenal. "Keep up," Jason hissed, his voice low and gritty. "We need to find a place to lay low until they lose our trail."

Arsenal nodded, his breath coming in ragged gasps. His wounds might have been magically healed, but that did nothing to fix his exhaustion. The two of them darted down narrow alleys, Jason occasionally tossing a smoke bomb behind them to obscure their pursuers' vision.

In a narrow passageway, Jason and Arsenal suddenly found themselves facing a dead-end. Panic threatened to take hold, but Jason's mind raced, searching for an escape. Just as the enemy closed in, he spotted an old, rusty fire escape ladder leading to a second-floor window.

"Up there!" Jason yelled, and without hesitation, they sprinted toward the ladder. Arsenal followed Jason's lead, trusting his new ally’s instincts.

With a burst of strength and agility, Jason leaped onto the ladder and began to climb. Arsenal, still a step behind, struggled to keep up. The enemy was closing in fast, and their footsteps echoed ominously in the narrow alley.

Jason reached the window first, wrenching it open with a metallic creak. He reached down and grabbed Arsenal's arm, pulling him through the window just as the enemy arrived at the dead-end, frustration evident in their shouts.

Inside, they found themselves in a dimly lit, decrepit apartment. It was clear that the League of Assassins had used this place as a safe house at some point. The room was filled with dusty old furniture and had an air of abandonment.

Jason closed the window silently and moved to barricade the door, blocking it with a heavy dresser. "We're safe for now," he said, his voice steadier but still tense.

"Thanks for the save, man!" Roy thanked him, panting as he threw himself on the sofa of the safehouse.

"Don't mention it," Jason replied, handing him a bottle of water. "Hydrate."

"Yes, ma'am," Roy snickered, taking a sip from the water. "Not that I am not grateful, but what were you doing in the Quroc prison?"

"The idiots were keeping a volatile cursed weapon," Jason grunted, sitting on the armchair in front of the sofa. "It made great warriors but fed on blood and drove its wielders mad. I took care of it and while I was sneaking out, I noticed you. You know the rest."

"So, you deal with cursed objects? Pop in and out around the globe searching for them?" Roy inquired.

What would have been an interrogation by any Bat, felt like a normal conversation coming out his lips. It's one of the things Jason always liked about him. Roy was capable of being on guard without being paranoid.

"Practically," Jason shrugged. "Anything demonic, cursed, black magic, falls under my jurisdiction. As the wielder of the All-Sword, my job is to vanquish evil from Earth. Magical evil, that is."

"That's cool," Roy hummed, raising an eyebrow impressed. "I just can't believe an heir to the League of Assassins would be a hero."

"Not a hero or an heir," Jason corrected him. "The moment I earned the All-Sword, I had renounce to the League and belonged to the All-Caste."

"What about your grabs or your name?" Roy asked, amused.

"I may no longer be League, but I am still an al Ghul," Jason shrugged. "Now, what were you doing there? All alone at that! You know a mission on your own there, with no backing, is kind of suicidal?" Jason's posture stiffened when Roy looked away. "Unless death is what you were looking for."

"It's not," Roy sighed, posture defeated. "But it is what I deserve. My daughter... she died on the attack of Prometheus in Star City... we never found the body!"

“I see," Jason looked away at the raw pain in his voice. No wonder, Cheshire was so angry lately." Maybe she is not dead? No body can mean a lot in our line of work."

"A whole building fell on her!" Roy snapped, glaring angrily. "I just wish I could put her to rest! she deserves to rest in peace!"

“I can help you find her," the offer was out his lips before he could stop it.

Roy's head snapped up, looking at Jason in bewilderment. "U- what?"

"There's a spell, powerful tracking spell," Jace sighed, as he explained. "She is blood-re­lated to you, right? Blood makes the spell run smoother. It works better with living targets, but there is a chance it could work."

"W-Why did no one offer it from the Justice League Dark?" Roy stuttered, with a mixture of wariness and hope laced in his tone of voice.

"Discrimination," Jason's frank response, had Roy stopping short. "Blood Magic has a bad reputation, even though it is one of the oldest kinds of magics. There are no good or evil kinds of magic, all magic is neutral and depends on the intention of the caster. Well, all but dark magic, which breaks the laws of nature and magic, but we are not here for a magic lesson. Do you want me to do the spell or not?"

"Yes!" Roy jumped at the chance. "Please! Yes!"

Jason nodded his head and went to get things ready. After picking up a Star City map and lighting a candle, he took out his ceremonial dagger and cut Roy's palm. Once enough blood accumulated, Jason began chanting: "Phasmatos Tribum Nas Ex Veras, Sequita Saguines, Ementas Asten Mihan Ega Petous!"

Soon the blood began moving, leaving a trail of blood until I stopped at the star city's docks. "The docks? What is... her body… doing in the docks?"

"Well, that did not feel like a tracking spell for a dead body," Jason commented amused.

"What does that mean?" Roy asked confused- why does Red Ghoul confuse him so much?

"It means that I was right," Jason smirked under his mask. "Your daughter is alive."

You see, the thing about promises is that one needs to be careful about them. Otherwise, you can end up breaking them, or worse, jinxing yourself.

By now, Jason was not surprised at all when, during his book signing event in Metropolis, Timothy Jackson Drake made an appearance. It was Jason’s incredible luck and there was nothing he could do about it.

As promised, Clark and Lois had brought Damian and Billy with them. Though, they were not the only ones that came with them. Conner, Timothy, and Jon had come with them as well. Of course, Jon followed his best friends. But Conner and Timothy had no reason to be there.

Or that’s what Jason had thought, but it seems that Timothy was a fan and had brought his copies of A Death in the Family and The Risen for Jason to sign. Which he did with some morbid fascination, as Drake rambled excitedly, eyes sparkling with delight, as Conner looked upon his best friend with barely concealed fondness.

As for Jason, he found it quite ironic that he was signing the book about his death to his replacement. It’s funny the turns that life takes. He was not angry. Something that Jason would be eternally grateful for. Once upon a time, the simple idea of the new Robin Jason filled the novelist with a murderous rage that shook the novelist to the core. However, he now could at Timothy without feeling much.

It was not apathy, but Timothy simply was not important to Jason to occupy a presence in his thoughts. If anything, what Jason felt for Timothy was pity and a little bit of guilt. After all, it was Timothy the one who was now under the precarious care of Batman. Who was trained and made a child soldier for the endless vendetta of the Dark Knight Vigilante.

However, there was nothing Jason could do about it. He had Damian and Billy under his care now. They were the ones who Jason had to prioritize. The ones Jason had to teach how to achieve a balanced lifestyle, that goes beyond being a hero or child soldier. That there was more than one way of making the world a better way. That sacrificing their lives and happiness was not the healthy way, or the right way. That is simply because they could find respites of happiness and joy in between did not make them bad people, or that they should feel guilty because they were having fun instead of saving people.

People will always be in need of help. One could not just stop living because of that. That was not ok. It was something that had taken Jason years to learn, something that Batman had taught him. Something he had taught all his children. Though, the term child soldier was better.

Jason had seen how Dick had turned from an angry, but free child, into a deeply perturbed boy, who no longer smiled honestly and was filled with so much guilt that Jason had no idea how he could stand underneath all of that weight. A Robin that used to bring hope and laughter to the streets of Gotham City, had become the shadow of a bird who flew with broken wings.

Jason had gotten out. As relieved as he was, he also felt very guilty about it. Jason had gotten out, but Dick was still in. Babs was still in. Timothy was still in. And one day the blonde Robin, Stephanie, will return and remain in.

Jason had gotten out, but so many children were still in.

Jason felt very guilty about it. But the days where he prioritized the safety and health of others above his were long gone. He will never return to that. It was unhealthy and wrong. He could not help them either. Not with the chance of Batman turning his attention to him and his little brothers. Jason was now an older brother. A guardian. Damian and Billy needed him.

So, with a heavy heart, Jason kept the smile on his face, as he watched the Kents and Drake leave the event. He kept on smiling until he could no longer see Drake’s retreating back.

“Akhi?” Damian pulled on Jason’s sleeve, wearing an adorable, concerned frown on his lips.

Jason sighed and ruffled the hair of both of his brothers. “I’m good,” he lied. How could he be good when he sent a child soldier back to his abuser without even trying to aid him? How could he ever have been called Robin and still allow such a crime to happen? “The event will finish soon. I hope you do not mind waiting. Are you hungry? Do you need something to eat?”

“No, Mrs. Kent gave us lunch before coming,” Billy answered softly.

Billy did not understand what was going on. He had such a great time with the Kents, but for some reason, his beloved older brother was not feeling well. He could tell that Dami knew the reason and it made him feel bad. Was he truly family when the other two kept things from him? Did he not deserve to know? He was their brother too! Jason could not even use his age as an excuse, when Damian clearly knows about it, and he is younger than Billy!

However, Billy stayed quiet and said nothing for the rest of the event. He will not cause a scene. His brother deserves better. The Risen deserves better than that. Solomon kept on whispering in Billy’s mind that there was more to this than Jason and Damian just not wanting to share things with Billy. That whatever perturbed Jason was important and had deeply affected the young man. That they will tell Billy when they are ready.

So, for now Billy will remain silent and wait.

The elegant, dimly lit restaurant provided a backdrop for the unexpected dinner meeting between Jason Todd and Lex Luthor. They sat across from each other at a corner table, the clinking of fine silverware and subdued conversations surrounding them.

Lex leaned forward; his sharp gaze fixed on Jason. "Jason, it's good to see you again. I must admit, I'm quite intrigued by your recent literary endeavors."

Jason nodded, acknowledging Lex's presence with a wry smile. If only Bruce could see him now, being adopted into the family of his worst villain and having dinner with his best friend’s worst villain. The turns of life, indeed. "Likewise, Lex. It's been a while. And yeah, I've been keeping busy with the writing."

The conversation took a turn towards the world of entertainment as Lex broached the topic that had brought them together. "I've heard some interesting rumors, Jason. Warner Bros had purchased the rights to your book, A Death in the Family, to turn it into a movie. HBO is also showing interest in The Risen as a miniseries."

Jason raised an eyebrow at that, how did he know that? Esperanza had only informed him about the HBO deal a couple of days ago, there wasn’t a word from the publishing company to the public either. Then again, this was Lex Luthor we are talking about. If he wanted to know anything he’d manage to get his hands on said information, one way or the other.

And for some reason he was interested in Jason’s books. That was something Jason had not expected. At first, he had thought Lex was into them and he was trying to butter Jason up to use him against the al Ghuls. But Lex was truly unaware of Jason’s connection, which left Jason smiling in amusement as Lex retell his novels word for word in excitement.

Oh well, villains have weirder habits than accosting upcoming novelists with dinners. 

Jason raised an eyebrow, taking a sip of his wine before responding. "Yeah, those rumors are true. I'm in talks with them about doing the script adaptation myself, for both Warner Bros and HBO."

Lex leaned back, clearly intrigued. "Doing the script adaptation, yourself? That's unusual, but it speaks to your confidence in your work."

Jason shrugged, a hint of pride in his voice. "I know these characters inside out, Lex. I've lived their stories. I want to make sure the movie does justice to the source material."

Lex nodded thoughtfully. "And what about The Risen? HBO's interest in your book is no small matter."

Jason considered his words carefully before responding. "Well, I'm certainly open to HBO purchasing the rights for The Risen, but there's a condition. I want to adapt the book into a script for the miniseries myself, just like with the movie. If they accept, the deal goes through. If not, I believe there are others interested in it."

Lex leaned in, his eyes narrowing with interest. "You have quite the stipulation there, Jason. You clearly have a vision for your stories."

Jason met Lex's gaze, unflinching. "I do. These stories mean a lot to me, Lex. They're a part of who I am. I want to ensure they're brought to life on screen the way they deserve to be."

A smile tugged at the corners of Lex's lips. "You know, Jason, it's not often that I encounter someone with your level of dedication and creative control. But I respect that. If you're willing to adapt your own work for both the movie and the miniseries, then I can’t wait to see it happen."

As they continued their dinner conversation, Jason felt himself relaxing for the first time in the evening. Though, any relaxation he was feeling, left the moment the dinner finished.

Jason had noticed that Billy was starting to realize that Damian and he were keeping things from him. Billy was too smart not to notice it, and if he had been incapable of deducing that, Jason was sure Solomon would have aided him with that task. Jason knew Billy needed to be told, otherwise that would cause a division between the siblings, a breach that others would use against them.

But knowing that did not make it any easier. Jason would be bearing his soul and all his wounds to his little brother. The little brother that saw him as an all-powerful hero that could not be defeated. Would Billy knowing Jason’s past change the way he saw Jason? Or would he see it as proof of Jason’s strength and how nothing could stop him the way Damian does?

Whatever happens will happen, Jason steeled himself with a deep breath and straightened his posture as he returned to his hotel. The moment they return home, under the privacy and protection wards Jason had erected around their house, will Jason face this issue. For now, he still had a couple of days.

In the chimney-lit family room of their home, Jason and Billy sat across from each other, the weight of an important conversation hanging in the air. As promised, Jason had decided it was time to open about his past, a chapter of his life he had kept hidden for a long time.

"Hey, Billy," Jason began, his voice serious and reflective. "There's something I need to talk to you about, something I’m sure you’ve been wondering about for a while."

Billy leaned forward; concern etched on his face. "You know you can tell me anything. What's going on? Or maybe you do not want to tell me… am I forcing you to speak about it?" Billy began panicking, to which Jason laughed and calmed him down.

“Don’t worry about it, I want to tell you,” Jason smiled nervously. He took a deep breath, his gaze fixed on a distant memory. "Before I became the Red Ghul, before I was even Jason Alexander Head, I was Jason Todd… I was Robin. Batman's partner."

Billy’s eyes widened in shock. His big brother had worked with Batman. He had been one of the many Robins?! That was so cool! However, Billy’s excitement depleted when he noticed Jason’s hunched and hurt figure. He wanted to ask, to comfort him. But Solomon advised him to wait and listen, that his older brother needed to take this off his chest without interruption. So, Billy nodded, encouraging Jason to continue.

"I was a child soldier, Billy," Jason confessed, his voice barely above a whisper. "I was recruited by Batman after he found me trying to steal the Batmobile's tires. He took me in, trained me, and I became the second Robin."

Billy's eyes widened with shock, but he remained silent, allowing Jason to share his story.

"I’m sure he did not see it that way… neither did I. For a while I was happy, I had found a home and a family.” Jason smile was both fond and heartbreakingly sad. “But my time as Robin was... brutal," Jason continued, his words heavy with the weight of the past. "No child should ever be a crimefighter, even when they are the ones pushing for it. Adults should stand strong and stop them. I had never understood that until… until I faced the Joker, and he... he killed me. Beat me nearly to death and then blew me up with a bomb."

Billy's hand instinctively reached out to cover his mouth in horror. He couldn't fathom the pain and trauma that Jason had endured. His older brother… had died. How did one process a revelation like that?

His older brother, the one who had saved him, who had trained him, died. It was almost unbelievable. Billy had seen Jason battle, had seen his use of magic, how he wielded the All-Sword. Billy had to listen to hours of Solomon, Achilles, and Zeus praising Jason’s technique and warrior fortitude.

How did someone who had Gods praising him shamelessly die? It was inconceivable!

"However," Jason continued, his voice stronger now, "I didn't stay dead. Talia al Ghul found me and healed me using the Lazarus Pit.”

Billy nodded slowly, absorbing the incredible revelation. "And then what happened?"

Jason sighed deeply, his gaze filled with a mixture of sorrow and determination. "After I returned, I was pulled into a war. A war against a group called The Untitled. It was a battle for the survival of Earth, and I had to fight alongside the All-Caste, an ancient order I became a part of."

Billy frowned, trying to piece it all together. "The All-Caste? What's their role in all of this?"

"They're a group of warriors who've protected Earth from supernatural threats for centuries," Jason explained. "I joined them and trained under their guidance to fight against The Untitled, who were trying to unleash unimaginable chaos."

As Jason shared these deeply personal revelations with Billy, he could see the understanding and empathy in his friend's eyes. It was a cathartic moment, a release of the burdens he had carried for so long.

Billy finally spoke, his voice filled with compassion. "Jason, I can't even begin to imagine what you've been through. But I want you to know that you don't have to carry this alone. I'm here for you, no matter what."

Jason nodded, a faint but appreciative smile gracing his lips. "Thanks, Billy. It means more than you know. Know that I did not keep this from you because I did not trust you or thought of you as my brother. Hell, the only reason Dami knows about all of this is because of umi! My past is complicated but sharing it with you feels like a step toward healing."

“I understand,” Billy smiled, healing from the hurt he had felt for feeling left out. "But I do have one more question, what exactly is bothering you about Tim? Is it that he replaced you as Robin? Like I know it is Dami’s issue since he laid eyes on him?"

Jason paused for a moment, considering his words carefully. "No, Billy, it's not about that anymore," he replied with a sigh. "I don't care about being Robin anymore. It's not something that occupies my thoughts. What I feel for Tim is more like pity and a bit of guilt."

Billy furrowed his brow, puzzled. "Pity and guilt? Guilt about what, Jason?"

Jason's gaze grew distant as he explained, "What I do feel is guilt about the situation he's in. Tim's under the precarious care of Batman, trained and molded into a child soldier for Batman's never-ending vendetta."

A somber silence hung between them as the weight of Jason's words settled in. Billy absorbed the gravity of the situation and the emotional toll it must have taken on Jason.

"However," Jason continued, his voice carrying a note of resignation, "there's nothing I can do to change that now. I have Dami and you under my care, and my priority is teaching you both how to lead balanced lives. Lives that go beyond being heroes or child soldiers."

Jason's words took on a deeper meaning as he shared his philosophy with Billy. "There's more to making the world a better place than sacrificing your own happiness and well-being. Just because you can find moments of joy and happiness doesn't make you a bad person or mean you should feel guilty for not constantly saving others."

He emphasized the importance of living life to the fullest without neglecting one's own needs and desires. "People will always need help, but you can't stop living because of it. That's not okay."

Jason's own experiences had taught him these valuable lessons. "It's taken me years to learn this, something Batman instilled in me. It's something I want to teach you, Dami, and anyone else I can."

He glanced at Billy, determination in his eyes. "I've seen how becoming Robin changed Dick from a joyful and carefree child to a deeply troubled boy filled with guilt. I watched as he became a shadow of his former self."

Jason's voice trembled with a mixture of sadness and resolve. "I got out of that life, and while I'm relieved, I also feel guilty about it. I got out, but Dick, Babs, Tim, and so many other children are still in it."

The weight of that guilt was evident in Jason's expression. "But I've made my choice. I won't go back to prioritizing the safety of others over my own well-being. It's not healthy, and it's not right. I can't help them, not without risking Batman's attention on me and my little brothers."

Jason looked at Billy with a deep sense of responsibility. "I'm now an older brother, a guardian. You guys need me."

As he spoke those words, Jason's commitment to providing a healthier and more balanced life for his younger brothers became clear. He would protect them from the darkness that had consumed him and offer them a chance to live their lives without the same burdens he had carried.

Chapter Text

The lecture hall at Fawcett University was abuzz with anticipation as the students settled into their seats, their notebooks, and pens at the ready. Professor Jason Alexander Head, the university's newest sensation, had taken the academic world by storm with his youthful charm, award-winning novels, and a reputation for turning even the most mundane writing classes into captivating journeys of creativity.

“He is finally back!” Sasha, a sophomore year student of the English and Literature program, exclaimed excitedly to her best friend.

She had been over the moon when she had discovered that they would get Jason Head as their professor. She had even gone as far as to turn down her acceptance letter to Metropolis University to come to her local university in Fawcett City. It was a decision that many had frowned upon, who does turn down a prestigious university like MU for a university that while well-respected does not match the same kind of prestige of an Ivy League and Gotham University as MU does? But Sasha had not regretted it once. She had taken the class in freshmen year and had loved it with all her heart. Professor Head had even taken her under his wing and made her his TA.

“We get it, you missed him,” her best friend Camila laughed. “Now go and do your job as TA. I need to take a seat and currently it is closer to impossible. It looks like half the university is in this classroom.” Camila commented impressed, as Sasha preened proudly. “Stop acting like a peacock and go! God!”

“Going!” Sasha threw her head back and laughed.

Just then, Jason, often simply called Professor Head by his students, strode confidently to the front of the classroom, his charismatic presence filling the room. His tailored attire and chiseled features only added to his already magnetic appeal. The diverse group of students, ranging in age and majors, hung on to his every word.

"Good morning, everyone," Jason began with a warm smile, giving Sasha a wink as he put his things down. "I'm delighted to see so many eager faces here today. I hope you're ready to embark on an exciting journey into the world of creative writing."

He paused, allowing the students to exchange excited glances and nods. The buzz of anticipation grew.

"Now, before we dive into the art of storytelling," Jason continued, "I want to start with a quote that I believe encapsulates the essence of our journey together this semester." He projected the quote onto the screen at the front of the room, and the words of Nathaniel Hawthorne illuminated the space: "Easy reading is damn hard writing."

Jason met the eyes of his students, his expression earnest. "This quote, my friends, is the foundation of our exploration. Writing is not just about pouring words onto a page; it's about crafting a narrative that engages and resonates with the reader."

He began pacing in front of the whiteboard, a sense of passion and purpose evident in his every step. "We'll delve into the intricate process of tackling complicated matters in a novel, whether they be philosophical, psychological, or any other subject. But here's the thing: none of what you write will matter if the reader can't understand it."

Jason paused, allowing his words to sink in. He could see the wheels turning in the minds of his students.

"You see," he continued, "as writers, we're often drawn to complex themes and ideas. We want to challenge our readers, make them think deeply about the world we've created. And that's fantastic. But we must remember that accessibility is key."

He turned to the whiteboard and began jotting down key points as he spoke. "We'll explore techniques to tackle these intricate subjects while still ensuring that our writing remains engaging and relatable. We'll dissect the nuances of language, structure, and character development to strike that perfect balance."

Jason's energy was infectious, and the students found themselves captivated not just by his looks but by his passion for the craft. They couldn't wait to begin this literary journey with him.

"In this class," he concluded, "we'll not only hone our writing skills but also learn to create stories that resonate with our readers. After all, the true magic of writing lies in the connection we establish with those who pick up our work."

As the applause filled the lecture hall, Sasha looked on proudly at her favorite professor and whispered under her breath. “Best decision ever!”

Damian and Billy returned home with huge smiles on their faces. Damian had paint splashes all over his clothes and face, while Billy had bruises and dirt marks, but they were satisfied. Their art and skateboarding lessons had gone fantastically.

"Nice to have you in good spirits, because we are having our magic lesson right now!" Jason exclaimed happily. "Now that you guys got the control you need over your magic, you all will be getting your wands today!"

“We get our wands!” Billy exclaimed excitedly. “So cool! Wait, do you have a wand? Or is the All-Sword a wand for you? Working kind of like a scepter?”

“Ok, first things first. Scepters are for wizards, those who do not possess magic running through their veins and use an outside source to cast spells, like demons or nature spirits. We are warlocks, like witches, we have magic in our blood. Dami and I because of the Lazarus Pit water in our veins and you Billy because of the blessing of SHAZAM.” Jason explained, falling into his professor persona. “So, scepters what they do is allow wizards and sorcerers to channel the outside magic. Scepters can be used by anyone; they are not faithful to any wizard or sorcerer. Now wands, they are unique to every warlock and witch.”

Jason smirked, noticing how the excitement was building up within his little brothers, not even Damian could hide it. “Once you master your magical abilities you will be able to do wandless magic, but until then you will need a wand to aid you in channeling your magical abilities. Billy in your Champion of Magic form you do not needed it because you have the Gods guiding you unconsciously, but as a mortal child you will need to learn how to do so from zero. Even after mastering your magic, you will still need your wand for the harder spells. Magic knows I do!”

Jason chuckled as Damian and Billy giggled. Those childish giggles were like music to Jason’s ears. He will do whatever it takes to protect them. “As for the All-Sword, it is neither a wand nor a scepter. It is a magical weapon. Like Billy’s Thunder of Zeus and your al Ghul sword Dami,” Jason pointed out to the sword Damian always kept in his magical dimensional pocket. “The runes in there allow you to cut through anything, even magic, neutralizing any kind of supernatural ability of your opponent. It is a sweet weapon; one I would love to see if it even works with Kryptonians.” Jason hummed thoughtfully.

“You won’t be using it against any Kryptonian!” Damian protested with a pouting glare. “I will not have my best friend sad!”

“Ok, ok, I won’t!” Jason raised his hands in mock defeat, chuckling at how adorable his little brother looked.

Oh, how happy Jason was that both Damian and Billy were starting to act their real ages. Something that in the League of Assassins and the streets they would have been incapable of doing.

“What is your wand? Can you show it to us?” Billy cut in, eyes sparkling with barely contain excitement, as he was practically vibrating on his place.

Jason smiled warmly at them and took out his wand, which he always made sure to have at hand. It was a beautiful sleek wand dyed in crimson red, with carvings along the wand that gave out the feeling of the wand being made from feathers. The wand looked strong yet light at the same time. It was a beauty that had both Damian and Billy entranced. They wanted a wand like that, a wand that fit them perfectly the same way this wand did with Jason.

“This wand is made out of Hawthorn Wood and has a Phoenix Feather Core,” Jason informed his little brothers. “Hawthorn Wood Wands are special because of their conflicted nature. The wandmaker Gregorovitch wrote that hawthorn "makes a strange, contradictory wand, as full of paradoxes as the tree that gave it birth, whose leaves and blossoms heal, and yet whose cut branches smell of death." Damian and Billy listened, entranced by their older brother’s words. “Meanwhile, Garrick Ollivander, another famed wandmaker, also noted: "Hawthorn wands may be particularly suited to healing magic, but they are also adept at curses, and it has been generally observed that the hawthorn wand seems most at home with a conflicted nature, or with a witch or wizard passing through a period of turmoil".

Jason sighed, looking at his wand with both fondness and sadness. “When I discovered my magic, well, more than discovered, I was thrown towards the All Caste by umi. It does not matter now, what I am trying to say is that I was feeling conflicted. I still do! I had recently come back from life and that had left me feeling lost, I wanted revenge, but I also wanted to regain my life… it was a complicated moment in my life. My wand was there for me, every step of the way.” Jason’s gaze was stern as he looked at his siblings. “Wands are not weapons or tools that you can easily discard. They are part of you, an extension of your magic. You shall treat them with the respect they deserve. Understood?”

“Understood!” Damian and Billy nodded.

“Good! Now let’s get going! The wandmaker I contacted is already waiting for us!”

Damian and Billy found themselves in a charming little shop in London, hidden from non-magical eyes. This was Celine Ollivander's wand shop, passed down through generations. 

The shop's interior was filled with shelves of wooden boxes, each containing a different type of wood. The air smelled of aged wood and magic. The boys exchanged excited glances, curious about this unique wandmaker.

Celine Ollivander, a kind witch with a warm smile, approached them. Her eyes sparkled with anticipation as she looked at the young warlocks and winked at Jason. He had been an interesting customer, and she had found the perfect wand for him.

"Welcome to Ollivander's, dears," she greeted them. "I've taken a slightly different approach to wandmaking compared to my ancestors. Instead of crafting wands and selling them, I believe that wand materials should choose its owner. Your magic knows best, you see."

Celine gestured to the wooden boxes in front of them, each containing a different type of wood, from mahogany to willow. "Close your eyes," she instructed gently. "Extend your hands over the boxes and let your magic guide you. The right wood will make itself known."

The boys closed their eyes and concentrated, feeling the subtle energy in the air. As they passed their hands over the boxes, they sensed a connection to the magic within. Damian’s hand was drawn to a box containing yew wood. When his fingers brushed the polished surface, he felt a sense of rightness, as if the wood had chosen him. Billy, too, felt a pull towards a box containing vine wood. It felt alive and vibrant in his grasp, and he smiled, realizing the wood had chosen him.

"Excellent choices, my dears.” Celine nodded in approval; her eyes filled with understanding. "Yew wands," she began, explaining the wandlore. "They are known to bestow upon their possessors the power of life and death, a characteristic that could be attributed to all wands, but yew wands carry a particular reputation for their dark and formidable nature, especially in the realms of dueling and curses."

"It's important to dispel a common misconception, though. Contrary to popular belief, those who wield yew wands are not inherently drawn to the Dark Arts more than any other witch or wizard. In fact, yew wands often choose individuals who are fiercely protective of others. These ancient wands have been found in the hands of heroes as frequently as in the hands of villains. There are even legends of yew wands sprouting into guardian trees when buried with their owners."

With a thoughtful tone, she added, "What is undeniable, based on generations of Ollivander experience, is that yew wands are never content with mediocre or timid owners. They seek out those with strong and unyielding spirits, individuals unafraid to confront the challenges and mysteries of the magical world."

Now that is wand that fits the al Ghul heir perfectly. Someone strong willed and protective like Damian could never be pleased with a mediocre wand. It is no wonder that the yew wood would choose his magic, after generations of his family line being embodied by the powers of the Lazarus Pits and their control over life and death.

Turning her attention to the vine wood, she shared, "Vine wands are a less common choice, often drawn to personalities with concealed depths. They favor witches and wizards who aspire to a higher purpose, individuals with a vision that transcends the ordinary, often surprising those who believe they know them best."

Her eyes sparkled as she described the unique trait of vine wands, saying, "Vine wands are known for their remarkable sensitivity in selecting their perfect match. It's not uncommon for them to emit magical effects when they sense their ideal owner nearby. Embracing the druidic tradition, vine wands consider any wood with a woody stem as a part of their legacy, making them a truly distinctive and rare choice."

Of course, a mystical wood like that would choose the Champion of Magic. What greater higher purpose can any warlock aim for than being blessed by the Gods of SHAZAM?

“Now, let's move on to the cores." Celine presented them with a selection of cores, each one radiating its own unique energy. Damian's magic resonated most strongly with a dragon heartstring core, while Billy's was drawn to a unicorn hair core.

As Celine Ollivander carefully crafted their wands, using the yew and vine wood they had chosen, and pairing them with their respective cores, she explained the significance of their selections. The dragon heartstring represented power, courage, and ambition; qualities Damian possessed in abundance. The unicorn hair core symbolized purity, kindness, and a strong connection to the mystical, all of which resonated with Billy's nature.

As Damian and Billy listened to the enchanting explanation, they couldn't help but feel a deeper connection to their chosen wands. When the wands were finally complete, Damian and Billy held them in their hands with a sense of wonder and reverence. Damain’s wand was dyed emerald green and had carvings that made it look like dragon scales, while Billy’s wand was pure white and shaped as a Unicorn horn. They were enrapt by them.

“Now, now, I know that it is very exciting to have your wands, but we are here for a lesson,” Jason chuckled as he observed his little brothers still enchanted by their new wands.

They were in the magical training room of their Fawcett City home, ready for a lesson on a powerful charm: the Patronus Charm.

With a tone of both seriousness and enthusiasm, Jason began, "Today, we're going to delve into one of the most famous and potent defensive charms in the wizarding world, the Patronus Charm, or Expecto Patronum. This charm is immensely complicated and incredibly challenging, but it's also an essential skill for any witch or wizard."

He continued, "The Patronus Charm allows us to channel our most positive and powerful emotions into a protective force known as a Patronus. This Patronus takes the form of an animal, one that's deeply connected to our inner selves and our emotions. It serves as a guardian, warding off dark creatures like Dementors and Lethifolds. It also works against demonic entities and beings of the afterlife."

Jason paused for a moment, allowing the significance of the charm to sink in. "Now, there are two types of Patronuses. The first is corporeal, which means it has a specific shape and form, like a real animal. The second is incorporeal, which has no particular shape and can't ward off Dementors the way corporeal Patronuses can."

He looked at Damian and Billy, gauging their level of understanding. "The reason I want to teach you this charm, even though it's incredibly challenging, is because of the kind of threats we might face in our line of work. Dealing with beings of the afterlife and demonic entities the way I do can be dangerous, and having a Patronus can provide an extra layer of protection. But remember, the form your Patronus takes is a reflection of your inner self and emotions."

Jason paused, he closed his eyes, allowing his mind to become a canvas upon which his happiest memories painted themselves with vivid clarity. Each memory was like a treasured gem, a moment in time where happiness and warmth had enveloped him completely.

In his mind's eye, he saw himself as a young boy, standing on a wooden stool next to Alfred in the Wayne Manor kitchen. Flour dusted the air as they baked together, filling the room with the scent of freshly baked cookies. It was a memory of comfort, love, and the simple joy of shared moments with the man who had become his surrogate grandfather.

The next memory was that of a different kind of adoption, one that had irrevocably changed his life. It was the day he was formally adopted by Talia al Ghul, who had seen potential in him and had given him a family when he had none. It was a moment of acceptance, belonging, and the promise of a new beginning.

He recalled the first time Damian, his fiercely independent little brother, had called him akhi. The Arabic term for brother had resonated deeply with Jason, as it signified not just a familial connection but also a bond of trust and respect. It was a memory of brotherhood, understanding, and the start of a unique sibling relationship.

The Patronus shifted, its form beginning to take shape. It brought to mind intimate moments with Essence, a woman who had ignited a passion within him that went beyond physical desire. It was a memory of love, connection, and the complexities of human emotions.

Another memory was of the day he had earned his PhD. It was a moment of accomplishment, pride, and the realization of his own potential.

Finally, he recalled the day he had been named the guardian of Billy, a responsibility he had undertaken with unwavering determination. It was a memory of family, duty, and the profound sense of protectiveness he felt toward his brother.

As Jason continued to focus on these cherished memories, a transformation occurred in the room. A silvery stag materialized, its form ethereal and radiant. It stood there, its graceful figure exuding an air of regality and strength.

The stag's movements were like a dance, its hooves barely making a sound as it hopped and moved around the room. Damian and Billy watched in awe and admiration; their eyes locked onto the shimmering figure.

The Patronus emanated a sense of protection and tranquility that enveloped the room like a soothing embrace. It was as if all the positive emotions Jason had poured into it had manifested in this beautiful guardian.

Billy tilted his head as if listening to an unseen voice. His eyes widened, and he gasped softly. Turning to Damian, he shared the wisdom Solomon, the ancient King's spirit residing within him, had imparted.

"Solomon says that having a Stag as your Patronus is more than just a symbol," Billy explained, his voice low as not to be heard by Jason, who was patting his Stag Patronus. The two younger brothers know how shy his older brother can get when it comes to this kind of thing. "Traditionally, it's seen as the 'King of the Forest,' the protector of all other animals. It's like how Jason helps others by teaching them everything and isn't afraid to throw himself into danger to save people. Not to mention that its antlers fall off and regrow annually, it is considered a symbol of rebirth and resurrection. Quite appropriate – as Jason came back to life."

As the Patronus Stag continued to move gracefully, a profound sense of unity and understanding filled the room. Each movement of the silvery guardian felt like a reassuring pat on the back, a silent promise that they were never truly alone in their journey.

In the days that followed, Damian and Billy were determined to master the Patronus Charm. They practiced diligently, spending hours in the magical training room with Jason as their patient guide. The charm was indeed a formidable one, and its difficulty only fueled their determination to succeed.

Their initial attempts resulted in faint, wisp-like forms, far from the corporeal Patronus they aspired to conjure. Despite their disappointment, Jason was there to encourage them every step of the way.

"You're doing great," he assured them, his voice filled with pride. "It's not easy to achieve even an incorporeal Patronus on your first try. Remember, this charm is a reflection of your most positive emotions, so focus on those moments that bring you the most joy and happiness."

Damian and Billy nodded, their determination unwavering. They knew they had a long way to go, but they were willing to put in the effort.

Weeks turned into a month of relentless practice, each day spent refining their focus and deepening their connection to their happiest memories. They drew strength from the love and support of their family and the knowledge that they were working toward a greater purpose.

Finally, the day arrived when they felt ready to attempt the Patronus Charm once more. Damian closed his eyes, his mind flooded with memories of his travels with Jason through exotic locales, the warmth of Billy becoming his brother, and the unique smile that Jon, his dearest friend, reserved solely for him.

As he cast the charm, a radiant, fox shaped Patronus emerged from his wand. It bounded gracefully around the room, its fiery fur shimmering with an ethereal glow. Damian's eyes gleamed with pride and accomplishment as he watched his Patronus take form.

Billy, not to be outdone, focused on the memories that had shaped his life. He thought of his biological parents, the love and warmth they had showered upon him. He recalled the exhilarating feeling of his first flight through the sky, his powers awakening. And most importantly, he concentrated on the moment he had been adopted by the Heads, finding his true family.

With a determined incantation, Billy's Patronus burst into existence. It was a St. Bernard dog, its eyes filled with a gentle and protective warmth. The Patronus exuded an aura of loyalty and unwavering support as it joined Damian's fox in a graceful dance around the room.

Jason beamed with pride as he watched his younger brothers' accomplishments. "Congratulations," he said, clapping them both on the back. "You've achieved something truly remarkable. Your Patronuses are a reflection of your inner strength and the love you hold for your family."

Damian and Billy exchanged triumphant smiles, their hard work and dedication paying off in the most magical way possible.

Jason watched with immense pride as Billy and Damian played with their Patronuses, the room bathed in the ethereal glow of their magical guardians. He decided to explain the significance of their Patronuses, wanting them to fully understand the symbolism behind their forms.

"Billy, your Patronus, the St Bernard, is quite fitting," Jason began. "Apart from his impressive size, this breed is renowned for his search and rescue abilities, often saving lives in treacherous mountain conditions. Having a St Bernard as your Patronus reflects your bravery and your big-hearted nature. You're willing to go to great lengths to protect and help others, and you possess a profound sense of loyalty."

Billy beamed at the description, feeling a deep connection to his Patronus. He had always strived to be brave and compassionate, and now his magical guardian embodied those qualities.

Jason then turned to Damian, whose Patronus was a graceful fox. "Damian, your choice of a fox Patronus is quite intriguing. Foxes are known for their cunning, resourcefulness, and fierce intelligence. They're highly adaptable creatures, able to thrive in diverse habitats around the world. Your Patronus reflects your resilience and your ability to navigate through challenges with clever solutions."

Damian nodded thoughtfully, taking in the symbolism of his Patronus. He had faced numerous trials and obstacles in his young life, and his Patronus seemed to mirror his determination to overcome them.

Jason smiled at both of his brothers, proud of the individuals they were becoming. "Your Patronuses are a reflection of your inner strengths and the unique qualities that make you who you are. They'll serve as your protectors and companions in times of need, reminding you of the incredible people you've grown to be."

Billy and Damian exchanged grateful glances, their Patronuses by their sides, ready to accompany them on their magical journey ahead.

“Ok! Enough training for now. Go and take a shower, you need to get ready. Ari is coming in a couple of hours to have dinner with us.” Jason dismissed them.

As Arianne joined Jason, Damian, and Billy for dinner. The Arabic dinner spread before them was a delightful array of flavors and aromas. Seated around the table, the warm and inviting scents of the food filled the air, enticing their appetites. Jason raised his glass of Arak, a traditional alcoholic drink often enjoyed in Middle Eastern cultures, to offer a toast. "To new beginnings and the magic of storytelling," he said, his eyes filled with pride and appreciation.

Damian, who had grown up experiencing the flavors of Arabic cuisine, couldn't help but smile as he dug into his favorite dishes. "This reminds me of home," he remarked, savoring each bite.

Billy, though newer to these flavors, had quickly grown accustomed to the delicious spices and combinations after his adoption. He nodded enthusiastically. "It's really good. I can see why Dami loves it so much."

Over the course of the dinner, they discussed the exciting prospects of Jason's books being adapted into a movie and a TV miniseries. Arianne, with her law acumen, had played a significant role in securing these deals, and the quiet joy on her face was evident as they talked about the future.

As they shared stories, laughter, and the delicious Arabic dishes, it was a moment of unity and celebration for their unique and loving family. “The young princes seem happy,” Arianne commented once the business talk was over, and the kids had been sent to bed. “I noticed their new acquisitions. Worthy wands for the al Ghul line.”

“That they are,” Jason smiled proudly. “I took them over to the Ollivander shop in London. A quick apparition and they had their wands before the day was over.”

Arianne hummed with a thoughtful expression. “Ollivander… one of the few remaining ancient English families of the old times of magic.”

“Yeah,” Jason scoffed, smile slipping at the reminder. “All of the Sacred 28 gone. So, many families survived the witch hunts over the last centuries. Thankfully the Ollivanders did. I do not know what the magical community would have done without them and their knowledge of wandlore.”

“What surprises me, is how easy old and powerful magical families got caught and killed by humans,” Arianne frowned. “One would believe that with their knowledge and grimoires, it would have been a fairer battle.”

“It was,” Jason chuckled humorlessly. “Do you think they were simply humans, the ones that hunted us down? No, they were Hunters.”

“Hunters?” Arianne repeated, confused, and slightly scared of the dark cloud that hung over her prince’s head. It reminded her of the early times, where the Pit Madness reigned within her prince, and at any coming moment her prince could turn against them in rage.

“I’ve learned a lot during my time in the All Caste,” Jason shared, picking up his glass of Arak and taking a sip from it. “Not only magic, but also history and culture long lost to the ages and wars. As you well know, the non-maj community have written down in its folklore and history that witches and warlocks are humans who made pacts with demons. Or we are straight down spawns of demons. However, they could not be more wrong about it.”

Jason sighed and turned to look at his friend and, once upon a time, second-in-command, with so much sadness in his eyes that it broke Arianne’s heart. He took his time to collect himself before continuing. “We are the humans blessed by nature and Earth, giving with certain abilities to advance humanity further. Or to serve a purpose to balance nature and magic on Earth. That is still debated and depends on what side you stand for.” Jason laughed, it was short and dry, but it was true, and it made Arianne smile in return. “The old pureblood families, especially most of the Sacred 28 back in the UK, believe in the first stance. No surprise there. On the other side, All Caste believes in their purpose of serving magic and Earth, to protect those who cannot. Which is why they stand on the stance that we were given our gift to serve and bring balance.”

“What do you believe in my prince?” Arianne asked.

Because at the end of the day that is all it matters to Arianne. And the young lawyer knows that Jason’s stance will be all it matters to her Lady Head of the Shadows. That in the upcoming future, it will be the stance the newly named League of Shadows will take. Because as infamous as the al Ghul line is withing the martial arts community, their fame as necromancers in the magical community goes back to before even the Achaemenian Empire.

“I believe the same as the All Caste does… but I also believe that our magic was given to us with the purpose of advancing humanity.” Jason answered slowly. It was the first time he had shared his thoughts on the matter with anyone, and he was thankful it was with Arianne, who had rapidly become one of his best friends. At least once he had allowed her in and he had healed from his Pits Madness. “I do not believe that from the blood supremacy many purebloods had and still have. No, my stance comes from the fact that I am sure that the plan was for the gifts to be spread among all humans. That Earth and nature were trying to prepare us against the more genetical powerful beings in the galaxy.”

“What happened then? What changed the plans?” Arianne asked, frowning her brows. 

Jason scoffed, chugged the rest of his Arak in one go. “What else? Jealousy and envy.” His smirk was sardonic and filled with malice. “The rest of the humans did not like it. Why were some of them gifted these powers by nature? Why not us? Some others were afraid. Humans are very good at that. Being afraid of the unknown…” Jason’s gaze was lost in thought, as he looked down into his empty glass. “Things happened; wars were fought over it. Some majs believed that if we allowed them magical tools that could allow them to channel magic it would make them stop… it only made the wars bloodier.”

Arianne stood up to get more Arak and serve them another glass. “So, that’s how sorcery was born.”

“Now sorcery was not the issue,” Jason leaned back on his chair and spread out his arms theatrically. “No, the issue came with the demons.”

“Demons?” Arianne turned to him shocked.

“Well, they did not like how fast our magic and technology was advancing.” Jason replied shrugging. “While they could see a way to taint technology’s purpose of advancing society and turn it to their evil desires of destruction, they could not do the same with magic.”

Arianne thought about it for a second, before realization dawned on her. “Magic is connected to nature. Nature is not evil or good, it’s neutral. It can’t be tainted by demons.”

“No, it cannot,” Jason smirked. “But humanity on the other side… well, the ones who made pacts with demons were the non-maj precious Hunters. They were given abilities and protection against magic, which helped them hunt down witches and warlocks. Even sorcerers were hunted down, and sorcery was outlawed.” Jason chugged his drink for a second time. He needed liquid courage for this part of history. “It reached a point where the remaining great magical families got together to summon the demons who had given the Hunters their abilities, they then, after more battles and loss, sacrificed said demons in a ritual that slaughtered with them every single being that shared their blood.”

“Wait that would mean…”

“Yes, every Hunter family, to the last baby, dead.” Jason’s face was expressionless as he stared at Arianne. Even to an ex-assassin that story, that much bloodshed stunned her. “I need another drink.” He stood up and went to serve himself more Arak. “We won, but at what cost? So many bloodlines and special gifts that came with them were lost. Metamorphmagus? Lost. Parselmouth? The ability to talk with serpents and practice Parselmagic? Lost. Which is quite a pity, as Parselmagic was a level of miraculous healing magic and capable of creating the strongest wards known to Earth.” Jason whistled wistfully. “Our community has grown since being almost extinct, but it is no longer the same. We do not have cities hidden in every country, filled with schools and ministries of magic. We do not have the numbers for that anymore.”

“If demons costed the magical community so much…” Arianne started before stopping.

What she was planning on saying was out of line. Jason might be her friend, but he was also her prince. And there are lines you do not cross. Things you do not question.

“Why Ra’s joined ranks with the Lazarus Demon?” Jason finished for her with a dry laugh. “It’s ok. It baffled me as well. Until I understood that he and the Hunters shared something, they were both envious and jealous. Ra’s was a squib. He had no magic. The heir to one of the Most Ancient and Most Revered Al Ghul Family a squib? Now that is divine retribution right there.” Jason threw his back and barked a laugh. He sounded hysterical and angry at the same time, not to mention he was almost drunk from all the Arak. A bad combination. “Oh well, that does not matter anymore. Damian has the blood and has brought the magic back. It is different, leaning more to Black Magic than Grey Magic because of the demonic influence. But Black does not mean evil. It is just part of the spectrum of magic, and they are all needed to balance magic.” Jason straightened up and turned to his friend. “Now, tell me what you are truly here for?”

“What do you mean? I came to discuss the contracts with you and pay you a visit, my prince,” Arianne answered startled.

“Come on, Ari. We both know that the contracts could have been discussed by phone and that you are not that sentimental. I get it, we are best friends, but we are not the visiting kind,” Jason raised an eyebrow. “Raised by the World’s Best Detective here, Ari. Even if for only a couple of years, I did learn a few things. So, I will repeat my question. What are you are truly here for?”

“Ah,” Arianne sighed. “My Lady Head of the Shadows has found another secret Lazarus Pits that Lord Ra’s al Ghul had left behind. It is the second and only other one in the USA. As you’ve already have dealt with the one in Gotham City, the same night you put down that monster, she would like for you to go to San Francisco to deal with this one as well.”

“So, umi had a mission for me,” Jason hummed. “You are staying right? I will not leave Dami and Billy unprotected.”

“The whole squad will be landing soon,” Arianne bowed. “We will protect the princes with our lives.”

Jason smiled at her oath. “I have no doubt you will. Well, it seems like I am going to San Francisco.”

Billy couldn't contain his excitement about meeting Jason's old squad from Nanda Parbat. He was curious about the adventures and stories they had shared with his older brother. This was a chance to glimpse into Jason's past, and Billy was determined to soak it all in.

Damian, though less outwardly excited than Billy, was genuinely happy to see Jason's old friends. These were people who had been through significant experiences with Jason, and it felt good to see them all together again under the same roof.

The room buzzed with lively conversations and laughter as the group shared their stories. It quickly became clear that Jason had been a central figure in their squad. His leadership had left a strong impression on each member.

One of them talked about a time when Jason's quick thinking and bravery had saved them from an ambush in the mountains of Nanda Parbat. Another spoke of the trust they had in Jason's decisions, even when the odds were against them. It was clear that Jason's leadership had inspired deep respect and loyalty from his comrades.

They shared stories that showed Jason's ability to adapt to any situation, his knack for solving complex problems, and his unwavering commitment to his team. These qualities, they agreed, set him apart as a leader and contributed to their success on many missions.

Jason had been a unique leader in the league, different from anyone else they had known under Ra’s al Ghul. They were grateful to him for teaching them what it truly meant to be a team, a found family united for a purpose they could be proud of.

Amidst the warm reunion, Arianne took the chance to share a story with Billy and Damian. Her eyes lit up with nostalgia as she began her tale. "In the heart of the Himalayas," Arianne began, "we were sent to find a hidden monastery rumored to have powerful ancient relics.”

"We had to cross dangerous mountain passes where avalanches could happen at any moment," Arianne continued. "At one point, we got caught in a blizzard, lost and freezing. But Jason guided us through that whiteout, his determination keeping us on track."

Damian's eyes widened with fascination, and Billy listened intently as Arianne described their struggles. They could almost feel the cold and exhaustion of the climbers.

"But the hardest part was inside the monastery," Arianne went on. "There were traps and clever defenders guarding the relics in a chamber deep below. Jason’s tactical skills really stood out as he came up with a plan to outsmart them."

The room seemed to buzz with the tension of the mission, and Billy couldn't help but picture the intense moments as the squad faced those challenges.

"Once we reached the chamber," Arianne continued, "we found ourselves in a tense standoff. But with Jason’s guidance, we secured the relics and got out of the monastery."

Billy and Damian exchanged looks of awe, realizing their older brother was a true hero. However, what they didn't know, and what Arianne didn’t mention, was how Jason had lost control during that mission. The Pit Madness took over, leading him to kill every defender in the monastery. By the end, his black assassin garb was stained red with blood.

All Arianne could think about that evening was Jason. She prayed for him and for the young princes. She hoped this mission wouldn’t trigger another episode. She feared losing him to the pits again and the possibility that her Lady Head of the Shadows might have to take another family member’s life because of it.

In the heart of San Francisco, beneath the busy city streets, Jason, dressed as the Red Ghoul, made his way to the underground chamber hiding the Lazarus Pit. As he went deeper, the aura of the Lazarus Pit grew stronger, seeping through the stone walls around him. He finally reached the chamber, a large space lit by an eerie light. In the center lay the Lazarus Pit, a swirling pool of emerald liquid with an unnatural vitality. Its surface was calm, but underneath lay the power to heal, restore, and corrupt.

Jason stood at the edge, gripping the All-Sword tightly. Its blade shimmered with a glow capable of destroying the most formidable mystical forces. The Red Ghoul raised the All-Sword high, muscles tense with determination. His eyes, hidden behind the crimson mask, locked onto the Lazarus Pit, daring it to defy him. The pit seemed to respond, its emerald depths churning in defiance.

With a powerful thrust, Jason brought the All-Sword down into the Lazarus Pit, unleashing a brilliant explosion of emerald light. The chamber shook as the pit convulsed, its ancient magic fighting against its destruction. A wave of energy surged outward, engulfing the Red Ghoul. He felt the pit's power clawing at him, trying to pull him in and corrupt him with promises of eternal life. But Jason's will was strong, and he resisted.

As the All-Sword pierced the Lazarus Pit, the emerald liquid began to disintegrate. Its power waned, and its presence faded, leaving behind only a whisper of its former self. Jason watched as the remnants of the Lazarus Pit evaporated into nothingness. He had accomplished his mission.

Breathing heavily, Jason withdrew the All-Sword, now cleansed of the pit's influence. The chamber grew still, its secrets buried once more. Jason turned and began his journey back to the surface, leaving the hidden Lazarus Pit behind. The moon cast a silvery glow over San Francisco as the Red Ghoul emerged from the depths. As Jason moved through the dimly lit alleyways and rooftops, he suddenly felt a strong sense of unease. It was like the atmosphere around him had shifted, warning him of an approaching threat. He quickly melted into the shadows, his senses on high alert.

Then, the Teen Titans appeared out of the darkness. Tim Drake, leading the group as Robin, was flanked by Conner Kent, aka Superboy, and Cassie Sandsmark, Wonder Girl, who floated beside them with her lasso ready. Bart Allen, also known as Impulse, stood at the front, brimming with energy. Jaime Reyes, the Blue Beetle, was prepared for action in his alien suit.

Jason observed them calmly, his mask hiding his emotions. The Titans had clearly been expecting him and were ready. They spread out, surrounding him with a precise strategy that left little room for escape.

The standoff was underway, and the tension in the air was palpable.

As the Titans closed in, Red Ghoul moved with a skill that seemed almost otherworldly. He dodged Superboy's charge with a smooth sidestep, ducked under Wonder Girl’s lasso, and avoided Blue Beetle’s laser blasts. Impulse came at him with incredible speed, but Red Ghoul anticipated the move, calmly sidestepping the speedster.

The fight was a mix of martial arts and magic, with Red Ghoul using his opponents' energy against them. His movements were precise and deliberate, making it hard for the Titans to land a hit.

As the battle continued, Robin started to realize something. Red Ghoul wasn’t trying to defeat them outright. Despite their best efforts, they couldn’t get a solid hit in. It seemed like Red Ghoul was always one step ahead, directing their actions with unsettling accuracy.

Understanding dawned on Robin, and he signaled his team to stop. The Teen Titans pulled back, looking frustrated and puzzled. Red Ghoul remained steady, his mask hiding any sign of emotion.

"Stop!" Robin ordered, his voice cutting through the tension. The Titans paused, their faces showing a mix of relief and confusion. Robin approached carefully, keeping his eyes on Red Ghoul. "Who are you?" he asked, clearly uncertain.

Red Ghoul offered no answer, only a stoic silence that hung heavily in the night. Until he finally drawled, sounding quite creepy by the mechanical modulator. “Haven’t your parents taught you some manners? You should learn to ask questions first, then jump into a fight. Especially, against someone you are clearly unprepared to fight.”

“What are you doing in our city?” Robin demanded to know.

“I am just here for some League of Shadows business,” Jason replied drily, chuckling when he noticed the sharp gaze of Robin. Out of all the Robins Batman had, this one was the most like the Dark Knight… which is not a compliment at all.

“I thought you told Arsenal you are not part of the League of Assassins anymore? That you belonged to some sect called the All Caste now.” Superboy interrogated, crossing his arms over his chest and glaring.

Red Ghoul stared back, clearly unimpressed. “You guys really need to step up, otherwise you will be dead soon. You are clearly unprepared; I do not know how the Justice League even allowed you out to the streets with the way you behave.” Red Ghoul shook his head in disappointment, ignoring the way Superboy and Wonder Girl bristled. After watching Dick’s Titans battle, he had had bigger expectation towards the Teen Titans. But they are clearly just children playing dress-up. “The League of Assassins is no more. Umi slayed her tyrant of a father and has changed the league into a better direction. The League of Shadows requested my aid to eradicate the Lazarus Pits. Which is what I am in San Francisco for. I may no longer be part of the league, but as I had told Arsenal, I am still an al Ghul and Talia al Ghul’s son.”

“There was a Lazarus Pit here?!” Robin exclaimed, sounding shocked and fearful. “And you can eradicate them? How is that possible?!”

“The All-Sword was made to deal with pure evil,” Red Ghoul answered. He had no reason not to, but with bats it’s better to give them a bone to run themselves ragged or they won’t stop badgering you. “The Lazarus Pits are pure demonic magic, pure evil.” He turned towards Impulse, who had seemed to be the least violent towards him and asked. “How is Arsenal doing? Did he find his daughter?”

“Yeah…” Impulse smiled warmly at Red Ghoul, while trying to calm himself down. This was the Red Ghoul! One of his favorite heroes in history! Though, the Red Ghoul has always said he was no hero, but just a normal warlock doing his job. Still, Impulse worshiped the ground he walked in, Red Ghoul had been Earth’s last line of defense against The Reach after all. “He is doing more than fine, and he has reunited with his daughter.”

“I am glad,” Red Ghoul smiled, though the Teen Titans could not tell because of his mask.

Robin fidgeted on his feet, feeling bad for some reason. Red Ghoul did not act or seem like a villain. Someone who they had to be on guard against or mistrust. He might not be allied with the Justice League, and he might have some questionable paternity, but he was not working against them either. All he does is deal with cursed and evil magical objects… the Red Ghoul was more in a grey area, like John Constantine from what the bats have deduced.

Not that it stopped Batman from obsessing over him. He was the previously unknown son of his ex-wife after all.

“Why did you pull back your punches?” Wonder Girl demanded to know. She was an Amazonian and being looked down by a man was driving her mad. “We could have taken you out!”

“No, you could have not,” Red Ghoul shut her down. "I pulled back my punches because I don't hurt kids. Especially, child soldiers."

That being said, Red Ghoul apparated in an instant, leaving the Teen Titans stunned and speechless.

Chapter Text

Nanda Parbat, tucked away in the Himalayas, felt like it was bending the rules of nature itself. When Billy arrived, he was struck by the sheer beauty and mystery that surrounded him.

The air was cool and fresh, with the invigorating scent of wildflowers. Every breath felt revitalizing, as if the atmosphere was infused with life itself. In the distance, he could hear a river flowing, adding a soothing background to the scene.

The landscape was like a painter's dream. Snow-capped peaks towered above, seemingly reaching the sky, while green valleys spread out below. The mountains seemed to cradle Nanda Parbat, protecting its sanctity.

The monastery, an architectural marvel, clung to the side of one of the smaller peaks. Its design blended perfectly with the natural surroundings. Ornate carvings decorated its walls, telling stories from ancient legends and myths.

Billy couldn't help but admire the vibrant colors of the monastery. Rich reds, emerald greens, and shimmering golds stood out against the calm white of the snow-capped mountains. The buildings seemed to glow with an energy that felt ancient and wise.

As he wandered deeper into Nanda Parbat, he noticed the prayer flags gently rustling in the breeze. Their colorful streamers carried blessings in the wind, adding a magical touch to the scenery. Each flag reflected the deep spiritual devotion of the people living there.

The locals moved gracefully through the valley, their dark clothing creating a striking contrast against the natural beauty around them. Billy felt the strong sense of community and unity that connected them.

But what truly stole Billy’s heart were the gardens. Nanda Parbat was a haven of botanical wonders, with beautifully tended gardens bursting with colors and fragrances. Exotic flowers from all over the world thrived here, their petals sparkling with dewdrops. He was in awe of the gardeners' artistry in creating this paradise.

“That was my first reaction of this place as well,” Jason chuckled, when he noticed how affected Billy was by the beauty of Nanda Parbat. “Once my mind was healed and I had realized where I was, it left me wondering how a place that trained so many people to kill could be filled with so much life. It was almost as if life was breathed back into us.” Jason hummed with a thoughtful expression. “Maybe that was why so many shadows remained here, even if it meant being under the tyranny of Ra’s al Ghul.”

Before Billy could even reply, Damian was rushing past through them and throwing himself into the arms of the most beautiful woman Billy had ever laid his eyes upon. “Umi!”

“Oh, my prince, I’ve missed you so much,” the woman, Talia al Ghul, wrapped her arms around Damian and held him close to her chest. “Has your akhi been taking good care of you?”

“The very best!” Damian beamed at her.

Even after a couple of years outside of the control of Ra’s, Damian still behaved more maturely than his age. The only times he allowed himself to drop his shields were around the Kents, his brothers, and his mother. And it was such a beautiful sight! Damian’s smile could light up a room. Just like his father, his mere presence could command the attention of everyone.

Talia smiled fondly at her son, caressing his cheeks gently. “I am so glad to hear that.” She looked up, her gaze soft as she looked at her other two sons. Who would have thought that she, Talia al Ghul, would one day become the mother of three? “Jason, abni, come here.”

“Umi,” Jason smiled, stepping closer to allow her to embrace him as well, as Damian went to greet his aunt, Nyssa al Ghul. “I’ve heard from my squad about your success but seeing you safe and sound is a balm to my heart.”

“Did you ever doubt our success?” Talia teased her son, holding his face between her hands gently. “Who trained you, my boy?”

“You did,” Jason chuckled. “And no, I never doubted you kicking that bastard’s ass. But I still worry, I am your son after all.”

Talia’s heart ached with so much love as she heard him refer to himself as her son. “That you are,” she agreed warmly, before turning to the boy who was fidgeting nervously in the back. “But you are not the only one. Why don’t you introduce me to my newest son?”

“Billy, stop acting all scared and get here!” Jason scoffed, waving him close. “This is your umi, she won’t bite… much.”

“Don’t tease the poor boy,” Talia chastised her oldest son, but chuckled as Billy’s eyes widened in panic. She smiled encouragingly when Billy began marching towards her, all tense and robotic. “Hello there, sweet thing. I am Talia al Ghul, your new mother.”

Billy gathered all the courage of Achilles he could and held out his hand in greeting. “H-hello, I a-am B-Billy H-Head. Nicetomeetyou!”

“The pleasure is all mine,” Talia laughed, bringing Billy into a warm hug.

One which Billy practically melted into. Talia’s hug was all warm, pleasant, and smelt like jasmine flowers. It made Billy feel all safe and… at home. Just like Billly’s mom’s hugs used to. How long has it been since Billly had been hugged by his mom? The thought of it brought the poor boy close to tears.

“Shh, let it all out,” Talia patted his back encouragingly, as Billy sobbed in her chest.

Jason sighed and left the duo; they deserved some privacy after all. He headed towards his aunt Nyssa, who was attentively listening to Damian recount his time in Fawcett City. “Hi, halto. How has it been?”

“Busy like always,” Nyssa smirked at her nephew. “With taking over and then been regaled as the General of our Forces, there has not been a moment stop.”

“Well, there’s no one better at the job than you,” Jason praised her honestly. While Talia was a natural born political leader, Nyssa exceeded in leading troops to victory. “Why don’t we get going, umi and Billy will take a while. Apparations make travels quick and easy, but it’s been a while since I’ve been in Nanda Parbat, and I have missed my room here.”

“Come,” Nyssa chuckled, guiding them, not that the boys needed it, to their chambers in the al Ghul family wing of the headquarters of the League of Shadows.

Jason's smirk was wide and happy when he opened the door to his room. His space in Nanda Parbat was a reflection of his vibrant personality. The room was dominated by a deep, rich red that radiated warmth and intensity. Tapestries with intricate Eastern designs covered the walls, showing fierce warriors in battle and majestic birds in flight. Red silk curtains hung at the windows, letting in a soft, filtered light during the day.

The centerpiece of the room was a massive four-poster bed with crimson silk sheets and a beautifully carved headboard. On the nightstand was a photo of Jason with Damian, Nyssa, and Talia—a photo that would soon need updating now that Billy was part of their family.

The room also had a cozy reading nook with plush red armchairs and a small library filled with books, from ancient scrolls to modern novels. A Persian rug covered the polished wooden floor, adding an extra layer of warmth. Weapons from different cultures adorned the walls, showcasing Jason's combat expertise.

Jason set down his bags and ran his fingers over the titles in his library, remembering the many evenings he spent there, either reading in peaceful silence or telling Damian bedtime stories. Those were the only times in his early years with the al Ghuls when his mind was quiet, and the Pit Madness was almost nonexistent.

With a sigh of relief, Jason left his room and headed towards Damian’s. Damian's room was all about nature. Different shades of green made it feel like a peaceful forest. The walls had murals of calm bamboo groves and serene landscapes.

The focal point was a traditional Japanese futon on a tatami mat, creating a simple and calm sleeping area. The futon had green silk bedding, and a bonsai tree sat on a small wooden table next to it.

One wall showcased a neat collection of katana swords and shurikens. The room also had a little meditation corner with a cushion and incense burners, where Damian could clear his mind and focus on his training.

“How is it going demon spawn?” Jason teased his little brother, who had clearly gone straight to the meditation corner. Jason took a deep breath, allowing the sandalwood incense to calm his nerves. Jason chuckled when he found no response from Damian, who was in a meditation pose and his breathing was steady. “Take your time, brat.”

Jason left the chambers with a fond chuckle and headed towards the newly decorated chamber. Jason stopped outside of it, a sense of nostalgia and sadness filling him. This chamber used to be Mara’s, sweet, poor, unfortunate Mara, who had died too soon. However, now it was Billy’s. 

With a deep breath, Jason finally gathered the courage he needed and opened the door.

Talia and Nyssa decorated Billy's room perfectly. It was all about purity, innocence, and the wonder of youth. Soft whites and delicate golden accents made the room feel enchanting. White marble floors and walls with intricate golden patterns added a touch of grandeur.

The centerpiece was a luxurious canopy bed with white silk draperies that flowed to the floor. Golden pillows and a plush duvet made it incredibly inviting.

Large windows let in natural light, filling the room with a warm, welcoming glow. Billy's room also had a play area with a game station and colorful decorations. A golden chandelier with delicate crystals hung from the ceiling, adding a touch of elegance.

Each room in Nanda Parbat was carefully designed to match the personalities and preferences of Jason, Damian, and Billy, giving them a sense of comfort and belonging in this peaceful and mysterious place.

Jason’s eyes fell on Talia’s form, who was cuddling Billy on the canopy bed. The poor boy was clearly exhausted, as he cuddled against his mom, eyes puffy and red. Not wanting to intrude Jason slowly backed away from the chamber and silently closed the door behind him.

If he had been trained any less than he had been, Jason would have jumped by the sudden appearance of Nyssa behind him. His aunt smiled proudly at Jason; it was not easy to catch her presence when she was being sneaky.

“Want to help me prepare dinner?” Nyssa offered.

She was not as close to his nephews as she used to be with her niece. After all, the boys had Talia, while Mara did not have anyone. Dusan having died long ago, leaving Mara as an orphan. Which was when Nyssa had stepped up and raised Mara as her own.

Not that it had saved poor Mara from her fate.

“I would love to,” Jason smiled gently.

He knew what his aunt was trying to do. He had never blamed her for not trying hard enough with them. If anything, he was grateful that someone had taken care of Mara while she was still alive. Talia’s priority had always been Damian and later Jason joined that rank, leaving her with no space for anyone else. Not when Ra’s was still around, and she had to protect her boys.

However, now that Ra’s was dead… and so was Mara, Nyssa wanted to try and get to know her nephews more. Especially, with the big hole in her heart that Mara left behind. And Jason was all for it.

“You can always count on me when it comes to cooking. Alfie taught me all he knows, and he is the best chef out there. Never allow anyone to tell you the opposite.”

The al Ghul family dinner happened right in the heart of their Nanda Parbat home, in the cozy family room. This space was a perfect blend of rich Arabian aesthetics, decorated in the al Ghul family's signature emerald green and gold.

Low emerald-green sofas with plush cushions formed a circular seating area, each spot adorned with embroidered golden throw pillows. Soft lighting from ornate brass lanterns hanging from the ceiling cast intricate patterns on the walls, making the atmosphere even more intimate.

In the center of the circle was an intricately carved wooden coffee table used as the dining surface. A brass tray on the table held a variety of aromatic Middle Eastern dishes—succulent lamb kebabs, fragrant couscous, crispy falafel, and savory hummus, all presented with care. Delicate glasses of Arak, an anise-flavored spirit, sparkled in the soft light.

The walls were decorated with Arabic calligraphy and Middle Eastern artworks, celebrating the al Ghul family's cultural heritage. An indoor garden of exotic plants added a touch of natural beauty, making the room feel even more authentic.

“I have an upcoming art show in the Fawcett Art Institute!” Damian raved excitedly. “I hope you two can come as well! I am donating all my earnings to the animal shelter I’ve been volunteering at. Is not like I have any need for the money.”

“We would love to,” Nyssa responded. She was very happy for her nephew, but also sad because it reminded her that Mara was not there to enjoy it with them. That Mara would never get a chance to be a normal kid. “We will make sure to clear up our schedule for that date. I can’t wait to see how much you’ve advanced in your art training. You were already so good two years ago.”

“What about you William?” Talia turned to her newest son. “Have you been enjoying your time in Fawcett City?”

“Well, it has always been my home,” Billy shrugged. “Though, now that I have a family again, I am having a better time. Something I am proud about, though, is that I have finally caught up to Dami when it comes to education!” Billy’s expression lights up. “While I still lack in the areas of languages and martial arts, I am quite proud of myself. However, I did cheat a little bit.” Billy chuckled bashfully. “Solomon and Achilles have been guiding me a lot. Though, now that I have caught up to Dami they promised to stop doing that and allow mee to progress naturally.”

“No need to be embarrassed about it,” Jason assured him. “We all have our own natural or supernatural advantages.” He smiled at Billy, before turning to his mother and aunt. “As for me, I have finished the movie script and have already handed it to the producers dealing with his book in Warner Bros. I also have started with the script for the miniseries, but as I have time with that, as the show was not set to be filmed in a year, I decided to go slow and focus more on my upcoming book. Esperanza has been quite persistent!” Jason huffed, smirking mysteriously when Nyssa asked him about his new book. “I want this to be a surprise for everyone. So, I am keeping a tight lid on it.”

“Such a drama queen,” Talia teased, making her son blush and everyone laugh.

The family members continued to savor the delectable dishes and shared stories, laughter, and memories. However, it was only when the kids left for their chambers for the night that the serious topics came into the conversation.

“We can finally rest after almost two years of ongoing wars,” Nyssa commented, lounging on the sofa, as she took a sip from her Arak. “Father’s faction has been dealt with and we finally pushed back Wilson’s forces from our territory.”

“I still can’t believe Deathstroke tried to breach into the League of Shadow’s territory,” Jason shook his head from his plush cushion. “How you two dealt with it so soon after your war against the Counsil of Spider, I have no idea. I thought I knew how incredible you two were, but you two keep on amazing me every day.”

Talia smiled warmly at her son from a plush cushion across him. “We are in a stable position right now, but it was not without our losses.” Talia’s smile slipped to the memory of all the shadows they’d lost. “My good friend Lady Shiva is now gone.”

“I never thought I would see the day that someone would be able to bring down Lady Shiva,” Jason sighed in disbelief. “I still remember my sword lessons with her… she was a brutal legend. An invincible brutal legend.”

“No one is ever invincible, you better remember that nephew,” Nyssa corrected him sternly. “Though, I agree with you. Only three wars and incredibly strong opponents were able to take her down. A truly living legend.”

“Shiva was the only reason we were able to take down father, though she ended up extremely injured after our war against his faction,” Talia explained to her son, sadness tinting her tone. “Injuries that never got to heal as the Counsil of Spiders attacked, taking advantage of us scrambling to regroup after out takeover.” Talia smirked viciously, all teeth and bloodthirst. “Not that those fools of the Counsil of Spiders were able to do much against her. She survived them and slaughtered their main forces.”

“One thing I should thank them for, though, was dealing with Cain,” Nyssa smirked with satisfaction. “I was already planning on dealing with one of father’s favorite pets, but those spiders decided to save me the effort.”

“Do not speak like that, akhti. David Cain was on our side during both wars, his death should be respected as much as any other ally of ours that fell that day.” Talia scolded her but did not sound that mad. If anything, she sounded as pleased as Nyssa. By the shared smirks, it was clear that neither al Ghul sister liked or respected the assassin. Talia turned back to her son and continued her tale. “It was only when Wilson attacked us that the wars started to show their weight on Shiva. She fought valiantly and felled Wilson, but he took her down with him.”

“I’m sorry for your loss, umi, halto,” Jason bowed in respect for his fallen teacher and his family’s friend.

“Do not be,” Nyssa shook her head. “Lady Shiva got a warrior’s end, as she had always wished for. Dying at her peak and living on as a martial arts legend. There could be no greater life and death for our friend.”

“We’ve lost important figures, but we have new ones, and we continue to stand strong,” Talia straightened up in pride. “Not to mention, two of our biggest rivals are down and we now have total control of the League of Shadows.”

“All while you were safe and hidden,” Nyssa continued for her sister with a small smile. “No more children will suffer in Nanda Parbat. No more anyone with the al Ghul blood will suffer… at least not by other al Ghuls.”

“We’ve lost a lot,” Talia’s look was faraway. “But at the end, it was all worth it.”

Jason had to look down at his Arak glass, not being able to handle the pressure of their stares. Stares filled with loss, wisdom, and sacrifice. He said nothing in return for their words. What could he even say? After all they’ve lost and sacrificed, words would only fall short. So, he stayed silent, nursing his drink, until they all parted ways for the night. Once Jason was in the sanctuary of his chamber, he allowed himself to break down. He allowed himself to mourn every loss the shadows suffered, for every sacrifice his mother and aunt had to make.

The main training yard at Nanda Parbat stretched out under the open sky, surrounded by the towering peaks of the Himalayas. The grounds were kept in perfect condition, designed to sharpen the skills of anyone aiming to master combat.

On one side of the yard, Damian was deep into a precise display of swordsmanship. He moved with the grace of a seasoned warrior, his katana slicing through the air with pinpoint accuracy. Every movement showed off his years of rigorous training and natural talent. The rhythmic sound of his blade cutting through the air echoed through the valley, a testament to his skill and determination.

Across the yard, Billy was fully focused, his movements mirroring the swift and powerful swings of the morning star flail he wielded. The spiked steel ball on its chain moved effortlessly under his control, striking with graceful ferocity. The morning sun cast a warm glow on Billy's determined face as he practiced, showing his dedication to mastering this unique weapon.

Jason's ex-squad members watched over the young trainees like silent guardians, their experienced eyes catching every detail of Damian and Billy's training. They offered subtle guidance and corrections when needed, their expertise clear in their every observation.

“Damian has gotten better,” Talia hummed with pride, as she, Nyssa, and Jason observed from one of the balconies that faced the training yard. “Also, I was not expecting sweet William to be so compatible with the morning star flail.”

“Well, we tried many weapons but that seemed to be the one that suited Billy the most,” Jason shrugged. “Also, firearms might be my specialty, but I do need an adequate base in swordsmanship to wield the All-Sword correctly,” Jason chuckled. “I did my best to train him, but now that the league is stable and you do not need all your field experts battling, I would like to request a Sword Master to be sent to Nanda Parbat. Damian is a natural when it comes to the sword, and he has already exceeded my level of mastery.”

“How do you call yourself a firearm expert? Nowadays you barely use your guns, focusing more on the use of the All-Sword and your magic,” Nyssa raised an eyebrow.

Jason turned to his aunt and crossed his arms over his chest in defiance. “It is not my fault that the All Caste is lacking in numbers after the war against The Untitled and has been sending me to many exorcisms mission, both spiritual and for cursed objects. Not to mention, you two have me apparating all over the world eradicating Lazarus Pits.”

“That we have,” Talia hummed thoughtfully. “Maybe we should send you to a mission where you will need to use your martial arts and guns rather than your magic. I am sure your squad would love to reunite for one more mission.”

Jason’s smirk was wide and bloodthirsty. A smirk he had only learned when he became an al Ghul. The viciousness he learned on the streets of Gotham City. “You know me. I am always ready for some good old violence.”

“My vicious, little lion,” Talia smirked at her son, pride shining in her eyes.

“If anything, I am stag,” Jason corrected. “You still haven’t answered me, can you spare a Sword Master?”

“I can… but I have a better suggestion,” Talia replied. “With father and Shive dead, Nyssa and I are the best Sword Masters the League of Shadows possess. Outside of the league, with Wilson dead, Katana now has the best swordsmanship. Other than us, she outshines any other Sword Master in the league.”

“We are busy and can’t train Damian, but Katana owes us a favor and won’t mind teaching him. Especially, after we assure her about the league’s new direction and the fact that we have no desire of indoctrinating children to kill.” Nyssa explained.

“Good,” Jason nodded firmly. “I’ve been teaching Dami that swords are not meant to kill but to protect those who cannot.”

“I’m glad,” Talia’s smile turned soft and proud. Oh, how proud she had been feeling lately. “Jason, we have something to tell you. Something very important.”

Jason tensed under his mother and aunt’s serious gazes. He straightened up and frowned at them. “What is wrong? I thought we were out of danger?”

“We are,” Nyssa assured him. “However, with the many changes we have been planning for the league, the headquarters position is one of them.”

Jason froze, eyes widening in shock at the words he was hearing. He could not believe it. This was not happening. “You are leaving Nanda Parbat?!”

“You must understand, that while we are so happy that Nanda Parbat is filled with more happy memories than sad ones for all of you… for us is mostly filled with blood, tears, and sacrifices,” Talia sighed, lowering her eyes in solemnity. “If we want to guide the league into a new direction, a good direction, we need to start from scratch. Leave all these memories behind and start anew.”

“Where would you be moving to?” Jason inquired warily, more relaxed now that he understood their reasoning- though, he still did not like it very much. Nanda Parbat was his home, the place he had found himself again and built his new family.

“We will be moving to the headquarters to Infinity Island,” Nyssa answered.

Jason eyes widened in disbelief. “Wait! That would mean that you guys are planning on….”

“Yes, we are planning on going against our grandmother, Mother Soul, and the main Lazarus Pit,” Talia confirmed with solemnity. She held her son’s gaze and never looked away as she continued. “Would you join us? We are planning on leaving most of our forces to protect Damian and William in Nanda Parbat, while taking a select team with us to Infinity Island.”

Minutes of silence stretched in, as Talia and Nyssa waited for Jason’s answer. Until…

“So, it seems that my squad and I will be getting the mission after all,” Jason finally replied, his smirk was all teeth and viciousness.

The fight for Infinity Island was an epic showdown. On one side, you had Talia and Nyssa al Ghul, the fierce sister duo. On the other, their wicked grandmother, the Mother of Soul, who was all about dark magic and sinister power.

The battle kicked off with a mix of spell-slinging and martial arts moves, like a magical dance-off. The fate of Infinity Island hung in the balance. Wrapped in an eerie aura, the Mother of Soul fired off some seriously dark magic at the al Ghuls. But Talia and Nyssa were ready. They moved like graceful ninjas, combining martial arts skills with mystical protection on their gear, courtesy of Jason. Runes on their outfits wove protective and enhancing spells over them.

The island itself was a stunning backdrop for the clash. Ancient trees with roots that seemed timeless surrounded the battleground. The tension in the air was palpable. Exotic flowers added to the otherworldly vibe, along with the faint scent of fire and blood.

Talia and Nyssa were unstoppable, attacking in perfect sync. But the Mother of Soul wasn't giving up. She hurled wicked spells that twisted reality itself. Shields shattered, and the ground felt like it was having a seismic fit under all that magical pressure.

The clash of weapons echoed through the island. Talia's sword and Nyssa's sais met the Mother of Soul's ethereal scythe, creating sparks that could blind you. It was like a showdown from an ancient legend, with moves that defied the laws of physics. The island itself seemed to be on their side.

As the battle raged on, you could practically taste the malevolence coming from the Mother of Soul. She conjured shadows that turned into creepy shapes trying to freak out her opponents. But Talia and Nyssa stood firm. Their sisterly bond and duty to the League of Shadows kept them strong.

The climax was like something out of a fantasy movie. Talia and Nyssa finally broke through the Mother of Soul’s shields and stabbed her with their weapons. The wicked lady writhed in pain as Nyssa’s sais pierced her gut. The ground shook as she cried out, giving Talia the perfect chance to finish her with a clean swing of her sword.

A moment of silence followed as the Mother of Soul’s head rolled to the ground. The sisters stood there, taking in the loss of another family member by their own hands.

“It is done,” Talia murmured, her eyes never leaving the decapitated head of her grandmother.

“Almost,” Nyssa corrected her with a frown. “Lord Death Man and the Lazarus Pit remain.”

“No need to worry about that, Jason and his squad will deal with it,” Talia waved her worries away. “If anything, we need to figure out what we will do with Lord Death Man’s young ward. Flatline is but a child… she has the same age of my prince.”

“About that, I have an idea,” Nyssa smiled at her sister.

Meanwhile, on the other side of the island, Jason's old squad—some seriously skilled warriors—were out to take down Lord Death Man. The island wasn't exactly a walk in the park either. It was dense jungle filled with tricky traps set by Lord Death Man himself. Wires strung between trees, hidden pits waiting to swallow you whole, and plants that could poison you just by a glance.

But Jason's squad? They were top-notch. They moved like a well-oiled machine, trained and led by Jason himself. They handled Lord Death Man's fanatical followers, who were decked out in seriously creepy costumes, with ease. Crossbows and throwing knives flew, but it was all in a day's work for the squad.

And then there was the man himself, Lord Death Man. He showed up with his eerie laughter, gliding through the jungle like he owned the place. Lord Death Man, decked out in all sorts of sinister skull-themed gear, he even had this fancy staff with a skull on top—real classy touch. He was a real pain to deal with. He had a knack for surviving the worst situations, all thanks to his close ties with those Lazarus Pits.

The battle raged on relentlessly as each squad member took their turn facing off against Lord Death Man. His freaky ability to heal quickly made him a tough opponent, shrugging off wounds that would take down anyone else. But the squad didn't back down; they quickly found his weak spots and launched a coordinated attack.

It played out like scenes from an action-packed movie. These seasoned warriors faced an enemy seemingly immune to pain and fatigue. Fueled by their determination, they kept up a relentless assault.

Blades sliced through the air, shurikens zoomed toward their mark, bullets pierced the silence, and spears flew with precision. Each strike aimed at a different vulnerability they discovered in the chaos of battle. Lord Death Man twisted and dodged, but the non-stop attacks eventually wore him down.

In the midst of the fight, Jason focused on neutralizing the influence of the Lazarus Pit. He felt deeply connected to the unfolding struggle, knowing that defeating Lord Death Man was crucial to their mission. Their unity, resilience, and well-honed combat skills were their strongest assets.

Finally, with the Lazarus Pit cut off and its dark magic fading, Lord Death Man stumbled. The cumulative effect of their strategic strikes proved too much. He collapsed, his once-unstoppable form now defeated and still.

After the battle, relief mixed with exhaustion. The squad, though victorious, bore the scars of a grueling fight against an opponent who pushed them to their limits. As they gathered in the shadows of the jungle, the truth sank in—they had won not just through strength, but through relentless determination and tactical skill.

The squad emerged from the jungle, battered but victorious. Along their path, corpses off Lord Death Man’s followers laid on the ground, with bullet holes decorating their bodies. It made Arianne smirk underneath her mask. “Well, it seems that Red Ghoul had his fun. He was furious when he was given the job of dealing with the Lazarus Pits, again. Magic knows he has missed using his guns. At least, he got to vent against them.”

“Less chit-chat and more moving!” Jason, in his Red Ghoul regalia, appeared before them. “We need to regroup with our Lady Head of the Shadows and the General. Let’s get going!”

Damian found himself surprisingly at ease on Infinity Island. The lush, mystical environment seemed to resonate with him. One of the unexpected highlights of Damian's stay on the island was his newfound friendship with Nika, also known as Flatline. Nyssa, his formidable aunt, had taken Nika under her wing following the demise of her former boss/guardian, Lord Death Man. Damian had observed the profound impact Mara's passing had on Nyssa, as she had played a significant role in raising his cousin. Nika's presence offered a glimmer of hope and a chance for Nyssa to heal from the loss.

Damian admired Nika's resilience and independent spirit. She carried herself with a sense of confidence and a hint of mystery, characteristics that piqued Damian's curiosity. Despite the somber circumstances that had brought them together, Damian was glad to have a cousin once more. Damian had not only come to view Nika as not only a friend but also a kindred spirit, someone who understood the complexities of their shared world.

Meanwhile, Billy was utterly astounded by the ancient magic that permeated every corner of Infinity Island. From the moment he set foot on the mystical land, he could sense the profound power that lingered in the air, like a whisper from a forgotten era.

The island itself seemed to be a living testament to centuries of enchantment. Towering trees with gnarled roots reached towards the sky, their branches forming intricate patterns that resembled the mystic symbols of old. These ancient arboreal sentinels exuded an aura of wisdom and ancient knowledge, as if they held the secrets within their age-old rings.

As Billy explored the island's depths, he couldn't help but notice the vibrant array of exotic flora that thrived in this mystical realm. Each flower and plant seemed to possess a unique, ethereal quality, their colors more vivid and their fragrances more intoxicating than any he had encountered before. The very ground beneath his feet pulsed with life, as if the island itself were a living, breathing entity.

The air was filled with a sense of serenity and tranquility. It was as if the island existed in a realm outside of time, untouched by the modern world's turmoil. The gentle rustle of leaves in the breeze and the distant sound of flowing water created a symphony of nature that seemed to soothe the soul.

The island's magical ambiance was not limited to its natural surroundings. Billy soon discovered that even the architecture and structures on Infinity Island held a sense of ancient wonder. Intricately carved stone pillars adorned with mystic symbols stood as guardians at the entrances of sacred temples and chambers. The walls of these structures were adorned with vivid frescoes that depicted mythical creatures and heroic tales from ages past.

Perhaps most intriguing to Billy was the island's underground labyrinth. These winding tunnels, illuminated by the soft glow of mystical crystals, seemed to lead to hidden chambers and forgotten relics.

As Billy delved deeper into the heart of the island, he couldn't help but be humbled by the magnitude of the ancient magic that surrounded him. It felt so similar, yet so unlike, the Rock of Eternity. While the Rock of Eternity’s magical presence felt pure and raw, here on Infinity Island it felt black and heavily influenced by both nature and people. So different yet so alike at the same time.

“I’m glad that those two are having fun at least,” Jason chuckled, as he observed his little brothers having fun. “They get to be carefree, while the adults have to do all the work.”

“It’s good that they feel at home here,” Talia replied. She had her own smile as she observed her sister’s happiness, as Nyssa tended to her new daughter Nika. “It will be their new home.”

“Talking about homes…” Jason turned to her hesitantly, before finding the courage to say what he wanted. “As you well know, after the war against the Hunters the magical community dealt with heavy losses, but none of them heavier than the witches and warlocks. Even though we have recovered some of our numbers with time, we no longer have the numbers to create magical ministries all over the world, as we used to. If anything, we live now forming part of Magical Councils, where each magical being species get their own representation in every given country.”

Jason sighed, turning to look at his little brother with a frown. “I don’t think our numbers will grow to what we used to be any time soon, not until centuries pass for sure. However, what we do have is enough young witches and warlocks to open schools for.”

“If I am not wrong, three magical schools survived the purges,” Talia frowned thoughtfully. “The Durmstrang Institute, Uagadou School of Magic, and Ilvermorny School of Witchcraft and Wizardry.”

“You are right, one magical school for Europe, one for Africa, and another one for the Americas.” Jason nodded. “Asia needs one,” Talia’s eyes widened in realization, she knew where her son was going to with this. “Nanda Parbat has old magic we could use to raise very potent wards to keep anyone but magical beings from finding the place.”

“A school in Nanda Parbat,” Talia hummed, tilting her head. “A place that teaches and protects children… that will be a good use for our old headquarters. It will sure make father roll in his grave.”

“I thought you cremated him?” Jason chuckled, amused and relieved at the same time.

“It’s the sentiment that counts,” Talia replied cheekily. “Now there will be a school for every continent but Australia.”

“That is because Australia has the only magical university in the world, for that reason they do not have formative magical education. It’s to balance things out,” Jason explained. “The Wollongong University, it’s located in a coastal city in the state of New South Wales in Australia.”

“Why Australia? And why have we not been made aware of this? I would have believed that father would have information on a magical university,” Talia turned to her son in shock.

“That is because the continent is made from magical beings, like warlocks, witches, sorcerers, werewolves, faes, vampires, etc. Even squibs live there, but there are no normal humans.” Jason shrugged, oblivious to his mother’s disbelief. It was old news for Jason, something that anyone in the magical community has been made aware of. “Anyone magical, especially those who are long-lived, go to Australia to get muggle identities. They do not have a Ministry of Magic, but they have a Magical Council where each species has a representative. Why do you think that people are always saying that Australia is out to kill you? That is because it is, they have the first and largest magical beasts preserve in the world, which is why it is so dangerous for humans to live in.”

“You always keep on surprising me, abni,” Talia chuckled, shelving this information for another day to panic. “Now let’s discuss your plans about this school of your.”

The old League of Shadows headquarters turned into the Nanda Parbat Academy was transformed through a blend of ancient mysticism and modern magic, thanks to Jason and the All-Caste. It became a safe haven where AsiAN's children could learn all about magic.

Once a secretive fortress, the building now looked completely different. Enchanted stones and mystical symbols covered its walls, giving off a protective and mysterious vibe.

Powerful wards surrounded the academy, just like the ones at Hogwarts before its fall. These magical shields pulsed with energy, keeping the academy's secrets safe from harm and prying eyes.

Inside, the classrooms were equipped with the latest magical tools and teaching materials. Each room reflected the wisdom of the All-Caste, with ancient tapestries and scrolls decorating the walls to remind students of their magical heritage.

The heart of the academy was its peaceful courtyard—a place for meditation and reflection. Ancient trees provided shade, surrounded by colorful exotic plants. In the center stood a magnificent Bodhi tree, symbolizing wisdom and enlightenment. Jason hoped this serene spot would inspire students on their magical journey.

When the academy needed a new Dean, Jason declined, saying he was already swamped with teaching, raising Damian and Billy, and his writing gigs. So, he reached out to Madame Xanadu, an old friend of Ducra's, and with some help from Essence, his ex, they convinced her to become Headmistress of Nanda Parbat Academy.

Madame Xanadu, known for her mystical skills and foresight, took on the role gracefully. Her cozy chambers in a quiet corner overlooked the stunning Himalayan peaks. With her came a wealth of knowledge and a deep commitment to guide students on their magical and spiritual paths.

The academy's library turned into a treasure trove for seekers of arcane wisdom. Using a handy copying spell, they duplicated rare books from the All-Caste and Rock of Eternity collections, ensuring students had a vast array of mystical texts at their fingertips. Each book brimmed with ancient magic and profound insights, waiting to be explored by curious minds.

The academy's lessons covered everything from elemental powers to seeing the future, and from finding inner peace to combat training. It wasn't just about learning spells; it was a place for students to discover themselves and grow spiritually.

Jason could not wait for its opening, as it would be the perfect academy for Damian and Billy to go to and learn about their magical powers.

Chapter Text

The Academy Awards night was a dazzling spectacle, as Hollywood's finest gathered in a grand theater, bathed in the golden glow of countless camera flashes. The anticipation in the air was palpable as the time came to present the Academy Award for Best Adapted Screenplay.

“The nominees for this prestigious award had worked tirelessly, weaving captivating stories from the written word into cinematic brilliance.” The presenter started dramatically started, as the names of the nominees were announced, and the audience erupted into applause and cheers. The tension was thick as the presenters prepared to unveil the winner. "And the Academy Award for Best Adapted Screenplay goes to..." The presenter paused for dramatic effect. "Jason Alexander Head for A Death in the Family!"

The room burst into applause as Jason's name was called. The applause seemed to last an eternity as he made his way to the stage, his heart pounding in his chest. With a humble yet grateful smile, he ascended the steps to the podium.

The audience's applause and cheers filled his ears as he looked out at the sea of famous faces before him. He clutched the golden Oscar statuette in his hand, a symbol of his hard work and dedication to his craft.

"Wow," Jason began, his voice filled with emotion. "I can't believe I'm standing here tonight. This is truly an incredible honor, and I want to thank the Academy for recognizing my work."

He took a deep breath before continuing, "I want to dedicate this award to someone very special in my life, someone who has been my biggest supporter from day one. My mom is the reason I'm here today. She always pushed me to do my best, even when I doubted myself. In fact, she believed in my writing so much that she secretly submitted my manuscript, which ultimately led to my book deal and, in turn, this movie adaptation. Mom, this one's for you."

Jason's heartfelt words were met with a warm round of applause and even a few tears from the audience. He continued, "I also want to thank the incredible cast and crew who brought A Death in the Family to life. Your dedication and hard work made this adaptation possible. And to the fans who have supported my work and the story, thank you for your love and enthusiasm."

In closing, Jason Alexander Head held the Oscar high, his eyes shining with gratitude. "This award is a testament to the power of storytelling and the magic that happens when a great team comes together to bring a story to life. Thank you, and here's to the endless possibilities of storytelling!"

The applause swelled to a deafening crescendo as Jason descended from the stage, clutching his well-deserved Academy Award. It was a night to remember, a celebration of creativity, and the culmination of a dream that had started with a love for writing and storytelling.

But before celebrating, he had an interview to get to.

Iris West, a renowned entertainment journalist, leaned forward with a bright smile as she conducted the post-Academy Awards interview with Jason Alexander Head. The atmosphere was alive with excitement, and Jason's incredible sweep of awards for his screenplay adaptation of A Death in the Family was the talk of the town.

Iris began with warm congratulations, her voice filled with genuine admiration. "Jason, I have to start by saying, it's truly remarkable. You've achieved an incredible sweep of all the most notable awards for your screenplay. The Golden Globe, the BAFTA, the Saturn Awards, the Writers Guild of America Award, and now, the coveted Academy Award—just to name a few. What an extraordinary journey you've had. How does it feel to receive such recognition for your work?"

Jason couldn't help but smile, a mix of humility and pride in his eyes. "Thank you, Miss West. It's honestly a bit overwhelming. I'm immensely grateful and honored to have my work acknowledged in this way. To see A Death in the Family resonate with both audiences and the industry has been a dream come true."

Iris, always the insightful interviewer, leaned in, her eyes gleaming with curiosity. "One thing I think many of our viewers are eager to know is the process of adapting your own novel into a screenplay. Can you tell us about the challenges and differences in writing a novel versus a screenplay? It's clear your approach worked wonders, but it must have been a remarkable journey."

Jason nodded, his expression contemplative. "Absolutely, Miss West. Adapting a novel into a screenplay is a unique challenge. When I wrote A Death in the Family as a novel, I had the luxury of delving deep into the characters' inner thoughts and the intricate details of their lives. Novels allow for a more extensive exploration of the narrative and a slower pacing."

He continued, "In a screenplay, you have to convey the essence of the story, the emotions, and the character arcs within a limited number of pages. It's a form of storytelling that relies heavily on dialogue, action, and visual cues. Every word has to count. It was a tremendous challenge to capture the essence of the novel while respecting the medium of film. I had to make tough choices about what to include, what to trim, and how to keep the heart of the story intact."

Iris nodded, her eyes focused on Jason's every word. "It sounds like a complex balancing act. How did you approach maintaining the core themes and emotions of A Death in the Family while adapting it to a screenplay?"

Jason's passion for storytelling shone through as he responded, "The core themes and emotions were my guiding stars throughout the adaptation process. I focused on the fundamental relationships and character development that made the novel so powerful. Each scene, each line of dialogue, had to serve a purpose in conveying those themes."

He smiled warmly, his eyes reflecting a deep sense of satisfaction. "Ultimately, it was about finding a visual and emotional language for the story. It was a challenge I welcomed with open arms. To see it resonate with audiences and critics alike is an incredible validation of the choices we made in the adaptation."

Iris nodded appreciatively. "Your dedication truly shines through in the final product. Jason, thank you for sharing this insight into your creative process. Congratulations once again on your extraordinary achievements. We can't wait to see what you'll bring to us next."

Jason nodded in gratitude, a twinkle in his eye. "Thank you, Miss West. I'm excited about the future, and I'm grateful for the support of everyone who believed in this project. Let's see where the next chapter takes us."

The interview concluded with a sense of optimism and anticipation for what Jason Alexander Head would create next, leaving viewers and fans eager to see what’s next.

The morning sunbathed the cozy breakfast nook in a warm, inviting glow as Jason, Damian, and Billy gathered around the table. The scent of a delicious homemade breakfast filled the air, tantalizing their taste buds. The TV was on, a low murmur in the background, but its content was about to become the highlight of their meal.

As the trio enjoyed their breakfast, they heard the familiar and effervescent voice of Cat Grant emanating from the television. Her vibrant commentary was brimming with enthusiasm as she raved about The Risen, the highly anticipated miniseries adaptation of Jason's novel of the same name. Damian's sharp ears perked up at the sound of her voice, and he turned his attention to the screen.

"...And folks, let me tell you, the excitement surrounding The Risen is through the roof!" Cat Grant exclaimed with her signature zeal. "Jason Head, known for his incredible debut with A Death in the Family, has once again set the literary world on fire with his unique storytelling. Fans have been waiting eagerly for this adaptation, and it's finally begun production!"

Billy couldn't contain his excitement and turned to Jason, his eyes sparkling. "Jason, this is amazing! Your book is finally turning into a miniseries, and Cat Grant is talking about it! You've made it big!"

Damian was equally animated. "Of course, we knew this was going to happen. My akhi is the best, and Al Ghuls always emerge victorious."

While Cat Grant continued to rave about the upcoming miniseries and its cast and crew on the TV, Jason couldn't help but blush slightly at the outpouring of admiration from his brothers. He received their congratulations with a genuine smile, nodding in appreciation. In the trophy room, where accolades were showcased alongside Damian's art ribbons and Billy's skating competition trophies, the physical evidence of their accomplishments told a story of shared success, love, and unwavering support.

The breakfast conversation continued, as Jason coughed and changed the topic of conversation, to take the attention off him. After all, Damian and Billy needed to prepare to head to the Nanda Parbat Academy of Magic for their classes. Especially Billy who was about to embark on his third year and had to select his elective subjects.

As they gathered around the kitchen table, Damian was now munching on a croissant, his attention divided between breakfast and the subject choices. Billy, on the other hand, was engrossed in the list of elective subjects, his brow furrowed with concentration.

Jason began to read out the list of the twelve Core Subjects, which Damian had already started to study and excel in. “Alright, here are the Core Subjects you'll be taking. Damian, you're already familiar with most of these. Transfiguration, Charms, Potions, History of Magic…"

Damian nodded, as he continued to munch on his croissant. "Mm-hmm."

Jason continued. "Dueling & Combat Magic, Astronomy, Herbology, Magical Culture and Etiquette..."

"All in order." Damian nodded.

"Magical Theory, Arithmancy, Study of Ancient Runes…"

"Of course."

"Magizoology..."

Damian interjected with a hint of pride, given his interest in the subject. "I insisted on including Magizoology."

Jason nodded with a smile. "Rightly so, Damian. Now, let's move on to the Elective subjects. Billy, pay attention. These are your options."

Billy was practically vibrating with excitement. "I'm ready."

Jason continued, listing the Elective subjects for Billy's consideration. "Divination, Healing Magics, Apparition, Alchemy, Languages—"

Billy's eyes lit up at the mention of languages, and he interrupted Jason with enthusiasm. "Languages! I want to learn new languages. I know Arabic, Latin, and English, but Dami already knows every language that the Academy offers. I would like to catch up. Maybe learn Chinese? I know that umi and halto would enjoy that."

"Impressive choice, Billy. Let's see what else we have. Art Magic, Music Magic, Demonology, Ancient Studies…"

Damian was still enjoying his breakfast but couldn't resist offering a suggestion. "Ancient Studies can be fascinating, Billy. Especially, to you who can get your hand on ancient spells thanks to the Rock of Eternity’s Library. Though, if it were up to me, I would take Art Magic. Then I could finally learn how to paint a portrait that moves!"

Billy considered it for a moment. "I think that is a great idea, Dami. "

Jason smiled proudly at his little brothers, adoring how they got along so well- even if they do squabble from time to time. "You also have the option of Ghoul Studies, Rituals & Curses, and Magical Politics."

Billy carefully considered his options. After a moment of contemplation, he made his choices, selecting Ancient Studies, Magical Politics, and French as his elective subjects. "I think I'll go with Ancient Studies, Magical Politics, and French." As he explained his choices, Billy's eyes sparkled with determination. "Understanding magical politics will be important for the Champion of Magic."

Jason nodded in approval, proud of Billy's choices. The young warlock’s dedication to learning and growth was evident, and Jason knew he was making the right decisions to prepare for his future.

With their academic paths set for the day, Damian and Billy gathered their books and supplies, ready to head for their morning training. They still had a couple of weeks before school started and they were going to make the most out of it, an al Ghul is never unprepared.

They will take Nanda Parbat Academy of Magic by storm!

The grand ceremony to inaugurate the Nanda Parbat Academy of Magic was a momentous occasion. Students, parents, and esteemed guests from around the world gathered in anticipation. Madame Xanadu, the Headmistress of the Academy, stood at the podium on a beautifully decorated stage. The air was filled with an air of excitement and reverence as she began her welcoming speech. "Ladies and gentlemen, esteemed guests, and most importantly, our beloved children of Asia, I stand before you today with a heart full of joy and hope. We gather here not just to inaugurate a school but to rekindle the ancient legacy of magic in this sacred land."

Her words were met with enthusiastic applause as the audience understood the significance of this momentous occasion. "For centuries, the magical community in Asia has longed for an institution that can harness the potential, talents, and dreams of young witches and wizards. Today, with the blessings of Nanda Parbat, we proudly open the doors of the Nanda Parbat Academy of Magic."

The applause swelled, echoing across the mountains, as the enchanting surroundings bore witness to the historic revival of magical education in the region. "We welcome students from every corner of Asia and beyond. In our hallowed halls, we offer knowledge that transcends borders, transcends time. Here, we honor the rich tapestry of cultures and traditions that make up this diverse continent."

She gestured towards the students, each of them representing the unique and vibrant cultures of Asia. "It is my honor to declare that the Nanda Parbat Academy of Magic is not just a school but a sanctuary for those who seek to explore the depths of magic, to unravel the mysteries of the arcane, and to carry forth the legacy of ancient wisdom."

The students and guests hung on to Madame Xanadu's every word, captivated by her vision and the promise of a new era for magical education. "As we begin this journey, let us remember that magic is a force that connects all living beings, transcending boundaries and binding us together. It is our responsibility to wield it with wisdom, compassion, and respect."

The Headmistress's words resonated deeply within the hearts of those gathered, reminding them of the importance of their magical heritage. "In the coming years, let us nurture not just the power of magic but the power of unity, understanding, and love. Together, we will create a world where magic is a source of hope, healing, and wonder."

With these inspiring words, the ceremony reached its pinnacle, and the applause and cheers of the crowd echoed through the valleys of Nanda Parbat. Madame Xanadu's vision for the Nanda Parbat Academy of Magic had been officially set in motion, ushering in a new era of magical education in Asia.

As the inaugural ceremony for the Nanda Parbat Academy of Magic concluded, Damian and Billy found themselves enveloped by the warm embrace of their family. The lush courtyard of the academy buzzed with excitement and pride as parents, siblings, and cousins celebrated the beginning of a new chapter in the young wizards' lives.

Talia al Ghul, the poised matriarch of the al Ghul family, looked at Damian with a mixture of pride and love. She had played a vital role in guiding Damian's path and nurturing his growth, and she couldn't help but beam with pride as she embraced her son.

Nyssa al Ghul, with her striking presence and unwavering demeanor, stood beside Talia. Her love for Billy was evident in her eyes as she congratulated him on embarking on this new educational journey. She had welcomed him into their family with open arms and had quickly become a supportive figure in his life.

Jason, the elder brother, stood with a smile on his face, his eyes reflecting a mixture of pride and fondness as he patted Damian and Billy on the back. He had always been there for them, guiding them and teaching them the ways of the world.

Nika, their new cousin and the adopted ward of Nyssa, had also joined the celebration. She was a few years older than Damian, around the same age as Billy, and had quickly become an older sister figure to them. She smiled at Damian and Billy, her eyes gleaming with excitement for their journey at the academy.

As the congratulations and well-wishes continued, Damian and Billy couldn't help but feel grateful for the love and support of their family. After expressing their thanks and saying their goodbyes, Damian and Billy left the warm embrace of their family and made their way to the school buildings. Nika waved them off with an encouraging smile.

As they walked towards the entrance of the academy, Jason heaved a sigh of relief and gratitude when he turned to his mother, Talia. "Mom, I'm just glad that this academy isn't a boarding school. Having Damian and Billy return home after class is a blessing. I know they'll do great things here, but I would rather have them close."

Talia nodded with a soft smile, her hand resting on her son's shoulder. "It's a relief indeed. Their education is essential, but family is irreplaceable. We have found the perfect balance, and I couldn't be prouder of you and our entire family."

With that, they watched as Damian and Billy entered the school. The love and support of their family would forever be their guiding light, ensuring they never felt alone on this remarkable journey.

"Magical Theory," she announced, her voice drawing every eye to the blackboard. "Casting, as all of you know, takes our intent, and harnesses our magical energy to shape it into reality. Casting multiple spells in quick succession or simultaneously requires a significant amount of energy. But have you ever wondered what happens when we do this?"

The classroom fell into a thoughtful silence, confusion etched on the faces of most students. It was Damian who raised his hand, and Professor Mei nodded in response.

"The outcome depends on the combination of spells and their intent," Damian began, his voice steady and confident. His classmates seemed intrigued, indicating that this knowledge was far from common. "For instance:

Buffering: Imagine you start with the 'Alohomora' spell to unlock a door, but you follow it with 'Alohomora Maxima' in the same incantation. The combination enhances the unlocking effect, making it faster and more efficient.

Cancelling: If you cast 'Impedimenta' to slow down an approaching opponent and then immediately cast 'Expelliarmus,' you'll cancel the slowing effect and disarm your opponent.

Stacking: Suppose you first cast 'Protego' to create a protective shield and then follow it with 'Expelliarmus.' In this case, both spells would work simultaneously: the shield offers protection while you disarm your adversary.

Null Spell: However, if you cast 'Alohomora' to unlock a door and then use 'Wingardium Leviosa' unaimed at a nearby feather, the second spell won't have any effect on the feather, but the 'Alohomora' spell will continue to unlock the door as intended.

"Precisely, Mr. Head. Those are excellent examples," Professor Mei commended with a subtle smile. "Magical Theory dictates that simultaneous casting follows certain rules, some of which are straightforward, like the 'Impedimenta' and 'Expelliarmus’ example, but others are more abstract."

Darsh, a classmate of Damian, looking perplexed, raised his hand and was given the opportunity to voice his question. "Professor, is there a limit to how many spells you can stack?"

Professor Mei pondered the question. "That's a matter of the individual's magical core and its unique qualities."

"Professor, what does that mean?" Sakura chimed in. "Aren't all magical cores the same?"

"No, Tsubasa-san," the professor clarified, her chalk dancing across the board as she explained. "Much like other aspects of our beings, each magical core is one of a kind. Some have distinct affinities, while others excel in a single field. Some possess raw power, and some are particularly adept at intricate spellcasting. The diagnosis of magical cores is a challenging task, as they remain relatively unstudied."

"Why haven't they been studied more?" Akane queried.

"Well," Professor Mei began, her tone growing somber, "delving into a wixen's magical core can have dire consequences. Older studies have indicated that meddling with the core might lead to squibhood, erratic and unstable magic, and in some extreme cases, even death."

The sudden heaviness in the lecture room was a stark contrast to the intellectual curiosity that had filled the air just moments ago.

Soon afterwards, the class concluded, and Damian was surrounded by Darsh and his other male classmates, as they made their way to their next class. This behavior from his peers did not shock Damian, as he had purposely impressed both the professor and his peers in the advanced Magical Theory class, with his in-depth knowledge and insightful questions.

As he discussed intricate magical principles with them as they walked, a few students couldn't help but feel intimidated. With Sakura whispering to her friend Akane, "Damian's a genius when it comes to Magical Theory. I hope we can keep up."

Meanwhile, outside the Nanda Parbat Academy for Magic, in the Himalaya mountains, Billy’s Magizoology class was in session. Billy was standing before a sphynx, as this one had given him a riddle to solve, while his classmates looked in trepidation and worry. Of course, it was all being monitored by their Professor, Magizoology Master Dhruv Ram.

How do you find meaning in what seems like a meaningless world?

Billy... well, he was stumped.

How could he ever answer that? How could anyone begin to unpack that question? It was so... profound, so... how do you find meaning? Of life? Of self? Meaning of what?

What did “meaning” even mean?! Was there even a single answer that could encompass everything that "meaning" could mean?

It was terribly complicated.

Billy sat down, the realization of the question slowly corroding his train of thought.

Spiral.

He began to spiral down into a state of confusion - his thoughts were muddled and all over the place...

Billy laughed, feeling so utterly lost... if only Damian or Jason were here, they would find a roundabout answer to the question - another perspective...

Perspective...

To find meaning, you need perspective, more than one point of view, to think of living and find other ways to live it.

Perspective.

"Perspective," Billy said, finding rather suddenly that the question had no one-size-fits-all answer. His mind cleared suddenly; it wasn't a riddle but a test and a puzzle. "You find meaning when you explore different perspectives."

"Mhm..." The Sphinx pondered, her tail swaying back and forth as she considered his response. "Explain your answer, young one." She demanded, standing up and revealing her full size to him. Oddly enough, Billy no longer felt intimidated.

"You posed a question that cannot be answered with a single solution—a question of abstraction that anyone might answer differently. So, if you explore different perspectives, you can understand what 'meaning' means to different people. Perspective."

Billy thought about what he believed "meaning" meant to the people around him: Damian might answer with purpose, Jason with redemption, Arianne with loyalty, Talia with family, and Nyssa with legacy. All distinct definitions of meaning.

The Sphynx smirked, satisfied. “You may pass.”

“That was wonderful Mr. Head!” Professor Ram clapped proudly, as Billy’s classmates cheered loudly. “I thought I would need to get involved, as the riddle ended up being more complicated than I had previously predicted for a third-year class. But you just blew my expectations out of the water! Simply marvelous!”

A nearby student, Seo-joon, couldn't contain their excitement and said, "Did you see that? Billy solved the Sphinx's riddle! He's something else."

The Transfiguration classroom hummed with excitement and curiosity as Professor Mordicai kicked off the lesson. Soft candlelight bathed the room in a mystical glow, casting shadows that danced across the walls. The students, dressed in their neat robes, eagerly awaited the unveiling of transformation's secrets.

Professor Mordicai's class was an enchanting experience in itself. As the students settled into their desks, there was a mix of eager anticipation and respect for the magical art they were about to learn.

With his long beard and robes that shimmered like they were sewn from stardust, Professor Mordicai looked every bit the distinguished warlock. His eyes, ancient and deep, seemed to hold endless wisdom as he began to unravel the basics of Transfiguration.

"Welcome, young scholars, to the realm of Transfiguration," he began, his voice calm and collected. "In this art, we explore the mysteries of transformation—altering the very form and structure of an object. It is an ancient and profound branch of magic that relies not only on precise wandwork but also on intent, focus, and the will to shape reality."

He walked among the students, stressing that Transfiguration wasn't just about reciting spells or moving wands; it was about a wizard's belief in their ability to reshape the world. His beard swayed as he talked about the power of visualizing transformations and understanding the essence of what they were changing.

The professor's talk painted a vivid picture of magical theory, diving into everything from the complexities of becoming an Animagus to tales of legendary figures like Professor McGonagall from the old Hogwarts days. He shared stories of objects transformed through history and myth, sparking the students' imaginations with endless possibilities.

"As I mentioned before, the art of Transfiguration rests upon the foundation of altering an object's form and structure," Professor Mordicai began, his voice a resonant authority within the chamber. "Today, you will attempt to transfigure a feather into a flower and a goblet into a glass sphere. Though these transformations may appear simple, they necessitate a profound grasp of Transfiguration."

As the students leaned in eagerly, clutching their wands with anticipation, the professor held up a pristine feather for his first demonstration. With a steady hand, he began the transformation, his wand tracing the intricate incantation with careful precision. The feather quivered, its white barbs melting into petals that unfolded into a delicate flower. In a blink, the fluffy feather had transformed into a graceful blossom.

The students watched in awe and admiration, captivated by the beauty and skill displayed in the transformation. This simple demonstration vividly showcased the power of Transfiguration.

Next, the professor turned to a goblet, raising his wand for the second demonstration. His movements were smooth and exact, and the goblet seamlessly morphed into a clear glass sphere, a perfect example of magical artistry.

Professor Mordicai, having completed the demonstrations, now refocused the students' attention, his eyes shimmering with encouragement and determination. "Now, it is your turn, young warlocks and witches," he declared, his voice a beacon of guidance. "Recall the essential principles: intent, precision, and the harmony of your magical will with the object. Approach your task with confidence and unwavering purpose."

With the professor's challenge ringing in their ears, the students focused on the objects before them, ready to unleash the magic with their wands. As the class got underway, the room crackled with magical energy. Many students struggled with their attempts, feathers refusing to bloom and goblets stubbornly resisting change. Wands wavered and spells stumbled from lips.

But Damian stood out from the rest. His sharp mind and intense concentration made him a standout from the start. While the professor wove intricate magical theories, Damian absorbed each concept effortlessly.

While others fumbled with basic transfigurations, Damian performed them with ease. A flick of his wand, a soft incantation, a subtle twist, and a feather transformed into a flower or a goblet morphed into a glass sphere. His movements were so fluid and precise that it seemed almost natural.

Whispers raced through the classroom, students craning to catch a glimpse of the young wizard's skill. Damian's name passed in hushed tones, spoken with reverence and awe as if it held the key to a hidden vault of magical ability. In that moment, the students realized they were witnessing something truly remarkable.

Darsh, Damian's new friend, couldn't contain his pride. He nudged his fellow student, a gleam of admiration in his eyes. In a hushed voice, he shared the knowledge, "That's Damian Head. He's not just a friend; he's a prodigy, a warlock of extraordinary talent. It's as if magic itself bows to his command."

The Potions classroom was a cauldron of anticipation and apprehension, with students seated at their individual workstations, ingredients laid out meticulously before them. Professor Veridia, a masterful potion-maker with a penchant for perfection, paced the front of the room. She was known for her keen eye and unwavering standards, and today's lesson would be no different.

Professor Veridia's voice commanded the students' full attention as she embarked on the explanation of brewing the Elixir to Induce Euphoria. The cauldrons lay before them, and the ingredients waited to be brought to life through their skillful hands.

"The Elixir to Induce Euphoria," Professor Veridia began, her tone a blend of authority and instruction, "is a sunshine-yellow potion, cherished for its ability to invoke a sense of unexplainable, irrational happiness in the drinker. It is the antidote for uncontrollable sobbing—a ray of light amidst the darkest storms."

The room was hushed as the students listened, every word carrying the promise of something extraordinary. "To craft this elixir," the professor continued, "we must honor the time-honored recipe."

She elaborated, her voice unwavering, "Begin with the Shrivelfig, a potent catalyst for transformation. Add it to your cauldron with care, for it is the first note in the symphony of joy we shall compose."

"Next, introduce the porcupine quills, potent instruments of change. Their presence will guide us toward the state of unburdened glee."

"Stir, my dear students," she encouraged. "Stir four times anti-clockwise, for it is in these motions that we infuse the potion with the essence of our intent."

"Be vigilant," Professor Veridia cautioned. "The euphoria we seek is not without its shadows. To counteract side effects, add a sprig of peppermint. It shall harmonize the potion, ensuring only the brightest of emotions."

She then directed their attention to the Sopophorous beans, "Euphoria awaits with the introduction of Sopophorous beans. Add them, and we embrace the joyous dawn."

"Wormwood," she said, "is our final companion. With its inclusion, we invoke a sense of bliss beyond measure."

"Remember, dear students, the final stir is crucial. Six times anti-clockwise, a promise of completeness."

As the class began, the students attentively listened to Professor Veridia's instructions. Each ingredient and step were carefully outlined, the magical equations of transmutation and transfiguration deciphered before them.

Billy’s slender fingers moved with grace and precision, measuring ingredients with care, and his cauldron bubbled with the promise of something extraordinary. As he followed the instructions with an uncanny precision that bordered on artistry, the other students couldn't help but watch in sheer amazement.

When the moment of truth arrived and the concoctions were revealed, the students' potions were a diverse mix of successes and minor mishaps. But Billy's cauldron held a potion of unrivaled perfection. Its iridescent glow and the enchanting aroma it emitted were testament to the meticulous craftsmanship that had gone into its making.

Professor Veridia's discerning gaze swept across the room, and she couldn't help but be impressed by the flawless potion that sat before Billy. Her lips curled into a rare smile as she approached him. "Excellent work, Mr. Head," she said, her voice carrying the weight of a compliment well-earned. "Your potion is nothing short of remarkable."

The other students watched in a mixture of admiration and awe as Billy received the professor's praise. Whispers of astonishment flitted through the room like fireflies in the night. Cheng leaned over to another student; his eyes still fixed on the masterful potion before them. "Did you see how Billy handled that potion? He's not just good; he's a natural. It's as if he was born to brew these elixirs." Their classmate could only nod in agreement, for what they had witnessed transcended the realm of mere skill—it was pure, unadulterated magic.

Just as they had planned, the two brothers took the academy by storm. By the end of the week, there was no juiciest gossip than the Head Brothers. As Damian and Billy moved through the halls of the Nanda Parbat Academy of Magic, their reputation as remarkable students began to spread. Some approached them with a sense of admiration, hoping to learn from their expertise, while others watched from a distance, a mix of awe and trepidation in their eyes. The rumor mill buzzed with tales of their early achievements, solidifying their presence as exceptional young wizards.

"So, how was your first week at the academy?" Jason asked, a grin playing at the corners of his lips.

Jason chuckled as Damian and Billy exchanged glances, their playful demeanor evident. The mischievous glint in their eyes was unmistakable. He leaned in, curious about their first week of magical classes.

Billy spoke up, his tone mischievous, "Oh, it was fun, big brother. We made some friends, you know."

Damian nodded in agreement, his gaze gleaming with amusement. "Yes, it was quite entertaining, I must say."

Jason raised an eyebrow, sensing that there was more to their story. "Fun, huh? Tell me more."

The two younger al Ghuls exchanged a knowing look before Billy continued, "Well, you know, the rumor mill is going wild at the academy. And, well, we might have fueled the flames a bit."

Damian added with a smirk, "We've been enjoying making our fellow classmates go a bit insane with curiosity."

Jason couldn't help but laugh at their antics. It seemed that Damian and Billy had inherited some of the family's penchant for keeping secrets and creating a sense of mystery. He ruffled their hair with affection.

"Just remember, don't go too wild. Keep them guessing, but be good students too," Jason advised. The two young al Ghuls nodded, their expressions filled with mischief and determination. “Now, what do you say about inviting Jon for a sleepover during the weekend? I am sure he has missed you and you two deserve a reward after such… an intriguing start at the academy.”

“Yes!” Damian exclaimed excitedly, eyes shining adorably at the mention of his favorite Kryptonian.

“Please,” Billy added with a chuckle when Damian suddenly forgot all his manners.

“Got it,” Jason replied in amusement. “I’ll give the Kent a call.”

Jason's home in Fawcett City welcomed Jon Kent with open arms. As he entered the house, Jason greeted him with a soft smile, his eyes twinkling with a familiar mischief that often defined their times together.

The moment Jon stepped inside, Damian, always brimming with boundless energy when it comes to Jon, practically dragged him to his room. The three young boys, Damian, Billy, and Jon aged 11, 13, and 11 respectively, had an entire weekend ahead of them for their sleepover extravaganza.

Their first night was a Disney marathon extravaganza, a tradition that Jason had perfected over the years. In the living room, he had assembled a magnificent pillow fort that rose to towering heights, a true masterpiece of cushion architecture. A colorful array of blankets and pillows lined the interior, creating a cozy ambiance within.

The trio settled into the fort with eager anticipation. Stacks of Disney DVDs were scattered about like treasures waiting to be uncovered. The soft glow of fairy lights illuminated the room, casting a warm and inviting ambiance. The smell of fresh popcorn wafted through the air, as Jason had prepared them the perfect movie night snacks.

Alfred Pennyworth's secret hot chocolate recipe was served in mugs adorned with their favorite heroes, and it warmed their souls with every sip. The rich, velvety chocolate provided the perfect comfort, while the Ghraybeh, Arabic butter cookies that Talia had taught Jason to bake, offered a sweet touch to their night.

Jason smiled as the opening credits of their first Disney movie filled the room, the trio settled in amidst the blankets and pillows. This was what he had always wanted for his little brothers. A childhood free of the dangers and trauma of being a child soldier, off being a child hero.

A childhood that Damian would have not been granted if he had stayed in Nanda Parbat…

Don’t get Jason wrong. He loves his umi, Talia saved him and healed him. Helped him become the man he had once dreamed about becoming… at least, until Catherine had died, and Jason had been forced to live on the streets. He had began dreaming about that again when he had been adopted by Bruce… but that did not last long.

But Jason was that man. It took literal dying for him to become that man, but he had managed it. Now, he had to make sure Damian and Billy grew up to become the men they wished to become. For that he could not allow the superhero community to get any closer to them than they had already done.

His siblings were best friends with a supes, he had saved Arsenal during a mission, and had been ambushed by the Teen Titans.

He could not afford slips like that anymore. Not when Jason was sure that Batman was on his trail because of his connection to Talia. Though it was better for Jason if Batman hunted him down for being an al Ghul rather than his not-so-dead son.

If Batman ever found out Jason was still alive, he would never stop.

No, Jason cannot allow himself to get any closer. His little brothers were counting on him.

The morning following their Disney movie marathon was greeted with the soft glow of dawn seeping through the curtains. Jason, ever the attentive older brother, had prepared a wholesome and nutritious breakfast to balance out the sugar rush from the previous night.

Jon, Damian, and Billy exchanged excited glances, their eyes reflecting the promise of another day filled with fun and adventure. As they gathered around the dining table, the aroma of scrambled eggs and fresh fruit filled the room.

Midway through breakfast, Jason couldn't contain the surprise he had in store for them any longer. With a sly grin, he revealed his secret, one that was sure to set their spirits soaring even higher. "Guess what, guys?" he said with a mischievous twinkle in his eyes. "There's a carnival passing through Fawcett City, and I got us all tickets to go!"

Their reaction was nothing short of jubilant. Excited cheers and applause filled the kitchen as the kids exchanged triumphant high-fives. The thought of a day at the carnival, with its dazzling lights, thrilling rides, and delightful treats, was a dream come true.

Without further ado, they finished their breakfast, the healthful meal fueling their anticipation. They couldn't wait to explore the wonder and excitement of the carnival. In the hustle and bustle of getting ready, they each picked out their most comfortable yet stylish outfits, prepared for a day of adventure.

The Fawcett City carnival was a blast of colors and sounds, promising a day of pure fun and excitement. Under the sunny sky, the carnival was alive with laughter and upbeat music from the calliope. Damian, Billy, and Jon, with Jason keeping an eye on them, dove into exploring everything the carnival had to offer.

Their adventure started with a spin on the Ferris wheel. As they went around, they got a bird's-eye view of the carnival, all bright and bustling below them. The thrilling drop down had them all shouting with joy, their laughter echoing through the air.

Next up was a goofy funhouse where mirrors twisted their reflections into hilarious shapes and tricky floors tripped them up in fits of laughter. Navigating through the maze of mirrors and silly paths had them laughing uncontrollably the whole time.

Then came the carnival games, where Damian showed off his skills. He nailed the ring toss with precision, scoring a plush dragon toy. Damian, being the generous guy he is, handed it over to Jon, who was over the moon with gratitude and joy. Though, Billy and Jason wondered how generous that gift was, as they snickered to each other as their youngest brother blushed in delight as he was hugged by a thankful Jon.

They soon caught wind of the sweet smell of cotton candy and candied apples. At the snack stands, they treated themselves to a variety of treats, each bite bursting with sweetness and joy.

With their snacks in hand, they gathered around the main stage. Performers wowed the crowd with juggling, magic tricks, and acrobatics. The kids watched wide-eyed, completely captivated by the show.

Little did they know, an unexpected surprise awaited them as they moved away from the stage, their hearts still racing from the magic and excitement of the performances.

"Uncle Roy!" Jon exclaimed, his face lighting up as he spotted two familiar faces. "Jon, you know this guy?" Roy inquired, clearly not recognizing Jason.

Jon quickly responded, "This is Jason, the big brother of Billy and my Dami! Oh, Lian is here! She can come and play with us!" A subtle hint of Damian's jealousy crept into the background, but it was mostly overshadowed by Jon's excitement.

Roy turned his attention back to Jason, wearing a friendly yet quizzical expression. "Oh, so you're the famous Jason I've been hearing so much about. I'm so glad to meet you."

Jason acknowledged the introduction, still a little bemused by Roy's earlier statement. "Nice to meet you too, Roy."

Lian, Roy's daughter, extended a hand with a warm smile. "I'm Lian! Nice to meet you all. Jon's told me a lot about you."

Jason couldn't help but return the friendly gesture. "It's great to meet you, Lian."

"Oh, so you're the famous Jason I've been hearing so much about," Roy quipped, his grin widening. "I'm so glad a family friend lives here too."

"Too?" Jason's mental gears ground to a halt, momentarily puzzled by Roy's remark.

Roy chuckled, casting a playful wink Jason's way. "Well, it was a bit of a spur-of-the-moment decision. You see, we got quite a scare during Prometheus's attack on Star City, and I decided it was high time to move to a safer place."

Jason's initial surprise upon hearing that Roy, aka Arsenal, was moving to Fawcett City was quickly overtaken by an internal whirlwind of thoughts. All he had ever wanted was to keep the superhero community as far away from his little siblings as possible. But with Arsenal would come the Arrows of Star City, the Birds of Prey, and, worst of all, the Titans.

And of course, Fawcett City was safe! It was practically run by the League of Shadows. He tried his best to maintain a calm facade, not wanting to clue Roy in.

"Yeah, the police do excellent work here," Roy continued, his voice full of enthusiasm.

Jason's internal snark reared its head. Of course, they do. The commissioner happens to be my ex-squad's sergeant. He couldn't help but think of Amir and how fiercely loyal he was in his pursuit of justice.

"Not to mention that the DA does a great job of keeping criminals in jail," Roy added, seemingly oblivious to Jason's inner turmoil.

Jason couldn't help but whine internally. Arianne puts anyone who could be a danger to us behind bars, she is quite loyal. And now, with Roy moving in, it's going to get a whole lot more complicated.

As they continued their conversation, Jason wondered how he would deal with this new development without compromising his siblings' safety.

Dammit! I just had to go and jynx myself. Jason curses internally.

Chapter Text

The night was filled with an aura of anticipation and excitement as the prestigious book premiere of Ethereal Echoes of Hill House by author Jason Alexander Head drew near. The event took place in a beautifully adorned ballroom, dimly lit by elegant chandeliers and soft, ambient lighting that gave the space an enchanting atmosphere. The walls were adorned with dark, vintage book covers that set the tone for the evening.

Jason was the star of the night. He stood near the entrance, greeting the guests as they arrived. Dressed in an exquisite black suit, he had a welcoming smile that concealed a hint of mystery and intrigue. His book had garnered attention well before its release due to its cryptic title and the reputation of his previous books.

Damian, his youngest brother, had created the book cover, and it was a masterpiece. The cover featured a hauntingly beautiful mansion with creeping vines, a foreboding aura of mist, and a moon that cast an eerie glow upon the scene. The mansion itself seemed to be a character, its windows like watchful eyes, and its doors like open maws.

Billy was by Damian’s side, dressed in a tailored suit that made him appear older than his years. He clearly hated the suit and felt uncomfortable, like any other boy his age that had not been raised by Talia al Ghul, but Jason was touched by Billy’s effort.

Nyssa and Talia had arrived together. They were dressed in matching gowns, one gold and another green, that exuded a powerful and commanding presence. The al Ghul women had an air of sophistication that commanded respect, and it was clear that the event was a family affair- even if most people were unaware of the connection between the two women and the Head brothers. Following closely behind was Nika, in a delightful silver dress. The young girl made a beeline towards Damian and Billy, the young trio having decided to spend the night together as the adults mingled.

As the guests mingled, they couldn't help but feel the electrifying energy in the room. The anticipation for Jason’s book was palpable. The night was filled with conversations about the book's potential to redefine horror literature and how Jason’s unique storytelling would captivate readers. The drinks flowed freely, and the room hummed with discussions about the artistry of Damian's book cover.

Esperanza, Jason’s editor, and the Head Editor for the Horror Genre took the stage to deliver her opening speech. She greeted the audience with a warm smile and a touch of humor, setting a lighthearted tone for the night. "Ladies and gentlemen, good evening, and welcome to this special occasion," she began, her voice projecting with confidence. "I must say, working with authors can sometimes be... well, let's call it an adventure. But I'm here to tell you that, in all my years in the publishing industry, Jason Head has been the least worrisome author under my care." The audience chuckled, and Jason grinned in response.

She continued, "Unlike most authors, Jason has been a delight to work with. Punctual, cooperative, and, might I add, exceptionally talented. It's not every day you come across an author who brings both art and discipline to their work." There was an appreciative murmur from the crowd, acknowledging Jason's dedication.

Esperanza's gaze shifted to Damian as she expressed her gratitude for his contribution. "And a special thank you to Damian, whose hauntingly beautiful cover art for Ethereal Echoes of Hill House has perfectly encapsulated the essence of the book. It's a rare gift to find an artist who can so masterfully translate a story's soul onto its cover." She offered Damian a nod of appreciation, and the audience broke into applause.

With a gracious smile, Jason approached the microphone as the applause for Esperanza's speech gradually subsided. He had always been more comfortable expressing himself through his writing, but tonight was a special occasion, and he was determined to convey his feelings to the audience.

"Thank you, Esperanza," he began, his voice clear and steady. "Your kind words mean a lot to me. It's true that writing Ethereal Echoes of Hill House was a unique experience, and I'm grateful for the chance to share it with all of you."

Jason paused for a moment, letting the significance of the evening wash over him. "Creating this book was a journey through the realms of the unknown, the supernatural, and the unexplained. It's a story that has haunted me for years, and I'm delighted that it now has the opportunity to haunt all of you as well."

He glanced over at Damian, offering a heartfelt nod. "I want to express my deep appreciation to my brother Damian, whose artistic talent brought the spirit of this book to life on its cover. Damian's vision captured the essence of Ethereal Echoes of Hill House in a way that words alone could never achieve."

Jason's gaze returned to the audience, and he continued, "Tonight, as we celebrate the release of this book, I'm reminded of the power of storytelling. It has the remarkable ability to transport us to places unknown, to introduce us to characters who become like friends, and to immerse us in worlds both strange and familiar."

"As a writer," he admitted with a grin, "I'm something of a guide on this journey. My hope is that Ethereal Echoes of Hill House takes you on a captivating and chilling adventure, leaving you with a sense of wonder and perhaps a few shivers down your spine."

Jason extended his gratitude to the audience, his voice filled with sincerity. "I thank you all for being here tonight to share this moment with me. May this book bring you joy, intrigue, and perhaps a few sleepless nights. And remember, the best tales are the ones that stay with us long after the final page is turned." He gave a final nod and then returned the microphone, the audience responding with enthusiastic applause and appreciation for the author's words.

Jason's gaze, brimming with brotherly affection, fell upon Damian when the crowd finally let him be. He leaned in, pressing a tender kiss to Damian's forehead, a silent gesture that spoke volumes. With a soft smile, he murmured, "Thanks for the cover, Dami. It's awesome."

Damian's cheeks tinged with a faint blush, an endearing mix of embarrassment and pride. Jason and Esperanza had both congratulated him already in their speeches, but this was more personal. He shrugged nonchalantly, attempting to downplay how much Jason’s words had affected him, but the glint of achievement in his eyes gave him away. "It was nothing, really."

Nika chimed in with her characteristic flair, "No way, Damian! That cover was sick—like, in the best way possible." Her animated words were accompanied by an animated thumbs-up.

The sentiment echoed through the rest of the family circle. Nyssa's elegant nod and Talia's soft smile conveyed their approval, leaving no room for doubt. The artistic talents of their young family members had not gone unnoticed.

The book release event continued into the night, filled with laughter, applause, and animated discussions about the mysteries woven within Ethereal Echoes of Hill House. It was a resounding success, marked not only by the author's gratitude but also by the promise of an unforgettable journey that the book held for its readers. As the evening ended, the guests left with signed copies in hand, eager to embark on the eerie adventure that awaited them between the pages of Jason Head's latest literary creation.

The tantalizing world of literature has welcomed a brilliant addition to its horror genre with the release of Jason Head's latest masterpiece, Ethereal Echoes of Hill House. This spellbinding tale promises to captivate readers, immersing them in a narrative that traverses the thin veil between the ordinary and the extraordinary. In this exploration, we delve deep into the inspiration behind Jason's riveting ghost story, unearthing the secrets and motivations that breathed life into the eerie realm of Hill House.

Jason's journey into the hauntingly ethereal began with the discovery of a fascinating historical footnote – a group of nineteenth century "psychic researchers" who delved into the enigmatic shadows of a purportedly haunted house. It was in their meticulous yet somberly reported findings to the Society for Psychic Research that Jason found his initial spark. However, what truly intrigued this exceptional storyteller were not the specters or unexplained phenomena within the house but the compelling stories of the individuals who devoted themselves to unraveling its mysteries.

These were earnest, if not somewhat misguided, souls, each driven by their unique motivations and backgrounds. In their collective pursuit, Jason discerned the interplay of determination, passion, and the relentless quest for the supernatural. These characters transcended mere investigators and, instead, became the subjects of a gripping narrative. And thus, the idea for Ethereal Echoes of Hill House was born.

Jason embarked on an intricate journey of research and inspiration that would breathe life into his spectral masterpiece. His quest for the perfect haunted house led him to an evocative image in a magazine, an image that embodied the very essence of an otherworldly dwelling. Intriguingly, the pursuit of this house took an unexpected turn when he reached out to a friend living in California, who helped unearth its enigmatic history. The revelation that the architect behind this eerie structure was none other than Jason's great-great-grandfather added a deeply personal and mystical dimension to the tale.

But Jason's journey went even further. To craft a ghost story that transcended the ordinary, he immersed himself in volumes upon volumes of traditional ghost stories, absorbing the eerie tales that have haunted generations. This deep dive into the supernatural shaped his perspective on the subject, fueling a belief in the existence of the unseen and ethereal. In his own words, "No one can get into a novel about a haunted house without hitting the subject of reality head-on; either I have to believe in ghosts, which I do, or I have to write another kind of novel altogether."

As Ethereal Echoes of Hill House unfolds, it weaves between two timelines, deftly capturing the lives of five adult siblings whose lives are forever intertwined with the paranormal occurrences within Hill House. The narrative alternates between their present-day struggles, haunted by the lingering echoes of their past, and the enthralling flashbacks that lead to the fateful night of 1992 when the family fled the sinister mansion.

In Ethereal Echoes of Hill House, Jason Head beckons readers to embrace the realm of the supernatural, reminding us that the boundary between reality and the otherworldly is far more tenuous than we may dare to believe. In this mesmerizing tale, he invites us to challenge the limitations of our understanding and venture into a world where the spectral and the corporeal are inexorably intertwined. Prepare to be enthralled, for this is a story that transcends the realm of mere fiction, offering a glimpse into the enigmatic and the extraordinary that lies just beyond our perception. Jason Head, a masterful author of the ethereal, awaits to guide you on this haunting journey.

- Cat Grant

Jason sat on a comfortable couch, a celebratory glass of wine in hand, as he answered the call from Talia. It had been a whirlwind of emotions, and her call was a welcome respite amidst the chaos.

"Jason," Talia's voice, as always, was poised and melodious, "I trust you are well after your book release."

Jason couldn't help but smirk, even though she couldn't see it. "It's been crazy, but it's going well. Thanks for the congratulations."

There was a slight pause before Talia continued, her tone changing. "Jason, I must admit that I don't often hold Cat Grant in the highest regard. She's a scandal seeker harpy, always pursuing stories that are more sensational than truthful."

Jason chuckled softly, taking a sip of his wine. "You're not alone in that opinion."

"But, in her latest article about your book, she was... on point," Talia admitted. "She described it accurately, Jason, the essence of your work. I was surprised."

"Well, I guess even she can't get everything wrong." Jason raised an eyebrow, intrigued. "Who would have thought that my deadbeat father left me anything good?" Jason mused, his voice tinged with a hint of irony. "Good to know that at least someone on my sperm donor's side had any talent. Who would have thought I had an architect in the family."

Talia's response was tender, her voice soft and reassuring. "No matter whose blood runs through your veins, you are my son, Jason. You are an al Ghul, and our legacy is one of strength, knowledge, and artistry."

Jason sighed with gratitude, his words filled with warmth. "Thanks, umi."

A warm silence enveloped their conversation.

The sun was setting as Jason returned to his home in Fawcett City. It had been a long and arduous mission in Scotland, but it had been a successful one. Jason had a knack for finding rare and powerful artifacts during his adventures, and this time was no different.

As he walked through the door, Damian and Billy were in the living room, engrossed in their own activities. Damian was poring over a thick magical tome, and Billy had his headphones on, immersed in a world of music. They both looked up as Jason entered, and their eyes widened in surprise when they saw what he was carrying.

In his hands, Jason held none other than the Sorting Hat from the fallen Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. The hat was old and weathered, showing signs of its age, but it still retained an air of wisdom and magic that was impossible to miss.

Damian was the first to speak, his voice tinged with shock and curiosity. "Is that... the Sorting Hat?"

Jason nodded, a grin spreading across his face. "It is indeed. I stumbled upon it during my mission in Scotland. Quite a find, wouldn't you say?"

Billy, always the one to tap into his magical insights, immediately pulled out his enchanted notebook. His fingers moved swiftly as he jotted down notes while listening to the voice of Solomon, his magical guardian.

After a moment, he looked up at his brothers, his eyes filled with a mixture of wonder and reverence. "Solomon says that the Sorting Hat is one of the most incredible and complex artifacts that humans have ever created without the aid of another species or a deity. It's said to possess an immense amount of knowledge and magic."

Jason carefully placed the hat on a nearby table, looking at it thoughtfully. "I figured it was worth bringing back. Who knows what secrets it holds? Maybe it can help us in our magical endeavors." The three brothers gathered around the table, their curiosity piqued. The Sorting Hat, an artifact steeped in the history and magic of the wizarding world, had found its way into their home. “But before that… who wants to know which Hogwarts House they would have been?”

“Me!” Both Damian and Billy exclaimed at the same time, jumping excitedly.

“Got it,” Jason chuckled. “Though, I will go first, just in case. We do not know how time has affected the Sorting Hat.”

Jason, ever the cautious one, was the first to approach the ancient Sorting Hat. He had carried it all the way from Scotland, and now he stood before it, wondering about the mysteries that lay within its aged fabric. His curiosity got the better of him, and he decided to put the hat on, just to see what would happen.

As he gently lowered the hat onto his head, a strange sensation washed over him. It was as though the hat had come to life, its magic seeping into his mind. He felt a mental connection forming, and soon he was engaged in a silent conversation with the Sorting Hat.

Hello, Hat. I hope you're not too lonely in there. Jason joked in his head, jumping in surprise when he got an answer.

Ah, a visitor! It's been a while. You're a brave one, I can tell.

Brave? Jason frowned. Maybe.

Loyalty is your strong suit, I can see that. Cunning, yes, I sense that too. You've had to be cunning on the streets. But at your core, it's knowledge and the pursuit of learning that drive you, isn't it?

You've got me there. Jason chuckled internally. I've always been a believer in the power of knowledge. It's what got me out of some tight spots. It is the only thing that ever leaves me feeling accomplished and satisfied.

Well, Jason, you have many qualities that could land you in various houses. But it's your thirst for knowledge and your desire to push the boundaries of what's known that stands out. The Sorting Hat began through their mental connection, before shouting out loud: “You belong in Ravenclaw!”

As the Sorting Hat declared its decision, Jason couldn't help but feel a sense of accomplishment. He had been chosen to join the ranks of Ravenclaw, a house known for its wisdom and love of learning. Damian and Billy cheered for their older brother, and Jason gave a nod of approval.

“Ok, Billy you are next,” Jason declared, taking the hat off. Jason chuckled as Billy cheered but Damian pouted in return. “We will go from older to younger.”

After Jason's sorting into Ravenclaw, it was Billy's turn to don the Sorting Hat. He approached it with a mix of excitement and curiosity, much like his older brother. As he placed the magical hat on his head, the mental connection formed, and he began a silent conversation with the ancient artifact.

Hello, Hat. I've heard so much about you. Billy gushed.

Greetings, young one. You have quite a crowded mind, haven't you? The Sorting Hat joked.

Billy raised an eyebrow impressed. Oh, you can tell?

Indeed, it's like a bustling room with many voices, all six guardians. The Sorting Hat hummed.

Billy giggled in return. Yeah, it can get a little noisy in there. But they're my family.

Family, yes, that's a strong bond. And you, Billy Batson, are a very kind and gentle soul. It's a rarity. The Sorting Hat declared.

Thank you. I try my best. Billy blushed under the praise.

But it's your bravery that stands out the most. You've faced unimaginable challenges and adversaries. It takes great courage to do the right thing, even when you're afraid or feel weak. Your bravery shines through.

I've had some help along the way. Billy tried to protest, feeling bashful.

Of course, we all need support, but it's the choices we make that define us. It took great courage to face the Seven Deadly Sins and come out stronger. And that's the heart of it, Billy. Courage to protect, courage to do what's right. Just like the Sorting Hat did with Jason, it declared Billy’s Hogwarts House out loud: “You belong in Gryffindor!”

As the Sorting Hat made its decision, a wide smile crossed Billy's face. He had been chosen to be part of Gryffindor, a house known for its courage and valor. Jason and Damian cheered for their brother.

Billy was excited to be sorted into Gryffindor and to join the ranks of courageous witches and wizards. The Sorting Hat had seen something special in him, something that went beyond his incredible powers. It had recognized his bravery and the strength of his character.

“Ok midget, you are up next,” Jason chuckled as he dodged a knife Damian had thrown in retaliation for the new nick name. “Got it, you don’t like it.”

“You are scion of the al Ghul dynasty, act like it,” Damian seethed, his stature was a sensitive matter. Not everyone could be a giant like his eldest brother. “Now give me the hat! It is my turn!”

After the Sorting Hat had sorted Jason into Ravenclaw and Billy into Gryffindor, it was now Damian's turn. He approached the magical hat with his usual air of confidence, and as it settled onto his head, the mental connection was established.

Good evening, Hat. Damian greeted him with confidence but politely at the same time, his umi and akhi taught him better.

Good evening, Damian. I sense a great deal of complexity in your mind. The Sorting Hat hummed.

Damian shrugged. I've been told I'm a bit of an enigma.

Indeed, it's not often I encounter a mind as cunning as any Al Ghul I've ever met. You possess your father's courage, willing to face gods and aliens alike, and the resourcefulness imparted by your eldest brother.

I have had excellent teachers. Agreed smugly, ignoring the tidbit about his father smoothly. He has gotten used to that whenever his umi or akhi were in the room. He knew better than to mention his father around them.

But beneath all that exterior, I sense a heart of gold. A kind soul who, instead of causing harm, has often chosen to care for the injured and embrace the world of art. Your compassion and innate kindness shine through. Damian, you are a unique one. “Hufflepuff is where you truly belong.”

The Hat's decision was met with cheers from both Billy and Jason. While Damian had initially thought of himself as a Slytherin, he accepted the Sorting Hat's wisdom and honorably took his place as a member of Hufflepuff. There is no shame in honoring loyalty and hard work, that is how his family had been formed after all.

The three Al Ghul brothers were now sorted into different Hogwarts houses, each reflecting different aspects of their personalities. It was a fitting testament to the complexity and depth within each of them.

Jason arrived at the Nanda Parbat Academy for Magic, carrying a magical artifact from his recent mission in Scotland. Madam Xanadu greeted him in her serene office. Her eyes, like deep pools of ancient knowledge, locked onto the artifact in Jason's hands. It was the Sorting Hat, an item of great significance in the magical world. One that has been long since believed lost to the ages.

Madam Xanadu regarded the hat with a sense of reverence and curiosity, her eyes reflecting the many mysteries it might contain. "The Sorting Hat is a repository of untold knowledge and magic. It will be a valuable addition to our collection. Thank you, Jason."

Jason smiled, feeling a sense of fulfillment in contributing to the academy's magical resources. "You're welcome," he said, then chuckled. "And it's quite amusing that none of us Al Ghul heirs ended up in Slytherin, not even the blood-son."

Madam Xanadu joined in his laughter, her response carrying the wisdom of someone who understood the complexities of human nature and character. "True, the Sorting Hat takes into account various aspects of one's personality," she noted. "Your unique qualities make your family's legacy all the more interesting. You all might not be Slytherins, but your mischief and cunningness have already left its mark on this Academy. Magic knows your little brother are having fun running the student body ragged while controlling the rumor mill.”

“Those are my brothers!” Jason cheered while laughing. “Anyway, I must leave. Got a class to teach soon.

With their exchange concluded, Jason prepared to depart for Fawcett City, knowing that the Selecting Hat would find a meaningful purpose within the Nanda Parbat Academy for Magic. “Quite the children you’ve got,” Madam Xanadu commented in amusement once he was gone.

“That I do,” Talia chuckled, leaving the shadows she had been hiding in. “Though, I taught him better than to simply rely on his magical abilities to sense enemies,” she tched, cancelling her magical artifact that had been warding her presence from Jason. “Even in magical places like this academy.”

“Were you disappointed on the Hogwarts Houses your children had ended up in?” Madam Xanadu inquired curiously.

“Not at all,” Talia shook her head gracefully. “I had already expected it.”

Jason al Ghul, or just Head depending on his mood, brimmed with bold confidence and a knack for sharp-witted comebacks. He was a survivor, a kid who never really got to be a kid, and there was this wild, untamed quality about him that defied easy labels. His actions spoke of Gryffindor traits—bravery, a fierce sense of justice, and a refusal to play by anyone else’s rules. But beneath that tough exterior, you could see a deep streak of Ravenclaw. His insatiable curiosity and the spark of wonder beneath his tough exterior were clear as day. With a mind sharp enough to navigate any situation, he’d saved his own skin more times than he could count. His dedication to his many interests was evident in the hours he spent buried in books and scrolls, escaping into worlds of ink and parchment. Jason Alexander al Ghul Head, a bright and tough-as-nails individual, saw the world through eyes that had seen it all, unraveling secrets with a deft touch.

Billy’s true heroism shone through his actions, like a classic Gryffindor. He stood up for anyone in need, no matter who they were. His unwavering morals declared everyone equal in his eyes. Faced with foes bigger and badder than him, he’d set his jaw stubbornly, refusing to back down because, wise or not, it just wouldn’t be right. With a heart as pure as they come, William Joseph al Ghul Head was a gentle soul, quietly strong and surprisingly sharp.

Damian Wayne, the youngest, was the only al Ghul kid by blood, though that didn’t earn him any special treatment in the family. With his proud demeanor and a belief in his own superiority thanks to his lineage, Damian embodied Slytherin traits. His fierce loyalty to family was a testament to that, just as his hidden heart of gold spoke to Hufflepuff values. His steadfast loyalty and genuine empathy for those who earned it were plain to see. Damian’s refusal to compromise on his principles, even when it would’ve been easier, was pure Gryffindor spirit. He stayed true to himself, no matter what anyone else expected. With a heart that matched his beloved’s, Damian Wayne was a kind soul with an unmistakable light inside.

“After all, I know my children well.”

Jason stood at the front of the Fawcett University classroom, a warm and engaging presence that naturally drew the attention of his students. With a passion for storytelling, he embarked on today's lesson: the art of observation and how to turn everyday life into compelling narratives.

"Alright, everyone," he began, a glimmer of excitement in his eyes, "today, we're going to delve into the fascinating world of observation. As writers, it's our job to take the ordinary and make it extraordinary, to paint vivid and believable pictures with words. Observational skills are crucial in achieving that."

He started by asking a question to gauge the class's understanding. "Can anyone tell me why observation is important in writing?"

A student raised their hand. "Observation helps us understand the world and people better. It adds depth to our characters and makes our stories more relatable."

"Exactly," Jason nodded with a warm smile. "Observation is the cornerstone of creating believable characters and settings. By studying the world around, us, we can infuse our stories with authenticity."

Another student chimed in, "But how do we become better observers? Are there any specific techniques you recommend?"

Jason appreciated the question and shared his insights. "Great question. There are several techniques to hone your observation skills. The first is simply people-watching. You can learn a lot by observing how people interact, their body language, and even eavesdropping on conversations."

He continued, "Another technique is keeping a journal. Take notes of what you see, hear, smell, or experience throughout your day. This can help you capture details you might otherwise forget. And don't forget to use all your senses - sight, sound, taste, touch, and smell."

A curious student asked, "What about turning those observations into stories? How do we go from watching people to crafting engaging narratives?"

Jason leaned against the desk and explained, "Excellent question. When you gather these observations, start by asking yourself questions. What's the story behind that person you observed? Why are they acting that way? Try to imagine different scenarios or backgrounds for the people you encounter."

He continued, "Also, don't be afraid to exaggerate or transform the mundane. In fiction, we have creative license. You can take an everyday occurrence and make it larger than life. It's all about turning the ordinary into the extraordinary."

After answering the students' questions about observation techniques, Jason transitioned to the second part of the lesson, eager to delve even deeper into the world of observation and its role in crafting engaging narratives.

"Great questions, everyone," Jason acknowledged, "Now, let's take our observational skills to the next level. It's one thing to notice the world around you, but it's another to turn those observations into stories, poems, or scripts that captivate your audience."

He began by introducing the concept of 'show, don't tell.' "One of the cardinal rules of writing is 'show, don't tell.' It means we should demonstrate emotions, events, and characteristics through action, dialogue, and sensory details rather than simply stating them. Observation plays a key role here. Instead of telling the reader, 'He was sad,' we show the character's sadness through their actions and expressions."

A student raised their hand and inquired, "Can you give us an example of how observation can help us 'show' emotions?"

Jason nodded and provided an example. "Sure. Imagine you're at a café, observing a couple. The woman is twirling her hair, looking out the window with a distant expression. The man keeps drumming his fingers on the table and avoids eye contact. As a writer, these are the details you'd use to 'show' that their relationship is strained. Readers will pick up on these cues and understand the emotions at play."

Another student asked, "What if we want to use observation for world-building, like creating a vivid setting for our story?"

Jason's eyes sparkled with enthusiasm as he answered. "World-building is a fantastic way to apply your observation skills. When you're out and about, focus on the small details—the architecture, the sounds, the smells, and the people. How does this environment shape the lives of your characters? Remember, a well-observed setting can become a character in itself, enhancing the depth of your narrative."

The students leaned in, clearly captivated by the discussion. Jason encouraged them to embrace their surroundings and actively engage with the world. "Don't be passive observers; be active ones. Look for the quirks, the oddities, and the moments that make life unique. If you immerse yourself in the world, your writing will reflect that rich experience."

He then prompted the class to engage in an exercise. "Now, I want each of you to take a notebook and spend the next half-hour outside, observing your surroundings. Jot down any details that catch your eye—the people, the weather, the sounds. When you come back, we'll discuss how these observations can be woven into your writing."

The students eagerly complied, grabbing their notebooks and heading out. Jason’s heart pounded in his chest as he watched the other students leave the classroom, relief washing over him. He was relieved that the class had gone well, that the students had engaged with the material, and that he had, for the most part, maintained his carefully guarded secret. But then, as he was gathering his materials, his hopes were dashed when he heard the voice he had been dreading.

"Hey, Professor," Roy Harper called out cheerfully as he approached Jason, a friendly grin on his face.

Jason's eyes widened in sheer panic. This was the last thing he wanted. He had taken on the identity of Jason Head to distance himself from his past life as Jason Todd, a former Robin and a member of the Bat-Family. He was hiding from the hero community and especially from Batman. Roy might know him as Jason Head, but if he stuck around Fawcett City too long, the truth might come to light. Which is why Jason had made sure to evade Roy at every given chance with the aid of the shadows in the city.

However, he could not do that now that Roy was in his classroom. Why was Roy in his classroom?!

He tried to maintain his composure, forcing a smile as he replied, "Hey, Roy. I'm glad you enjoyed the class. If I may ask, why are you here?"

Roy seemed oblivious to the turmoil roiling within Jason. "Enjoyed it? Man, you're a great professor. You made the material so easy to understand. I mean, I'm more of a number’s kind of dude than letters, you know? I'm here for Mechanical Engineering, but I needed fine arts credits. I saw your name on the list and just had to signed up to your class. I'm glad I ended up here."

Jason cursed his bad luck internally, but he couldn't let that show on his face. "Well, I'm just glad I could help you out. If you have any questions or need extra help, don't hesitate to reach out. I'm always here to assist my students."

That’s it, I will have to quit my job. And I really liked teaching! Jason whined internally. Ok, Jason, focus. Stop whining and plan a way to get Roy kicked out of your class…

Roy and Jason continued their conversation as they left the classroom. Jason couldn't help but feel a sense of unease, knowing he had to be cautious with every word. The last thing he needed was for Roy to probe too deeply into his life, potentially revealing the secrets he had worked so hard to protect.

As they strolled down the hallway, Roy's face lit up when Jason asked about Lian. "Oh, she's doing great," Roy said with a proud smile. "She's adapted well to her new school, made friends with all her classmates, and she's become a regular social butterfly. It's good to see her so happy and making new pals."

Jason couldn't help but feel a warmth spread through him as he thought about the normal, happy life Roy and his daughter seemed to be leading. They deserved it after everything they’d gone through. He maintained a polite smile and nodded. "That's fantastic to hear. She's a wonderful kid."

Roy then shifted the conversation to Jason's own family, asking, "And how about Damian and Billy? How are they doing?"

Jason hesitated for a moment, carefully choosing his words. He had to keep his answers vague without raising any suspicions. Jason thought for a moment. He had previously mentioned Billy's skateboarding competition, but he had to be careful not to reveal too much. "Billy's got a skateboarding competition in Metropolis City this weekend, so he's staying with the Kents for a bit. You know, to get some practice before the big event."

Roy nodded in understanding. "Yeah, he always was an energetic kid. And Damian?"

"As for Damian… he is out of town right now," he replied. "He's taking some special classes with a friend of the family. You know how important it is for him to receive a well-rounded education."

The Titans had arrived in Japan on a crucial mission that required their expertise and unique abilities. They needed to deal with a dangerous threat lurking in the shadows, and their best chance of success lay in the aid of an old acquaintance, Katana. Tatsu Yamashiro, the fierce warrior who wielded the Soultaker sword, was known for her unyielding dedication to her training and combat skills.

As the Titans approached her secluded training grounds, they were met with a surprising sight. In the midst of the tranquil Japanese surroundings, a young boy was engaged in rigorous training. They could not see his face, as it was covered, but he could not be older than eleven. The child was swift and precise, displaying a level of skill that belied his age. His movements were fluid and confident, making him a formidable figure on the training field.

The boy turned to face the approaching Titans. Nightwing noted the barely noticeable tension in the boy’s body, as he greeted them stiffly. "Konnichiwa! I am Zamurad," he introduced himself with a slight bow.

Nightwing couldn't help but react under his breath, muttering the meaning of the name, "Emerald in Arabic."

The rest of the team exchanged curious glances as Nightwing continued to watch the boy closely. Zamurad's movements held an eerie familiarity that tugged at the edges of Nightwing's memory.

As the Titans turned to Katana, confusion painted across their faces, she spoke, "Zamurad is here as a favor to an old friend of mine. He possesses a unique talent, and I couldn't overlook the potential he displayed."

They walked away from the boy to discuss the mission further, but Nightwing's thoughts lingered on the young trainee. He couldn't help but shake the sense of déjà vu that had enveloped him when watching the boy train.

The way Zamurad moved, the grace in his techniques, it all reminded Nightwing of a time long ago, when he had trained alongside a fiery and fiercely determined young boy named Jason Todd… the second Robin. Memories of their time together in Gotham City, fighting crime side by side, flooded back.

Shaking his head to clear the thoughts, Nightwing focused on the present. They had a mission to complete, and the safety of the city depended on their success. Zamurad and Katana were not the priority at this moment. As the leader of the Titans, he needed to put aside the ghosts of the past and concentrate on the challenges that lay ahead.

Chapter Text

As Jason strolled through the lively streets of Fawcett City, a storm brewed inside him that rivaled any conflict from his vigilante days. He had intentionally chosen this life, this city, to shield his younger brothers, Damian and Billy, from the relentless vendetta of Batman. He had been resolute in his belief that here, away from Gotham's haunting shadows, he could offer them a chance at a brighter, less burdened existence.

But as time passed—days melting into months, and months into years—doubt crept in. Dick, Tim, Stephanie, Cass… They remained under Batman's watchful gaze, still caught in the unyielding grip of Gotham's darkness. Jason observed from afar, witnessing the toll their service exacted. Amid fleeting moments of joy, he saw the pervasive darkness, the pain they endured. He felt their struggles keenly, having lived through his own fall as Robin and resurrection as a vigilante. The Bat's darkness had seeped into his bones like an eternal chill.

These thoughts haunted Jason like a relentless shadow, casting doubt on his hard-won peace. Stephanie's near-tragedy in Gotham underscored the city's merciless nature—a place that had already taken one brother from him.

How could he justify keeping Damian and Billy safe while leaving the others to face Batman's relentless demands? How long could he believe his decision to distance them was right, knowing the internal strife it caused? It was a tormenting struggle, an agonizing conflict that gnawed at his conscience with each passing day.

But deep down, Jason knew he wrestled with a different kind of fight. It wasn't just about safeguarding Damian and Billy; it was about shielding himself from the lingering darkness within. It was his way of seeking redemption, of trying to carve out a semblance of normalcy amid the stains of his past. Yet, the specters of his history—both living and gone—persisted, haunting his steps. His loyalty to his other siblings felt like a chain binding him to a troubled past, one steeped in pain and anguish. The guilt weighed heavily, a relentless companion whispering doubts about his choices and paths taken.

Walking through the bustling streets, Jason felt the weight of his decisions press upon him like an unseen burden. He wondered if there'd ever be a time when he could truly break free from his past's shadows and offer his other siblings a life beyond the cape and cowl. It was a battle waged within his soul, with no clear victor in sight. Jason understood that the road to redemption stretched long and was fraught with challenges. As he moved forward, he couldn't shake the uncertainty of whether he'd ever find the answers he sought or if his past would forever haunt him.

For now, though, he had a task at hand. One that required him to apparate to London.

Jason walked through the bustling streets of Diagon Alley, the heart of the magical world in London. It was a place where the past and present coexisted, where history whispered in the cobbled streets and ancient bricks of the buildings. Today, he was here to visit a place that held a significant legacy - Snape's Garden, an apothecary and potion store that bore the name of one of the bravest and most enigmatic figures in the UK's magical history, Severus Snape.

The story of Severus Snape was one that had become a legend, a tale of bravery and sacrifice in the face of unimaginable darkness. He had been the double agent who had risked his life to spy on one of the most notorious Dark Lords the United Kingdom had ever faced. Snape's work had saved countless lives and had helped turn the tide in the battle against the forces of evil. He had been a man of secrets, a master of the shadows, but his loyalty to the side of good had never wavered.

As if that were not enough, Snape had taken on the role of Headmaster at Hogwarts during one of the darkest chapters in the magical world's history. The Hunters had laid siege to the school, seeking to eliminate any form of magic from the world. It was a time when darkness threatened to smother the light, and Snape had stood as a beacon of hope. The battle for Hogwarts had been fierce and deadly. The entire school had been transformed into a battlefield, and the students, led by Snape, had fought valiantly to survive.

In a daring escape plan devised by the cunning Headmaster, they had managed to slip through the Hunter's grasp and flee to safety. But in the midst of this heroic escape, the Headmaster and the beloved castle had been consumed by flames. The majestic, centuries-old institution had been reduced to ashes, and the decision had been made not to rebuild it. Instead, the magical children of the United Kingdom were now educated at Durmstrang Institute, an institution that had welcomed them with open arms.

Snape's Garden stood as a tribute to the man who had given everything, including his life, to protect the future of magical children. The apothecary and potion store is run by his descendants, who continued his work and preserved his memory.

Jason entered the store, the shelves were lined with rare ingredients, magical herbs, and intricate potion bottles. As Jason made his way deeper into the shop, he spotted the owner, Severus Snape the Third, tending to a display of powdered moonstone. The young man looked up as the doorbell chimed, and a smile broke across his face as he recognized his old friend. Their friendship had its roots in their shared history as students under the same Potions Master, and it had only grown stronger over the years.

"Jason," Severus greeted him, his voice carrying the faintest trace of the accent that seemed to be a legacy of their master. "It's been too long. What brings you to my humble abode today?"

Jason returned the smile, the years melting away as they shared a bond that transcended time. "Severus, my friend, you know me. I'm in need of a few specialized ingredients."

"I still cannot believe how fast you run out of potion ingredients!" Severus joked with amusement.

"Try to parent two little siblings who are in their formative years, one who adores experimenting with potions!" Jason huffed, though his fond smile gave him away. "Dami reminds me so much of you whenever I catch him in the potion brewing room we have at home."

"You should bring him to me one day," Severus replied, as he moved to collect the ingredients Jason would need. All of that was done manually, as every potion brewer knows that potions ingredients are sensitive to magic and should be handled with care. "I would love to teach him some tricks."

"Maybe when he grows up," Jason hummed, accepting the ingredients, and paying Severus what he owes him. "Dami might be good, but he is still only twelve years old. He showed how advanced he was during his first year at the Nanda Parbat Academy, but the professors still did not advance him in potions when he started second year. There must be a reason for that, and I will not push more into him than he already has. He needs to enjoy his childhood, not go from one tutor to another."

"I understand," Severus smiled at his friend. "You are a good older brother."

"Thank you," Jason grimaced, instead of feeling grateful for the compliment, he was feeling guiltier if anything.

Noticing his friend's dark mood, Severus changed the topic of conversation. For being an accomplished writer, Jason did not like to talk about his feelings. "Congrats by the way! The Risen's miniseries swept through the awards. Critic's Choice Best Movie/Minisiries, Golden Globe Award for Best Limited or Anthology Series or Television Film, Primetime Emmy Award for Outstanding Writing for a Limited or Anthology Series or Movie, and Primetime Emmy Award for Outstanding Limited or Anthology Series, Bram Stoker Award Superior Achievement in a Screenplay, and the Writers Guild of America Award for Television: Dramatic Series."

"Well, that was a mouthful, did you memorize all of that?" Jason chuckled; cheeks tinted red. He was never one to accept compliments so easily. "It was hard work. Not only was I writing the screenplay for the show, I was also finishing Ethereal Echoes of Hill House."

"For which I've heard Netflix wants to buy the rights to make a miniseries," Severus loved teasing his friend.

"Why is it that everyone knows about this before the news?!" Jason exclaimed shocked that once more it was leaked, before sighing in defeat. "Yes, they are interested. Yes, I am thrilled. Yes, I am doing the screenplay. All that is left to do is write up the contract and sign it."

"Look at you, all professional and ready to answer questions. Those journalists made a miracle with you," Severus continued to tease his friend. Raising his hands in defeat with a chuckle when Jason directed a deadly glare towards him- a batglare. "Getting serious though, I heard rumors about John Constantine visiting the Leaky Cauldron."

"That's weird," Jason frowned. "After starting to play hero with the Justice League Dark he stopped coming around to the magical world. Why is he here now?"

"From what my customers have told me, he was asking questions about the Red Ghoul," Severus answered, had Jason snapping his head towards him. "Of course, no one has answered him. The Red Ghoul is known as a great Curse Breaker in the magical world, one that aided in the founding of the Nanda Parbat Academy for Magic. You know how protective we are of our own, especially after the Hunters. We would never betray our own for anyone, especially those so-called heroes. I just thought you would like to know about it."

Jason smiled at his friend; Severus shared his thoughts about the Young Heroes situation- being one of the firsts that agreed with his sentiment of them being child soldiers. "I wonder what the Justice League wants with the Red Ghoul?" Jason murmured, before a wicked smirk spread through his lips.

"What now?" Severus asked with trepidation, that smirk always spelt trouble on his friend's lips.

"Well, Constantine wants the Red Ghoul, why should I not give him to him?"

“You are a hard man to find,” John Constantine greeted him drily, not even bothering to stand up. “All over the world breaking curse after curse, not staying anywhere for long. But you do have a certain soft spot for the UK, not that I would blame you.”

“What do you need from me Constantine?” Jason, no, the Red Ghoul asked, taking the spot in front of the warlock.

“I need you to deal with the curses in Gotham City,” John said with a sneer.

If there was something, you could appreciate about Constantine was the fact that he did not pull any punches and went straight to the point. Knowing that did not stop Jason from being shocked by the request. Not even in his wildest dreams had he expected those words to leave John’s lips.

“You want me to do what?” Red Ghoul asked in disbelief.

“As you know our schools and magical cities are located on any tertiary or higher ley line configurations with enough ambient thaumatographic output to support the opening of rifts of magic outpour. Leaving our schools and cities with relatively compact protectorates and broad swaths of land where no schools or city maintains formal territorial control is one of the most dangerous things the magical world could do. Which is why the UK was lucky that Hogsmeade was built so close to Hogwarts and so many magical creatures live in the Forbidden Forest and Dark Lake.” John explained, swinging his beer to finish it off before it magically filled up again. “It also leaves Gotham’s situation quite dire. However, I am sure as one of the greatest Curse Breakers alive, you already knew that.”

Of course, Jason knew about it. Everyone knew about Gotham City’s dire situation. It was another thing that weighed on his consciousness.

Gotham City, a place known for its towering skyscrapers, shrouded in perpetual shadows, holds a far deeper secret beneath its surface—a dark magical ley nexus. This mystical energy source has been an integral part of the city's history.

In the early days of Gotham, when the city was founded, it quickly became a haven for various dark magical beings. Drawn to the power of the ley nexus, they found refuge in its dark embrace. Witches, warlocks, and creatures of the night, like vampires, demons, and werewolves, all coexisted in an intricate, magical tapestry that was Gotham. However, the harmony couldn't last. The city's dark reputation as a sanctuary for the supernatural drew the attention of the Hunters. With a target squarely on Gotham's back, the magical denizens had no choice but to flee for their lives. The exodus left a void, and it wasn't long before the dark energy lingering within the ley nexus began to have a profound effect on the humans who remained.

The ley nexus was neither inherently evil nor malevolent, but it was potent and unforgiving. Humans who were uninitiated in the ways of magic couldn't withstand the raw, unfiltered power coursing through them. It twisted their minds, darkened their souls, and compelled them to commit heinous acts. The once-ordinary citizens of Gotham, now tainted by this malefic energy, transformed into creatures of darkness.

One of the most notable examples of this corruption was the Court of Owls, an ancient and enigmatic organization that had roots as the city's Magical Council. Once governed by the magical beings who understood the delicate balance of power within Gotham, the Court of Owls was overthrown by ambitious humans. With the magical beings gone, they seized control of the ley nexus and the city itself. In their relentless pursuit of power, the new leaders of the Court harnessed the dark energy emanating from the ley nexus. However, they too fell victim to the corruption of the dark magic. As a result, the Court became a shadowy cabal, manipulating the strings of the city from the darkness, and furthering the descent of Gotham into chaos and despair.

On the other hand, Metropolis, stands in stark contrast to its enigmatic neighbor, Gotham City. While the two cities are often considered polar opposites in more ways than one, one of the most fundamental distinctions lies in the very fabric of their existence—the magical ley nexus upon which they were built. In Metropolis, the city's foundation rests upon a light magical ley nexus, a stark counterpoint to the dark magical nexus of Gotham. These ley nexuses serve as the heartbeat of the cities, shaping the destinies of their inhabitants in profound ways. While Gotham's history was marred by the expulsion of dark magical beings and the subsequent corruption of its citizens, Metropolis took a divergent path.

With the fall of the Hunters, those dedicated to the eradication of magical beings, light magical creatures began to return to Metropolis. The city's light magical nexus, once the cornerstone of their existence, called them back home. Elves, fairies, benevolent spirits, and celestial beings found sanctuary within the embrace of the city. Their return was a beacon of hope for Metropolis, offering its citizens the opportunity to thrive in an environment infused with light and positive energy. The mere presence of these light magical beings helped to safeguard Metropolis against the negative effects of unchecked light magic. The city's inhabitants, once vulnerable to the raw, untamed power of the ley nexus, now basked in its radiant aura without fear of falling prey to the malefic corruption that had plagued Gotham.

However, the migration of dark magical beings to Australia served as a poignant reminder that balance must be maintained in the world of magic. As one city welcomed the forces of light, another became a new haven for creatures of the dark. Witches, necromancers, vampires, and shadowy entities took refuge Down Under, embracing their new sanctuary and forging a new home far from the reach of the Hunters.

A curious quirk of Metropolis's history is rooted in the illustrious Luthor family. The Luthors, having been in Metropolis since its inception, bear a unique connection to the city's light magical ley nexus. The ley nexus, a source of life and vitality, has long influenced the Luthors' desire for longevity and power. This profound connection to the nexus has manifested in the family's fascination with cloning technology. Lex Luthor, a prominent figure in Metropolis, has dedicated himself to advancing this scientific field in the pursuit of extending human life and transcending mortality.

The juxtaposition between Metropolis and Gotham, two cities forever entwined in their yin and yang, light and darkness, showcases the delicate equilibrium maintained by the magical world. These cities, born to balance each other's energies, continue to evolve and bear witness to the interplay of light and dark, shaping the destinies of their inhabitants and offering a glimpse into the complex tapestry of the magical world.

Even with knowing all of that, it was not like Jason could do anything about it without attracting Batman’s attention to him. Batman would never accept him getting in his city and fixing the magical issue without Batman breathing down his neck or asking millions of questions about his every move. Jason was no longer Batman’s Robin, and he will not allow himself to be interrogated in such manner again.

“You know that Batman does not allow anyone into his city. He will never accept anyone’s help or allow me to perform magic in his adored city.” the Red Ghoul said instead. “There’s also the fact that I am an Al Ghul and Ra’s swore off any involvement from our side in his precious Detective’s city.”

“Ra’s is dead, and you are not part of the League of Assassins anymore,” John raised an eyebrow. “Or were your declaration to the All-Caste a lie?”

“First of all, it is the League of Shadows now,” the Red Ghoul snapped, before taking a deep breath and collecting himself. He might no longer be infected by Pit Madness, but Batman always affected him that way. “Second, Ra’s swore of the involvement of the League and the Al Ghul’s. I am All-Caste, but I am also an Al Ghul.”

“Well, lucky for you, Batman has invited you to Gotham to aid them deal with the Court of Owls and solve the issue with the dark nexus,” Constantine replied mockingly. “What will be your answer?”

The mention of Batman and the Court of Owls by Constantine had Jason's brow furrowing with irritation. Gotham's legacy of darkness and secrets was not one he relished revisiting, but the Court of Owls had always been a thorn in Gotham’s side, and it seemed that the situation had escalated.

As he talked to Talia, his mother and confidante, in matters both magical and familial, Jason couldn't help but wonder aloud, "What do you think, umi? Should I accept Batman's invitation and return to Gotham? The Court of Owls is not an enemy to be taken lightly, and there's the matter of the dark nexus."

Talia regarded her son with a mixture of concern and understanding. She had always been acutely aware of the weight of their family's legacy and the complexities it brought into their lives. "My dear, you know that Gotham has its own brand of chaos and treachery. It is a place that has both forged and broken many. But your skills, your knowledge, they make you a formidable ally. The Court of Owls must be dealt with, and the dark nexus threatens not only Gotham but the magical world at large."

Jason nodded, acknowledging the truth in his mother's words. The responsibility of being a guardian to his younger siblings, Damian and Billy, was a mantle he wore with pride. However, the call to return to Gotham was not a decision to be taken lightly. He had built a new life, far from the shadows and the vigilante persona he had once embodied.

"Yet, there's the matter of my identity," he mused, his voice tinged with uncertainty. "Returning to Gotham means exposing myself to the hero community once more. It's a risk that could jeopardize everything I've tried to protect. I could be found out and then… Batman would never stop until I am back in his grasp."

Talia placed a reassuring hand on her son's shoulder. "I will never allow that to happen, abni. Your identity as Jason Head has been carefully shielded, and those who matter most to us know the truth. Your primary duty is to your siblings, but there are times when your unique abilities and knowledge can make a difference in the larger world. Gotham calls for a protector, and I have no doubt that you can answer that call."

Jason's thoughts swirled with the weight of the decision. Gotham was a city that had left an indelible mark on his life, a place of both torment and triumph. The Court of Owls was a dangerous adversary, and the dark nexus was a threat that extended beyond the city's borders. With a determined glint in his eyes, Jason finally spoke, "I will accept Batman's invitation and return to Gotham. The Court of Owls will be faced, and the dark nexus shall be tamed. I owe it to Gotham, and I owe it to the world."

Talia nodded in approval, her unwavering support evident in her gaze. "Remember, my son, that you are not alone. You have allies, both magical and non-maj, and the legacy of the al Ghuls to guide you. Face Gotham with the strength of your convictions, and may you find the answers you seek."

As Jason and Talia chatted about his upcoming return to Gotham, their conversation was suddenly interrupted by the arrival of Damian and Billy. The two younger brothers popped out of the fireplace with the usual whoosh of floo magic, looking a bit disheveled from a busy day of classes at the Nanda Parbat Academy for Magic.

Damian, ever confident, and Billy, bursting with youthful energy, wasted no time. They dashed towards their mother, who greeted them warmly with open arms and a bright smile. It was a rare and precious moment for Talia, whose duties as the leader of the League of Shadows often kept her apart from her sons. Having them close was a gift she cherished deeply.

Jason watched the reunion with a tender smile, his heart touched by the sight. As Damian and Billy eagerly shared tales of their magical studies, Jason followed them with his gaze as they led Talia down to the training room in the basement. Seeing his mother and younger siblings bond over their lives and adventures reminded Jason why he had taken on the role of their protector. It was for these moments, these connections, that he had tirelessly worked to safeguard. His commitment to his family was steadfast, and he was willing to do whatever it took to ensure their safety and happiness.

With a solemn resolve, Jason whispered to himself, "This is what I've fought so hard to protect, and I'd give my life for it without hesitation." He knew the challenges awaiting him in Gotham were daunting, but his love for his family was an unbreakable guide through any trials ahead.

As the sounds of laughter and conversation drifted from the training room, a sense of unity and purpose filled the air. Jason reflected deeply on his time in Fawcett City, away from Gotham's chaos, where he could be a supportive brother to Damian and Billy. Taking on the roles of teacher and guardian, he had strived to create a safe and nurturing environment for his younger siblings, a role he embraced with unwavering dedication.

Returning to Gotham meant diving back into a city veiled in shadows and secrets. The Court of Owls loomed as a formidable opponent. The city's deep reservoirs of mystical energy posed its own challenges, coupled with its grim history of hunting magical beings. Deep down, Jason understood the gravity of his mission in Gotham. Protecting Damian and Billy from Batman's wrath was his top priority, but he also carried the weight of his other siblings, still under the Dark Knight's sway. Dick, Tim, Stephanie, and Cass—his extended family—depended on him, and their safety was equally dear.

Stephanie's image flashed in his mind—a spirited woman who faced danger due to her ties with Batman. Jason wrestled with the guilt of keeping his distance from Gotham to shield Damian and Billy, knowing it left others vulnerable.

As memories flooded back, Jason grappled with guilt creeping in. Could he live with himself, knowing he had the power to free Dick, Tim, Stephanie, and Cass from Batman's grip? While protecting Damian and Billy was crucial, Jason's sense of duty toward his other siblings tugged at him more with each passing moment.

Gazing at Gotham's darkened skyline, Jason Head—a man who had carved out a new life beyond vigilantism—faced a profound moral crossroads. It wasn't just about shielding his family anymore; it was about making things right and confronting the injustices he had witnessed. Resignation settled in as he acknowledged the inevitable call to action. It was time to confront his past, challenge the dark magic consuming Gotham, and embrace the destiny awaiting him.

With a deep breath, Jason whispered to himself, "I'm doing this—for my family, for my city, and for myself."

As the family of four gathered around the dinner table, the warm light of the dining room cast a soft glow on their faces as they began their meal. Jason, taking a deep breath, set his fork down and looked at his younger brothers. His voice was gentle but filled with determination as he began to explain the reason for their gathering. "I have some important news, guys. We've been living a peaceful life here in Fawcett City, but there's something I need to attend to in Gotham. It's related to magical business and the dark nexus in the city."

Billy, with his youthful enthusiasm and a sense of adventure in his eyes, was the first to respond. "Oh, wow, does that mean we get to go on an adventure too? This will be my first time staying abroad! I can't wait!"

The prospect of a new adventure excited Billy, and he was eager to explore a different magical community. His curiosity and open-heartedness made him receptive to new experiences.

“NO!” Talia exclaimed, before collecting herself and smiling gently at Billy. “You and your brother will be staying at the Nanda Parbat Academy for Magic until this issue is resolved. Understood?”

“Understood, umi,” both Damian and Billy echoed at the same time.

After that, Talia asked about their classes, and Billy eagerly jumped in with his excitement. Damian, however, remained thoughtful. The name "Batman," his father, carried a weight and complexity that had always been part of his life. Jason's mention of returning to Gotham triggered a mix of conflicting emotions within him.

For Damian, Batman was a figure of many facets. He knew him as his mother's beloved, Gotham's legendary protector. Batman had also shaped Damian's upbringing through Jason's perspective. To his grandfather, Batman was the esteemed detective who fought crime with unwavering resolve, someone Ra's al Ghul had even seen as a potential heir.

Yet, Damian also knew the other side of Batman. His mother had never revealed Damian's existence to him. Ra's al Ghul, Damian's grandfather, had a complicated history with Batman, marked by curses and deep-seated enmity. And for Jason, Batman was the man who had let him die, a father figure who hadn't sought the justice Jason deserved.

These conflicting impressions swirled in Damian's mind, creating a mosaic of thoughts and feelings about the masked vigilante. He couldn't help but ponder silently, weighing the implications of Jason's return to Gotham.

It left Damian reeling and wondering: How much would their lives change with Jason's decision to go back to Gotham City? Did Damian want his life to change? Did he want to meet the man who was his father and form his own opinion about him? Or did he prefer to remain unknown to Batman and continue living as Damian Head?

Decisions, decisions.

I can’t believe I am doing this! Jason exclaimed in his head, as he stared at the dark city before him. Am I doing this? Jason looked at what used to be his city and who still are his people, before sighing in defeat. I am doing this.

Jason couldn't help but feel a mix of emotions as he stood on the outskirts of Gotham City. It was a place he had sworn he'd never return to, a city steeped in a tumultuous past and a darkness that seeped into every brick and alley. Yet, here he was, drawn back to the shadows and secrets lurking in the heart of the metropolis.

The cityscape before him was starkly different from the bustling streets of Fawcett City or the magical enclaves he'd visited. Gotham was its own beast, alive with chaos and despair. Jason's footsteps echoed through the night's eerie silence as he navigated grimy alleyways and dimly lit streets. It felt like a homecoming of sorts, but not one filled with warmth or nostalgia.

Passing familiar landmarks, memories flooded back—where he first met Bruce Wayne, the rooftops he'd patrolled as Robin, the corners where he'd sought refuge in darker times. Gotham held the echoes of his rise and fall, victories and defeats—a stark reminder of the life he'd left behind.

The city's darkness pressed in on him like a heavy shroud, clinging to every step. Secrets festered here, alliances shifted like quicksand. Jason had once been part of this world, a past he'd fought hard to escape. But now, circumstances had brought him back to these treacherous streets. He returned not as Robin, but as the Red Ghoul.

As Jason walked through Gotham, he thought about his complex relationship with the city. It had shaped him in profound ways, both nurturing and betraying him. Memories of his past haunted him, reminding him of the highs and lows he'd experienced here. Returning felt both bitter and necessary, driven by duty and responsibility to protect his family from Gotham's darkness.

Despite his apprehension, Jason was determined to shield his siblings from the dangers lurking in the shadows. Gotham was a city of contradictions, capable of evoking both hope and despair. Standing amidst its dark skyline, Jason knew he had to navigate these complexities with unwavering resolve.

He had returned a changed man, no longer the same person who once roamed these streets. Through growth and adversity, he had become a guardian and protector to his family. Gotham had tested him, but he was steadfast in ensuring his siblings emerged unscathed.

The Red Ghoul took out his wand and pointed it upward, casting the charm that will take him towards the familiar rooftop he has been on many times as Robin. “Ascendio!”

Red Ghoul raised an eyebrow underneath his mask when Nightwing and Black Bat landed beside him on the rooftop. He was not surprised that neither Spoiler nor Robin had come, Jason did not expect Batman to let them out of his sight for as long as an unknown Red Ghoul was in his city. However, to send his other two children on their own, without him? Where was the control freak Jason knows as Batman?

“Hi!” Nightwing chippered, with a wide and very fake smile on his lips. Though, Jason could only notice that because of the time they spent being raised under the same roof. Dick was an excellent actor after all. “Thank you for accepting our request.”

Red Ghoul did not answer, he was thinking. Being back in Gotham brought up a lot of emotions Jason had thought buried in the past, not to mention he must make sure he does not give anything away. Especially, not with a perfect body reader like Cassandra Cain around.

“I’ve been wanting to deal with this for a while now, but out of the oath my family made I stayed away,” was what Red Ghoul finally said. Nightwing winced slightly at the robotic and emotionless voice of the modulator, as Black Bat tilted her head in interest. He was telling the truth, but not all of it. “Black Bat, my umi and halto have kept everything your mother owned. If you so desire it, they’ll have it delivered to you.”

An uncomfortable and tense silence enveloped them, as they waited for Black Bat to answer. Nightwing did not know how to behave, the topic of Cass’ parents was a sensitive one. For a stranger to bring it out so casually… it such felt wrong.

Finally, Black Bat nodded her head towards Red Ghoul and signed: I want them. Thank you. Did you know her?

“Lady Shiva?” Red Ghoul wondered, though he already knew the answer. “Yes, I knew her. She trained me and my akhi in the art of the sword. Your father trained me as well. Though, umi stopped it the moment she realized his… methods.” Even with the modulator hiding his tone of voice, Red Ghoul did not hide his uncomfortable body language. “We did not mourn his death.”

Neither did I, Cass signed in return. I never knew my mother…

Jason hesitated for a second, before offering: “I could tell you some stories. I did not train with her for long, but I’ve heard many tales about her from umi and halto. They held her in high regard.”

“I do not know how much that’s worth,” Nightwing snorted, and it took all of Jason not to punch him in the face. He had to take a deep breath and remind himself that Dick never liked Talia to begin with. “Wait? Akhi? Talia has two sons?!”

Three, Jason corrected internally, but stayed quiet. He had discussed this with Talia before coming here, Zamurad being discovered by the Titans was unexpected but not unfixable. If they controlled the information being shared, they could stay ahead of it.

“You’ve met him,” Red Ghoul simply replied, facing Nightwing.

“I met him?!” Nightwing exclaimed shocked, before freezing. “Zamurad?! That kid is Talia’s? He was so polite and cute!”

“What is that supposed to mean?” Red Ghoul growled.

Nightwing opened his mouth to answer, when Black Bat jabbed her elbow into his gut, making him groan. She then turned to Red Ghoul and signed: Please follow us. We’ll take you to the Batcave.

“The Batcave? Isn’t that supposed to be top secret,” Red Ghoul inquired, trying to sound blasé about it, but internally he was freaking out. What in the name of magic was going on?!

Nightwing took a step closer to Red Ghoul. His voice was laced with sarcasm, a reflection of the strained relationship between the al Ghul family and the Bat-Family. "You are an al Ghul, I'm sure Ra's and Talia told you all about us and the Batcave," Nightwing quipped, his tone implying that Red Ghoul's silence was confirmation enough.

The Red Ghoul stayed silent, not reacting to Nightwing's remark. He seemed like a mystery, keeping his thoughts and feelings hidden under that red hood. Nightwing sighed in frustration and took the lead, motioning for Red Ghoul to come along. There was impatience in Nightwing's gestures, as if he didn't have much patience for the al Ghul's presence.

"Yeah, as expected. Just follow us," Nightwing declared, his words hanging in the air. Without further ado, he, and Black Bat gracefully leaped from the rooftop, their capes billowing as they descended. The silent invitation for Red Ghoul to join them was unmistakable.

Jason watched the exchange with a wry smile and a hint of amusement before he decided to make his departure. As Nightwing and Black Bat swung away on their grappling hooks, Jason took a different approach. He held a wand in his hand, without a broomstick or a thestral to cling to, Jason effortlessly wielded his magic. Red Ghoul floated through the night sky, suspended as if on a gentle breeze of red smoke. His face, partially hidden by the crimson hood, glowed eerily in the darkness. It was a sight that took Nightwing and Black Bat by surprise, freezing them momentarily mid-swing as they stared in bewilderment at the supernatural display before them.

However, the Bat-Family was known for their adaptability, and they quickly regained their composure, smoothly continuing their descent. Despite their reluctance, they couldn't deny witnessing a display of magic far beyond the ordinary. Red Ghoul's abilities had surpassed their expectations.

Upon reaching the Batcave, the rest of the Bat-Family greeted them with expressions ranging from surprise to intrigue. Spoiler and Robin looked particularly astonished. Batman, visibly tense, showed clear unease at the idea of an al Ghul possessing such formidable powers. Even Agent A, the vigilant guardian of the cave, couldn't help but be impressed by Red Ghoul's demonstration of magic.

“What the fuck?!” Spoiler exclaimed in disbelief. “You can fucking fly?! How is that fucking fair?!”

“Language,” both Agent A and Red Ghoul said at the same time, making everyone freeze in shock.

“Shit!” Tim muttered under his breath. “That was creepy.”

“Finally, there is someone else here with manners,” Agent A said primly. “Would you like anything to drink Master Red Ghoul?”

“No, thank you,” Red Ghoul answered slowly, taking everything of him not to add the Alfie at the end. “I believe we should discuss the course of action, the sooner we do it, the sooner this is over, and I can move on.”

“Move on?” Batman growled, glaring at the stranger in his cave.

Jason tensed underneath the glare. It reminded him of the last time he was face to face with him, when Batman was looming over him, glaring, and accusing him of committing a murder he had not done. Batman might not be able to see with the mask firmly on place, but Red Ghoul was glaring right back, with so much hate that if looks could kill, Batman would be ten feet underground by now.

“Move on,” Red Ghoul repeated slowly, as if he was talking with a kid. Which had everyone chuckling, as Batman got angrier. “There are so many curses on Earth, I do not have the liberty of remaining in one place for long.”

“Then let’s discuss,” Batman growled. “The sooner we deal with this, the sooner you can leave my city.”

“Believe me, I do not want to stay here for a second later than I need to,” Red Ghoul grunted, before smirking in sadistic amusement. “It must really kill you, to have me here. To ask an al Ghul for aid.”

“Master Red Ghoul,” Agent A scolded him out of habit.

However, Cass noticed that Red Ghoul reacted the same way every child of the bat did, chastised. Interesting…

“First of all, I am not allowing neither Robin nor Spoiler to get involved. I will not condemn a mission with child soldiers,” Red Ghoul announced, making Robin and Spoiler glare heatedly at the All-Caste member. While Batman and Nightwing flinched at the clear accusation. Only Agent A and Black Bat remained unaffected by Red Ghoul’s words. “Second, you will need to learn to share your city Batsy. I cannot do anything for the nexus layout underneath the city. That will always remain, and it will always affect humans. As such, you will need a dark magical conglomeration to take the effects of the dark magic away from humans. You accept that, or you move out and take all the humans with you.”

The batglare was back in place and this time it was 100 times worse than before. If anything, Batman looked ready to jump the Red Ghoul and beat him to the pulp. That is if he could.

“Do not look at me like that, Detective,” Red Ghoul snapped, taking sadistic satisfaction in using Ra’s nickname, knowing how much it perturbed Bruce. “Life is harsh and unfair; we don’t get what we want most of the time. The sooner you accept that, the better.”

“You think I do not know that?!” Batman snapped, all the tension in his body finally snapping like rubber band.

“No, I do not think. Otherwise, you would not have them patrolling,” Red Ghoul pointed at Spoiler and Robin who flinched back. “Didn’t Spoiler almost die at the hands of Black Mask? And everyone knows what happened to the last Robin.”

The room froze, everyone staring at the Red Ghoul in shock. Though, Jason only had eyes for the case in the middle of the batcave. The twisted and masochistic headstone for the fallen Robin. He was so focused on it, that he did not notice Batman shaking off Nightwing and rushing towards Red Ghoul with his fist up.

The moment Red Ghoul realized, he had his wand out and aimed it at the coming Batman. “Depulso!”

Batman flew away from Red Ghoul and landed on the case, breaking it from the force of the spell, sending shattered glass everywhere as Batman laid on the same costume Jason had died in.

Jason could not stay in the Batcave for another second. He had to leave, NOW!

“Call me when you are all ready to behave as adults, until then I will stake out the Court of Owls,” Red Ghoul growled and turned to leave, when his foot stepped on something. Jason stopped and picked up the plate. He snorted as he read the contents. “A Good Soldier? More like A Child Soldier.”

With nothing else to say, Red Ghoul apparated away, leaving the bats and birds of Gotham to stew in their guilt and sadness.

Chapter Text

In the Batcave, Jason, dressed as Red Ghoul, was overwhelmed by a mix of emotions. The cave, once his home, now felt heavy with memories—both good and bad. The lights cast shadows on his mask, mirroring the chaos inside his mind.

Seeing the Robin uniform, stained with blood, brought back memories of his past life. The red and green colors reminded him of his time fighting alongside Batman as a kid, a period he hated. Even with the Joker gone, the pain from those days was still fresh. Jason struggled with two conflicting sides of himself: the "Good Soldier" and the "Child Soldier." The label of "Good Soldier" felt imposed on him, and the burden of his tragic death was too much to handle.

So, he ran. He ran until he was exhausted.

"I'm not a Good Soldier," Jason said to himself, his voice echoing in the tunnels.

His bitterness showed how much he resented a destiny forced upon him. The term "Child Soldier" weighed heavily on him, acknowledging the harsh path he was pushed into as a young hero. The Justice League, despite their good intentions, had allowed a culture that made young heroes a normal part of dangerous work. This reality disgusted Jason.

Jason moved quickly through the Batcave tunnels, feeling the walls close in around him. The cave’s oppressive atmosphere only added to his urgency. Once he stepped out into the night, the weight on his chest lifted slightly. The city lights of Gotham offered a sense of freedom, a break from his past and the capes and cowls that once defined him.

“Stay focused, Jason,” he muttered to himself. “You can do this. Just stick to what’s important and get the job done. Don’t let Batman mess things up.” He looked out over Gotham from the rooftop, his gaze set on the busy streets below. “You’re here for the Court of Owls, not for the Bats. Let’s find them and show them why they shouldn’t mess with the Al Ghuls.”

Jason moved through the dark streets, feeling the night’s weight. Gotham was a mix of shadows and neon lights, adding to its eerie vibe. His footsteps echoed in the quiet alleys as he headed toward the heart of the city’s hidden power—the Court of Owls. Their name alone was enough to strike fear into both criminals and heroes. The Court operated in secrecy, controlling Gotham with a ruthlessness that rivaled the worst villains.

Finding a good vantage point, Jason set up his stakeout, watching over the city’s grand buildings where the Court hid. The night seemed endless, and the cold wind carried the city’s secrets. Gotham, with its tall buildings and winding streets, pulsed with the hidden actions of those in the shadows.

Inside Jason, a mix of anger and determination boiled. His past wrongs fueled his drive for revenge, pushing him to confront the Court of Owls. Gotham, with its history of betrayal and redemption, set the scene for his mission. As he tracked the Court’s movements, Jason stayed sharp and focused, aiming not just to confront them but to dismantle their influence. The risk was high, but he was ready to hunt them down and expose their secrets.

The Batcave was silent after Batman left in a hurry. Nightwing, Robin, Spoiler, and Black Bat exchanged confused looks. The loud slam of the door signaled the end of a tense meeting. Once the clock-door was sealed, the Bat Family was left with a lot of questions. Nightwing, usually the glue holding them together, looked frustrated. Robin, known for his problem-solving skills, had a furrowed brow. Spoiler, always skeptical, raised an eyebrow at the closed door. Black Bat, ever alert, stayed on guard.

They had been hopeful about a new ally, someone who was supposed to help with the Court of Owls and the dark magic issue in Gotham. Though they were cautious about inviting Talia Al Ghul's son, they decided to take the chance for the sake of their mission.

Learning that the Red Ghoul was Talia Al Ghul's son brought mixed feelings. While his connection to shadows and magic was intriguing, it was also unsettling. Still, his past achievements suggested he could be a valuable ally.

But the meeting didn't go as planned. Instead of forming a partnership, it turned into a confrontation, with Batman starting the conflict. What was supposed to be an alliance turned awkward, and their guest left abruptly. The Bat Family was left not only without their potential ally but also with a strange tension hanging in their usually busy Batcave. The space, typically filled with activity, now felt unusually quiet, heavy with the aftermath of a failed meeting and the weight of unresolved issues.

Nightwing, usually the one keeping things together, looked lost. He stared at the broken equipment and Robin's bloody suit, clearly struggling with his feelings. Losing his younger brother and remembering their times together left him feeling overwhelmed. The Batcave now felt like a sad reminder of their loss, the walls seemed to close in on him. His mind was a whirlwind of memories—training sessions, shared laughs, and battles fought side by side. Now, all those moments seemed tainted by the tragic reality they faced.

Black Bat stayed quiet, watching everything. Her eyes flickered from Nightwing to the remnants of the fight, assessing the emotional toll it had taken on them all. The fight had shown that Red Ghoul had some deep, personal issues. In her silence she meditated, she was waiting for more details before making any judgments. She knew better than to jump to conclusions, understanding that every story had layers that needed to be uncovered.

Spoiler broke the silence with a tough question: "Are we heroes? Or are we just child soldiers?" Her question hit hard, making everyone uneasy and highlighting the doubts within the team. The bluntness of her words cut through the tension like a knife, forcing them all to confront a harsh reality they had been avoiding. Spoiler's face showed her frustration and doubt, reflecting the same questions that had been gnawing at the back of their minds.

Nightwing was hit especially hard by Spoiler's question. He started to wonder if he’d unintentionally created a legacy of child soldiers and death. What he once saw as inspiration now felt mixed with regret. He’d been a pioneer, but now he the weight of responsibility pressed down on him, and the confident facade he maintained began to crack. Nightwing's mind raced through the years of his leadership, the decisions made, and the lives affected. 

In the silence that followed, Nightwing thought about his journey from circus performer to the first Robin. What started as a dream to be a hero now felt overshadowed by doubts. He remembered the joy and pride of wearing the Robin costume, fighting alongside Batman, and making a difference. But now, those memories were clouded by the realization that his choices might have put others in danger.

Black Bat stayed silent, her calm demeanor hiding her inner conflict. Growing with David Cain, the idea of child soldiers wasn't new to her. Her early years were filled with intense training, making her a weapon forged in secrecy. Even after switching sides, the methods remained eerily similar. In the quiet Batcave, Black Bat struggled with the two sides of her life.

Was she really on the good side if their methods were so similar to the bad side? Batman had promised her she wouldn't have to kill anymore, but she was still expected to fight evil. Did more violence stop violence, especially when kids were fighting adults' battles? Black Bat might be young, but she never had a childhood or a chance to fit into society.

Meanwhile, Robin's mind was a mess of mixed feelings. Spoiler's question weighed on him, challenging his beliefs. He didn't want to face the idea that, even with good intentions, they might be seen as child soldiers. In his chaotic thoughts, Robin tried to avoid accepting that being called child soldiers, because that would make all their efforts pointless. The battles they fought, the pain they went through, the scars on their souls—all of it could be just a sad sign of failure. He wanted to believe that their mission, driven by a real desire to protect and serve, was a strong defense against being labeled child soldiers.

“No need to answer that question,” Spoiler sneered. “I already got an answer.”

Spoiler's sarcastic snort showed she saw it differently. Growing up in the Narrows, with a C-class villain for a parent, she had limited choices. Becoming Spoiler was her way of escaping that, trying to rise above her tough beginnings. But even she knew they were walking a thin line. The broken case and the bloodied Robin uniform were like a powerful picture of their reality. Spoiler stared at the shattered pieces, a reflection of the chaos in the Batcave. A quiet understanding passed through her, maybe Jason Todd had felt like her during his time.

A duty to be more than some Crime Alley street rat.

The moon hung low in the black sky, casting a dim light over the city as the Red Ghoul reached the headquarters of the infamous Court of Owls. The building was huge and imposing, sticking out in a city full of secrets. Jason wondered how the Court of Owls had stayed hidden from the Bats for so long when their headquarters was so grand.

The air was thick with tension. Gotham, a city that had seen a lot of bloodshed, seemed to hold its breath. The silence of the night was broken as he pushed open the grand doors, revealing a scene that would shock even the most seasoned vigilante.

Inside, the once-proud members of the Court lay scattered across the lavish chambers, their bodies twisted in death. The air was heavy with the smell of blood. Jason's eyes widened in shock, taking in the brutality of the massacre. The cold eyes of the owl masks stared blankly, their secrets gone with them.

His footsteps echoed against the marble floor as he cautiously approached the center of the slaughter. The brutality of the scene was staggering, a clear sign of a skilled and ruthless executioner. The aftermath hinted at a deep knowledge of anatomy and combat, similar to the training Jason had received from the League of Shadows.

Jason felt a mix of horror, fascination, and a hint of admiration for the efficiency of the killings. His own training allowed him to appreciate the precision of the carnage. It was a brutal display, executed with a surgeon's precision. The unknown assailant's skill was clear, surpassing even his own. As an Al Ghul, he couldn't deny the twisted artistry of the scene before him.

The moonlight cast an eerie glow over the room through the windows, highlighting the brutality. The air grew even heavier as the Talon appeared before Red Ghoul, the creation of the Court of Owls standing as a testament to the secret society's dark ways. Jason's gaze locked onto the creature, his horror reflected in the widening eyes of Talon's mask. A shiver ran down Jason's spine as the Talon, once human but now a nightmarish monster, presented itself.

"I remember when magic flowed through this city, and the council guarded it," the Talon confessed, its voice heavy with memories. The air seemed to hold the nostalgia, a sad reminder of a lost time.

The creature spoke, its voice echoing through the empty chamber. It told a story of when the Magical Council protected Gotham, long before the Court of Owls' corruption. The Talon's words were filled with a desire for freedom, wanting to escape its monstrous existence. This yearning for redemption hit Jason hard, stirring empathy within him.

"In this blood-soaked offering, I beg you, Red Ghoul," the Talon's voice was mournful, "free me from this cursed existence. Release me from the shadows. I remember the light that once graced this city. Help me break free, and in return, I offer you this tribute—a dark gift to the one who can bring me redemption."

The creature's plea continued, revealing its suffering. Once a victim of the Court's twisted experiments, the Talon sought to end the darkness that had consumed it. The massacre was a gruesome spectacle, a twisted tribute to the Red Ghoul, the one who might save it.

A heavy silence filled the chamber as the Talon waited for Red Ghoul's response. The moon, shining through the windows, added to the tension. The quiet was broken by Jason's internal conflict. Staring at the blood-soaked scene, he felt a mix of pity, dread, and responsibility.

Even as he felt empathy for the creature, Jason realized how hard it would be to explain this to the Bat Family. "Damn it, how do I explain this to the bats and birds?" he muttered, feeling the weight of the dilemma. The Bats, who guarded Gotham, had a strict code with little room for compromise. Introducing dark magic and a redeemed Talon into their world would test their limits.

The Bat Family, lost in their thoughts, was brought back to reality by the ringing of the Batcomputer. They exchanged glances, wondering who was calling. With no one in the field and the call coming from Gotham, it was unlikely to be the Justice League. Nightwing, the oldest, answered the call. They were all surprised when Red Ghoul's face appeared on the screen. Why was Talia al Ghul's son contacting them now? Hadn't he said they'd have to reach out to him? And how did he get their frequency?

Red Ghoul's hologram appeared on the screen, his voice echoing in the Batcave. “Listen up, brats. There's some crucial intel you need to know.” Nightwing listened intently. “The Court of Owls? They're history. Dead before I even set foot in their headquarters.”

The news hit them hard. Robin, Black Bat, and Spoiler exchanged glances, a mix of disbelief and cautious relief on their faces. Meanwhile, Nightwing, inquired skeptically. “Dead? Just like that?”

Red Ghoul nodded. “Yep. The Talon, their obedient killer, decided he wanted out. Took matters into his own hands.”

Skepticism hung in the air. Nightwing's gaze narrowed, the weight of doubt pressing on him. “The Talon turned against the Court? Seems too convenient.”

Could it really be that simple? The Court of Owls, known for their cleverness and toughness, taken down from the inside? Nightwing, Robin, Black Bat, and Spoiler all had doubts, their skepticism clearly showing.

“I know it sounds like a twist, but the Talon wanted out. The Court’s own puppet went rogue and took them down,” Red Ghoul said, clearly serious.

The Bat Family was left processing a mix of confusion, relief, and unease. The Court of Owls, which had always loomed large over Gotham, was gone not because of their efforts but because one of their own had turned against them. Nightwing crossed his arms over his chest. “So, the Court's gone because their own weapon rebelled?”

“Precisely,” Red Ghoul affirmed. “The Talon sought liberation, and in his bid for freedom, he became the unwitting executioner of the Court of Owls.”

Silence settled in the Batcave as the gravity of the revelation sank in.

The news hit Nightwing, Robin, Black Bat, and Spoiler hard. They were used to following a strict no-kill rule, and now they were faced with the fact that the Court of Owls was taken down not by their own efforts, but by one of the Court's own, who was seeking freedom.

Nightwing, taking it all in, felt a mix of emotions. The Court had been a major problem for Gotham, and now their downfall came from an unexpected source. There was a certain grim satisfaction in knowing the Talon had turned against his masters. Even though the Court’s end didn’t follow their code, the Bat Family agreed that the real blame lay with those who had exploited the Talon. While killing was against their principles, freeing someone from oppression carried its own weight and was driven by desperation and rebellion.

“We didn't see that coming,” Nightwing sighed.

“Sometimes, the unexpected is what brings down even the most cunning foes. I will take the Talon with me," the Red Ghoul continued. "I shall take him to Madam Xanadu. She offered to aid me in finding a way to restore his mortality and guide him to create a new life."

"Also, get him help… a lot of help for all the trauma," continued the Red Ghoul. Though Nightwing could not see his face, the vigilante knew Red Ghoul was frowning. "With the Court of Owls gone, there is no need for me to remain in Gotham," declared the Red Ghoul. "Contact me when you decide what to do about the dark nexus. I can deal with the dark energy... and with the various curses that surround your city," assured the Red Ghoul. "However, that will only be a bandaid," he confessed. "You need to decide if you are ready to share your city or you will take all the humans away," the Red Ghoul asserted, the gravity of his words settling in the air like an unspoken pact. "That is the only way you can save Gotham," he declared. "Once you decide on that, I’ll come back. Until then, do not contact me."

The Red Ghoul’s cryptic message left the Batcave in a quiet, thoughtful state as the call ended. The news about the Talon’s fate and the Red Ghoul’s upcoming departure hung heavily in the room.

Nightwing felt a mix of gratitude and curiosity. The Red Ghoul had turned out to be an unexpected ally, offering the Talon a chance at redemption. This gesture touched Nightwing's sense of justice, but the Red Ghoul’s exit left questions about what role he might play in Gotham’s future. 

Robin was busy analyzing the Red Ghoul’s message. The promise of a fresh start for the Talon showed a bit of compassion from the Red Ghoul. Still, the instruction to hold off on contacting him until the decision about the dark nexus was made added more complexity. Now, the fate of Gotham’s magical elements rested with the Bat Family.

Spoiler broke the silence with a smirk. “So, we’re left with a magic show and a mysterious figure saying, ‘pick a card, any card,’ and then disappearing. Classic.”

In Madam Xanadu's office at the Nanda Parbat Academy for Magic, the mood was serious as Jason and Madam Xanadu sat across from each other.

Jason started, “Billy’s really good with Elementalism. He’s got a talent for Fire, and Thunder seems to fall into the same category. Pretty interesting, right?”

Madam Xanadu nodded. “Yeah, elemental affinities definitely shape a mage’s journey.”

Jason leaned in, eager to dive into his own expertise. “I’m into Spiritual Necromancy. You know, working with spirits, exorcisms, summoning. It’s all about the spiritual side of things.”

Madam Xanadu listened closely. “Necromancy covers a lot of ground—spiritual, physical, and magical. Each part adds a different layer.”

Jason’s eyes reflected a mix of seriousness and nostalgia. “Yep, I’m pretty much a natural at it. Came back to life thanks to it. Damian’s got his Al Ghul blood, so he could’ve gone the necromancy route too.”

“The connection between bloodlines and magical skills is pretty deep,” Madam Xanadu agreed.

“But just because someone’s born with a certain magic doesn’t mean they’re locked into it. Damian could’ve picked necromancy, but he went for Magizoology,” Jason said, leaning back.

Madam Xanadu appreciated the variety. “Choosing your magical path shows a lot about your personal inclinations and will.”

Jason continued, “Necromancy isn’t just about raising the dead in the classic sense. It’s also about working with souls—exorcising them, summoning them.”

“The spiritual realm is really delicate,” Madam Xanadu said. “It needs a lot of care and understanding.”

Jason nodded. “Exactly. It’s about connecting with spirits, understanding their needs, and guiding them. Exorcisms are tricky but necessary. I don’t just rely on brute force.”

Madam Xanadu acknowledged his approach. “Balancing life and death is a big responsibility. It shows a lot about your skill.”

Jason’s pride was evident. “Then there’s the physical side—like raising zombies. It’s about manipulating physical remains.”

Madam Xanadu noted, “That’s a different kind of mastery. It’s about working with life forces and physical forms.”

Jason agreed. “It’s a careful balance. The ethics are important. It’s one thing to bring someone back for a short time, another to trap them in a half-life.”

Madam Xanadu reflected on that. “The ethics are crucial. Necromancy requires respect for the boundaries between life and death.”

Jason added, “And then there’s the magical side—soul magic and blood magic. Soul magic involves channeling a soul’s essence. It’s intense and personal.”

Madam Xanadu nodded. “Soul magic connects deeply with a person’s essence. It goes beyond the physical.”

Jason’s expression turned serious. “Blood magic is about using the life force in blood for spells. It’s powerful but risky, and not everyone is up for the sacrifices it requires.”

Madam Xanadu understood. “Blood magic is a fine line between power and consequence. It comes with its own set of responsibilities.”

Madam Xanadu leaned forward. “To heal the Talon, we’ll need all three types of necromancy—spiritual, physical, and magical.”

Jason took in the gravity of the task. “Each part is important and needs its own expertise.”

Madam Xanadu continued, “First, we handle spiritual necromancy. We need to exorcise the demons and guide the souls connected to the Talon.”

Jason nodded. “Exorcising and guiding souls is delicate work. It takes a deep understanding of their darkness.”

Madam Xanadu’s expression softened. “It won’t be easy. Facing the Talon’s past and the shadows it holds will test you.”

Jason agreed. “I’ve dealt with dark spirits before, but this is personal. The Talon’s been through a lot.”

Madam Xanadu acknowledged. “Healing often means confronting deep suffering. Now, for the physical side—restoring the Talon’s body from the Court of Owls’ damage.”

Jason’s face tightened. “Physical necromancy means fixing the body and undoing the damage. It’s a delicate process.”

Madam Xanadu reassured him. “Exactly. It needs precision. And then there’s the magical part—restoring the Talon’s humanity.”

Jason sighed. “For that, we need Al Ghul blood.”

Madam Xanadu nodded. “The magic in Al Ghul blood is strong and connects deeply with life and death. Damian has it.”

Jason’s weariness showed. “I don’t want to involve Damian. He should focus on being a kid. But you’re right, we need his blood to restore the Talon.”

Madam Xanadu offered her help. “I can assist with the physical necromancy. We’ll work together to guide the Talon through healing.”

Jason looked at her, grateful. “Thanks for the help. This won’t be easy. We’re pushing boundaries here.”

Madam Xanadu was firm. “Boundaries are meant to be pushed, especially for life and redemption. We’ll face these challenges together.”

Jason entered Damian's study, finding him engrossed in a thick volume on magical creatures. Damian glanced up, his expression a mix of curiosity and surprise. "What brings you here, akhi? Weren’t you supposed to still be in Gotham?"

Jason leaned against the doorframe, his demeanor serious. "We need to talk, Damian. About the Talon and what the Court of Owls did to him."

Damian closed the book, his attention fully on Jason. "What do you mean? What have they done? And what is a Talon?" Taking a deep breath, Jason explained the gruesome details of how the Talon had been turned into an undead weapon, a puppet at the mercy of the Court's whims. Damian's eyes widened with each revelation, the horror of the situation settling in. "So, they turned him into some sort of undead creature to use as a weapon?" Damian muttered under his breath, a mix of disbelief and revulsion in his tone.

Jason nodded solemnly. "Yeah, exactly. They twisted him into a monster to serve their agenda. But we've got a chance to bring him back to being human, to undo what the Court did."

Damian, still processing the information, repeated the definition he'd learned in his Magizoology’s class. "Undead are beings that are deceased but behave as if alive. Like mummies, vampires, and zombies, reanimated by supernatural means, technology, or disease. In most cases magic being the primary cause."

Jason's gaze hardened. "Spot on, Dami. The Talon's become one of them, but we can fix it. We need to perform a complex ritual involving spiritual, physical, and magical necromancy."

Damian frowned, absorbing the gravity of the situation. "Necromancy used to revert death. Isn't that frowned upon? Against the magical ethics we've been taught?"

Jason sighed. "Yeah, it's a gray area, but this is about redemption, not malevolence. We can't let the Talon stay trapped in this undead state. He deserves a chance at humanity."

Damian nodded slowly, the weight of the decision settling on his shoulders. "I understand. What do we need to do?" Jason outlined the details of the ritual, explaining the roles each of them would play—spiritual necromancy to exorcise the demons, physical necromancy to mend the damage, and magical necromancy to restore mortality. As Jason spoke, Damian's initial shock transformed into determination. "I'll do whatever it takes. The Talon deserves a chance at redemption, and we can't let the Court's twisted actions define him."

Jason clapped Damian on the shoulder. "That's the spirit, little brother. We're in this together. Just remember, it won't be easy, and it'll push us to our limits."

Damian met Jason's gaze, his eyes reflecting a mix of resolve and a touch of apprehension. "I'm ready. Let's bring the Talon back and put an end to this nightmare."

As Jason laid out the plan for the ritual to bring the Talon back to humanity, Damian listened intently, absorbing the details. When Jason mentioned the need for three necromancers—one for each kind, physical, spiritual, and magical—Damian's brow furrowed in thought.

"So, we need one more person for the magical necromancy part?" Damian clarified.

Jason nodded. "Yeah, that's where you come in, Damian. You've got Al Ghul blood, and there's no one more potent in magical necromancy than a warlock with that kind of lineage."

Damian's eyes widened slightly at the realization. "You want me to be the magical necromancer?"

Jason leaned back, gauging Damian's reaction. "I know it's a lot, and you've been focusing on Magizoology, but we need your expertise. Your blood carries a unique magic that can seal the process and ensure the Talon returns to being human."

Damian considered this for a moment, his mind racing through the implications. "It's a significant responsibility. Magical necromancy is powerful and carries risks. Are you sure I'm the right choice?"

Jason sighed, his eyes conveying a mix of gratitude and urgency. "Dami, you've been trained in necromancy since you were young, and I’ve handled your training during the last couple of years. You've got the skill and the bloodline. We need you for this, and I believe you can handle it. You are ready."

There was a moment of silence as Damian contemplated the weight of the decision. Finally, he met Jason's gaze and nodded. "Alright, I'll do it. The Talon deserves a chance, and if my blood can help, then I won't shy away from it."

Relief washed over Jason's face. "Thank you, Damian. This means a lot. We're going to need all the strength and skill we can get to pull this off."

Damian gave a determined nod. "I understand, akhi. Let's bring the Talon back and put an end to the Court's atrocities."

As Jason thanked Damian for stepping up, Damian felt a heavy sense of responsibility settle on him. With the Al Ghul bloodline and necromancy magic now central to their mission, he knew just how crucial his role was. Over the next few weeks, the Nanda Parbat Academy was buzzing with a new energy. After intense training sessions, Jason, Damian, and Madam Xanadu would meet in her office to plan and prepare for the upcoming ritual. They were all aware of the high stakes and knew they had only one shot to get this right.

Daily training became their routine, each focusing on their strengths. Jason dove deep into spiritual necromancy, teaching Damian about exorcism and purifying souls. Damian, despite his natural skill, struggled with the magical side of things. Madam Xanadu, an expert in physical necromancy, took him under her wing. She showed him how to manipulate life forces to heal the body, though Damian’s precise nature had a hard time adapting to the fluidity of physical necromancy. Still, with her help, he began to balance his approach.

Throughout their time together, the trio built a strong bond. Jason and Madam Xanadu were more than just mentors—they were sources of support for Damian. The pressure of the Al Ghul bloodline was tough on him, and his frustration often showed. But the patience and guidance from Jason and Madam Xanadu helped him manage the challenges. Their sessions went beyond spell work; they also tackled the emotional and mental aspects of their path. Jason, with his firsthand experience, shared valuable insights with Damian, especially about the deep emotional connection needed for spiritual necromancy.

They spent time poring over ancient texts, sharing stories from their own magical journeys, and meticulously planning every detail of the ritual.

The ceremonial room was tense as Damian, Jason, and Madam Xanadu geared up for the task ahead. The unconscious Talon lay in the center of the pentagram, ready for the complex magic they were about to perform.

Jason took a deep breath and said, "First, we tackle spiritual necromancy. We're diving into the spirit realm to exorcise demons and guide lost souls."

Madam Xanadu nodded, her face a mix of determination and worry. "Purifying the spirit is crucial. We need to free the Talon from its haunted past."

Jason started chanting in Latin, filling the room with ancient, mystical energy. A soft glow surrounded the Talon, and the air seemed to vibrate with the forces at work. Damian watched closely, his usual composure hiding a spark of curiosity. He’d seen magical rituals before, but this one had stakes he’d never encountered.

As Jason chanted, he felt the weight of the demons and lost souls clinging to the Talon. It was a delicate balance, one which Madam Xanadu kept a close eye on. She knew how critical his role was in guiding the spirits toward freedom.

The atmosphere changed as the ritual went on. Jason's focus sharpened, sweat beading on his forehead. The ghosts of the Talon's past appeared as ethereal wisps, swirling around him and resisting release. Damian, though usually stoic, felt a pang of empathy. Seeing someone face their inner demons stirred up a mix of emotions he knew all too well.

Madam Xanadu's hand hovered over the ceremonial tools, silently supporting Jason. The room was charged with a strange energy, blurring the line between the living and the spirit world. Spiritual necromancy needed more than just words and movements; it required a deep emotional connection to the darkness. Jason, driven by empathy and resolve, continued to unravel the dark threads binding the Talon’s spirit.

When Jason finished the last Latin chant, he let out a sigh, visibly drained. The room fell quiet, filled with the aftermath of the spiritual work.

Madam Xanadu, still focused on the spiritual energy lingering in the air, stepped forward. "Next is physical necromancy," she said with a sense of urgency. "We need to fix the damage the Court of Owls did—restore the Talon's body and undo the monstrous changes."

Jason nodded. "So, it’s all about balancing life forces and the physical body. Precision and a light touch, right?"

Madam Xanadu confirmed with a nod. "Exactly. The physical side requires a different skill set. We’re not just healing wounds; we’re repairing the very essence of what was altered."

Damian, who had been watching closely, spoke up. "This is complex. The Court's magic is deeply embedded in the Talon. How do we undo it?"

Madam Xanadu met his gaze, her experience showing. "Undoing their magic is like untying a complicated knot. We need to understand how the magic works and carefully untangle it. It will be tough, and there could be unexpected problems, but with precision, we can help the Talon return to its true form."

Jason added, "And that’s why we need to work together. Each of us has a role and expertise. If we combine our skills, we can handle the complexities and help the Talon transform."

As Madam Xanadu started her part of the ritual, the air buzzed with a new kind of energy. She moved smoothly, her hands creating intricate patterns. The ceremonial tools glowed softly as she used her physical magic to work on the restoration. Jason watched with a mix of interest and worry. This kind of necromancy needed precise control to undo the dark spells that had turned the Talon into something monstrous.

Madam Xanadu’s hands danced through the air, guiding the magic with skill. The Talon’s form began to change, with the monstrous features slowly shifting back to something more human. The room was alive with magic, blending Jason’s spiritual work with Madam Xanadu’s physical expertise. As the physical necromancy neared its end, Madam Xanadu’s movements became more intense. The last bits of the Court's dark magic fought back, but she skillfully overcame them.

When she finished, Madam Xanadu took a step back. The Talon now lay on the pentagram, looking more like a wounded human than a nightmare creature. The physical transformation was complete, and a sense of achievement filled the room.

The trio shared knowing looks, recognizing the success of this phase. With the next step coming up, Jason turned to Damian with anticipation. "Your turn, little brother. Time for the magical necromancy to restore the Talon’s humanity."

Damian nodded, looking focused. "Magical necromancy is my thing, even though I usually deal with magical creatures," he said. "And as you’ve shown me, the Al Ghul blood has strong magic, especially for life and death."

Jason smiled, recognizing Damian’s confidence. "Exactly. Your blood ties you to the core of necromancy. Let’s make sure it works."

Damian stepped up to the pentagram and pulled out a small dagger. The blade caught the light, and the air seemed to thicken with magic. He made a precise cut on his palm, letting a few drops of his blood fall onto the Talon.

Madam Xanadu watched closely, knowing that Damian was about to use a powerful mix of blood magic and soul magic. "The Al Ghul blood is key here," she said. "After centuries in the Lazarus Waters, it’s evolved to bind this ritual to the essence of life and death."

The room fell silent as Damian began chanting in an ancient language. His voice, though young, carried the weight of generations. The combination of blood and soul magic wove together the threads of the Talon's existence. As Damian chanted, the atmosphere shifted. The previous magical energies mixed with the Al Ghul magic, creating a noticeable tension. The Talon on the pentagram seemed to react to the converging magical forces.

Jason watched with a mix of pride and concern. Powerful magic always had risks, especially when dealing with life and death. Madam Xanadu kept a watchful eye, ready to step in if things went awry.

When Damian reached the final part of his chant, he drove the dagger into the ground at the center of the pentagram. A burst of magical energy lit up the symbols on the floor. The Talon’s form trembled as the magic took effect. The room felt still as Damian completed the ritual. The pentagram glowed brightly before slowly fading. The Talon lay on the floor, now fully human, shedding its monstrous features for the vulnerability of mortality.

Damian, though exhausted, looked satisfied. He shared a silent, proud glance with Jason. Jason put a hand on Damian’s shoulder. "Great job, little brother. Your Al Ghul blood really made a difference. The Talon is free."

Damian managed a tired smile. "We did it together, akhi.”

Madam Xanadu nodded in approval. "The balance is restored. The Talon is no longer a creature of darkness but a human soul seeking redemption. We've achieved something remarkable."

As they stood together, the weight of their success settled in. The Talon, now human, stirred on the floor.

Chapter Text

As Damian slept, his exhaustion showing on his young face, Jason felt a swell of pride. His little brother had not only endured the intense necromancy ritual but had excelled in it. Jason gently ran his fingers through Damian's hair, feeling both affection and a silent acknowledgment of the strength Damian had shown.

The room was quiet, broken only by the soft sound of Damian’s breathing. The weight of responsibility had been heavy on the young necromancer's shoulders, and now, in sleep, he looked almost angelic, a reminder of his resilience despite his age.

Still, Jason couldn't shake a twinge of doubt. Had he made the right choice involving Damian in such a risky and intricate ritual? The responsibility of being both a mentor and an older brother weighed heavily on him. This doubt lingered, haunting his thoughts.

In the quiet room, Jason replayed the events leading up to the ritual. Choosing Damian as the Magical Necromancer hadn't been easy. But as they prepared, it became clear that Damian's unique magical abilities, combined with his determination, made him essential. Even so, Jason couldn’t ignore the risks. The uncertainty gnawed at him, making him question if they should have found another magical necromancer. The potential consequences weighed on his conscience.

Jason found some comfort in knowing that this ritual was a one-time necessity to bring the Talon back to humanity. The decision to involve Damian had been strategic, and with the ritual's success, Jason believed it had been the right call. The future held challenges for Damian, but for now, he allowed his little brother the chance to be a child and a student.

With a sigh, Jason shifted his gaze from the sleeping Damian to the door. He quietly closed it, letting Damian rest after the exhausting ritual. As he turned away, he found their mother, Talia, waiting in the hallway. They shared an unspoken understanding and walked together to Jason's room. Once inside, Jason took a moment to express his regrets to Talia, apologizing for involving Damian in the complex ritual. To his surprise, Talia dismissed his concerns with a wave of her hand.

Talia spoke with a quiet strength. "I trusted you with Damian, Jason, and you didn’t let me down. Even with this ritual, my faith in you never wavered." She smiled, a rare, warm expression. "You've given Damian a childhood I never could have, being in the League of Shadows and all."

Jason felt a weight lift off his shoulders. "Thanks, umi. That means a lot."

"You've given him a life beyond the shadows, and I’m grateful for that," Talia said, her words filled with a mother's appreciation. "Let go of the guilt, Jason. You didn't force him into anything. Together, you saved Talon's life."

Jason's hesitant smile grew more genuine. Talia's reassurances helped ease the guilt he'd been carrying.

Then, Talia handed him a stack of papers. As he looked through them, he saw a new identity for Talon—now Wren Fletcher—and a bank account to give him a fresh start. Jason chuckled. "Wren Fletcher, huh? Seems fitting."

The mood shifted as Talia began to share the disturbing news her League of Shadows had uncovered about the Court of Owls. Jason’s expression turned serious.

"Talia, you’re saying that William Cobb, the Talon we just saved, is Dick Grayson's great-grandfather?" Jason's brow furrowed.

"Yes," Talia replied. "Cobb’s lineage is tied to Gotham’s shadows. He’s the original Talon, the first assassin of the Court of Owls." Her eyes showed the weight of this revelation.

She went on to tell Cobb's tragic story, driven by revenge after losing his beloved Amelia Crowne. "Amelia was abandoned by her father for getting pregnant out of wedlock. She became a pawn in the Court’s games, they used her tragic death to push Cobb into a revenge mindset. The Graysons from then on started being groomed to become the ultimate Talon."

"Haly's Circus is a front for human trafficking... Dick will be destroyed..." Jason's worry deepened as a horrifying thought passed through his mind. "Are there more Talons out there?"

Talia shook her head. "No. The other Talons were killed off by the Court for failing missions or not meeting their standards. The only one left is William Cobb."

The revelations left Jason stunned, grappling with a mix of emotions. Even though he had distanced himself from the Bat Family, there was still a special place in his heart for his first brother, for Dick. The idea of Dick learning about these revelations, the very fabric of his family's past... how could he explain that their family had been a target of the Court of Owls for generations, that Dick's great-grandfather was the formidable Talon who had cast a long, dark shadow over Gotham, and that Haly's Circus, a place still close to Dick's heart, was a front for human trafficking?

"How in the world am I going to tell Dickface about all of this?!" he muttered to himself.

As Jason kept mulling over how to break the news to Dick, a change of scenery seemed like a good idea for everyone. Wollongong, a coastal city in New South Wales, Australia, was just what they needed. Magic flowed through the veins of the land, shaping the physical landscape and the essence of its inhabitants. Australia had the world's first and largest magical beasts preserve. Magical creatures roamed freely, creating a dynamic and perilous environment that made it inhospitable for non-magical beings. The continent was a mosaic of warlocks, witches, sorcerers, magical beings like werewolves, faes, and vampires. Notably absent were what the rest of the world termed "normal humans."

For those magical beings seeking a more incognito existence, Australia offered a unique solution. The process of obtaining Muggle identities allowed them to seamlessly integrate into the non-magical world, navigating its complexities while concealing their true magical nature. All while living freely in the beautiful land of Australia.

In this land down under, there was no Ministry of Magic, as there was in every other magical community. The magical population of witches and warlocks wasn't what it used to be, even in the land where magic could roam freely. Instead, a council structure prevailed, where each magical species had its representative. This council served as a collaborative forum, addressing the diverse needs and concerns of the magical population, fostering cooperation among different magical communities.

Feeling grateful for Damian's crucial role in the Talon's ritual, Jason decided to reward him with an adventure to the largest magical preserve on Earth—Wollongong. Along with Billy, the trio set out to explore the magical wonders of the preserve. Damian's eyes sparkled with excitement as they arrived at their first stop—the Hippogriff area. The Hippogriff, with its front legs, wings, and head of a giant eagle seamlessly melded with the body, hind legs, and tail of a horse, instantly captivated Damian.

Damian, in his element, shared his knowledge with his brothers, enthusiasm shining through. "First thing you gotta know about Hippogriffs is, they're proud. Easily offended," he said with a grin. He emphasized the importance of never insulting a Hippogriff, a lesson ingrained in magical lore. "Don't ever insult one, because it might be the last thing you do."

As the trio approached a Hippogriff, Damian demonstrated the proper etiquette, his voice filled with excitement. "You always wait for the Hippogriff to make the first move. It's polite, see? You walk towards him, bow, and wait. If he bows back, you can touch him. If he doesn't, get away, 'cause those talons hurt."

Damian's joy was infectious as he embraced the chance to interact with one of these majestic creatures. When the caretakers invited anyone brave enough to pet the Hippogriff, Damian seized the opportunity. With a respectful bow, Damian waited. The creature reciprocated, and a radiant smile spread across Damian's face. Jason and Billy, proud of Damian's courage, cheered loudly, joined by the other guests.

Damian, now allowed to pat the Hippogriff, enjoyed every single second of it. His laughter echoed through the air, blending with the cheers of his brothers. The highlight of Damian's day came when the Hippogriff, recognizing their bond, allowed him the privilege of a flight. Jason and Billy's cheers grew louder as Damian soared through the skies on the back of the majestic creature. Jason's heart swelled with pride as he heard Damian's joyful squeals carried by the wind.

As Damian laughed, chasing magical creatures in Australia and eagerly sharing his newfound knowledge about them, Jason couldn't help but marvel at how resilient kids are. Watching Damian enjoy his youth, unburdened by their family’s dark past, gave Jason a deep sense of fulfillment.

Every smile from Damian, every burst of laughter from Billy, pushed away the shadows in Jason's heart. The responsibility for their well-being wasn’t a burden; it was a privilege—a chance to guide, nurture, and protect them from the harsh realities of their lineage and the dark world they lived in.

Jason often reflected on how much Damian and Billy had changed his life. The sacrifices Jason had made, the nights haunted by ghosts of the past, all seemed insignificant compared to the joy and warmth they shared. Watching Damian and Billy be kids—free-spirited and happy—Jason knew they were worth every trial and sacrifice. They proved that even in the darkest times, a family could emerge, resilient and bound by something far stronger than blood.

As they wandered into the Niffler area, the air was alive with the cheeky energy of these magical creatures. The Nifflers, small and furry with a love for shiny things, greeted the trio with curious excitement. Jason, knowing how Nifflers behaved, hung back, letting Damian and Billy dive into the fun.

Damian was quickly surrounded by the busy Nifflers. His laughter filled the enclosure as the little creatures, attracted to his energy, nuzzled him with their soft snouts. The sparkle in Damian's green eyes matched the gleam of the treasures around, creating a scene that warmed Jason's heart. Jason couldn't help but smile as he watched Damian get "puppy-piled" by the adorable Nifflers. They seemed to sense Damian's pure joy and responded in kind. Billy joined the fun, his laughter mixing with Damian's, creating a joyful harmony.

In that moment, surrounded by the whimsical magic of the Niffler area, Jason felt a deep sense of contentment. The usual worry on Damian's face was replaced by pure happiness, a sight that made Jason's heart swell. It reminded him of why he wanted to give Damian these moments of joy despite their complicated lives.

As Damian continued to enjoy the Nifflers' antics, Jason exchanged a knowing look with Billy, who had joined him after his fill of Nifflers. But Billy's face showed a mix of hurt and frustration as he turned to Jason, the question heavy in his voice. "Why did you let Damian help, but not me?" he asked, his words tinged with longing and a bit of wounded pride.

Jason sighed, his shoulders dropping under the weight of the conversation. "Billy, it's not about not wanting you to help. We needed specific skills for the task. Damian, well, he's got the Al Ghul blood, and we needed a powerful Magical Necromancer. Damian's the best in that area," he explained, hoping to make Billy understand.

Billy frowned, feeling a pang of inadequacy. "But what about me? Am I just not good enough?"

Jason's gaze softened, and he playfully ruffled Billy's hair. "Hey, it's not about being 'good enough.' You've got your own strengths, Billy. This mission just needed different skills. You're not useless. Far from it. We all have our roles, and yours is just as important. Besides, this task wasn't dangerous—just different skills needed."

Billy grumbled, still not entirely convinced. Jason sighed again, recognizing Billy's complex feelings. "Look, when you turn 18, if you still want to be a hero, I'll be right there to help you during your first mission. Deal?" Jason offered, trying to lighten the mood.

A small smile appeared on Billy's lips, and he nodded. "Deal."

The tension eased as Jason playfully tousled Billy's hair again. Despite the momentary discomfort, there was an unspoken understanding that each member of their makeshift family had an important role, and their time would come when their unique abilities were needed.

Talia stood on the rooftop, smirking as she thought about her sons having fun in Australia while she was back in Gotham dealing with business. The breeze played with her hair as she looked over the city, where chaos and order always seemed to be in a constant dance.

Down in the alleys, Gotham’s vigilantes had no idea she was around, but they could feel her influence. Her operatives from the League of Shadows moved like whispers, keeping the caped crusaders on their toes. Talia loved the thrill, feeling the rush of adrenaline as she played her intricate game, each move sending ripples through the night and keeping the heroes guessing.

She couldn’t help but think back to the times she and Batman had navigated their complicated relationship. A small, wistful smile crossed her face, memories of their shared past tugging at her heart. Her smile grew when an angry Batman landed beside her.

“The League isn’t welcome in Gotham. I allowed Red Ghoul, but not the rest of your shadows,” Batman growled, clearly frustrated.

Talia, unfazed by his anger, laughed and waved off her shadows. Her goal had never been his children but Batman himself. She just needed the heroes busy until Bruce showed up.

Now focused solely on her, Batman’s expression turned serious. “Are you ready to talk now, or will you keep sulking in the shadows?”

For a moment, Batman froze, then chuckled. “Your son, Red Ghoul, told me the same thing. Just like his mother.”

Talia nodded, unfazed. “He takes after his mother in more ways than one. Now, let’s talk.”

Batman, still frustrated but recognizing the need for dialogue, agreed. “Fine. Speak.”

Talia got straight to the point—the dark magic affecting Gotham. She stressed how urgent it was to take action. Batman, stubborn as always, began to relent a bit under the weight of the situation. “You need to accept that you can’t control everything,” Talia pressed, her eyes showing determination and concern. “Sometimes, you have to embrace the unknown to save what you love.”

Batman, arms crossed, kept his stoic demeanor. “I won’t let unknown dangers into my city. I can’t risk its safety.”

Talia sighed in exasperation. “Stubborn as always. Beloved, you can’t control every aspect of Gotham. Accept that or watch it fall apart. This is not the time for your unwavering control; it’s time for action.”

Batman’s jaw clenched, frustration clear on his face. He was torn between his duty to protect and realizing that some battles needed unconventional allies.

“You can’t save Gotham alone, Beloved. It’s time to admit that,” Talia insisted, her eyes filled with frustration and concern.

Batman, still resistant, softened just a little. “I won’t compromise the safety of my city.”

Talia nodded, understanding his commitment. “You don’t have to compromise, but you need to adapt. We can protect Gotham without shutting out the help it needs.”

Watching Batman struggle with his emotions, Talia felt a mix of frustration and sadness. She decided to go straight for the heart. “Beloved, this isn’t just your city; it’s your children’s city. How will you face them, knowing you didn’t do everything to make it safer?”

Batman’s usually steely gaze wavered. The weight of his responsibility to Gotham and his children pressed heavily on him. Talia’s words cut through his armor, exposing the father beneath. Silence stretched between them, filled with unspoken truths and the realization that the city’s fate was tied to personal sacrifices. Talia could see the storm of emotions in Batman’s eyes, a mix of duty and concern for his kids.

In a surprising turn, Bruce’s stern expression softened, and a fond smile appeared. “Being a mother suits you, Talia.”

Talia returned the smile, sharing a brief moment of connection as parents. But she knew her secrets would shatter this fleeting kindness when the truth came out.

With a resigned sigh, Batman conceded, “Contact Red Ghoul. We’re ready for the next step in healing Gotham.”

Talia’s voice came through the phone, telling Jason that Batman had finally agreed to let him help heal Gotham. Jason listened carefully, feeling the weight of the responsibility even from miles away. He sighed, looking at his sleeping brothers in the dim hotel room. Their carefree vacation plans had been turned upside down, but he knew duty didn’t wait for anyone.

“Yeah, yeah, I got it,” Jason said, running a hand through his hair. “I’ll make sure Gotham gets the help it needs.”

Talia, always the planner, jumped on the chance. “While you’re in Australia, connect with the magical beings there. Gather information, resources. You might find allies to help Gotham in ways you haven’t thought of.”

Jason’s face showed a mix of tiredness and determination. “Australia, huh? Time to make some new contacts. Gotham’s gonna need all the help it can get. I’ll see what I can do. But what about Damian and Billy? I can’t drag them into this mess.”

Talia’s voice held a touch of amusement. “Leave them at Wollongong University. It’s the only magical university on Earth. They can explore, learn, and enjoy themselves while you handle the darker stuff.”

Jason thought about it, looking back at his brothers. “Yeah, they deserve a break. I’ll make sure they have fun while I deal with the magical politics.”

Talia’s tone softened. “You’re doing well, Jason. Take care of your brothers and yourself. We’ll get through this, and Gotham will rise stronger.”

The call ended, leaving Jason with mixed emotions. Duty called, and he was ready to answer, but Damian and Billy’s carefree smiles lingered in his mind, a bittersweet reminder of the balance he tried to keep.

The next morning, the sun cast a warm glow over Wollongong as Jason led Damian and Billy to the university entrance. The air was filled with excitement as students bustled about, their laughter and chatter creating a lively backdrop. Jason smiled at the thought of his brothers exploring the magical wonders of the university while he handled the pressing matters awaiting him.

“Alright, you two,” Jason said with a grin, ruffling Damian’s hair and messing up Billy’s. “You’ve got the whole day to enjoy the university. Billy, keep an eye on your younger brother, and, Damian, try not to cause too much trouble.”

Billy rolled his eyes but nodded, accepting the responsibility. Damian grinned mischievously. “No promises, akhi. Trouble might just find me.”

Jason chuckled, tousling Damian’s hair again. “Just make sure it’s the harmless kind. I’ll be back later.”

As Jason watched them disappear into the vibrant campus, his thoughts turned to his meeting with the Coven of Sanguis. The ancient vampire coven had a history deeply connected with Gotham’s magic and shadows. They’d seen the city’s birth, embraced its magic, and faced the relentless Hunters. He remembered Ducra’s words about them. The Coven of Sanguis was known for staying out of human affairs, seeking peace away from Gotham’s chaos. The image of vampires flying through Gotham’s skies in their bat forms lingered, a reminder of a time when magic was part of the city’s essence.

Jason thought about the potential alliance and Ducra’s wisdom. If anyone could help rekindle Gotham’s magic, it might be the peaceful Sanguis. He believed offering them an alternative to the darkness that drove them away was key. An idea of a blood bank came to mind—a system where blood donations were willingly provided, giving the coven a reason to return without the past’s shadows.

With these thoughts swirling, Jason set off to request an audience with the Coven’s leader. He felt a mix of anticipation and determination. The fate of Gotham’s magical resurgence depended on this meeting, and Jason was ready to face whatever challenges lay ahead.

In the bright, sunny classrooms of Wollongong University, curiosity buzzed as students eagerly dived into the mysteries of magic. Professor Kendall, an expert in the arcane arts, stood before her class with a chalkboard covered in diagrams of the elements.

"An Elementalist can harness different elements to perform magic," she started, her voice full of knowledge and experience. "They use spells to control and manipulate the forces of nature—fire, water, air, and earth—for various purposes."

The students leaned in, notebooks open and pens ready. They were about to delve into the world of Elemental Magic, a cornerstone of mystical practices.

"The main set includes Fire, Water, Air, and Earth Magic," Professor Kendall continued, emphasizing the fundamental nature of these forces. "And within each, there are complex magics created by combining two elements. For example, Air and Fire make Thunder, Air and Water create Ice, and Water and Earth form Wood Magic."

Faces lit up with fascination as the students absorbed the information. One brave student raised their hand, curiosity shining in their eyes. "Are Light and Dark part of Elemental Magic?"

With a warm smile, Professor Kendall clarified, "Light and Dark are attributes, not elements. They represent magic in its purest forms, distinct from the tangible elements we've discussed. They hold their own significance and are often used by those seeking balance or attuned to the duality of existence."

The students nodded, taking in the wisdom. Elemental Magic, with its diverse aspects, unfolded like a tapestry of possibilities, ready to be explored and mastered beyond the university's lecture halls.

Billy, always up for showing off, couldn't resist demonstrating his skills as an elemental warlock. With a grin, he extended his hand, focusing his magical energy. The air seemed to shimmer with anticipation as the class and Professor Kendall watched, curious.

A small orb of water appeared in Billy's palm, clear and bright. It hovered there, catching the sunlight. Then, with a swift motion, Billy transformed the water into solid ice. Gasps of amazement spread through the room as students exchanged astonished glances.

But Billy wasn't done. With a mischievous glint in his eyes, he morphed the ice into a dancing flame, casting a warm glow. The students were on the edge of their seats, captivated by the seamless transitions.

The flames quickly turned into crackling bolts of lightning, lighting up the room with their brilliance. The students watched in awe, their initial skepticism replaced by wide-eyed wonder. Each elemental change showcased Billy's control over the magical forces.

As the lightning faded, a gust of wind swirled around Billy's hand, extinguishing any residual warmth. The playful breeze danced before dispersing into the air.

A hush fell over the room, broken only by the soft rustling of clothes and the lingering echoes of Billy's display. Professor Kendall, a seasoned practitioner, smiled approvingly at the young warlock's skill. The other students erupted into applause, and Billy, basking in the attention, took a modest bow.

Damian shook his head, smirking. "Show off," he muttered, nudging Billy's shoulder. Billy laughed heartily, enjoying the banter. Their bond was clear, unbreakable even in the face of magical feats.

Professor Kendall continued to stare at Billy, a mix of astonishment and admiration in her eyes. She had seen many magical feats, but Billy's control and mastery were exceptional, especially for his age. Elementalists were rare, but the speed and precision with which he transitioned between elements were breathtaking.

The usually composed professor found herself momentarily speechless. After a beat, she finally spoke. "Billy, that was truly remarkable," she exclaimed, wide-eyed with newfound respect. "Elemental control like that is a rare gift, and you wield it with ease."

Billy, not one to let a compliment go by, grinned. "Thanks, Professor! It's all in the family secrets," he teased, casting a playful glance at Damian.

The class, now buzzing with excitement, erupted into questions. Hands shot up eagerly, each student wanting to learn from a living Elementalist. Professor Kendall, recognizing the invaluable learning opportunity, nodded in approval. Billy, ever the good sport, answered questions with a mix of humility and enthusiasm. He shared insights into his training, the nuances of elemental magic, and even cracked a few jokes.

As the class continued with newfound energy, Damian felt a swell of pride for his brother. Billy had captivated the class and shown that the Al Ghul legacy extended beyond shadows and swords—it included the vibrant and unpredictable realm of magic.

Jason appeared in front of the grand entrance to the Sanguis Coven's stronghold, shifting from the sunny streets of Wollongong to the shadowy grandeur of the vampire's home. The air felt different here, charged with an ancient magic that had lingered for centuries.

Taking in the imposing structure, Jason admired its architectural splendor, a perfect match for Gotham’s dark beauty. The marble towers and watchful stone gargoyles mirrored Gotham’s gothic soul. Jason’s snort of delight echoed in the quiet courtyard. The cloudy Australian sky seemed symbolic, fitting for creatures of the night who thrived in shadows.

With a deep breath, Jason approached the entrance. The heavy doors creaked open as if expecting him. The grand hall beyond was adorned with tapestries narrating the coven’s history—elegant revelries, timeless moments, and an unbroken lineage weathering persecution.

His arrival didn’t go unnoticed. As Jason ventured deeper, Lady Drusilla, the Vampire Regent, greeted him. Dressed in regal attire that matched the opulence around her, she moved with the grace of centuries.

“Wielder of the All-Sword and Spiritual Necromancer,” Lady Drusilla said with a respectful nod, her crimson eyes showing recognition and approval.

Jason inclined his head, a subtle smile playing on his lips. The title carried weight, acknowledging the bonds between necromancers and vampires—bonds of mutual understanding rather than conflict.

“Thank you for accepting my request and opening your home to me, Lady Drusilla. I am Jason Alexander Al Ghul, wielder of the All-Sword and a member of the All-Caste.” Lady Drusilla’s piercing gaze lingered on Jason, his lineage and legacy hanging in the air. The vampires beside her throne watched him with curiosity and wariness, their fanged faces hidden behind aristocratic composure.

“Why have you sought an audience with the Sanguis Coven, Jason Alexander Al Ghul?” Lady Drusilla asked, her voice melodious and wise from centuries of existence. The chamber seemed to hold its breath, waiting for the purpose of Jason’s visit.

“With the impending breach of the dark nexus beneath Gotham, the city’s descent into madness will speed up. It is necessary to reintroduce magic to restore balance. And the only ones who will not only survive but thrive in that environment are dark magical beings.” Jason’s response was calm and confident, reflecting the urgency of his mission.

The revelation caused a stir among the vampires, concern etched on their faces. Yet, Lady Drusilla, the epitome of poise, raised her hand, silencing them immediately. The panicking vampires fell into hushed stillness, their eyes fixed on their regent.

“Jason Alexander Al Ghul,” Lady Drusilla began, her tone measured yet resolute, “this day was foreseen in the whispers of our kind. Gotham has a hold on its children, a gravitational force that pulls us back, an ache for the home we left behind.”

A wistful smile crossed Jason’s lips, resonating with the truth in Lady Drusilla’s words. Gotham was more than a city; it was a living entity that left a mark on those who called it home.

Lady Drusilla continued, her crimson eyes showing longing and determination. “We shall accept your invitation. The time has come for the older generation to yield their territories in Australia to the younger blood. Gotham awaits, and we shall reclaim our place within its shadows.”

Jason nodded, grateful for the Sanguis Coven’s willingness to return to their ancestral home. As Lady Drusilla issued the decree, the chamber seemed to hum with a subtle energy—a pact sealed in silent understanding. The Sanguis Coven would be the first to join in rebuilding Gotham.

The first of many to come.

Chapter Text

Jason sauntered into the packed classroom at Fawcett University, a playful grin on his face. Today’s lesson was all about characters, one of his favorite topics. Leaning casually against the desk, he scanned the eager faces of his students.

"Alright, folks, today we're diving into character creation. You know, the ones that really jump off the page," he started, his tone easygoing yet enthusiastic. "We've all read stories where the characters are flatter than a pancake, right? Well, not in our class."

He pointed to the stack of envelopes on the desk. "I've got a fun exercise for you that'll make your characters so real they might join us for coffee. So, listen up."

Jason explained the task, the room buzzing with anticipation. "I've got some magazine cutouts of everyday people. Your job is to pick two from your envelope and make them the stars of your own story."

The students tore open their envelopes, discovering the characters they’d soon bring to life. "Mix it up—genders, ages, backgrounds. Get creative!"

The classroom buzzed with activity, scissors snipping, glue sticking, and students chatting excitedly. Jason wandered around, offering tips and enjoying the energy.

"Once you've got your characters, we're gonna throw them into the fire," he said with a mischievous smile. "Mad Lib-style prompts. Ready to put your characters to the test?" The students nodded eagerly as Jason shared the prompts, each one designed to push their characters into different scenarios. "Remember, we're not writing a full-blown novel here. We're just flexing those creative muscles."

The room became a hive of creativity, the students deeply immersed in their characters' worlds. Jason felt a sense of accomplishment, knowing they were on the verge of discovering the magic of character development.

As the class wound down, Jason leaned against his desk, a content smile on his lips. The room hummed with the rustle of papers and soft murmurs. He had opened a door to creativity, and the students had stepped through. He patiently answered questions, clarified doubts, and shared encouraging words. Each query was met with a genuine response, and Jason felt the energy of inspiration radiating through the room.

The papers piled up on his desk, a mountain of creativity waiting for his review. It was a daunting sight, but Jason didn't let it get to him. Teaching was his passion, and this was part of the job. With the last paper handed in, Jason surveyed the diverse stack. Each story was unique, a testament to the individuality of his students. He felt proud of the connections made, the ideas sparked, and the characters born in his class.

The students, some still adding final touches, looked up at Jason with anticipation and gratitude. He nodded encouragingly, acknowledging their efforts. The bell rang, signaling the end of the class. Jason collected the last of the papers as the students gathered their things.

As the room emptied, Jason took a moment to appreciate the vibrant voices captured in the papers. Despite the impending task of reviewing and providing feedback, Jason felt a warmth in his chest. He loved teaching, seeing creativity blossom, and knowing he was contributing to the world of storytelling.

With a final glance at the papers, Jason gathered them into a neat stack. The next week would be filled with revisions and discussions, but for now, he savored the afterglow of a class well spent. The journey of these characters was just beginning, and Jason was eager to see where his students' imaginations would take them.

Jason’s happiness faded when he realized only Roy was left in the classroom. Roy handed over his paper, and their eyes met. Jason's smile, while genuine, had a hint of stiffness as he accepted Roy's paper. The weight of the paper felt heavier, not because of its physicality, but because of their shared history.

Roy Harper, once a close companion during Jason's early days with the Titans, had stayed behind. Jason was meticulous about maintaining his disguise in Roy's presence. In this room, Jason Alexander Head, the celebrated author, took center stage. This persona was carefully crafted to keep the past buried. To Roy, Jason was not the second Robin, the young protégé who had once fought alongside him and Nightwing. That boy, with his untamed spirit and innocence, was a casualty of the past. A past Jason was determined to keep hidden beneath layers of new identities.

“You know, I’ve been wanting to ask you something for a while,” Roy spoke up after handing Jason his paper.

Jason tensed under his playful grin. “What is it? A question about the prompt? You should have asked during class.”

“No, I’ve been meaning to ask you, how long will you keep on this disguise… Jay-lad?”

Oh, shit!

Night fell over Gotham, casting a thick blanket of darkness over the city. Hidden in the shadows, the batfamily watched the new supernatural arrivals with a mix of worry and acceptance. The skyline, once dominated by tall buildings, now had a few new residents: vampires, witches, and other mystical beings had moved in.

Batman, his expression serious behind the cowl, felt a mix of duty and a fierce protectiveness over Gotham. This was his city to protect, and the idea of sharing it with magical beings was a tough pill to swallow. Still, he knew it had to be done for the greater good.

Nightwing stood next to him, giving a nod of understanding. He knew that teaming up with Red Ghoul and letting these magical beings in was necessary. Sometimes, keeping the city safe meant making tough choices, even if it meant sharing their home.

Oracle, working from her high-tech lair, watched the situation unfold with a mix of concern and strategy. Her screens showed the movements of the new supernatural residents settling into Gotham. The batfamily's tech hub was buzzing, capturing every moment.

As they continued their silent watch, the shadows seemed to ripple with uncertainty. The batfamily knew that sometimes, protecting Gotham meant embracing the unknown, even if it meant sharing their space with creatures not entirely human.

In the midst of all this, the Sanguis Coven, a group of vampires, had bought the Drake Mansion right next to Wayne Manor. This place, full of memories from Tim’s pre-Robin days, now felt like a strange mix of "Cribs" and "True Blood." Tim stood there, staring at his old home turning into a vampire lair, feeling a mix of confusion and "What the heck is happening?" It's not every day your childhood home becomes a mystical hotspot.

Caught between Wayne Manor and the vampire hangout, Tim struggled with the reality that his old home was now a haven for creatures of the night. It was a weird moment in Gotham's always strange history, and the batfamily was right in the thick of it. Sure, Tim felt weird about his home becoming vampire central, but he knew it was a smart move. Having the Sanguis Coven as neighbors might be odd, but it was strategic, keeping a close eye on the supernatural. Gotham was always a city of surprises, and now it had vampires as neighbors. Talk about a plot twist!

Amid all the magical chaos, Alfred found himself sitting in his favorite armchair in the Wayne Manor library. He took a sip of tea and nibbled on some cookies, the ones that always made Jason smile. But this time, there was no laughter, just memories.

The view from the library was wild—vampires moving in next door, witches setting up shop, and magical creatures turning the city into a paranormal playground. For Alfred, it was a bittersweet reminder of the one Bat who wasn't around to see this madness.

Alfred sighed, feeling a mix of nostalgia and sadness. He could almost hear Jason’s sarcastic comments about the supernatural housewarming party. "Well, Master Jason," Alfred mused, "I hope you're having fun wherever you are, probably causing some chaos of your own."

The armchair, once Jason’s favorite reading spot, now cradled Alfred with a sense of melancholy. He glanced at the empty seat next to him, half-expecting Jason to walk in with a cheeky grin and a witty remark about the crazy turn of events. But of course, that didn’t happen. Jason's absence was a heavy, unspoken presence in the room.

Alfred couldn’t help but think about the days when Jason would lounge on the couch with a book, sharing bits of his day—both the heroic and the mundane. Now, the only company Alfred had was the flickering shadows on the walls and the distant sounds of the supernatural settling in.

As Gotham’s new residents claimed their places, Alfred felt that Jason should have been there to see it all. The city’s ever-changing skyline mirrored the evolving batfamily dynamics. Yet, in this moment, Alfred couldn’t shake the feeling of missing one brave Robin who brought his own brand of chaos to the Wayne legacy.

With a final sip of tea and a wistful glance out the window, Alfred sighed again. Gotham was full of surprises, but nothing could fill the void left by the one Robin who added his own unique spark to the family.

Jason's library, filled with the scent of old books and the cozy comfort of well-worn armchairs, felt oddly tense with Roy Harper sitting across from him. The silence between them was thick, filled with unspoken words.

Jason's mind was racing. How did Roy figure out his identity? He'd worked so hard to keep his life as Jason Alexander Head, the author and big brother, separate from his past. Did someone betray him? Or had he slipped up, letting old habits show? The fear of Batman finding out and taking Damian away gnawed at him.

As the seconds ticked by, Jason stole glances at Roy, searching for any sign of accusation. Roy, pretending to read, finally broke the silence with a sigh, making Jason tense up. But instead of confrontation, Roy's voice was gentle, laced with humor.

"So, the great Jason Alexander Head got caught slipping, huh?" Roy teased. "It wasn't any one thing, Jay. Just little clues. Like how you always check every exit in a room? That's pure bat behavior."

Jason couldn't help but smile. Even when trying to be someone else, some habits just stuck.

"And then there's the way Damian and Billy act around you," Roy went on. "It's like déjà vu. I've seen that dynamic before. It’s like watching you and Dick with Bruce all over again."

Roy’s words hit Jason hard, reminding him of the family patterns that repeated themselves despite his efforts to start fresh. He just hoped he was doing better than Bruce had.

"And don't think I didn’t notice you at the university," Roy added with a smirk. "Lost in a book, making faces like you're solving a mystery. Classic Jason Todd."

Jason laughed, the tension easing. Roy seeing through his disguise spoke volumes about their friendship, forged through shared hardships.

"Look, Jay, your secrets are safe with me. I don't know how I didn't recognize you, but now that I do, it's all the same. We've all got our baggage."

“I'd love to trust you…” Jason began, but Roy cut him off with a smirk.

“But you’re too much of a bat not to have a backup plan. So, how do you plan on keeping me quiet, Jay?”

Jason hesitated, debating whether to reveal everything. He decided to share some of it. “We’ve met before, you know?”

“Yeah, I trained you in firearms,” Roy teased.

Jason smirked. “No, after I died and before you moved to Fawcett City.”

“Before?” Roy repeated, then his eyes widened. “The Red Ghoul! That’s you?!”

Jason shrugged with a shy smile, the same one from his street-kid days. Roy felt a pang of nostalgia. “Since when can you use magic?”

“Always, it seems. I’m a natural-born necromancer. That’s what brought me back.”

Roy grinned. “Well, whatever it is, I’m glad it did. I missed you, Jay.”

Jason’s cheeks flushed under Roy's warm gaze. “So, your backup plan is magic?”

“A blood oath, a Trust Me Knot,” Jason said. “If either of us breaks it, we die.”

“Let’s do it,” Roy agreed without hesitation, making Jason blink in surprise. “You brought my daughter back, Jay. Of course I trust you. I won't break the oath.”

Jason blushed deeper and called for Damian. “Dami can use magic too?” Roy asked, eyes wide. “And Billy?”

“Yes, I can,” Damian said, appearing with a solemn look. “And Billy can too. Let’s do the Trust Me Knot.”

The room seemed to hold its breath as Damian, with a dagger in hand, began the ritual. Jason and Roy took the ends of the rope. Damian explained the conditions: protect each other’s secret identities at all costs. The dagger gleamed as Damian cut his hand, letting drops of blood fall onto the rope, which absorbed it, turning a deep red. Jason and Roy exchanged glances, feeling the weight of their commitment.

Damian stepped back, the noose forming in the air. “Si fides solvitur nodus interficit,” he intoned. “If the trust is broken, the knot will kill.”

The words hung in the air, the Trust Me Knot a tangible reminder of their pact. Jason and Roy looked at each other, the bond between them stronger than ever.

The smell of maqlube filled the air as Jason, Damian, and Billy sat around the dinner table. This Arabic dish, with its mix of rice, lamb, and fried eggplants, had quickly become Billy's favorite. Its name meant "upside down," fitting for how it was prepared and served.

But tonight, the usual lively chatter was missing. The tension was thick, and everyone seemed tired. Damian glanced at Jason, who was lost in thought. Billy, sensing the mood, hesitated before taking a bite, his usual energy dimmed by the unease at the table. They ate in near silence, the clinking of utensils loud in the quiet room.

Jason finally broke the silence, looking at his brothers seriously but reassuringly. "Roy knows about me being the second Robin and the Red Ghoul. He knows we can use magic, but that's it. He doesn't know about Damian being Batman's son or Billy being the Champion of Magic."

Damian, always sharp, frowned. "What does that mean for us, akhi?"

"It means we don't have to hide much from Roy. He's seen a lot and swore a Trust Me Knot. He won't tell our secrets. We can use magic openly around him."

Billy perked up at that. "So, we don’t need to hide spells and stuff?"

Jason nodded. "Exactly. Roy’s part of the family now. Keeping secrets from family isn’t a good idea."

Damian still looked skeptical. "What if he breaks the oath?"

Jason’s gaze was steady. "He won’t. Roy keeps his promises. He wouldn’t leave his daughter an orphan. You'll see."

The tension started to lift. Jason tried to lighten the mood. "Remember the movie marathon we do when Jon visits?"

“The one with the pillow fort?” Damian’s eyes lit up.

“And Alfred’s secret hot chocolate?” Billy grinned.

“And umi’s Ghraybeh,” Jason chuckled, his heart warmed by their excitement. “Let’s finish dinner and change into our pajamas. You guys can pick the movie.”

“Lord of the Rings!” Damian and Billy exclaimed, their excitement returning.

“I can’t wait to laugh at all the stuff J.R.R. Tolkien got wrong!” Damian smirked.

Billy nudged him. “You’re evil!”

“As if you don’t think the same!”

Talia's voice came through Jason’s secure line, serious as ever. "Jason, abni, it’s time we discuss Gotham. The city is changing."

Jason listened carefully, perched on a rooftop with Fawcett City’s skyline spread out before him. The cool night air felt good against his skin, a welcome distraction from the weight of Talia’s words.

"It's been months since dark magical beings settled there," Talia continued, her tone unwavering. "The dark magic is being absorbed by them, not affecting humans as much. The city is adapting."

Jason felt a mix of relief and disbelief. "That’s good news, umi. Gotham catching a break sounds unreal."

Talia's tone remained measured. "It seems our efforts are paying off. Gotham is healing, in its own way."

Jason chuckled, shaking his head in amazement. "Who would've thought? Gotham healing thanks to magical creatures."

There was a brief pause before Talia spoke again, softer now. "Jason, I wanted you to know. Gotham has always been part of us."

Jason nodded, though she couldn't see it. "Thanks, T. It’s good to know the dark clouds over Gotham might finally be lifting."

Leaning against the rooftop edge, Jason took a deep breath. "Talia, there's something else. Roy found out about my identity. About Jason Todd."

Talia was silent for a moment, and Jason could almost hear the gears turning in her mind.

"He figured it out slowly," Jason said, his voice steady. "The way I move, checking exits – it's all bat behavior. And then there are the boys. Damian and Billy act around me like Dick and I did with Bruce."

"Does Roy know about Damian’s parentage?" Talia asked, her tone sharp.

"No," Jason replied firmly. "I’ve kept that from him. I don’t want to drag Damian into this."

Talia's voice softened slightly, but the edge remained. "What about Roy? Should I send shadows?"

"No, that's not necessary," Jason said quickly. "Roy’s not a threat. He swore a Trust Me Knot. Besides, he's family."

"Very well," Talia said. "If you trust him, we'll leave it. But I'll upgrade the shadows in Fawcett City. Security must be tight, especially for my sons."

"Thanks, umi," Jason said, feeling a mix of gratitude and weariness. "I’ve got enough to worry about without someone digging into the past."

As the call ended, Jason stayed on the rooftop for a while, looking out over the city. The lights twinkled below, a reminder of the lives he and his family were trying to protect. The thought of Gotham healing brought a rare sense of hope, and for a moment, Jason allowed himself to believe that maybe, just maybe, things were finally turning around.

The kids' laughter filled the summer air as Lian, Damian, and Billy played in Jason's backyard. The greenery and flowers made it look like a scene straight out of a storybook. Roy and Jason, sitting at a wooden table on the patio, shared a smile as they watched the kids having fun. Seeing Lian, Damian, and Billy so happy together really tugged at their hearts.

As the kids' laughter reached its peak, Roy and Jason figured it was time for a break. The sun was blazing, and everyone needed a cool drink. Jason headed to the kitchen to whip up some lemonade, while Roy grabbed bowls of watermelon, strawberries, and pineapple.

Back on the patio, the kids, red-faced and sweaty from playing, eagerly gathered around. Jason brought out a tray of lemonade, handing out glasses with a grin. The kids dug into the fruit Roy handed out, their smiles growing with each bite.

The sun cast a golden glow over everything, shadows growing long as the kids laughed and played. Meanwhile, Roy and Jason found a cool spot on the patio, sipping lemonade that reflected the mix of emotions inside Jason.

Things between Roy and Jason were getting serious. Jason had let his guard down, shedding his superhero secrets. Around Roy, he could just be Jason, not weighed down by the shadows of his past. But the closer they got, the more tangled his feelings became. Jason found himself noticing things that made his heart race, like Roy's intense green eyes or the way the sun highlighted his red hair. His emotions were all over the place, and Jason wasn't ready for this new feeling.

Roy’s laid-back vibe made Jason feel something deep. Whenever Roy smiled, Jason's chest did this weird fluttery thing. And those times Roy wore short sleeves, showing off his archer arms? Jason's self-control was seriously tested. He'd catch himself wiping his chin, half-expecting to find drool. It was getting ridiculous. Realizing he was falling for Roy hit him like a ton of bricks, and suddenly, Jason was facing emotions he'd been avoiding for ages.

Thinking about Essence was like remembering a storm—wild, intense, and unforgettable. Their time together was passionate and full of life, making Jason feel alive again. But storms pass, and so did their whirlwind romance. When it was over, Jason found peace in their parting. Essence had changed him, awakened parts of him, but he stood strong after she was gone.

Roy, on the other hand, felt like a warm hearth—a steady, comforting presence. It wasn’t a blazing fire but a constant warmth that brought stability. The feelings for Roy grew slowly, but they were strong and steady. It was a different kind of intensity, one that felt more enduring and, in some ways, more overwhelming.

Jason realized that this steady warmth was scarier because it promised permanence. Unlike the storm with Essence, Roy's warmth seemed like it would always be there. The idea of something lasting both thrilled and terrified him.

So, there they were, sitting side by side on the patio, ice clinking in their glasses, adding to the tension between them. Jason’s eyes would drift to Roy, and you could see the internal struggle playing out. The summer breeze carried the scent of flowers and a mix of new emotions. In that moment, Jason grappled with the fact that he was falling for Roy.

Jason's phone buzzed, cutting through the tension. He pulled it out, confusion all over his face. When he read the article Vicky Vale had posted, his eyes widened. He showed it to Roy, who cursed under his breath as the shock hit him.

The headline on the Gotham Gazette's website was like a bomb going off. "Bruce Wayne's Mysterious Disappearance Shakes Gotham's Foundations." The words hung in the air, sending shockwaves through both of them.

Bruce Wayne's Mysterious Disappearance Shakes Gotham's Foundations

In a startling turn of events, Gotham's esteemed billionaire and philanthropist, Bruce Wayne, has vanished under mysterious circumstances during his extravagant worldwide cruise. The news of his disappearance has sent shockwaves through the city, leaving citizens and the business world grappling with uncertainty.

Reports indicate that Wayne's yacht, part of his opulent sea voyage, went missing at sea. The details surrounding this sudden disappearance remain shrouded in mystery, prompting widespread speculation about the fate of Gotham's most eligible bachelor.

Questions abound regarding the circumstances of Bruce Wayne's disappearance. Is he lost at sea, facing the perils of the open ocean, or is there something more nefarious at play? The lack of concrete information has left Gothamites in suspense, eagerly awaiting any updates on the fate of their beloved playboy.

Beyond the personal tragedy, the implications for Wayne Enterprises, the cornerstone of the Wayne Family's legacy, are immense. As the city holds its breath, wondering about Bruce's fate, the future of the corporate empire built by his family hangs in the balance. Wayne Enterprises, an integral part of Gotham's economic landscape, now faces an uncertain future.

Among the pressing questions is the potential successor to the Wayne dynasty. With Bruce Wayne's eldest son, Richie Grayson, in the spotlight, speculation about his role in the family business intensifies. Will he step into his adoptive father's shoes and lead Wayne Enterprises through these challenging times?

Another figure thrust into the limelight is Timothy Drake, known for his upbringing among Gotham's elite. As discussions swirl about Wayne Enterprises' future leadership, Drake's name surfaces as a potential candidate. The city watches with bated breath, curious to see if an outsider will play a pivotal role in the destiny of this corporate giant.

As Gotham awaits more information about Bruce Wayne's disappearance, the uncertainty surrounding his fate permeates every corner of the city. The shadows cast by this enigma extend far beyond Wayne Manor, touching the heart of Gotham's collective consciousness. The coming days promise to be a test for both the city and Wayne Enterprises, as they grapple with the aftermath of Bruce Wayne's sudden and mysterious vanishing act.

-Vicky Vale.

Roy and Jason exchanged confused looks, their expressions mirroring each other's shock. "What’s going on, Roy?!" Jason whispered urgently, trying to keep his voice low so the kids wouldn’t overhear. "I thought the plan was for Bruce Wayne to be on a worldwide cruise while Batman was off on a space mission. You never mentioned anything about this?!"

"That’s because Dick never told me!" Roy snapped back, his voice laced with panic. "I don’t have a clue what’s happening, Jay!"

Just then, Roy's phone rang, cutting through the tension like a knife. He answered quickly, and Jason watched as Roy’s face turned ashen, his usual composure shattered.

The words Roy spoke next hit Jason hard. "What do you mean Batman is dead?!" Roy’s voice was filled with disbelief, and the sound seemed to freeze the air between them, making Jason’s heart stop.

Time felt like it stopped as the reality of the situation sank in. Batman, the hero who had been a constant presence in Gotham and a figure in Jason's life, was gone. The news hit Jason with the force of a freight train, making him relive the pain of losing his father for the second time. It was like a tidal wave of grief crashing over him, pulling him under.

Roy continued listening on the phone, his face a mix of sorrow and shock. His eyes met Jason’s, and in that silent exchange, they both understood the gravity of the news. Jason’s mind raced through memories—training sessions, rooftop talks, and the unspoken connection he had with the Dark Knight. He wasn’t just mourning the loss of a father but also grappling with a mountain of unresolved feelings that would never be addressed.

Jason’s fists clenched as he struggled with the harsh truth. The mentor who had given him purpose, who had been a guiding force in his life, was now gone. The weight of regret hit him hard—Bruce had passed without ever knowing the full truth, without a chance to make things right. Jason was left reeling, the sting of loss piercing through the walls he’d built around his heart.

--- END OF ARC I ---

Chapter Text

The news hit hard, leaving Jason and Roy reeling. Batman was dead. Panic took hold, and everything around them seemed to blur as the weight of the loss settled on their shoulders.

Roy’s mind raced with worry for Dick, one of his closest friends. How could he support him through this? Batman wasn’t just a mentor; he was Dick’s dad. The thought of Dick facing this grief again, losing another father figure, left Roy feeling helpless.

As Roy struggled with his own turmoil, Jason was dealing with his own emotional storm. He had purposely distanced himself from Batman, steering clear of the cape and cowl. Yet, Bruce’s death hit him harder than he expected. He was flooded with questions, none of which he could answer. Why did this hurt so much? How would he cope with the void left by a father he had consciously avoided?

The conflicting emotions inside Jason felt like a storm. The decision to keep his distance from Batman had been a way to protect himself from their complicated relationship. But now, faced with the reality of Bruce’s death, the walls Jason had built seemed to crumble. The grief he thought he had moved past hit him with a force he hadn’t anticipated.

Roy’s words landed heavily on Jason as the reality of Batman’s sacrifice set in. The room felt thick with grief and disbelief, with each of Roy’s words digging deeper into Jason’s heart.

"Bats… he went out fighting," Roy said, his voice a mix of sorrow and admiration. "They were up against Darkseid, and things went south fast."

Roy went on to describe the events at Command D, and the tension in the room grew thick. Jason’s jaw tightened as he listened, picturing Batman breaking free and using the Radion bullet with the kind of determination only the Dark Knight could muster.

"He got Darkseid with that Radion bullet," Roy continued, his gaze fixed on Jason. "But Darkseid wasn’t going down easy. Used his Omega Beams. It was quick. Batman took one for the team."

The finality of Roy’s words lingered, leaving Jason struggling with a wave of emotions. Panic threatened to overwhelm him as he faced the reality of Bruce’s death. The internal battle escalated, pushing him close to a panic attack. The vulnerability he felt was intense, and the realization that Bruce was gone made Jason question his own emotional defenses.

"But his sacrifice… it wasn’t for nothing," Roy added, nodding solemnly. "Wonder Woman took down Darkseid, finished what Bats started. Not sure Bats would have liked her killing in his name… but at least Earth is safe from Apokolips. Superman brought his body back to Wayne Manor."

Jason’s gaze dropped to the floor, his fists clenching at his sides. The silence that followed was heavy with the weight of loss and the stark reality of a world without Batman. The void in Gotham, in the Justice League, and in Jason’s heart felt more pronounced than ever.

Roy, sensing Jason’s turmoil, offered a supportive look. "I’m here for you, Jay."

The sound of a ball hitting the floor broke the heavy silence in the backyard, catching Jason and Roy’s attention. They turned to see Damian standing there, his grip on the ball slack. Shock mirrored in Damian’s eyes, reflecting the disbelief that Jason and Roy felt. Billy and Lian stood frozen, confusion and concern etched on their faces. Damian, however, seemed to bear the weight of the revelation most acutely. His small frame shook, and his usually sharp eyes were filled with a vulnerability that struck deep.

"Father can’t be dead," Damian whispered, his voice barely audible but filled with denial. His gaze locked onto Jason and Roy, searching for confirmation or reassurance that this was all a terrible mistake.

Roy exchanged a pained look with Jason, their shared understanding clear. They had shattered Damian’s belief in his father’s invincibility. The mix of emotions on Damian’s face—disbelief, grief, and a touch of betrayal—was almost too much for Jason to handle.

"Dami," Jason began softly, a rare vulnerability breaking through his usual strong demeanor. "We didn’t mean for you to—"

Damian’s reaction was immediate. His face twisted, and he turned away, his emotions threatening to overflow. It was rare to see the young Zamurad on the verge of tears, and it weighed heavily on Jason.

"I don’t believe it," Damian muttered, his voice raw and reflecting the depth of his emotions.

Lian, sensing the somber mood, took a careful step toward Damian, her small hand reaching out in comfort. The myth of Batman’s invincibility had been shattered, and the reality of loss pressed heavily on Damian.

Hidden away on Infinity Island, the news of Batman’s death rippled through the secretive halls of the League of Shadows. The League, a shadowy group shaped into a deadly force under Ra’s Al Ghul and now led by Talia Al Ghul, found itself in a rare moment of deep thought.

Normally disciplined in their reactions to big news, the League members took the news with a calm exterior. But underneath, there was a wave of introspection. Batman, despite being their foe, was a figure who commanded respect. His skill and determination had earned him admiration even from those who opposed him. The shock of his death hit hard, making them face the reality that even the strongest can fall.

Their way of mourning, if you could call it that, was through their usual training. Blades clashed with rhythmic precision, the usual dance of shadows continuing. Each member honored Batman in their own way, turning their grief into an even greater drive for perfection.

In the heart of Gotham, the city seemed to reflect the emptiness felt by the Batfamily. The same streets that had seen their victories and struggles now witnessed their quiet sorrow. Gotham, always a city of shadows, seemed to mourn alongside its protectors.

Stephanie, in her Spoiler costume, moved with robotic precision through the dark alleys. The steady thud of her boots on the wet pavement was a sharp contrast to the storm brewing inside her. Each jump across the rooftops was a way to escape the crushing reality that Batman, the rock of their family, was gone.

Cassandra, in her Black Bat gear, moved with lethal grace. Every action showed off her years of training and the pain of losing someone who was more than just a mentor. Underneath her mask, the determination on her face hid the raw hurt. The night’s silence seemed to echo her inner struggle.

Oracle, guided them from the shadows with a cool efficiency. Her fingers flew over the keyboard, directing her team from behind the scenes. The glow of the computer screens lit up her face, but it couldn’t hide the turmoil inside. Each keystroke and every surveillance sweep was a way to push the grief aside. They threw themselves into their work, hoping the intensity of their crime-fighting could drown out the fact that Batman was no more.

In their nonstop fight for justice, Spoiler, Black Bat, and Oracle found a kind of refuge in their routine. It was a way to escape the grief that threatened to overtake them. But no matter how fast they moved or how intensely they patrolled, the truth lingered like a shadow, haunting them. The absence of Batman loomed large, and no amount of heroics could chase it away. The weight of their shared pain was always there, hidden behind their masks and capes.

In the quiet halls of the League of Shadows, Talia Al Ghul stood lost in thought. The shadows around her seemed to mirror her grief as she faced the reality of his death. Her eyes, usually cold and calculating, now betrayed a deep sadness that cut through her icy exterior.

Bruce, the man she’d loved with a passion that was both fierce and complicated, was gone. Their relationship had been a tangled mix of love and conflict, and hearing about his death hit her hard, stirring up memories of their tumultuous past.

As she wrestled with the finality of Bruce’s death, Talia’s mind kept drifting to her sons—Damian and Jason. Billy was on her mind too, though he wasn’t tied to Bruce in the same way. The thought of her sons dealing with this loss only deepened her sorrow.

Nika Al Ghul approached, her steps careful and respectful. Talia looked up and nodded. “Nika,” she said softly, her voice a blend of warmth and weariness. “Thanks for coming.”

Nika, her face a mix of sadness and resolve, offered her condolences. Talia accepted the gesture with a nod, her appreciation clear.

After a moment of silence, Nika spoke up. “Aunt Talia, may I go see Jason, Damian, and Billy? I want to support them and share in their grief.”

Talia’s gaze softened, and she offered a small, genuine smile. “Of course, Nika. They’re carrying a heavy load right now, and your presence might bring them some comfort.”

Nika bowed her thanks and left to find her cousins, leaving Talia to her thoughts.

Nyssa, who had been quietly observing, broke the silence. “The world outside these walls will soon feel Batman’s absence. It’s going to shake things up, and not just in the shadows.”

Talia nodded, acknowledging the truth of Nyssa’s words. Batman’s death would make the Justice League vulnerable, opening the door for enemies and opportunists to take advantage.

“Without Batman, the League will look like an easy target,” Nyssa continued. “We can’t ignore the potential for attacks or internal strife.”

Talia frowned, reflecting on the situation. “The League’s problems will only get worse. As much as we work from the shadows to improve things, we need strong figures in the light. The brighter the light, the bigger the shadow it casts.”

In the quiet halls of Wayne Manor, Alfred Pennyworth moved like someone carrying a load heavier than just physical exhaustion. Every step felt weighed down by years of service and loss, but today, it was even tougher—he was dealing with the grief of losing not one, but two people he cared about deeply.

The grand mansion seemed to mock Alfred’s sense of emptiness. Instead of reflecting the wealth of the Waynes, the polished surfaces seemed to echo with the laughter that used to fill the place. Jason, his grandson, and Bruce, who’d been like a son to him, were now just memories lingering in the rooms.

The usually composed butler found himself struggling with a storm of emotions. Alfred had seen enough of the Wayne family’s heartache to last a lifetime, but each new loss felt just as fresh. Losing Jason, so young and full of potential, and Bruce, the closest thing he’d had to a son, left him feeling adrift in grief.

As Alfred placed a cup of tea on the antique table, his hands shook. What used to be a comforting ritual now felt empty and tasteless, overshadowed by the weight of his sorrow. He’d served countless cups of tea to the family, taking solace in those moments. But with Jason and Bruce gone, the absence of familiar faces made the void even more apparent.

Sitting alone in the dim library, where Jason had often retreated with his favorite books and memories, Alfred felt the chill of loneliness. The quiet, once soothing, now seemed to echo with the sadness of his heavy heart. How many more loved ones would he have to say goodbye to in the name of fighting crime? How many sacrifices would the Wayne family be expected to make before justice felt balanced?

Outside, the world kept moving, and the clock on the mantel ticked on, indifferent to Alfred’s grief. With his shoulders heavy from sorrow, Alfred struggled to keep going. It felt like the world’s endless demand for sacrifice was erasing pieces of his heart, and he wondered how much more he could bear before there was nothing left.

The silence crackling on the line was thick with unspoken doubts. Talia’s usually strong, assured voice wavered. “Jason, abni,” she started, her words carrying the weight of a thousand questions. “Did we mess up by keeping Damian away from Bruce?”

Jason leaned back in the shadows of his room, trying to keep his tone steady. “T, you know as well as I do that Batman’s world isn’t meant for a kid. Damian deserved better than to be another child soldier. We did what we thought was right.”

“Did we, though?” Talia’s voice was laced with regret and a touch of defiance. “He had a chance for a father, for a real family, and we took that from him. Maybe we misjudged Bruce’s darkness.”

The city’s distant hum played in the background as they both pondered. “Talia, you’ve seen what that life does to people. Damian’s not just anyone; he’s your son, my little brother. We kept him from a fate we know all too well.”

A heavy sigh traveled through the call. “But what if he needed to go through that to understand who he really is?” Talia’s question was a challenge to their decisions.

Jason’s response was calm but firm, colored by his own past. “He’s better off not knowing that world. We gave him a shot at being more than just an heir to the League of Shadows or a pawn in Batman’s game.”

Their conversation swung between regret and certainty, like a dance of conflicting emotions. Talia’s voice, once so commanding, faltered. “Jason, what if we took away a part of him? What if he ends up resenting us for keeping him away from his own father?”

Jason didn’t respond immediately, letting the silence stretch. “Maybe he’ll thank us one day for sparing him from the chaos of being a Wayne. Maybe he won’t. But we did what we thought was right, Talia.”

The call ended with a click, leaving the room filled with lingering questions and the weight of their choices for Damian.

Roy was waiting in Jason's room, bracing himself for what was about to come. When Jason's door creaked open, a sob tumbled out. Jason stumbled into Roy’s arms, and Roy immediately started rubbing his back and planting gentle kisses on his forehead.

Wrapped in Roy's embrace, Jason let go of the carefully built emotional wall. All his bottled-up feelings and frustrations came flooding out, making him feel like he was being swept away. Roy's steady hold was the only thing keeping him grounded. Tears flowed freely, and the salty taste of grief was sharp on his tongue as he struggled to breathe.

He had once channeled his anger at Bruce—resenting the impossible standards, the constant disappointment, and the way Bruce was never fully present. He was furious at Bruce for criticizing his methods when Bruce had done far worse as Batman.

Now that Bruce was gone, there was no one left to be angry at. What was left was the painful realization that his anger was misplaced. They clung to each other, the minutes or maybe hours blurring together in their shared grief. The pace of mourning was a strange mix of relentless and sluggish, and through it all, Roy’s embrace stayed solid and comforting.

“Bruce gave everything for the world,” Jason finally said, his voice cracking as he admitted something he hadn’t wanted to. “He’s not the terrible dad I thought he was, and I... I don’t know how to handle that.”

Roy’s response was unexpected. “I don’t think that’s true.”

Jason looked up, confused. “Wait, what?”

“You don’t have to convince yourself Bruce was perfect to grieve him,” Roy said calmly, meeting Jason’s wide eyes with his own steady gaze. “I’ve seen how he treated Dick, the mistakes he made with you, and how he kept messing up with Tim. One big sacrifice doesn’t change a lifetime of flaws. He never learned from his mistakes. Believe me, I know.”

Jason paused, considering Roy’s words. His view of Bruce had always swung from hero worship to disappointment and anger. Bruce had been a giant he admired, but over time, the pedestal had cracked under constant letdowns. He had to choose between loving or hating Bruce, so he leaned into the anger, blaming him for everything, including his death and return.

Then, a realization hit him. Maybe he didn’t have to pick a side. Maybe he could mourn Bruce without labeling him as just a good or bad parent. What if he could simply grieve for the father he lost? What if Bruce could be seen as flawed but still deserving of sadness for his violent end? It was a tough truth to face, but Jason was starting to see things differently.

Before he could respond, a yawn escaped him. Roy’s eyes softened, and he gave Jason a gentle smile. “You need some sleep.”

Roy’s cool fingers wrapped around Jason’s wrists, guiding him gently. Jason followed, his exhaustion taking over, and let Roy lead him to bed, trusting him completely.

In the Batcave, surrounded by blinking screens and gadgets, Tim Drake was stuck in denial. The news of Batman’s death, delivered by the Justice League, just wouldn’t sink in. Instead, a fierce determination burned in him, cutting through the gloom that filled the cave.

Dressed in his red and green Robin suit, Tim moved with a single-minded focus, reflecting his refusal to accept the official story. The monitors flashed with data as he pored over every clue, chasing after a truth that seemed to elude the rest of the Batfamily.

He couldn’t believe that Bruce Wayne, Gotham's Dark Knight, had fallen to Darkseid. To Tim, the man who had shaped him into Robin and been a brilliant strategist, couldn’t just be another casualty in some cosmic clash.

The Batcomputer buzzed with a flurry of algorithms as Tim sifted through piles of reports and details about Batman’s supposed death. His fingers flew across the keyboard, tearing apart the League’s account piece by piece. He was piecing together a story that didn’t match the official version.

As Tim peeled back layer after layer of deceit, a spark of hope flared inside him. He refused to accept that his mentor was gone. Bruce was out there somewhere.

Lost in time but still alive.

In his room, Damian wrestled with a whirlwind of emotions that seemed ready to pull him under. His usually sharp and decisive thoughts were now tangled with doubt and regret. As he ran his fingers over the old League of Shadows book he clutched, he couldn’t help but question his decisions. He had hidden his intense curiosity about the man behind the Batman mask, keeping his feelings to himself. He didn’t want to stir things up with his family by showing his desire for a connection with Batman.

Now, with the reality of Batman’s death hitting him hard, Damian couldn’t shake the questions swirling in his mind. Did he make the right choice? Was giving up his chance to know Batman a noble sacrifice or a huge missed opportunity? Did he choose his family’s happiness over possibly having a father?

The weight of these thoughts was heavy on Damian’s shoulders. For the first time, the boy who was supposed to be the heir of the League of Shadows found himself tangled in an inner conflict. As he stared at the shifting shadows on his walls, Damian wished he could turn back time and reconsider his choices. He felt the deep pain of losing a father he never even got to meet.

Billy, sensing something was off, slowly made his way to Damian’s room. The air in the room felt thick with unspoken sadness. Damian, slouched in a shadowy chair, looked up as Billy entered.

“Hey, Dami,” Billy said softly. “I know this has got to be really hard for you.”

Damian gave a small, reluctant nod. Billy, understanding the weight of grief, sat down next to him, offering quiet support.

“I lost my parents too,” Billy said, his voice tinged with old pain. “After that, it felt like I didn’t fit anywhere. Like I’d never have a family again.” Damian listened intently, feeling the sincerity in Billy’s words. “But then I met you and Jason. You guys became the family I thought I’d never have.”

Damian, though touched by the gesture, couldn’t help but respond with a sharp edge of his own unresolved hurt. “At least you had a dad. You weren’t kept away, missing out on fatherly love.”

Billy, undeterred by Damian’s bitterness, wrapped him in a comforting hug. Damian, initially stiff and resistant, slowly gave in to the warmth. The room was quiet except for Damian’s soft sniffles. As the tears came, Damian leaned into Billy’s embrace, letting his grief spill out. Billy held him close, offering a steady presence while Damian’s sobs echoed the sorrow of losing a father he never really knew.

In the quiet of the room, Billy stayed by Damian’s side, a quiet guardian through the storm of emotions. Eventually, Damian’s grief and exhaustion led him to drift off, cradled in Billy’s comforting arms, finding a brief escape from the turmoil that had overwhelmed him.

The low hum of the phone crackled with tension, a backdrop to the unspoken regrets hanging in the air. After their last chat, Jason, cloaked in the shadows of his room, finally spoke up.

“T, I heard Damian and Billy talking,” Jason said, his voice barely above a whisper. “Damian’s really torn up about not knowing Bruce. He’s been crying himself to sleep. Maybe we messed up.”

Talia’s sharp intake of breath was almost audible through the phone. “Oh, Jason,” she said softly, her voice thick with regret. “I never meant for him to be hurt.”

The city outside continued its restless hum, a contrast to the raw emotions being shared. “We did what we thought was right at the time,” Jason said, a mix of frustration and determination in his tone. “But maybe we need to rethink things. With Batman gone, Gotham’s not as dangerous.”

There was a pause, heavy with unspoken thoughts. “What are you getting at?” Talia finally asked.

“I’m thinking about bringing them to Gotham,” Jason said, his words carrying the weight of a big decision. “Let Damian and Billy see the other side of their family. Batman’s not around to complicate things anymore.”

The silence that followed was thick with contemplation. Talia’s response was careful, weighed down with a mother’s dilemma. “Jason, are you sure? Gotham might not be the same place it was for you.”

Jason chuckled, a sound tinged with both bitterness and resolve. “Talia, I know Gotham better than anyone. Maybe it’s time for Dami to see the city that shaped us. The city that made Batman who he was.”

The words hung in the air, and Talia finally spoke. “Whatever you decide, Jason, I’ll back you up. And Damian deserves to know where he comes from.”

As the call ended, Jason was left in the heavy silence of his room. The guilt and doubt about keeping Damian and Bruce apart surged to the surface. Had he done the right thing? Was it an act of cruelty or just a shield from the dangers of their world?

Losing Bruce had been a massive blow, shaking the very core of Jason and Damian’s lives. But in that shared grief, Jason found some comfort in knowing he’d kept Damian safe and content. The memories of their laughter and camaraderie, far from Batman’s shadow, were a small balm to his soul.

Now, with Bruce gone, Gotham seemed like a possibility rather than a prison. Jason saw a chance to show his little brothers the hidden parts of his life—the alleys, rooftops, and secret spots that defined the city he both loved and hated.

They wouldn’t move there, though. Jason was firm on that. He’d escaped Gotham, a feat few managed. The city had a knack for pulling you back in. But he’d managed to break free, and now, with his little brothers in tow, he had no intention of dragging them back into Gotham’s dark grasp. They had made a home in Fawcett City, and he wasn’t going to abandon it, especially not with Gotham’s shadows lingering.

That didn’t mean he’d ignore his grieving family. With Batman out of the picture, nothing kept him from Alfie, Dickface, Barbie, and the rest of the Batfamily. Maybe he could even convince the youngest to hang up their capes until they were older—or maybe forever.

With a newfound resolve and a glimmer of hope, Jason decided to take the gamble. The choice to show Gotham to Damian and Billy was risky but held the promise of healing and new challenges. He allowed himself a bit of optimism, hoping to carve out a new chapter for his fractured family.

The trio stood on the edge of Gotham, the city’s skyline looming large and casting shadows that seemed to echo their mixed emotions. Jason, back in Gotham for the first time since Batman’s death, was a bundle of nerves and old memories. Gotham, with its blend of dark history and twisted charm, felt different now—almost like a stranger. Damian and Billy flanked him, their eyes wide with a mix of awe and curiosity about the city that had given birth to so many legends and nightmares.

They exchanged glances, their faces showing a mix of nervousness and intrigue. The absence of Batman was a glaring void against the cityscape, and even Gotham seemed to be in mourning. Jason, who once knew every dark alley and towering building by heart, now viewed the city with a sense of detachment. The League of Shadows had drilled into him the need to keep moving forward, not dwelling on the past or the losses he’d endured.

He had cut ties and shed regrets to travel light, but the fear of becoming a pillar of salt from all the unshed tears was real. Moving forward was his only choice—one foot in front of the other, pride as his armor, and head held high. With that resolve, Jason stepped into Gotham City. He was on a mission and he wasn’t about to fail.

As they made their way to Wayne Manor, Jason led with a casual confidence. Damian, wide-eyed, took in every detail of Gotham. The city, alive with chaos and beauty, seemed to embrace him. Neon lights bathed the streets in a dazzling array of colors, reflecting in Damian’s dark eyes. The skyscrapers loomed overhead, casting long, dramatic shadows. Damian was drawn to the gargoyles perched on the buildings, observing them with a mix of fascination and recognition. The shifting shadows seemed to dance around every corner.

Damian felt a strange sense of connection to the city, almost like it was in his blood. Gotham had witnessed his father’s endless battle, and now, Damian was walking the same streets. He wondered if it was the Wayne legacy or his own desire to connect with his father’s city that stirred his feelings.

Billy, meanwhile, was tuned into a different vibe—the magic that seemed to flow through every alley, street, and building. To Billy, Gotham wasn’t just a city; it was a living, breathing canvas of enchantments.

As they wandered through the city, Billy’s Champion of Magic senses buzzed with mystical energy. His eyes picked up on a web of spells, incantations, and ancient forces woven into Gotham’s very essence. The city was a magical maze, hiding secrets that only someone like Billy could uncover.

As they wandered through Gotham, Billy’s senses, honed by his role as Champion of Magic, picked up on a buzz of mystical energy. His eyes, tuned to magic’s raw essence, saw a web of spells and ancient forces woven into the city’s very fabric. Gotham wasn’t just a concrete jungle; it was a magical maze hiding secrets only someone like Billy could detect.

He noticed the dark magic lurking beneath the surface, pulsing like a heartbeat and casting shadows that seemed to cling to everything. This darkness was thick, ancient, and packed with whispers of old rituals and forgotten deals. Billy couldn’t help but be amazed and a bit uneasy at the sheer depth of the magical currents flowing through Gotham.

Recent arrivals, witches and warlocks, had left their mark on the city’s magical landscape. Billy could feel the crackle of their spells in the air and sensed their attempts to clear lingering curses. Even the necromancers, though not as powerful as Jason or Damian, were trying to drive away the ghosts haunting Gotham’s corners.

As they neared Wayne Manor, Billy was struck by Gotham’s dark allure. The city seemed alive with magic, and he could almost feel its heartbeat under his fingertips. Gotham’s mix of dark secrets and magical mysteries kept Billy fascinated and unable to look away.

For Jason, returning to Gotham was eye-opening. Walking the familiar yet strangely changed streets, he noticed how the city’s magic had shifted. Gotham, in its own mysterious way, was healing. The once oppressive magical vibe had lightened up, blending more harmoniously with the everyday world. Jason felt a warmth in his chest as he saw how supernatural beings—vampires, werewolves, necromancers, witches, and warlocks—now moved seamlessly through the city, blending in with the regular crowd.

Jason’s stroll through Gotham revealed magical folks chatting in cafes and going about their lives alongside humans. It was a subtle integration, showing how the city had adapted and bounced back, blending magic and the mundane into a new, resilient rhythm.

Gotham had managed to find a pretty cool balance between the supernatural and the everyday. All the magical folks who’d once been pushed out were now blending in with the regular crowd. Jason’s worries about bringing magic back to Gotham had pretty much evaporated. The city, in its own quirky way, had welcomed this magical vibe with open arms. A genuine smile tugged at Jason’s lips as he took in this secret harmony. It felt like he’d made the right call, not just for Gotham’s healing but for everyone getting along in a way that felt almost perfect.

As they drew closer to Wayne Manor, Jason found himself pausing for a second. The manor was a striking mix of grandeur and enigma. It loomed over the landscape, a stunning blend of Gothic charm and modern splendor, with high walls and detailed stonework that spoke of history and today.

Billy and Damian, seeing the manor for the first time, were blown away by its beauty. The gardens were a riot of colors, and the building itself radiated sophistication. They marveled at the intricate windows and the cool gargoyles perched on the roof, which seemed to tell stories of old.

Damian felt a pull from the manor, as if it was calling out to his Wayne heritage. The shadows playing on the ivy-covered walls fascinated him, making the place feel like an invitation to connect with the legacy of his family. For Jason, though, the manor was more of a heavy reminder. Its grandeur felt a bit overwhelming, with memories of the past threatening to weigh him down. As he walked up to the door, each step felt heavy with unresolved feelings.

The thought of facing his family again, the grieving Waynes still dealing with Bruce’s loss, made Jason’s chest tighten. He took a moment to steady himself, taking a deep breath to calm his nerves before reaching out to ring the doorbell.

The sound of the chime echoed through the grand entrance. Jason braced himself for what was behind those big doors, unsure how his return would be taken in a place that had stopped being his home a long time ago. The waiting felt endless, with anticipation hanging in the air until the door finally creaked open.

Chapter Text

Dick was tangled up in a mess of emotions, like a shadow he couldn't shake off. Losing Batman, another father figure and family member, had really knocked him off balance. Night after night, the darkness turned into a stage for his nightmares—flashes of his parents' deaths, haunting memories of Jason's end—these images tormented him when the world was silent. Sleep, which used to be a refuge, now felt like it was slipping away, just out of reach.

By day, Dick went through the motions, moving on autopilot. Every smile and every quick move seemed to carry a hint of disbelief. Batman, who was supposed to be this unstoppable force, this symbol of strength, wasn’t meant to fall. As days rolled by in a monotonous grind, Dick was not just grappling with Batman's loss but also with a sense of helplessness that came with it.

The realization hit him hard. Being the oldest in the Bat-Family, he now had this heavy responsibility on his shoulders, a constant reminder of duty. Standing at the edge of a role he never wanted, the cowl of Batman seemed to loom over him like a ghost of obligation. Grief was already heavy enough, but now he faced this new burden—becoming Batman. It wasn’t something he had sought; in fact, he’d spent years carving out his own path, trying to distance himself from Batman’s shadow. Nightwing had been his way of saying, “I’m my own person.”

Now, thrust back into this role he’d fought hard to escape, Dick wrestled with the idea of taking over for Batman. The thought of anyone else in the Bat-Family shouldering that weight was unbearable. Cass, Tim, Steph—they all had their own battles and Dick couldn’t stand the thought of them dealing with the crushing expectations that came with the cowl.

The responsibility of protecting and guiding his siblings was already huge, but now it came with the deep fear of losing them too. The nights stretched long ahead, and the city that was once watched over by Batman and his partner now needed just one guardian. And that guardian was Dick Grayson. Despair crept in as he faced the reality of becoming Batman, a role he had resisted. It felt like a step back, a return to a place he’d worked hard to leave behind. The freedom Nightwing represented now felt like a far-off dream.

The doorbell ringing broke through his turbulent thoughts. Alfred was busy in the kitchen, so Dick had to get up and answer it. Since Batman’s passing, unplanned visits had become common, with the extended family of vigilantes, heroes, and allies dropping by to check in and offer their support.

Nobody showed up to check on them. It was pretty clear they were not okay.

As Dick made his way to the door, he ran through the usual suspects in his mind—the Titans, the Teen Titans, the Justice League, and even the Gotham Sirens who’d drop by during their patrols. But nothing could prepare him for the surprise waiting on the other side.

When he opened the door, the creak seemed to echo in the stillness. There, standing right in front of him, was someone he’d never expected to see again. Dick's face went through a whirlwind of emotions as he tried to wrap his head around it. 

“Little Wing?” Dick stammered, his voice a mix of shock and disbelief. The flood of old memories and the sheer surprise of seeing Jason Todd was almost too much.

His eyes went wide, his jaw dropped, and before he knew it, his legs gave out. In a move that seemed straight out of a drama, Dick Grayson, once the agile acrobat and seasoned hero, just fainted right there in the doorway.

Jason watched as Dick Grayson lay sprawled on the floor, looking like he’d been knocked out cold by the mere sight of him. Jason sighed, a mix of amusement and exasperation on his face. He’d expected Dick to be shocked, but this was over the top even for him. Dick fainting at seeing his supposedly dead little brother was classic Dick Grayson—dramatic to the end. Despite everything, it was kind of comforting to see that some things never changed.

Damian, standing off to the side, raised an eyebrow. He looked like he couldn’t be less impressed by the whole scene. He’d always had a knack for staying calm, no matter how crazy things got. Billy, still new to the Wayne family dynamics, turned to Jason with a concerned look. “Do you think he’s okay?”

Jason, used to the dramatic flair of his family, gave Billy a reassuring smile. “He’ll be fine. Dick’s just being his usual drama queen self. Just give him a minute to snap out of it.”

With a chuckle, Jason bent down to lift his unconscious brother and carried him to the living room. Alfred chose this exact moment to walk in, and his timing couldn’t have been more perfect—or more off. His eyes widened in shock as he saw Jason laying Dick down on the sofa. “What’s going on here?” Alfred’s voice was a mix of astonishment and confusion.

The old butler stood there, frozen, staring at Jason. His face showed a mix of shock and overwhelming emotion as he saw his long-lost grandson standing right there. “M-Master J-Jason?” Alfred stuttered, his voice trembling.

Jason, usually so cool and composed, felt a lump in his throat seeing Alfred’s reaction. His smile, though present, was strained as he said, “Hey, Alfie. It’s really good to see you again.”

As Alfred took in the sight of Jason, the shock on his face quickly gave way to a mix of emotions. First came disbelief, then a surge of joy, with a touch of sadness for the lost years. Alfred moved across the room in a flash, his steps quickened by the urge to bridge the gap with the grandson he thought he’d never see again. When they hugged, the warmth lingered, and as they pulled apart, Alfred's eyes glistened with a cocktail of relief, joy, and the sting of lost time. Jason, on the other hand, felt a rush of gratitude and a pang of regret for the years he’d missed.

Jason took a moment to get his bearings, looking around at the familiar but now strangely distant Wayne Manor. The old furniture and elegant decor seemed frozen in time. “Alfie,” Jason said, his tone carrying more weight than a simple greeting, “I never meant to disappear like that. I had my own stuff to deal with.” His eyes hinted at the struggles he’d faced.

Alfred, ever the steady presence, nodded with understanding. “Master Jason, life rarely goes in a straight line. We all have our battles, and it seems you’ve faced yours.”

Jason gave a wry smile, appreciating Alfred’s lack of judgment. “Yeah, demons have a way of sticking around. But I’ve learned to deal with them, or rather, to get rid of them. They don’t control me anymore, not literally or figuratively.”

“So, how’s it been here without me?” Jason asked, genuinely curious.

Alfred’s gaze softened as he spoke about the challenges the Wayne family faced during Jason’s absence. The house felt emptier without him, and the missing second son left a noticeable gap. “There were times, Master Jason, when I thought I’d failed you,” Alfred admitted, a hint of regret in his voice. “I should have done more to bridge that gap.”

Jason shook his head, understanding the weight Alfred carried. “Nah, Alfie, everyone’s got their role. You’ve kept things together, and I can see that.” His eyes showed a new appreciation for the man who had been a constant in the chaos.

Alfred’s attention then shifted to the two boys who had been hanging close to Jason. His gaze lingered on the youngest, who looked strikingly like Bruce, except for the coloring. Alfred’s sharp eyes caught the familiar emerald eyes. “Master Jason, could you introduce us properly? I’m sure I taught you better manners than this, young man.”

“Right,” Jason laughed. “These are my little brothers, Damian Alfred Head and William Joseph Head. We all share the same mom, even if some of us were adopted.” He paused, took a deep breath, and gathered himself. “Dami’s the son of Talia and Bruce. I met him after Talia took me in and helped me out. Billy, we found when we moved to Fawcett City.”

“Nice to meet you, Mister Alfred,” Damian and Billy said together, and Alfred couldn’t help but smile with pride at the polite boys.

Alfred looked from one young face to the other, his gaze filled with more than just recognition—it was acceptance. “So, these are my grandsons?” His voice was warm, showing how much this reunion meant to him. “Welcome home, Master Damian, Master William.”

Damian and Billy, usually reserved, let tiny smiles sneak onto their faces. They could feel the tension in Jason easing up with Alfred’s presence.

Jason grinned at the whole scene. “Yeah, Alfie, they’re a handful, but they’re family.”

“Hey!” Billy pouted.

Damian rolled his eyes. “We should be the ones saying that, Mister Trouble Magnet.”

Alfred, never one to dwell on sentimentality, shifted to curiosity. “Fawcett City, huh? Does that mean you’re Jason Alexander Head, the famous author Tim’s always raving about? And Damian and William are Jon’s friends from Fawcett City?”

Jason chuckled, impressed with Alfred’s quick deductions. “That’s right, Alfie. We’ve been keeping a low profile, but we’re still around.”

Alfred’s gaze sharpened with interest. “So how did no one spot you? You’ve crossed paths with various Justice League members and kept in touch with the Kent Family.”

Jason pulled out a ruby and gold necklace from his pocket. It shimmered with a hint of magic. “Magic,” he said simply, watching Alfred’s eyebrows shoot up in surprise.

The usually unflappable butler blinked in shock. “So, you’re also the Red Ghoul?” His tone was a mix of surprise and admiration.

Jason’s smirk turned sharp, embracing his new role. “The one and only.”

Dick jolted awake with a gasp, taking a moment to look around before slumping back on the sofa. It was a dream. Just a damn dream. People don’t come back to life. That’s not how it works. But before he could wallow in his disappointment, the door to the living room burst open, and Jason swaggered in, whistling like he owned the place.

Dick’s shock quickly flipped to a tidal wave of emotions. He bolted upright, staring at Jason as if trying to convince himself this was real. The dream's sadness lingered for a second, then was replaced by a joy so overwhelming it nearly made him cry. Jason, however, looked completely unfazed. With his usual smirk, he teased, “So, the sleeping beauty finally wakes up?”

Dick couldn’t even manage a response. He kept his eyes locked on Jason, searching for any hint of a trick or cruel illusion. Then, as if to prove his reality, Jason set down a tray of chili dogs and iced tea right in front of him. Stammering, Dick managed to croak out, “Little Wing? You’re alive?”

Jason, grinning like a cat that got the cream, threw his arms wide. “In the flesh! Just try not to faint on me again, Dickface.”

In a flash, Dick was in Jason’s arms, hugging him tightly. The years of longing and grief melted away, replaced by the overwhelming relief of having his little brother back. 

“I missed you so much, Little Wing!” Dick’s voice was a mix of joy and tears.

Jason’s smirk softened into a real smile as he hugged back. The years apart seemed to vanish in that warm embrace. “I missed you too, Dickie.”

The joy that surged through Dick was like a sunbeam cutting through dark clouds. His little brother, whom he had mourned and thought was lost forever, was right there with him. The relief and happiness filled him up, making everything else fade away for a while. It was like finding a piece of his heart he’d thought was gone forever.

As the initial euphoria faded, Dick was hit by a wave of confusion. Jason was supposed to be dead, buried six feet under. Dick had mourned him, accepted the loss, and tried to move on with life. Or at least, he had tried. Seeing his little brother back from the dead was like a punch to the gut, making him question everything he thought he knew.

Guilt kicked in next, wrapping around Dick like a heavy cloak. Jason had died, and Dick felt responsible. The guilt was like a ghost, haunting him with reminders of what he thought he could have done better. Seeing Jason alive stirred that old pain all over again. How could he have mourned his brother when, all this time, Jason had been out there somewhere?

But then, amid the chaos of feelings, relief took center stage. It was like a warm, soothing wave that washed away the confusion and guilt. The fact that Jason was back, against all odds, was a comfort that Dick clung to. The grief that had weighed him down was replaced by the incredible joy of having his Little Wing back. The hug between them felt like an anchor, holding him steady as he tried to process the whirlwind of emotions.

Once they settled on the sofa, the mood in the room shifted. They kicked back with iced teas and chili dogs, the simple comfort of familiar food grounding them in the here and now. The clinking of glasses and plates filled the space until Dick couldn't hold back his questions any longer.

"So, how?" Dick asked, his voice full of wonder and confusion. Jason knew exactly what he meant—how had he come back from the dead?

Jason sighed, ready to dive into the story. "Well, when I said Robin gave me magic, I didn't realize how literal that was."

Dick’s eyes widened. "Magic? You’ve got magic?" His voice was a mix of disbelief and amazement, which only made Jason laugh.

"Yeah, I know, right? I was just as shocked!" Jason’s laughter faded into a serious look. "I died, but somehow, my soul stuck around. My body was gone, but my soul was still hanging out. Turns out, I’m a natural necromancer. Untrained, mind you, which is why I woke up in my coffin, just kind of stuck there."

Dick’s face shifted from shock to horror. "Oh, Little Wing... I’m so sorry."

Jason shook his head, dismissing the guilt. "It’s not your fault. It’s nobody’s fault but the Joker’s." The mention of the Joker cast a shadow over both their faces, a shared darkness that tied them together.

As Jason kept talking, the room felt like it was holding its breath. He talked about stumbling around Gotham like a zombie until Talia found him. Then came Nanda Parbat, the Lazarus Pits, and an unexpected new family chapter.

“Wait,” Dick’s eyes went wide. “You’re the Red Ghoul?!” The pieces fell into place. Jason nodded, looking steady. “And you didn’t come back because you hate us.”

Jason sighed, shaking his head. “No, Goldie, I don’t hate you. Remember, Talia has two other sons. I have two younger brothers who count on me. When I woke up, I was furious—blame it on the Pits. I put revenge first and ended up hurting Damian. But when Talia put me in charge of him, I had to prioritize him. And when Billy came along, that feeling only grew. How could I come back after finding out he’d lost another Robin? Lucky Blondie made it, but that case still stands. How could I return when Batman keeps putting kids like them in danger?”

Jason’s words hung heavy, a stark reminder of their tough reality.

“When we were kids, you used to call me ‘Golden Boy.’ Bruce always compared us, and even if he didn’t mean to, it stung. It felt like I was this benchmark you had to measure up to. Over time, it became a running joke between us, but that feeling of not quite measuring up never fully went away.

“It hurt, too, because, let’s be real, gold is soft. People can test its purity by making a mark on it. I was the Golden Boy, but I’d buckle under pressure sometimes.

“But you, Jay? You were like steel—strong and unbreakable. You weren’t something just stumbled upon; you were forged into something tougher than I ever was. I saw that and stepped aside to let you shine.

“Bruce’s intensity was like a never-ending fire. I hit my breaking point with it. I needed to change, become someone else. I’ve always been adaptable and polished—good for rallying people, but maybe not the right fit for fixing a broken world.

“Then there’s you, always standing strong with convictions sharp enough to cut through anything. Your spirit? Unbeatable. Even when that monster, the Clown, took you from us, he couldn’t break you.”

Dick reached out, finding Jason’s shoulder and gripping it with a mix of relief and emotion. “You’re not broken, Jay. You never were.” He smiled genuinely. “Now, how about introducing me to Dami and Billy? I’m looking forward to getting to know my new little brothers!”

As Dick and Jason had their deep chat, the Wayne Manor kitchen was buzzing with activity. Damian and Billy were whipping up a storm, moving around the kitchen with surprising skill. Alfred, initially taken aback by their cooking abilities, was now thoroughly impressed. After all, Bruce had never shown much interest in cooking, and Alfred had half-expected Damian to follow suit. But here were the boys, clinking utensils and filling the room with delicious smells. Their baking skills were top-notch, even better than Alfred’s.

A smile spread across Alfred’s face as he realized Damian and Billy weren’t just good at cooking by chance—they were continuing a family tradition. Jason had always loved cooking, and Alfred had fond memories of him baking up treats that brought joy to everyone. Watching Damian and Billy carry on that tradition was a bittersweet reminder of the past.

As the kitchen filled with the aroma of Banoffee pie, Damian turned to Alfred with a mix of curiosity and apprehension, but with a bit of encouragement from Billy, he found the courage to ask, “Can you tell me more about the Wayne family? I know a lot about the Al Ghul side, but not much about my dad’s side. Umi and akhi didn’t talk about it much… it seemed to make them sad.”

Alfred felt a pang at Damian’s request. The boy’s eyes, echoing Bruce and Talia, were full of longing. Alfred saw the unspoken need for connection and belonging. He thought about Gotham, a city that had shaped so many heroes and villains, and remembered Dick’s journey from Robin to Nightwing. Gotham had a way of making or breaking its residents.

With a thoughtful nod, Alfred began, “Some of the oldest Waynes date back to the 18th Century—like General ‘Mad’ Anthony Wayne from the Revolutionary War, Herkimer Wayne who fought in the War of 1812, and Winslow Wayne who was alongside Teddy Roosevelt. There was also Silas Wayne, a Philadelphia silversmith who got caught up in a mess of accusations. Benjamin Franklin cleared his name, but the document was lost when Silas died young. Bruce eventually found it and got it into a museum.”

Damian’s face darkened with anger. “How could anyone try to push my family out of our city?!”

Billy gave him a playful nudge to lighten the mood. “At least your dad cleared Silas’s name.”

Alfred chuckled at their reactions, reminded of how much they were like Jason and Dick when they were younger. “Dr. Thomas Wayne was Bruce’s dad and a great doctor. He was murdered by Joe Chill, which led to Martha dying of a heart attack. Bruce was left an orphan. Thomas focused on healing people, and Martha managed Wayne Enterprises and did philanthropy. Bruce honored them by opening the Thomas Wayne Memorial Hospital and the Martha Wayne Foundation.”

The conversation paused as the pie was ready, and the kitchen buzzed with the sounds of setting the table. Cass and Steph were out at the Clocktower, Tim was with the Teen Titans, so it was a cozy dinner for just Damian, Billy, Jason, and Dick. Alfred was glad the rest of the family didn’t yet know about the new additions.

When Dick and Jason joined the table, the joy in Dick’s eyes warmed Alfred’s heart. The room, once quiet, was now filled with laughter and life. As they dug into the Banoffee pie, every bite was met with delight, and the room echoed with new laughter and stories, breaking the long-held silence after Bruce’s death.

After making sure Damian and Billy were settled into their new rooms, Alfred, Dick, and Jason headed into the Wayne Manor library. Alfred was clutching his classic martini, Dick was casually holding a beer, and Jason sipped on his Arak. The chandelier's soft glow warmed the room, setting the mood for what promised to be a serious talk.

Alfred adjusted his glasses and broke the silence. "Looks like Damian and Billy are settling in just fine."

Dick, still buzzing from the dinner, grinned. "Yeah, they’re blending right in. Feels like they’ve always been part of the family."

Jason swirled his drink thoughtfully and finally spoke up, his tone serious. "I know it’s been a while since we’ve had a family talk, but there’s some stuff we need to get into."

Alfred, sensing the shift in mood, set his martini down. "Alright, Jason. We're all ears."

Jason took a deep breath, his eyes moving from the ornate fireplace to Alfred and Dick. "The League of Shadows has grown bigger than you might think. They’ve wiped out the Court of Spiders and taken down Deathstroke."

Dick's eyebrows shot up, a mix of surprise and worry in his eyes. "That’s huge, Jay. What does that mean for us?"

Jason’s expression turned serious. "It means there’s a power vacuum, and it’s causing chaos. With me tied up dealing with curses, demons, and the All-Caste’s drama, another conflict is brewing beneath the surface. We’re looking at a war with the Light."

Alfred’s brow furrowed. "The Light? You mean the secretive organization that’s been manipulating things for centuries?"

Jason nodded. "Exactly. Essence, the head of the All-Caste, summoned me for the final showdown. I took down a weakened Savage."

Dick leaned forward, concern etched on his face. "Is that why it took you so long to come back after Bruce’s death?"

Jason’s eyes darkened with unspoken turmoil. "Partly. I needed to make sure the threat was dealt with. But now, I’m back."

As Jason’s revelation settled over the room, a heavy silence took hold. Dick, leaning back in his chair and running a hand through his hair, took a moment to absorb it all. Even though Jason had confessed to killing Savage, what Dick felt most was a wave of relief. Relief that The Light’s threat was gone and Savage’s dark influence wouldn’t be hanging over them anymore.

Dick had never been as troubled by the idea of killing as Bruce had. The whole moral debate about lethal force hadn’t stirred him up the way it did the Dark Knight. Some of his Titans buddies didn’t hesitate to cross that line, and Dick, ever the pragmatist, was totally fine with it. As long as he didn’t have to deal with the ethical mess that Bruce grappled with, he navigated the issue with ease.

It amused Dick to think about the irony of it all. Batman’s strict no-kill rule often got undercut by the very alliances Bruce forged with heroes who didn’t have a problem ending lives. Diana, for example, would often deal a fatal blow to her enemies. Dick found it funny, considering Bruce’s unwavering stance against killing. But he’d long since accepted that his second dad had a bit of hypocrisy in him.

Alfred, sipping his martini, was unfazed by the whole thing. Having served in the British army, he had a more practical take on the necessity of lethal force. He knew from experience that the world wasn’t just black and white but full of gray areas. Alfred had made peace with the grim realities of such situations a long time ago.

What went unsaid between the three was the mystery of the Joker’s death. The infamous villain, who had caused so much pain for the Wayne family, had been gone for years. Neither Dick nor Alfred brought up the details with Jason, though they knew he had them. The Joker’s demise was a chapter they were happy to leave closed. They were more focused on the fact that he could no longer disrupt their lives.

Feeling the heavy silence, Jason decided to lighten the mood. He turned to Dick with a determined look. “Hey, don’t sweat it, Dickface. I’ve got a plan to cover up Batman’s absence and keep you as Nightwing.”

Despite his issues with Bruce, Jason wasn’t about to let Batman’s shadow crush his Big Bird. And he knew Gotham needed the Bat’s presence to avoid chaos.

Dick’s eyes shifted from deep thought to curiosity. “Really? What’s the plan, Little Wing?”

Jason leaned in, resting his elbows on the table. “Magic, Big Bird. I’ve got a few tricks up my sleeve. I’ll cast an illusion spell so the non-magical folks don’t get too nosy. They’ll think Batman’s still out there doing his thing, and Gotham will be none the wiser.”

Dick raised an eyebrow, a mix of doubt and intrigue. “Magic, huh? I’ve always had a hard time wrapping my head around that.”

Jason chuckled. “Yeah, it’s a whole different world, but trust me, it’s useful. We’ll make sure Gotham still feels Batman’s presence, even if it’s just a trick of the light.”

Alfred, giving a nod of approval, added, “A clever solution, Master Jason. Your magical skills are quite handy.”

Jason beamed at the praise from Alfred. “Thanks, Alfie. I’ve picked up a few things over the years.”

Dick’s skepticism softened into a grin as he raised his beer in a mock salute. “Well, if anyone can pull off magic for the Bat, it’s you, Little Wing.” He chuckled, remembering the famous line from the second Robin, “Robin gives me magic.” “Let’s keep the legend alive.”

Jason returned the salute with a confident grin. “You bet, Big Bird. Gotham’s not ready to lose its Dark Knight just yet.”

Alfred looked at the two of them with pride, seeing how they blended their strengths so well.

As Jason and Alfred continued chatting about magic, Dick found himself lost in thought. He took a sip of his beer, letting the coolness provide a brief distraction. His eyes wandered over the library’s shelves, filled with countless books. In the quiet, Dick’s mind spun with thoughts about his years under Batman’s shadow and how that enigmatic figure had shaped him.

Dick leaned back in his chair, tracing the condensation on his beer glass. The library, bathed in the soft glow of the chandelier, felt like a cocoon of memories. Leading the Bat-family had always been a heavy load, especially since Bruce's death. The thought of stepping into Batman's shoes had felt overwhelming, but with Jason’s magical solution, a wave of relief washed over him.

Suddenly, Dick saw a different path ahead. One where he could protect Gotham, uphold justice, and lead the Bat-family, all without the shadow of Batman hanging over him. A smile tugged at his lips as he thought about the freedom this gave him. He marveled at Jason’s cleverness and appreciated how his younger brother's magic offered a way for Dick to honor the Bat's legacy in his own way. Nightwing could continue to stand for independence and strength.

“This is it,” Dick thought. “I’ll stay in Gotham. The city needs someone to lead the Bat-family, and I’ll do it on my terms, as Nightwing.” Gratitude swelled in him as he glanced at Jason, who was deep in animated conversation with Alfred. The burden of Batman’s absence was lifting, replaced by a newfound sense of purpose. “Thanks, Little Wing,” Dick thought, his eyes lingering on Jason. “You’ve given me a way to keep going without the Bat’s shadow. Gotham will still have its protector, just in a different way.”

“What are you going to do now, Master Jason?” Alfred’s question broke Dick’s reverie. “Are you staying?”

Jason’s smile was tinged with sadness as he shrugged. “You know I can’t, Alfie.”

“W-why not?!” Dick’s eyes widened in shock. “I just got you back!”

“I’m not disappearing, Dickface,” Jason said, nudging him comfortingly. “But I’ve kept Damian and Billy out of the hero business for years. They need to focus on school and being kids. Damian’s starting his second year at the Nanda Parbat Academy for Magic, and Billy’s entering his fourth. I need to be there for Billy especially, since he’s got big exams coming up.”

“Nanda Parbat Academy for Magic?” Dick echoed, trying to process it.

Jason laughed, surprised. “Yeah, I haven’t mentioned it, but I figured Big Bat would know the League of Shadows moved their headquarters.”

“Master Bruce was looking into that before Darkseid,” Alfred said, making both boys pause.

“Right,” Jason said, finishing his Arak and heading for another glass. “After T won the war against Ra’s, she decided the League needed a fresh start. So, she moved their headquarters to Infinity Island, which is Al Ghul property. She handed over Nanda Parbat to her kids, and we opened a magic school. There weren’t many options for magical education in Asia.”

“You’ve always been a nerd, Little Wing,” Dick said with a warm smile. “I’ve never met a kid who loved studying as much as you.”

“I’m so proud, Master Jason,” Alfred said with pride in his voice, beaming at his grandson.

Jason blushed under the praise. “Oh, stop it!” He threw himself into an armchair, trying to escape Dick’s enthusiastic hugs. “I wish I could stay longer, but I need to head back to Fawcett City. I’ve got tons of work at Fawcett University and I’m only halfway through my next novel. My editor is on my case to finish it before the semester ends. It’s not easy being a novelist, professor, scriptwriter, and guardian for two boys all at once. And that woman is terrifying!”

“Wait, you’re a novelist and a professor?” Dick exclaimed, beaming. “Have I read anything of yours?”

“Yep, my civilian name is Jason Alexander Head,” Jason said casually.

“You mean the award-winning author who has Baby Bird raving? I’m so proud!” Dick squealed, hugging Jason tightly, who tried but failed to push him off. Then Dick suddenly pulled away, his face going pale. “Jason Alexander Head… as in the professor ROY HARPER HAS BEEN CRUSHING ON?!”

In the Batcave, the steady hum of the Batcomputer filled the room as Black Bat and Spoiler stared at the screen, their faces a mix of confusion and intrigue. The monitor displayed something they hadn’t expected—DNA results confirming that Jason Peter Todd, the second Robin, was also the enigmatic Red Ghoul.

Cassandra's sharp eyes moved quickly over the data. She’d always been connected to the Bat-family, but Jason’s return had been a mystery she couldn't crack. She’d trained near the memorial dedicated to the fallen Robin, and now, everything was falling into place. Jason’s comeback explained the damage that had left its mark on the Batcave—the same damage that had once shattered the memorial. Spoiler, ever curious, felt a rush of mixed emotions. Jason was like a legend within the Bat-family, a Robin who had faced tragedy and now seemed to have returned from the dead.

Despite the importance of this discovery, Black Bat and Spoiler took it in stride. For them, Jason’s return was a big deal but didn’t hit home as much. They hadn’t really known him, and his story had been more of a historical note than a personal connection.

Cassandra, who could read body language and unspoken feelings like no one else, felt a sense of closure with Jason's true identity revealed. She’d sensed there was more to the Red Ghoul than met the eye, and now, seeing the truth on the Batcomputer, she felt a wave of relief. Spoiler, caught between being a curious observer and acknowledging the bigger Bat-family drama, was eager to see what kind of chaos the Red Ghoul would stir up next.

Across the room, Oracle and Robin watched the Batcomputer’s display with wide eyes. The revelation left them both stunned. Oracle, once Batgirl and Jason's mentor, felt her heart race with a whirlwind of emotions—joy, shock, and a deep sense of reunion. She’d been there for Jason’s early days as Robin, patrolling the dark streets of Gotham with him. To her, Jason had always been like a little brother.

As the reality of Jason’s return sank in, Oracle’s eyes welled up with tears. Her job at the Gotham Public Library, a quiet nod to Jason’s love for books, suddenly felt far more meaningful. Memories of their shared times—their tutoring sessions, laughter, and struggles—flooded back. This wasn’t just the return of a vigilante; it was the return of her little brother, a piece of her past that she had grieved for so long.

The Batcomputer’s soft glow made Oracle’s face look almost ethereal as she whispered, “He’s back, Tim. Jason’s back.”

Tim Drake’s mind went into overdrive as he absorbed Oracle’s news. The Batcave, usually a place of brooding silence, now buzzed with a charged energy that felt almost palpable.

Next to Oracle, Robin—Tim Drake himself—struggled to wrap his head around the revelation. He’d known Jason as Robin before stepping into the role himself after Jason’s death. Jason’s passing had shaken the Bat-family and changed things in ways they’d never fully understood.

Tim’s confusion was clear on his face as he tried to make sense of the unexpected news. Jason, the second Robin, had been Tim’s hero. He’d looked up to him and relished the rare moments when Jason would give him a nod during their civilian appearances. Jason’s trademark smirk and wit had fueled Tim’s ambition to live up to his predecessor’s legacy.

But finding out that Jason was alive and living a double life as Jason Alexander Head, Tim’s favorite author, didn’t bring the thrill he’d expected. Instead, a cloud of uncertainty and old tensions hung heavy. Tim’s hero worship was now clashing with the memories of the Red Ghoul, the harsh vigilante who had been critical and demeaning during their encounters. As Oracle quietly cried, reflecting her deep personal connection to Jason, Tim wrestled with his own mixed feelings. The admiration he once had for Jason as Robin now faced the reality of the Red Ghoul’s harsh judgments.

Tim kept his eyes locked on the Batcomputer screen, where Jason Peter Todd’s DNA results were glaringly displayed. The Batcave’s solemn silence only seemed to deepen the emotional divide for Tim, caught between his hero worship and the scars from past criticisms.

Things got even more tense when Jason, Dick, and Alfred walked in. Jason was in his Red Ghoul gear but without his mask, and he seemed a mix of eager and nervous. When he saw Barbara in her wheelchair, his steps hesitated for a second before he moved in for a heartfelt hug. Barbara’s eyes filled with tears as she embraced Jason, their reunion a warm contrast to the cool cave.

Spoiler and Black Bat followed, their greetings warm and full of genuine affection. Their interactions with Jason showed the complicated yet strong bonds within the Bat-family. But when Jason’s gaze landed on Tim, the atmosphere changed. Tim’s stance was tense, his face a mask of anger and mistrust. The air crackled with unease as the two locked eyes, the weight of their past encounters looming over the moment.

Dick, sensing the growing tension, jumped in, his voice a mix of confusion and concern. “What’s going on? This is Jason, your Robin, and the author you’re always raving about. Why the hostility?”

Tim’s scoff was filled with bitterness as he shot a harsh look at Jason. “He’s the Red Ghoul—the same guy who ambushed me and my friends and had the nerve to call us child soldiers. Plus, he went after Batman too!”

Jason raised an eyebrow, defensively. “I only acted in self-defense. I was attacked first both times. I didn’t start those fights.”

The Batcave was thick with silence, the tension hanging heavy. What was supposed to be a happy reunion was now clouded by old conflicts and unresolved issues.

“You want me to stop being a vigilante while you keep putting yourself in danger. How is that not hypocritical?” Tim’s voice rang out, full of pain and anger.

Jason, staying calm, tried to cut through the tension. “Let me ask you something, Tim. Should a kid have to work, earn money, and run a household?”

Tim, still fuming, snapped back, “No, but sometimes they do.”

Jason took that chance to make his point. “Exactly. It’s not healthy for kids to take on those responsibilities. They should get to be kids. Sure, they can do stuff, but they shouldn’t have to. Adults are supposed to handle that. We both grew up way too fast, and it’s tough. But now that I know better, I want to help you. You’re a skilled fighter who wants to stop harm. That’s great. But there are things you still need to learn—like cooking and laundry. Let the grown-ups handle the big stuff now.”

Tim’s frustration peaked as he shouted, “I hate this, and I hate you!”

Jason’s reply was cold. “Good. Let that anger out.”

“Fuck you!” Tim yelled, his words dripping with anger and confusion.

The Batcave fell into a heavy silence, the harsh words hanging in the air like a grim echo.

Chapter Text

“Well, that could have gone better,” Dick sighed, as Jason snorted humorlessly. Dick turned to him with an admonishing glare. “You could have deescalated the situation!”

“What did I do now? I did not raise my voice or was nasty, you can’t blame me for him acting so childishly,” Jason turned to him affronted. “That is on him, not me. He needs to grow the fuck up. You know I was right with what I said!”

Dick groaned, hitting his head on the table before him. He rolled his head around, before lifting it up and smiling sadly at the scene before him. Cass and Damian had bonded over their love for art and their assassin upbringing, they were now waltzing around the backyard garden. Cass being the Prima Donna of the Gotham Ballet Company gave her quite an edge, but Damian was not giving up. Dick found his pout quite adorable, as the young boy frowned in concentration. On the other side of the garden, Steph and Billy were discussing how to infuse Billy’s magic into Steph’s glitter pranks to take her chaos to yet another level.

“I know,” Dick sighed, this time softer. “Do you think if Bruce had chosen a healthy path of healing from his trauma, that we could have turned out like that. Mature and ready to take the world, yet still maintaining a childish innocence I had thought impossible since I saw my parents die.” Dick’s eyes lingered on Damian for a second longer. “He saw and was forced to do more horrible things than I have, yet he still has this love for life. I can see it in his sketches, how even the darkest corners of Gotham come alive on his pages and are filled with a beauty I had been unable to see until he made me see.”

“Dami does have this gift of seeing potential and beauty where others see none,” Jason smiled fondly. “As for Billy, he has this optimism that drives me crazy at times, but at the same time brightens up my darkest nights.”

Dick turned to his little brother with a proud smile on his lips. “You’ve done a great job with them, Little Wing.”

Jason beamed at the praise, always happy to hear about how good of a guardian he is. “Where is he now?”

“In San Francisco, with the Teen Titans,” Dick sighed. He has been sighing a lot lately. “He seems to be there more than not since… since Bruce.”

“He lost three parents in the period of a couple of years Dickie. Plus, years of neglect, that Tim is not willing to admit.” Jason reminded him, making Dick frown sadly. “He is angry and wants to punish the world for its injustices. I’m pretty sure you can remember how that was. I sure do!”

“It is because I remember how I used to feel that I worry!” Dick snapped, that anger that was always there underneath his thin skin, reaching its boiling point. “I worry because I know how easy it is to allow yourself to be consumed by it. I worry because of how similar Tim and Bruce are! And I do not mean in a good way.”

“In what way do you mean? I once thought the same, but I later heard from T’s spies that the third Robin is the most pragmatic and the best detective yet. He even got The Riddle’s respect after their first meeting, something that not even Bats achieved. He is also the first of us that is motivated by logic and not emotion. Do not get me started with Bruce, we both know that he is the kind of person to ask all the right questions and reach all the wrong answers because of how easily led by his emotions he is.” Jason frowned thoughtfully.  “So, can you explain to me in what way they are similar? Because I do not see it.”

“Talia has spies in Gotham?!” Dick hissed, scoffing when Jason raised an eyebrow mockingly. “Of course, she has. Why do I even bother?” He raised his orange juice glass and took a sip. “Tim's dedication to crime-fighting and his desire to live up to Batman's legacy can sometimes border on obsession. He can become consumed by his mission and neglect other aspects of his life, including personal relationships and his own well-being. This single-minded focus on justice leads to strained relationships and emotional turmoil. Can you tell me that is not a more Bruce thing to share with him?”

“You got me there,” Jason chuckled. “Batman’s obsessive behavior is one of the reasons I did not reveal myself to any of you. I knew that he would never let me go, that he would drag me, Damian, and Billy to Gotham, even considering that is not what we wanted and would hinder us.”

Dick smiled sadly at his brother, but silently agreed with him. God knows how many times Bruce had tried to drag him away from Bluhaven before his city was nuked. “Not to mention, that at times, Tim can be impulsive and act without fully considering the consequences of his actions. This impulsiveness stems from his determination to prove himself and make a difference. However, it also leads him to take unnecessary risks or make hasty decisions that have negative consequences.”

Jason blinked slowly and turned to Dick in horror. “Please tell me, that is all they share. Because otherwise I will really start to get worried. We do not want a Bruce 2.0 or a more pragmatic and colder version of Batman.”

Dick winced and looked away, as he continued his explanation. “Tim's intelligence and skills as a detective can make him feel a sense of arrogance or overconfidence. He believes that he knows best or that he can handle situations on his own, which leads to clashes with his teammates or a failure to seek help when needed.” The eldest Wayne kid sighed and tilted his head to look at the blue sky, not a single cloud was in the sky. It almost had him turning to ask Jason if he had spelled the weather or something, because Gotham was not known for their clear-blue skies. “But what worried me the most is his emotional detachment. Baby Bird has a more reserved and emotionally distant personality compared to the rest of us. While this can be a strength when it comes to maintaining focus and making rational decisions, it also make it challenging for him to connect with others on an emotional level. Especially, villains and victims.”

“Now that is something Bruce has in spades,” Jason chuckled when he noticed Dick’s surprised expression. “I have my issues with Bruce, Dickface. But merit is where merit is due. Empathy is not something that Bruce lacks, however, it is something that he never learned how to focus and made him react impulsively as he does. He just feels too much and tries to force those emotions on others. Damian used to be like that, which is what makes him such a great artist. Luckily, I got to him in time and helped him center himself and not allow himself to be swept away by the torrent of emotions.” Jason’s smile turned into a frown. “But now I see why you worry so much. Impulsiveness, arrogance, and obsession is an unholy trinity on its own, but if you add emotional detachment… we need to get him some help and soon.”

“I’ll see if I can get Dinah to talk to him,” Dick took another sip from his orange juice, thinking that he would like to be drinking something much stronger.

“Make it seem as if Dinah was having a session with all the Teen Titans, that the Justice League was worried about their youngest team. She could later seamlessly proceed into private sessions with him. That way, Tim won’t feel singled out and won’t overreact.” Jason suggested. “We do not want him to overreact, if he is anything like Bruce.”

Dick shuddered at the thought. “No, we do not. I’ll talk to her when she comes to visit.”

“She is coming to visit?” Jason turned to him confused. “When?”

“Did you really think that the Justice League and Titans would not come to visit when they found out about your revival?” Dick smirked evilly. “Diana and Clark, especially, have a lot to discuss with you.”

“Oh, shit,” Jason paled.

The Titans descended upon Wayne Manor, filled with excitement as Kory, Garth, Donna, Wally, and Roy hugged Jason, enjoying the unexpected reunion. The moment was heartwarming but also tense. Back when Dick and Jason first became brothers, Dick had been angry and felt betrayed by Bruce for passing on the Robin mantle without his approval. As a result, teenage Dick took out his frustration on Jason, and the Titans followed his lead. Although Dick and Jason had patched things up and grown close before Jason's death at the hands of the Joker, the Titans’ apologies came too late. Only Starfire and Arsenal had treated Jason warmly, and it showed in how much more enthusiastic his greeting was for them compared to the others.

After the initial excitement, the Titans turned to Dick, aware of how much this must have impacted him. Donna gave her best friend a comforting hug, while Kory gently placed a hand on Dick’s shoulder, her eyes filled with compassion. Wally, ever the cheerful speedster, tried to lighten the mood with a playful grin, hoping to lift Dick's spirits.

As the teasing started, Roy became the center of playful ribbing. The Titans had all heard Roy gush about his hot creative writing professor in their group chat, so they couldn't resist teasing him about his crush on Nightwing's "little brother."

Roy, never one to shy away from banter, shot back with a grin, "Come on, guys! Jason's not exactly 'little' anymore."

Dick, caught off guard and slightly horrified, protested, "Can we not talk about my Little Wing like that? Seriously, guys!"

Laughter filled the room as the Titans continued to tease Roy and Dick, their friendship shining through, leaving Dick both amused and exasperated.

Meanwhile, Jason, after leaving Lian to play with Damian and Billy in the backyard, was caught off guard by a sudden embrace from Diana. The Amazonian warrior had always had a special place in her heart for the fiery young hero. Unlike Superman, she never hesitated to show her favoritism. She loved Jason as much as her own sisters, maybe even equally.

Diana's hug was immediate and heartfelt, her eyes shimmering with tears of joy as she held Jason close. "Thank the Gods," she whispered, her voice thick with emotion. Her grip tightened, trying to convey years of missed moments and unspoken words in that single embrace.

Diana pulled back slightly, her hands resting firmly on Jason's shoulders as she looked into his eyes. "You have no idea how much we missed you, young warrior," she said, her voice quivering. "You've always had a fire in you, a passion that few possess. Bruce... Bruce could never truly understand it, always trying to temper it. But I saw it, Jason. I saw the potential, the greatness within you."

Jason swallowed hard, feeling the weight of Diana's words. The pain of the past, the struggles with Batman's methods, and the battles fought were all softened by the pride he saw in her eyes. Diana's expression turned serious, her gaze piercing as she continued, "I was furious, Jason. Furious that you were taken from us, that justice wasn't served. Furious that Batman had not allowed me to avenge you. But seeing you now, standing here, resilient and strong, I couldn't be prouder. You've become the warrior I always knew you could be."

Jason, overwhelmed by emotion, nodded, his voice barely a whisper. "Thank you, Auntie D. That means more than you'll ever know."

Jason stepped back, scratching his head with a sheepish grin as he turned to Clark. After a brief pause, he offered an apologetic smile. "Hey, Supes, about the whole identity thing... I'm sorry, okay? I just needed a fresh start, away from all the baggage. No hard feelings, right?" Jason’s words tumbled out, a mix of sincerity and self-consciousness. He respected Superman and didn’t want to mess up the trust they had built.

Clark chuckled warmly, his expression as understanding as ever. "Dealing with bats comes with its fair share of secrets, my friend. You’re not the first, and you won’t be the last."

Jason's grin widened, relieved by Clark's easy acceptance. "Thanks, Supes. I really appreciate it."

Superman’s gaze turned thoughtful, and he placed a reassuring hand on Jason’s shoulder. "You’ve done something remarkable, Jason. Seeing a part of my best friend live on in Damian warms my heart. But," he added with a twinkle in his eye, "you should know that Mom, Dad, and Lois will want a little chat with you." Jason’s eyes widened in mild horror, a reaction that even Superman found amusing. "Yeah, they’re almost as scary as Alfred. Almost," Clark teased, emphasizing the 'almost' with a knowing grin.

Jason groaned exaggeratedly. "Great, just what I needed—more intimidating parental figures."

As Jason and Superman talked, a group of young heroes approached, each carrying their own mix of emotions and questions. Conner, Cassie, Jaime, and Bart, members of the Teen Titans, had come to support Tim, who was still grappling with his feelings about Jason’s return.

Conner, with his stoic demeanor, and Cassie, radiating strength and determination, flanked Tim. Bart, unable to contain his excitement, blurted out, "Guys, can you believe I kept Jason, Damian, and Billy’s identities a secret until now?"

The four turned to Bart, their faces a mix of surprise and curiosity. Conner raised an eyebrow, Jaime looked impressed, Cassie’s eyes widened, and Tim, already wrestling with his emotions, looked puzzled. "Wait, what? How did you even know their identities?" Tim asked, a hint of frustration in his voice.

Bart grinned mischievously, enjoying the attention. "Well, in the future, the three of them become this legendary trio that drives The Reach’s forces back. They’re like the big heroes on campus. So, I knew about them way before we teamed up."

The revelation hit the Teen Titans like a lightning bolt. Conner’s expression softened into an incredulous smile. Cassie’s shock turned into a mix of amazement and annoyance. Jaime placed a tender kiss on Bart’s forehead. Tim’s eyes widened with realization, followed by a furrowed brow.

"You knew them from the future, and you didn’t think it was worth mentioning?" Tim asked, his tone a mix of disbelief and frustration.

Bart scratched his head, realizing he might have messed up. "Well, time-travel stuff is tricky. I didn’t want to mess with the timeline or anything. But hey, they’re here now, and it’s awesome, right?"

Conner chuckled, finding the whole situation amusing, while Jaime hugged the young speedster. Cassie, despite her initial irritation, couldn’t help but smile at the absurdity of Bart’s revelation. Tim, however, remained thoughtful, processing the idea that Bart had known significant details about Jason, Damian, and Billy all along.

The game room at Wayne Manor buzzed with laughter and chatter. Bright lights reflected off the arcade games and board games lining the walls. Jon, bursting with energy, bounded into the room, his eyes lighting up as they found Damian.

Grinning from ear to ear, Jon made a beeline for Damian, who was deep into his sketching. Without a word, Jon threw his arms around Damian in a tight hug. Even with his super strength, he was always careful, making sure not to squeeze too hard. Damian, surprised at first, quickly melted into the embrace, a rare smile spreading across his face as he hugged Jon back.

Lian and Billy, watching from across the room, shared an amused glance. Lian's eyes sparkled with mischief while Billy's lips curled into a playful smirk. They'd been in the middle of a heated air hockey game, but the heartwarming scene had stolen their attention.

"Those two are in their own world again," Lian teased, her tone affectionate.

Billy chuckled, adjusting his grip on the air hockey striker. "Yeah, when Jon and Damian are together, it's like nobody else exists."

When Jon and Damian finally pulled apart, their smiles spoke volumes about their close bond. Jon, practically vibrating with excitement, turned to his friends. "Guys, can you believe it? All four of us, we're all in on the superhero stuff! This is epic!"

Lian grinned, her eyes twinkling. "Oh, trust me, I've known about my family's superhero antics forever. But having you all in the loop? Makes it even better."

Billy, sensing the perfect moment, decided to show off his magical powers. With a dramatic wave of his hand, he conjured a shimmering ball of water, its surface reflecting the room's lights. Then, with another gesture, a ball of fire appeared, casting a warm glow. Next came a swirling ball of air, ruffling their hair, followed by a solid ball of earth, its texture palpable even from a distance.

Jon's jaw dropped, eyes wide with wonder as Billy juggled all four elemental balls. "Dude, that is seriously cool!"

Lian clapped, eyes sparkling with admiration. "Billy, that's amazing!"

Damian rolled his eyes with an exaggerated sigh, a smirk playing on his lips. "Show-off," he muttered, but the affection in his voice was clear.

Billy chuckled, dispelling the elemental balls with a flick of his wrist. "Gotta keep the magic skills sharp, right?"

Jon, still in awe, nudged Damian with a grin. "Your brother's got some serious talent, you know."

Damian huffed, trying to look indifferent. "Yeah, yeah, let's not make a big deal out of it." But the fondness in his voice was unmistakable.

With a mischievous glint in his eyes, Jon nudged Damian again. "Come on, Dami, show us what you've got! Please!"

Damian tried to stay indifferent, but Jon's infectious enthusiasm was hard to resist. Rolling his eyes with a dramatic sigh, he finally gave in. "Alright, alright, just this once."

From seemingly nowhere, Damian produced a wand that was a marvel to behold. Its emerald-green hue shimmered under the light, appearing as though crafted from the very scales of a dragon. Holding it aloft with practiced ease, he gracefully swished and flicked the wand, muttering the incantation with precision. "Expecto Patronum!"

The room was bathed in a soft, ethereal glow as a magnificent silver fox materialized, its form radiant and lifelike. The fox's movements were fluid and graceful, with a playful skip, it pranced around the room, its eyes gleaming with mischief. To no one’s surprise, the fox made its way straight to Jon, nudging him affectionately. Jon, his face lit up in pure delight, wrapped his arms around the spectral creature, his laughter echoing joyously. The bond between the half-Kryptonian boy and the magical fox was evident, their connection immediate and heartwarming.

As the silver fox continued to playfully interact with Jon and Damian, Lian and Billy couldn't help but chuckle at the scene unfolding before them. Lian winked at Billy, her eyes twinkling with amusement. "Looks like those two aren't bothering to hide their feelings anymore."

Billy grinned, nodding in agreement. "Who can blame them? That's some powerful magic right there."

When the silver fox disappeared, leaving a pouting and disappointed Jon behind, Lian's eyes sparkled with curiosity as she flipped through Damian's sketchbook, admiring the intricate designs within. "This is amazing, Dami. Is this the cover for Jason's new book?"

Damian nodded, a hint of pride in his expression. "Indeed. It's for Ethereal Echoes of Bly Manor."

The mention of Jason's new book piqued Jon's interest. "What's it about? Can I finally read one of his books?"

Billy chimed in with a mischievous grin. "It's another ghost story, Jon. So, most likely your parents won’t let you read it yet."

Jon's eyes widened with excitement. "A ghost story? Awesome!"

Damian, always the eloquent one, explained further. "It's not just any ghost story. Jason drew inspiration from Gothic Fiction, but it's more than that. His ghosts aren't the traditional, frightening figures bound in chains. They appear like their living selves, adding a unique twist to the tale."

Billy added, "It's part of Jason's Ethereal Echoes Series. Ethereal Echoes of Bly Manor is the second installment, following Ethereal Echoes of Hill House."

As Damian spoke, he couldn't help but notice the genuine interest in Jon's eyes, a fascination mirrored in Lian's gaze. It was heartening to see them appreciate Jason's work, understanding the depth and creativity he poured into his novels. The atmosphere in the room shifted, taking on a cozy warmth as they discussed the upcoming book.

Ethereal Echoes of Bly Manor: A Haunting Masterpiece by Jason Alexander Head

As the literary world eagerly anticipates the release of Jason Alexander Head's upcoming novel, Ethereal Echoes of Bly Manor, readers are in for a spine-chilling treat that promises to captivate and haunt their imaginations. The gifted wordsmith, renowned for his ability to blend supernatural elements with psychological depth, delivers a narrative that weaves a web of mystery and suspense around the haunted corridors of Bly Manor.

The story unfolds on a chilly Christmas Eve, with an unnamed narrator and a group of friends huddled around a crackling fire. The atmosphere thick with anticipation, one of them, Douglas, begins to read a manuscript penned by his late sister's governess. Thus begins a journey into the eerie and enigmatic world of Bly Manor, where the supernatural lurks in the shadows, waiting to reveal its secrets.

The narrative takes a non-linear approach, skillfully guiding the reader through the events that transpire within the sprawling countryside estate. Nestled in Essex, Bly Manor becomes the backdrop for a tale of familial responsibility, untold mysteries, and spectral encounters. At its heart is a man burdened with the care of his niece and nephew, left orphaned after the tragic demise of their parents.

The unsuspecting protagonist, a young American hired as an au pair, becomes the focal point of the unfolding drama. Unaware of the haunting presence that lingers within the manor's walls, she navigates the challenges of her new role, unaware that the past shadows cast by Bly Manor are eager to be revealed.

Jason Alexander Head, known for his masterful storytelling and ability to blend genres seamlessly, invites readers into a world where the line between the living and the dead blurs. The suspenseful narrative promises unexpected twists and turns, keeping readers on the edge of their seats as they delve deeper into the mysteries of Bly Manor. With a keen understanding of psychological nuances and a penchant for crafting atmospheric settings, Head's prose breathes life into the haunted corridors of Bly Manor. Each page resonates with a sense of foreboding, creating an immersive experience that lingers long after the last word has been read.

With Ethereal Echoes of Bly Manor out in bookshops, readers can prepare themselves for a literary journey that transcends the ordinary. Jason Alexander Head once again proves his prowess in the realm of supernatural fiction, offering a tale that is sure to leave an indelible mark on the minds of those brave enough to enter the haunted world of Bly Manor. Brace yourselves for a haunting masterpiece that will redefine the boundaries of ghostly storytelling.

• Iris West

Dick's smile was warm and real, his eyes shining with pride as he put down the article, feeling a rush of emotion. The familiar smell of fresh coffee filled the air as Alfred poured him a steaming cup. The rich aroma blended with the scent of breakfast. Across the table, Cass, Barbara, and Steph exchanged happy glances, their faces lit by the soft morning light streaming through the windows of Wayne Manor.

Cass smiled gently, clearly proud of Jason's success. She knew how hard it was to find the right words, and she admired Jason's talent for creating stories that resonated with readers.

Barbara felt a deep sense of validation. Seeing him get recognition for his work brought a sense of fulfillment, showing his resilience and talent. Steph, with her usual enthusiasm, clapped her hands happily. After Jason rejoined the family, she binge-read all his books and had become his biggest cheerleader. Seeing his success made her incredibly happy, her infectious energy lifting everyone's spirits.

As they sat there, basking in shared pride and the comforting familiarity of their surroundings, they all wished Jason, Damian, and Billy could be there too. They understood and respected the responsibilities that kept them in Fawcett City, but the bond they shared remained strong despite the distance.

Dick leaned back in his chair, took a sip of his coffee, and shared a knowing smile with Alfred. "Alfred, can we talk about how amazing that book release event was? Esperanza really outdid herself."

Alfred's eyes twinkled with mischief. "Ah, yes," he began, adjusting his bowtie. "I must admit, I was initially skeptical, but Miss Esperanza has proven herself quite adept at orchestrating such affairs."

Dick smirked. "And coming from you, Alfred, that's high praise indeed. You've always been the hardest critic to please."

Alfred chuckled softly, a warm sound that filled the room. "Well, Master Richard, I've always believed in holding oneself to the highest standards. But in this instance, I can find no fault. The event was a splendid reflection of Jason's talent."

There was a pause as both men thought about Jason's journey. Dick remembered "A Death in the Family," the novel that had put Jason on the map. It had made a big impact on readers, and within the Batfamily, the reaction was even stronger once they found out who wrote it. For Dick and Alfred, it wasn't just pride in a family member; it was seeing an artist find his voice and share it with the world.

"You know," Dick said, breaking the silence, "while 'A Death in the Family' may be Jason's most well-known work, every one of his novels is a masterpiece in its own right. His contributions to the horror genre have been nothing short of extraordinary."

Alfred nodded. "Indeed, Master Richard. Each book showcases Jason's ability to delve into the darker aspects of the human psyche, to weave tales that are both chilling and thought-provoking."

Dick returned to his WaynePad and couldn't help but feel a swell of pride as he scrolled through the glowing reviews and the list of awards the Netflix miniseries "Ethereal Echoes of Hill House" had garnered. He read out the headlines to his family, who were having breakfast.

"Alfred, listen to this!" Dick exclaimed, his voice tinged with excitement. "The miniseries based on Jason's book has won a Saturn Award for Best Streaming Horror and Thriller Series! And look here," he continued, swiping his WaynePad to show Alfred, "it's also bagged the award for Best Actor in a Streaming Presentation."

Alfred couldn't help but beam with pride. "Ah, Master Jason's talent continues to shine, even posthumously."

Dick nodded, his eyes scanning further. "And get this, Babs! The series has been nominated in multiple categories—Best Supporting Actor, Best Actress, and Best Supporting Actress in a Streaming Presentation. The Writers Guild of America also honored it with an award for Best Written New Series."

Barbara, helping herself to another pancake, chimed in, "That's incredible! It's wonderful to see his work getting the recognition it deserves."

Cass and Steph, having overheard the conversation, joined in, their faces lighting up with pride. "Jason must be over the moon," Steph remarked, her voice soft with emotion.

Cass nodded, her eyes glistening with happiness. "His stories, they live on. Always."

Dick raised his glass in a toast. "To Jason, his stories, and the echoes they leave behind."

After breakfast, the atmosphere shifted to a more serious tone. Barbara headed to the Gotham Public Library, Steph to her morning classes at Gotham University, and Cass to her rehearsal at the Gotham Theater. The departure of the trio left Dick and Alfred in a contemplative mood, ready to tackle weightier matters.

Alfred looked at Dick thoughtfully. "Master Richard, we must discuss the future of Wayne Enterprises. With the public’s belief that Master Bruce is lost at sea and presumed dead, the responsibility falls upon your shoulders as the eldest."

Dick leaned forward, his brow furrowed in earnest consideration. "I've been giving it some thought, Alfred. Lucius Fox has been a reliable figure at Wayne Enterprises. I was thinking of leaving him as CEO. What are your thoughts on that?"

The seasoned butler nodded approvingly. "A wise choice, Master Richard. Lucius has proven himself time and again. However, this decision will leave a void in the position of Chief Operating Officer. Have you considered who might fill that role?"

Dick sighed, realizing the magnitude of the decisions he had to make. "I had considered taking on the responsibility myself, but with the added role of leading the Batfamily, it's just too much. So, I've been thinking of offering the COO position to Babs."

Alfred's gaze softened. "Miss Gordon is an astute choice. Her education, as a graduate of Harvard Law School, and her familial ties to the GCPD commissioner make her a suitable candidate. I believe the shareholders and the public will find her appointment justifiable."

Dick nodded, grateful for Alfred's support. "I'm glad you think so, Alfred. It's essential to maintain stability and public confidence during these challenging times."

The conversation shifted to another aspect of Dick's evolving responsibilities. "And what about your civilian endeavors, Master Richard? With the fall of Bludhaven and its police force, you have not joined the GCPD; what will be your next project?"

Dick's eyes sparkled with determination. "I've decided to take over the Martha Wayne Foundation. Jason had left behind some plans for revitalizing Crime Alley and the Narrows when he was just fifteen. I found them tucked away in his old room. They're solid ideas, and I want to see them through."

Alfred's eyes held a mixture of pride and affection. "Master Jason would be pleased to know that his vision lives on through you. It's a noble undertaking, Master Richard, and a chance to make a lasting impact on those neglected neighborhoods."

Dick smiled, a blend of nostalgia and newfound resolve. "It's time to step up, Alfred, not just as Nightwing but as Richie Grayson too. Gotham needs us now more than ever."

The grand hall buzzed with excitement as Jason Alexander Head stood at the podium, his heart racing with nerves and thrill. Winning the Bram Stoker Award for "The Bent-Neck Lady" in Ethereal Echoes of Hill House felt unreal.

Jason smiled, looking out at the audience with a twinkle in his eyes. "Wow, this is crazy, right? I mean, who would've thought a guy who used to struggle with words would be standing here today with this amazing trophy?"

The crowd clapped, celebrating not just his win but the journey that got him there. Jason continued, "First off, huge thanks to the Horror Writers Association and the Bram Stoker Award committee for this honor. Being recognized among such talented writers is humbling."

He glanced around the room, seeing familiar faces and friends. "Writing can be pretty lonely. It's like dancing with the shadows in your head, and 'The Bent-Neck Lady' was no different. But, like any dance, it’s way better with a partner."

Jason took a moment to thank those who helped him along the way. "To my editors who made sense of my chaotic thoughts, and to the amazing cast and crew who brought the words to life, thank you so much."

He smiled, thinking about his characters. "Writers owe a lot to their characters. They become a part of us. So, special thanks to the Bent-Neck Lady and all the ghosts of Hill House. You made the story what it is."

Looking at the audience, he spoke sincerely, "I'm not just a writer, I'm a fan of horror. It has this way of exploring our deepest fears and finding our shared humanity. It's an honor to contribute to a genre that shaped my nightmares and stories."

As the applause grew, Jason’s eyes sparkled with emotion. "To my family, friends, and everyone who believed in me even when I didn't, you’re the heart of this journey. And to the readers and viewers who embraced my stories, thank you."

He held up the Bram Stoker Award, a symbol of his triumph. "In the spirit of Hill House, where past and present echo together, may our stories continue to haunt and inspire. Thank you all from the bottom of my heart."

The applause roared through the hall as Dick, hidden in the crowd, beamed with pride. He was Jason's plus one for the night and couldn't have been happier. When Jason returned to his seat, Dick gave him a bear hug, wrapping him up in his strong arms.

With a wide grin, Dick planted a big kiss on Jason's cheek, drawing some chuckles from nearby attendees. "You nailed it, Jaybird," he whispered, pride clear in his voice. "I'm so damn proud of you."

Jason, taken aback for a moment, looked at Dick with a mix of surprise and gratitude. The ceremony continued, but for them, the moment lingered.

After the ceremony, they skipped the after-party and headed back to their hotel in a limo. As they rode through the city, Jason leaned back, excitement glinting in his eyes. "You won't believe it, Dick. Netflix wants another miniseries. Ethereal Echoes of Bly Manor." He still sounded a bit stunned. "I accepted, but only if I get to do the screenwriting."

Dick’s grin grew even broader. "That's huge, Jaybird," he said, clapping a hand on Jason's shoulder.

The conversation shifted as Dick filled Jason in on Gotham’s latest news. "Back home, things are looking good. Wayne Enterprises is thriving. Lucius is doing a fantastic job as CEO. It's like a weight's been lifted."

Jason nodded, smiling as Dick continued. "And Babs? She's a force of nature. That algorithm she created is genius. It's made everything so much smoother at Wayne Enterprises. Mornings at the company, evenings as Oracle—she's unstoppable."

Jason thought of Barbara, his "Barbie," and their late-night talks. "She’s always been amazing," he said with admiration. "She deserves all the success."

Dick agreed. "She does. And so do you, Jay. We’ve come a long way from jumping on Gotham’s rooftops, haven’t we?"

Jason chuckled, memories flooding back. "We sure have," he replied, his eyes reflecting both nostalgia and excitement for the future.

As the limo rolled on, Jason broached a more serious topic. "Hey, what about Tim? How's he doing?"

Dick's expression darkened with concern. He sighed, running a hand through his hair. "Tim... he's been through a lot, Jay."

Jason listened closely as Dick continued. "He’s been staying with the Teen Titans. He did something drastic. Falsified my signature and got his GED online. Said he needed time for a personal project." Dick scoffed. "He's been obsessed with it ever since Bruce... ever since Bruce’s death."

Jason’s eyebrows shot up in surprise but he stayed silent, letting Dick talk.

"He's so consumed, Jay. Angry and defiant. I’ve tried talking to him, reasoning with him. But he’s deep into his own world, his anger..." Dick’s voice trailed off, worry evident in his eyes.

Jason leaned closer, placing a reassuring hand on Dick’s arm. "What happened with Dinah?" he asked gently.

Dick took a deep breath, his concern deepening. "She tried to help, talk to him, offer guidance. But he lashed out, said things he didn’t mean. Since then, he’s been off the grid. Last I tracked him, he was in Metropolis. Then he vanished. Not even Oracle can find him!"

Jason's face hardened with determination. "We’ll find him, Dick," he said firmly. "Together."

Dick looked at Jason, relief in his eyes. "Thanks, Jay," he whispered, feeling a bit lighter thanks to his brother’s support.

The buzz around the new link between the Heads and the Waynes hit an all-time high, with rumors and guesses flying everywhere. Vicky Vale, always on the lookout for the juiciest gossip, jumped in to spin a sensational story. Her piece, "The Enigmatic Bond: Jason Alexander Head and Richie Grayson's Surprising Connection," was all about painting a vivid picture of a supposed romance.

The headline practically screamed: "Wayne and Head Families: More Than Meets the Eye?" Vicky dove right into her speculative tale, weaving a story of intrigue and romance. "Are Jason Alexander Head and Richie Grayson more than just friends?" she teased, leaving readers' imaginations to run wild.

She dissected every public appearance the two had made together, especially at the Bram Stoker Award Ceremony. Vicky's detailed analysis of their interactions, complete with carefully chosen photos, suggested a closeness that went beyond just friendship. The images showed Jason and Richie sharing smiles, hugs, and what Vicky called "intimate conversations."

To stir things up even more, Vicky highlighted that both were openly bisexual. "Could this be the unexpected romance we've all been waiting for?" she provocatively asked, making sure to play up the word "romance."

Laughter echoed through the Batcave, a rare sound in its usually serious atmosphere. Damian, sitting in the Batcomputer chair, was cracking up. Billy tried to keep a straight face but was failing miserably, his giggles contagious. Steph, always the joker, was fanning herself dramatically, while Cass's silent chuckles filled the cave. Barbara, grinning from ear to ear, was clearly loving the moment.

Steph, wiping away fake tears of laughter, managed to say, "Oh my gosh! This is gold! Look at them!" She pointed at a screen showing a still from Vicky Vale's report. "Who would've thought Richie Grayson and Jason Head would be Gotham's newest power couple?"

Damian, trying to stay cool, remarked, "Drake would have a field day with this." But the glint in his eyes gave away his amusement. He loved any chance to tease his older brother.

Cass exaggerated a swoon and pretended to take pictures with an imaginary camera, making everyone laugh even harder. Barbara, shaking her head in mock disbelief, quipped, "Well, Gotham has always been the epicenter of drama. But this? This is next level."

Billy, finally controlling his laughter, added, "Have they seen how many times Jason has scared the daylights out of Dick with his horror pranks? If that's romance, everyone else has been doing it wrong."

Steph nodded, "Exactly! And remember when Dick tried to teach Jason some acrobatics, and it ended up looking like a comedy show? Good times!"

"That was last week," Damian deadpanned, making everyone burst into another fit of laughter.

Dick and Jason, just back from the Bram Stoker Award Ceremony, exchanged amused glances as they witnessed the banter. Dick shrugged, his face a bit red with embarrassment, "Well, at least we're giving them some entertainment."

Jason smirked, wrapping an arm around Dick's shoulder, "Let them talk and make fools of themselves. That's what the media is for."

"Don't let Clark and Lois hear you say that," Barbara warned playfully, "or you'll be on thin ice."

"Magic, no! I can't have the Kents and Lois mad at me again; I just fixed things with them," Jason shuddered, making everyone laugh again. "Seriously! No farmer or reporter should be that scary! Guys! Stop it! I'm serious!"

Chapter Text

Jason aimed his gun, mirroring Ravager's poised firearm. Her eyes flickered through a range of emotions before settling on a slow grin.

"Hey, Jason." The use of his first name caught him off guard, but he responded with a matching smile.

"Rose, how are you?" Both kept their weapons ready.

"Been better." She shrugged, and her shoulders seemed a bit stiff. "I've got a proposal for you."

"Oh?" Jason raised an eyebrow, somewhat expecting this outcome; Wilson had no loyalty for anyone but herself, especially after turning her back on the father that had betrayed her.

"I hear you have an opening and would like to apply for the position." Rose shifted her stance, stepping away for more maneuverability. Jason mirrored her movement.

"And which one is that?"

"His." Wilson tapped the dagger at her hips, the blade bearing Malcolm Merlyn's mark. Their cautious dance continued, maintaining a tense equilibrium.

Jason blinked. "How did you get that?"

"Same as how I get everything in life." Her chuckle held challenge and promise, meant to stir the blood. "I take it."

Ravager stood before him, a calculating look in her hooded eyes, the seductress ever present. It was oddly comforting, a warped consistency in her sex appeal as the most-used weapon in her arsenal.

"You think you can take League of Shadows?"

"No, I want League of Shadows to take me." Wilson licked her lips, the innuendo heavy in her purring lilt.

His gaze flickered, and he remembered their past nights of passion during missions away from Nanda Parbat. Before Essence. Before Roy...

"That," he nodded at the gun still aimed at him, "doesn't feel like asking."

She studied him before holstering her gun, emphasizing her curves with a move that seemed entirely natural. The more innocent the temptation, the more effective it was. Ravager was definitely effective, but success was another story.

"How about now, Jason?" Her voice was intimate in the empty hallway. "What does this feel like for you?" A bullet whizzed past her head.

"Like manipulation, Rose. So how about you tell me what you actually want, hm?"

Rose's body language shifted, and her tone followed suit. "I want to live," she said, her honesty seemingly painful. "I have a specific skillset not being utilized much anymore, and I have no desire to die at the hands of the various enemies my father had collected through life."

So, that was it. Ever since Deathstroke had died during his war against the League of Shadows, the sharks smelt blood and went hunting. They divided Deathstroke’s territories, bartered for his contracts and contacts, but most interestingly they wanted his ultimate weapon.

Ravager.  

If she gives her loyalty to a group, they will cease the hunt. Especially, if it is a powerful and well-based group as the League of Shadows.

"Fine, you're hired." Jason grunted. “I’ll give umi a call and have her contact you. Now, scram!”

Rose smirked seductively, before jumping off the rooftop and swinging away from him. Not even five minutes later, Nightwing landed beside Red Ghoul with a frown on his face. The two of them had been tracking a lead to find Tim, when Red Ghoul had parted ways with Nightwing to confront Ravager, who had been following them for the last hour.

“What was that all about?” Nightwing questioned his little brother.

Red Ghoul scoffed, putting his gun away. “A job interview.”

“No, I got that,” Nightwing shook his head. “I meant all that… flirting.”

“Seduction is an art that every assassin learns to domain, females specifically,” Jason chuckled, amused by how uncomfortable it made Dick that his little brother was being hit on.

“Not the Wilsons,” Nightwing protested. “They might use it at times, but only when they are interested. Otherwise, Slade believed it to be beneath them.”

“And you do not believe it possible for Rose to be interested on me?” Jason teased his brother, laughing when he stuttered an apology and trying to explain that it was not what he meant. “Relax, I am teasing you. I know what you meant.” Jason sighed, looking towards the direction Rose had parted towards. “I met Rose in various missions while I was still under the effects of the Pit Madness and leading a League of Assassins team. We helped each other, it was a mutually beneficial relationship.”

“One that lead to sex?” Nightwing teased, finally relaxing on the subject of his younger brother’s sex life.

Jason’s smile turned soft. “We met when she had recently turned her back to Slade and I was mad at Bruce, we understood each other’s rage… she was my first time, and I was hers.”

Dick’s eyes widened in surprise. “Little Wing...”

“We ended our arrangement when I joined the All-Caste and met Essence. No hard feelings, we were never in love to begin with.” Jason waved his brother’s worries away. “We are still good friends though.”

“Well, I’m glad to see that you have a support team of good friends,” Nightwing smiled encouragingly at Red Ghoul.

Jason laughed humorlessly. “But you would have preferred that it would not be filled with assassins.”

“Hey, now, you recall that I run away from home to be trained by Deathstroke,” Dick raised an eyebrow with an amused smirk. “I think that as long as they have your back, nothing else should matter.”

Feeling self-conscious, Jason decided to change the topic of conversation. “Did you find anything?”

Dick’s expression turned into a grimace. “Nothing. Another dead end.”

Jason sighed, shaking his head in disappointment. “That kid is the slippery kind. I would be impressed if it did not make me want to throttle him.”

“You and me both,” Dick chuckled humorlessly. “You and me both.”   

In the dimly lit training room of the Batcave, the tension was palpable. The overhead lights glinted off two katanas, giving them an almost eerie glow. Katana, her black hair pulled back in a ponytail, stood ready with her blade drawn. Across from her, Zamurad held his sword confidently, eyes locked on his opponent.

The first clash was intense. Metal clanged against metal as they tested each other's defenses, their blades moving in swift, calculated arcs. Katana, with her experience, tried to predict Zamurad's strikes, but he was unpredictable, his movements smooth and deceptive.

They circled each other, their footwork precise. The rhythm of their swords was mesmerizing, a dance of strength and skill. Each strike created a symphony of sharp, metallic sounds that echoed through the cave.

Zamurad aimed for Katana's legs, but she sidestepped and countered, her blade grazing his side. He winced but didn't falter, quickly recovering and retaliating with rapid strikes. Katana, sensing the shift in momentum, parried each blow with precision, her movements showcasing her mastery.

Minutes felt like seconds as they continued their relentless dance. Zamurad, fueled by youthful energy, executed a complex sequence of attacks, each more intricate than the last. But Katana, drawing from years of experience, anticipated his final move. With a swift twist of her wrist, she disarmed him, her blade resting gently against his neck.

Breathing heavily, they locked eyes, mutual respect clear between them. With a nod, Katana lowered her blade, signaling the end of the spar.

Zamurad, though defeated, smiled. "You're still the best, Katana-sensei," he admitted, wiping sweat from his brow.

She smiled warmly, offering him a hand. "You fought well, young warrior. With time, you'll surpass us all."

Cheers erupted from Nightwing, Black Bat, Spoiler, and Red Ghoul, who had been watching. Nightwing, always the showman, did an enthusiastic backflip, landing gracefully with a thumbs-up. Black Bat clapped, a smirk on her face. Spoiler raised an imaginary scorecard, pretending to judge a fencing competition. Red Ghoul, full of pride, laughed heartily.

As they approached, Nightwing draped an arm around Katana's shoulders. "Great work, Katana. You never cease to amaze us with those skills."

Meanwhile, Black Bat took Zamurad's wrist and was examining it closely. "Not bad. But next time, protect this wrist more."

Zamurad, trying to hide his discomfort, nodded. "I'll keep that in mind, akhti."

Spoiler grinned at Zamurad. "Great job, Baby Bat! But if you want to impress Katana more, maybe throw in a few more spins. Ladies love spins."

Zamurad rolled his eyes but couldn't suppress a small chuckle. Red Ghoul, taking the opportunity to tease his younger brother, ruffled Zamurad's hair. "You did well, brat. Maybe one day you'll beat me."

Zamurad shot him a playful glare. "One day, akhi."

Katana bowed her head towards Nightwing with a humble smile. "The honor is mine, Nightwing. Your brother is a formidable opponent."

As Katana headed for the exit, her katana sheathed and ready, Nightwing turned to Zamurad with a spark in his eyes. “Alright, Baby Bat, time to hit the trapeze. Watch closely—it's all about rhythm and flow.”

Zamurad, still catching his breath from their sword fight, nodded with enthusiasm. Nightwing led him over to the trapeze rig hanging from the ceiling. The room buzzed with excitement as Nightwing jumped into action, swinging from bar to bar like a pro.

Nightwing started with a big leap, grabbing the bar like he'd done it a thousand times. He swung forward, releasing at the top of his swing to nail a double backflip and catch the second bar effortlessly. He threw in some twists and turns, making it look easy, each move smooth and precise.

“Keep your core tight, Baby Bat,” Nightwing called out, his voice steady despite the crazy routine he was showing off. “When you're ready, just go for it. I’ve got you.”

Zamurad watched with wide eyes, taking in every move and transition. Nightwing was the living, breathing embodiment of the Flying Graysons' legacy.

Taking a deep breath, Zamurad grabbed the trapeze bar, feeling its chill against his palms. He remembered Nightwing’s tips about rhythm and flow, and with a determined exhale, he launched himself into the air. His first swing was a bit shaky, but as he got into the groove, his confidence grew.

With Nightwing’s cheers fueling him on, Zamurad tried a simple somersault. The ground seemed to rush up to meet him before he completed the rotation and grabbed the second bar. Feeling bolder, he pushed himself further, trying different swings and transitions. He stumbled a few times, but Nightwing was patient, guiding him through each mistake.

“Trust yourself!” Nightwing yelled as Zamurad swung higher, his moves becoming more fluid and confident. “You’re doing awesome!”

On the training mats, Spoiler and Black Bat were deep in a fast-paced sparring match. The room echoed with the sounds of kicks and blocks. Spoiler was dancing around Black Bat’s precise strikes, both of them moving like a well-rehearsed routine.

Black Bat, using her stealth skills, managed to surprise Spoiler with a slick sweep. Spoiler hit the mat with a thud, but her laughter rang out. “Nice one, Cass! You’ve still got it.”

Black Bat helped Spoiler up, a hint of a smile peeking out from under her mask. “You’re not so bad yourself, Steph.”

Meanwhile, Red Ghoul was pacing back and forth, chatting on the phone with Billy. The noise from the trapeze and the training room blended with their conversation.

“Okay, you’re at the Eternal Rock,” Jason said, running a hand through his hair, a habit he had when he was deep in thought. “That place is like a magical museum. Find that scroll for Madame Xanadu, but watch out—some of those scrolls can be tricky.”

Billy’s voice crackled through the phone, full of confidence. “Don’t worry, bro. Madame Xanadu’s been a great mentor. If there’s anything dangerous, I’ll handle it. That’s what being a Champion is for, right?”

Jason chuckled, even though Billy couldn’t see him. “Yeah, you’ve got a point. Just try not to accidentally unleash any ancient curses or anything. We’ve had enough of those lately.”

As Jason spoke, he glanced over at Zamurad swinging through the air with Nightwing’s help. There was a hint of pride and warmth in his expression.

Billy’s voice pulled Jason out of his thoughts. “Hey, I’ll be back soon. We’ll grab some pizza and catch up. I’ll tell you all about the Eternal Rock. Deal?”

“Deal,” Jason replied with a smirk. “Just make sure you bring that scroll back in one piece. And no apocalypses, okay?”

They shared a laugh before the call ended. Jason continued to watch the trapeze lesson with a sense of satisfaction, appreciating this quirky family of his as Nightwing guided Zamurad through the moves.

Ah, Black Mask, Gotham's less-than-favorite mobster with a fashion sense only a mother could love. Black Mask, in his oh-so-stylish, well, black mask, lounging in his ostentatious penthouse, thinking he's the bee's knees of crime lords. Little does he know, his empire is slowly unraveling, kind of like a cheap sweater snagged on a rusty nail.

First, a minor setback: a shipment of "medicine" gets hijacked. Then, a couple of his goons, who probably couldn't find their way out of a paper bag, go mysteriously missing. But hey, Black Mask is a glass-half-full kind of guy. He probably thought they were on a beach somewhere, sipping margaritas.

Then, one fateful night, all hell breaks loose. It's like every disgruntled employee, rival gangster, and annoyed citizen decided to RSVP to Black Mask's impromptu "Destroy My Empire" party. Warehouses? Gone in a blaze of glory. Bank accounts? Drained faster than a cocktail at happy hour. Men? Let's just say his HR department is going to be very, very busy.

And just when you think it can't get worse, enter the FBI. Now it's not just a Gotham affair; it's a multi-state shindig involving New Jersey, New York, and the Windy City. Mr. Mask can't even bribe his way out of a paper bag at this point. He's slapped with charges that have more syllables than his entire vocabulary—human trafficking. Cue the dramatic gasp.

So, there he is, in federal custody, probably wondering if the prison jumpsuit comes in black. A scenic road trip with the FBI takes him away from his beloved Gotham. But oh, the universe isn't done with our tragic hero yet.

At the city limits, who does he see? None other than the Red Ghoul, Gotham's latest sensation in vigilante fashion. There's no gloating, no words exchanged, just a simple wave goodbye. It's as if the Red Ghoul is saying, "Ta-ta, don't let the Batmobile hit you on the way out."

Better luck in the next life, Masky!

Red Ghoul was still laughing, when Nightwing landed beside him on the rooftop with an exasperated expression. “You know we were ecstatic when you asked us to take care of Zamurad and the Champion for the night, I’ve never seen Alfred so excited to receive guests into the Manor.” Nightwing’s expression turned into a frown. “No, guests simply sound wrong. Family. Now, that is the right word.” He shook his head, getting his head back into the game. “However, that you are welcomed into Gotham does not give you carte blanche to deal with our rogue gallery.”

“Moi? I did nothing,” Jason smirked beneath his mask, as he dramatically placed his hands over his “wounded” heart. “The Big Bad Bats on the other hand… well, he just seems to have gotten fed up with the revolving door that is Blackgate and Arkham.”

“Really?” Nightwing crossed his arms over his chest and raised an eyebrow wryly.

Red Ghoul got serious then. “You’ve must have realized that the public is wondering why there so little action of Batman on the streets is lately. He’s been sighted every night all over Gotham, yet he only seems to be “taking down” goons during raids with his colony. Or the fact that he had not been sighted battling any of his A-tier rogues.”

Nightwing winced, his stance becoming less defensive and more open. “Yeah, Oracle mentioned it during the last bat reunion.”

“Well, now no one will be wondering what was going on,” Jason opened his arms to his sides with flair. He might have died and become a demon hunter, but he was still a drama kid at heart. “Now everyone will “discover” the big “plan”. Batman has been working hard into taking down Black Mask once and for all. The biggest mafia was out of service and one of his A-tier rogues locked away permanently. After all, who else would have been capable of doing all that in the matter of a night, other than Batman?”

Dick chuckled, amused by his brother’s dry sarcasm. People might call him the drama queen of the Batfamily, but they tend to forget that he was not the Robin that joined the Drama Club at Gotham Academy. Before Jason had died, he had been casted as the main lead in all his school plays, much to the pride of Alfred, Bruce, and Dick.

“Also, Spoiler does not deserve to live in the same city as the bastard that almost fucking killed her,” Red Ghoul growled.

All the amusement left Nightwing in a second at the reminder of all those months they had thought Steph dead. “So, when will we be hearing rumors about Black Mask being shivved in prison?”

“What do you take me for?” Jason sounded quite affronted. “The reason why I took matters into my own hands when it came to the Joker, was because the law protected him. He could commit genocide every week and he would get pardoned because he was insane.” Jason scoffed. “He was a psychopath who knew exactly what he was doing and was a very good actor. As for Black Mask, he has too much sway in Gotham and was able to bribe himself away of any legal problem. But the moment the prosecution is taken out of Gotham’s hands, he will pay. With time, they will “discover” that Black Mask had kidnapped and trafficked people from more states.” Jason’s smirk was all Al Ghul. “States where death penalty is legal.”

Nightwing’s eyes widened at the realization of his Little Wing’s plan. He wanted to protest, exclaiming that Red Ghoul was playing the system and that is not the way the Bats do their job. That Batman’s name will be tarnished with a murder. But was it murder? Everything would be in the hands of the law. Was that not what Batman stood for? Justice. Not being judge, jury, and executioner. Prohibiting the law from giving the sentence because he did not believe in death penalty, would be the same as taking the law into his hands.

Batman might not agree. But Nightwing was relieved. He no longer had to worry about sending Spoiler into the field any time Black Mask was out.

Finally, Dick broke the silence with a quiet, “Good job, Little Wing.”

“Anytime, Dickwing,” Jason’s smirk was all teeth and bloodthirsty.

Ah, Gotham! Once a hot mess of crime, corruption, and some seriously questionable fashion choices (yeah, Black Mask, we’re looking at you). With Black Mask out of the picture, you’d think things would settle down, right? Nope! It’s more like musical chairs where every chair has a “Do Not Sit” sign. Enter Dick Grayson, the city's very own hero, not swinging from rooftops but slinging paperwork and setting up charity events. Plot twist, anyone?

The Martha Wayne Foundation, once just quietly hanging out in the background, suddenly becomes Gotham’s new big player. No one saw that coming. Instead of turf wars and street brawls, the city's criminals are facing something way scarier: community outreach and social reform.

Picture this: you’re a low-level thug looking to score in Black Mask’s old territory. You walk into what used to be a sketchy drug den, only to find it’s now a rehab center. That shady alley where shady deals went down? Now it’s a free clinic offering flu shots and diabetes screenings. Even the goons who used to strut around like they owned the place are now looking at soup kitchens and shelters. Talk about a hostile takeover with a side of goodwill!

And then there’s the Gotham Gazette. They’re treating Richie Grayson like a rock star. With headlines like "Richie Grayson's Crusade" and "Turning the Tables: How One Foundation Changed Gotham’s Game," it’s like Gotham’s got a new hero wielding spreadsheets and pie charts instead of grappling hooks and smoke bombs.

But don’t get it twisted. Dick’s not doing this for the spotlight. He’s doing it for Gotham, for Martha and Thomas Wayne’s memory, for Bruce who spent his life trying to save this city, and maybe, just maybe, for the hope that Gotham can one day live up to its name without all the crime. Welcome to the new Gotham—same old city, but with a twist only Richie Grayson could pull off.

Still, change isn’t easy. It takes a ton of work and effort.

The aroma of freshly brewed coffee wafted through Dick's office at the Martha Wayne Foundation Headquarters, a far cry from the usual scent of danger and adrenaline that clung to the Batcave. Barbara sat across from Dick, their mugs cradled in their hands, the clinking of ceramic breaking the quiet hum of the bustling Foundation.

"Can you believe this, Babs?" Dick exclaimed, gesturing to the spreadsheet on his desk. "Look at these numbers. We're not just turning Black Mask's empire on its head; we're rewriting the whole Gotham story."

Barbara, ever the picture of professionalism in her smart suit, leaned in, scanning the figures on the screen. "It's remarkable, Dick. I mean, who knew Black Mask's ill-gotten gains could be put to such good use? Turning crime dens into community havens—only you could pull off something like this."

"Well, you and Oracle had a major hand in this too. Your hacking skills are a game-changer. Those anonymous donations were a stroke of genius." Dick grinned, taking a sip of his coffee. “Also, most of this was Little Wing’s plans.”

"You know me, Dick. Always up for a little digital mischief. Besides, it's poetic justice, isn't it? Taking from the bad guys and giving it back to the city they've been exploiting for so long." Barbara smirked, a twinkle of mischief in her eyes. “Also, yes, it was his plan, but it was you who made it possible. A perfect teamwork.”

They clinked their coffee mugs in a silent toast to justice, each sip punctuating the satisfaction of a plan well-executed. Gotham was witnessing a revolution, not of capes and cowls, but of compassion and change.

They delved into statistics, donations, and discussed which programs and initiatives would benefit most. Dick leaned back in his chair, a thoughtful expression on his face. "You know, Babs, I never thought running a foundation would be so... fulfilling. Bruce would be proud."

Barbara smiled, a genuine warmth in her eyes. "He would, Dick. We're not just living up to the Wayne legacy; we're redefining it." Barbara then leaned forward, her eyes narrowing slightly in thought. "Alright, Grayson, spill. How's the gentrification of Park Row going? You've been pouring a lot into the Thomas Wayne Memorial Hospital, but what else?"

Dick leaned back, his eyes reflecting a mix of pride and determination. "Babs, it's been transformative. I mean, don't get me wrong, we've still got a long road ahead, but the changes are palpable." He gestured animatedly as he spoke, his enthusiasm infectious. "Firstly," he began, ticking points off on his fingers, "the hospital isn't just about healthcare. By injecting more funds and resources there, we've created hundreds of jobs. People from the very streets of Crime Alley are now working as nurses, doctors, administrative staff—you name it. It's not just a hospital; it's a beacon of opportunity."

Barbara nodded, her fingers tapping rhythmically on her coffee mug. "That's smart. Empower the community from within. But what about education?"

Dick's grin widened, a hint of mischief in his eyes. "Ah, the schools. You'll love this. We did a complete overhaul. Got rid of the deadweight, the teachers who were just coasting. And you know what? A lot of the local kids who made it out, got their degrees, they jumped at the chance to come back. They're the new wave of educators in Crime Alley."

Barbara's eyes shimmered with emotion. "That's poetic justice right there. Turning the cycle around."

Dick leaned in closer, his voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. "And night programs. We've got sessions for adults looking to get their GEDs, training programs for specialized professions. The idea is to give people the tools they need to lift themselves out of poverty. We're not just handing out fish; we're teaching them how to fish."

Barbara chuckled, her eyes bright with amusement. "Always the entrepreneur, huh, Grayson?"

He winked, his expression turning more earnest. "And scholarships, Babs. We're identifying bright sparks in Park Row, kids with potential, and we're giving them scholarships to Gotham University. Can you imagine the ripple effect? One kid gets an education, comes back, uplifts the whole community."

Barbara sighed, her gaze softening. "You're really changing lives, Dick. Not just putting a Band-Aid on a wound but healing it from the inside out."

Dick shrugged modestly, his cheeks coloring just a touch. "I just can’t believe that Jason made all of these plans when he was only 15.” Dick shook his head in disbelief. “Then again, he was born and lived in those streets. No one knows them better than him. But as you said Babs, it's not just me. It's all of us, working together. We're building something lasting, something real."

Barbara's eyes sparkled with a glint of mischief as she leaned forward, her fingers steepled beneath her chin. "Dick, my dear, you've been doing wonders, but there's one gem you've overlooked—the Gotham Theater."

Dick blinked, momentarily caught off guard, before a thoughtful expression crossed his face. "The theater? Well, I did think about cultural programs, but what do you have in mind, Babs?"

A mischievous grin played on Barbara's lips as she unfolded her plan. "Think about it. Gotham Theater, once a grand establishment, fell into disrepair after the tragic deaths of the Waynes. It was only resurrected when Bruce bought it under Wayne Entertainment for Cass and the Gotham Ballet Company. Now, imagine this: music groups, orchestras, dance troupes, theater companies—all from the talented individuals in Crime Alley, using the Gotham Theater as their stage to showcase their talents."

Dick's eyes widened in realization, the brilliance of the idea dawning on him. "Barbara, that's genius! It's not just about jobs; it's about nurturing creativity, providing an outlet for expression. We could have local playwrights, aspiring actors, musicians—all contributing to the cultural tapestry of Gotham."

Barbara nodded, her excitement palpable. "Exactly! It's not just about survival; it's about thriving. The arts have a unique way of bringing people together, creating a sense of community and pride. And let's not forget the economic aspect. With performances, ticket sales, and maybe even tours, the Gotham Theater could become a self-sustaining venture, pouring funds back into the community."

Dick's eyes gleamed with admiration. "You never cease to amaze me, Oracle. This is a game-changer. We'll turn the Gotham Theater into a beacon of creativity, a testament to the indomitable spirit of Crime Alley."

As they continued to flesh out the details, a shared sense of determination filled the room. Barbara and Dick, got to work. Not only for the present of Gotham. But for the future.

Slaughter Swamp was a mess of decay and chemicals, and the smell was brutal. Nightwing, Black Bat, and Red Ghoul pushed through the thick greenery, their movements quick and precise. The twisted trees looked like they were reaching out to grab them, casting creepy shadows on the gross, murky water. They stayed close together, all senses on high alert. Nightwing led the way, with Black Bat moving silently behind him, and Red Ghoul scanning the area like a hawk.

The swamp's toxic atmosphere was no joke. Nightwing couldn’t help but think about past run-ins with freaky creatures and bizarre plant life. Black Bat’s eyes were sharp, always on the lookout for anything lurking in the shadows. The place was a twisted version of nature, and they had to be careful to avoid its monstrous inhabitants.

Red Ghoul, with his supernatural expertise, felt the dark energy hanging in the air. The swamp was filled with ancient magic, a lingering presence that made the whole place feel even creepier. He kept his eyes moving, catching glimpses of the twisted forms blending into the gloom.

When they reached a slightly clearer spot, Red Ghoul spoke up. “We can fix this swamp, you know. With the Undines, Melusines, and Bai Zes, we’ve got the power to clean up the water and bring life back to this place.”

As they reached a somewhat clearer patch of land, Nightwing turned to Red Ghoul with a curious look. “Alright, so you keep mentioning Undines, Melusines, and Bai Zes. What exactly are they, and how can they help fix this swamp?”

Red Ghoul grinned, clearly excited to explain. “Great question. So, Undines are water spirits—think of them as elemental beings who can purify and refresh any water they touch. They’re like the ultimate cleanup crew for polluted water.”

Nightwing raised an eyebrow, impressed. “Okay, that sounds useful. What about Melusines?”

“Melusines are even more fascinating,” Red Ghoul continued. “They’re a type of water nymph with this incredible ability to purify water just by being around it. Their presence alone can rejuvenate and cleanse water sources. Pretty cool, right?”

Nightwing nodded, clearly intrigued. “And Bai Zes?”

“Bai Zes are these mythical creatures with the body of a lion, deer, and ox combined,” Red Ghoul said, his excitement palpable. “They have a knack for not only purifying water but also understanding and dealing with supernatural phenomena. Bai Ze can help us make sense of the swamp’s mysteries and keep it safe from any magical threats.”

Nightwing looked around the swamp, his optimism growing. “So, with these creatures on our side, we could really turn this place around.”

“Exactly,” Red Ghoul said, nodding. “They’ll take care of the swamp, the reservoir, and even the port. In exchange, they get to make the swamp their home. It’s a win-win.”

Nightwing smiled, feeling hopeful about the transformation ahead. “Sounds like a plan. But what’s the catch? It can't be as easy as simply handing over the swamp to these mystical beings ”

“No catch,” Red Ghoul said. “The Undines, Melusines, and Bai Zes want to help with Gotham's water issues. They’ll clean up the reservoir and the port. In return, they get the swamp.”

Black Bat raised an eyebrow. “And why are we here? This doesn’t seem like a casual visit.”

“Grundy’s around,” Red Ghoul said, grimacing. “He’s a problem for our new allies. I need to help him find some peace.”

“And we’re here to back you up,” Nightwing said, feeling more positive. “Grundy’s a tough one. Having us here makes sense.”

“Exactly,” Red Ghoul said with a grin. “As a necromancer, it’s my job to guide lost souls like Grundy. It’s great to have you two along for the ride—it’s like old times.”

Black Bat frowned slightly. “Where’s Spoiler? She’d usually be up for this kind of mission.”

“I left her out of this one,” Red Ghoul said with a sigh. “She just started at Gotham University, and I didn’t want to drag her into this so soon.”

Nightwing smiled at the mention of Spoiler. “Always looking out for her, huh? But I get it.”

Red Ghoul grinned. “Someone’s got to keep things in check. But enough talk. We’ve got a swamp to deal with and a soul to save.”

“Let’s get going,” Nightwing agreed.

As the trio pushed deeper into the murky mess of Slaughter Swamp, they finally reached the spot where Jason had sensed Salom Grundy was chilling out. Red Ghoul stood at the edge of the slimy water, with mist swirling around him like a spooky fog machine. The moonlight poked through the thick trees, giving everything a ghostly glow. He took a deep breath, feeling that necromancer mojo kick in.

Black Bat and Nightwing hung back a bit, watching Red Ghoul with a mix of curiosity and respect. They'd never seen their brother pull his necromancer card before, and it was pretty mind-blowing. The air was thick with tension as they waited for the show to start.

Red Ghoul started chanting, his voice low and steady, sending ripples through the swamp. The words he used were ancient, almost lost to time, but he made them sound purposeful. As he chanted, his hands began to glow softly, and that glow got brighter with each line. The light cast weird shadows all over the place, making the swamp look like something out of a horror movie. The air itself seemed to buzz with energy, like you could almost see the line between the living world and the spirit world getting all blurry.

Then, out of nowhere, a deep growl rumbled through the swamp, shaking the trees and sending waves across the water. Solomon Grundy lumbered out of the shadows, looking all big and menacing against the moonlit backdrop. His eyes glowed with a creepy light as he locked onto Red Ghoul. But Red Ghoul didn’t flinch. He kept chanting, his voice strong and steady, and his hands shot out a beam of light that sliced through the darkness. The air crackled with power.

Grundy roared back, shooting out dark energy tendrils, but Red Ghoul held his ground. The beam of light wrapped around Grundy, pulling at the dark stuff that was holding him down.

Black Bat and Nightwing stood there, their hearts racing as they watched this intense showdown between the living and the undead. It was like nothing they’d ever seen before.

With one final, powerful chant, Red Ghoul broke the last of the dark tendrils, setting Solomon Grundy free. Grundy staggered, his eyes losing that scary glow, replaced with a look that was part confusion, part relief.

Then Grundy just vanished in a burst of light, leaving behind a few glowing sparkles, like fireflies.

As the light faded from Red Ghoul’s hands, he took a deep breath, clearly wiped out from the effort. The swamp went quiet again, just the soft sound of water lapping against the shore. Black Bat and Nightwing stepped up, their faces full of awe.

“That was… amazing,” Black Bat said, breaking the quiet.

Nightwing nodded, meeting Red Ghoul’s tired eyes. “You did something really incredible today.”

Red Ghoul managed a weary smile. “Here’s hoping Grundy finally gets the peace he’s been looking for.”

As they headed out of the swamp, the first light of dawn started to break over the horizon.

Chapter Text

The cozy café in Rome smelled amazing—freshly baked pastries and rich coffee filled the air. When Talia al Ghul walked in, the bell above the door chimed, and her presence seemed to make the place feel a bit more serious. She scanned the room with a look that made everyone pay attention, then headed over to where Jason was waiting at a corner table. He looked up from his tiramisu, a big smile spreading across his face when he saw her.

“Hello, Umi,” Jason said, standing up to give her a hug. Talia smiled and took her seat across from him, her eyes softening just a bit.

The café had a warm vibe, with soft light coming through the lace curtains and delicate pastries on display. The owners, who were old allies of the League of Shadows, kept a discreet eye on the mother-son reunion.

Jason dug into his tarte tatin, savoring the sweet flavor. “How’s everything with the League?” he asked, genuinely interested.

Talia set down her pistachio cannoli and twirled her rings. “Oh, you know, as efficient as always. Arianne’s been holding things down while you’re away. She’s doing great.”

Arianne, the granddaughter of the café’s owners and Jason’s reliable ally, had been handling things well. Talia’s eyes showed a rare touch of pride.

With a playful glint in her eye, Talia took a sip of her coffee and leaned in. “So, sending Rose Wilson my way, huh? That’s pretty bold of you.” She smirked, clearly enjoying the moment.

Jason’s cheeks reddened a little. He swirled his tea, trying to find the right words. “Well, Rose has her... advantages,” he said, stumbling a bit. “She’s got skills and some unfinished business. She could be a good fit for the League. Besides, she needs us right now. With her father’s enemies on her tail, it’s safer for her here.”

Talia raised an eyebrow, clearly not entirely convinced. “Advantages, huh?”

Jason cleared his throat. “Okay, she might bring some... complications. But she’s strong, and she knows she needs us. Plus, she’ll be safer with the League’s protection.”

Talia leaned back, thinking it over. After a moment, she nodded. “Fair enough. Nyssa’s taken her under her wing and will be overseeing Nika’s training.”

Jason relaxed a bit, relieved that his mom was on board. “Good to hear.”

The warmth between them was clear in their easy conversation and shared glances. Talia’s eyes sparkled with pride as she spoke.

“Congrats on the awards, abni,” she said, her voice full of admiration. “I’m not surprised, but I’m still thrilled for you.”

Jason’s face lit up. “Thanks, T. The tours have been... a lot, but Ethereal Echoes of Bly Manor is really taking off. It’s amazing to see how excited the readers are. And it’s good practice for the Netflix series. I’ve got a solid fanbase eager for the story to hit the screen.”

Talia nodded, genuinely interested. “That’s great to hear. And how are Damian and Billy doing at the Nanda Parbat School for Magic?”

Jason smiled, thinking of his younger brothers. “They’re doing awesome. Really thriving with their magic studies.”

“It’s nice to hear they’re doing well,” Talia said, her voice tinged with nostalgia. “The school’s a great place for them. And it’s reassuring to know they’re in good hands at Wayne Manor while you’re away.”

Jason nodded, a mix of pride and longing in his expression. “Yeah, the Batfamily’s been a huge support. It’s comforting to know they’re well looked after.”

Talia’s gaze softened with maternal concern. “And Damian? How’s he handling... his father’s passing?”

Jason paused, setting his cup down gently. “It’s been tough on him. Losing Bruce was huge. But being around the Batfamily in Gotham has helped a lot. He’s finding his way, and the Batfamily understands loss in a way that’s really supportive.”

Talia listened closely, her emotions a mix of gratitude and sorrow. “You were right about bringing them into the Batfamily,” she said, her voice carrying a rare vulnerability. “They needed that connection to Bruce’s legacy.”

Jason gave a small, understanding smile. “Family’s important, Umi. We lean on each other and find our way through it.”

After Batman's death, the Birds of Prey stepped up to help balance things in Gotham. They were the perfect link between the bigger superhero world and Gotham’s own crew. Oracle, running things from the Clock Tower, made sure everyone stayed in the loop. Black Canary and Huntress split their time between Star City and Gotham, keeping an eye on things.

It wasn’t like the Birds of Prey were just dropping in; it was more of a teamwork thing. Oracle’s tech skills and smarts kept the Batfamily connected with the rest of the superhero community, while the Birds of Prey lent their expertise when needed.

Nightwing was pretty grateful. Black Bat and Spoiler had joined the Birds of Prey, and he’d always wanted them to have their own team outside the Batfamily. Just like the Titans had helped him, the All-Caste had helped Red Ghoul, and the Teen Titans had been a second home for Robin. Still, even with all the help, they weren’t exactly “Bats” and didn’t fit into the Batcave. So, Oracle’s Clock Tower became the go-to spot for the Birds of Prey and the Batfamily to swap info and plan stuff.

The Gotham Sirens, surprisingly, became good allies too. They got more involved in fighting crime and helping out, especially during Arkham and Blackgate breakouts. The Clock Tower also turned into their meeting spot.

Poison Ivy, in particular, felt a deep connection to the Batfamily after seeing their efforts to fix up Gotham. Their work on cleaning the city’s water and revitalizing Slaughter Swamp really struck a chord with her. She decided to leave her greenhouse in Robinson Park and move to the now-thriving Slaughter Swamp, feeling a strong bond with the area. Harley Quinn, being Harley, wasn’t about to let Ivy go alone, so she joined her in the move.

Things were shifting within the Batfamily too. In the Batcave, Batwoman was adjusting her utility belt while Batwing worked on a new drone prototype. The mood was serious, with everyone focused on their tasks.

Batwoman looked over at Batwing with a mix of admiration and nostalgia. “Never thought we’d be working side-by-side like this,” she said. “Batman was all about keeping us separate.”

Batwing met her gaze, nodding. “Gotham’s changed. We’ve got to step up.”

Batwoman thought about Nightwing and how he was handling Batman’s absence. It was a heavy burden, and Nightwing was juggling a lot while dealing with his own grief. To better support Gotham, Batwoman and Batwing decided to move their operations to the Batcave. This move marked a new chapter for Gotham’s heroes, who were now working together as a true Batfamily. The Gotham Gazette even started calling them “The Colony.”

Batwoman’s thoughts turned to Tim, and she couldn’t hide her concern. “And Tim...” she said, her voice trailing off.

Batwing sighed. “We’ll find him. We have to.”

Just then, Black Bat landed nearby, looking serious. “We’ve got a lead on the Scarecrow,” she said. “He’s planning something big.”

Batwoman and Batwing shared a look, ready to act. As they geared up, Batwoman felt a surge of pride. They weren’t just a bunch of solo vigilantes anymore. They were a team, united in their mission to protect Gotham.

Batwing flashed a determined smile. “Ready to save the city?”

Batwoman grinned, feeling the shared purpose. “Let’s do it.”

As they took off into the night, the Bat-Signal shining overhead, they knew they were stronger together.

Morning sunlight streamed through the windows of Wayne Manor, giving everything a cozy glow. Alfred had gone all out for breakfast, whipping up a spread that included a mountain of waffles, Steph’s favorite. When he heard she and Cass were coming over, he couldn’t resist.

At the breakfast table sat Dick, Cass, Steph, Damian, and Billy. Dick had this big grin on his face, the kind that could light up the whole city. It was rare to have so many of the Batfamily together, and he loved it. Cass was munching on fruit and yogurt, while Damian had his usual request—an omelet with cheese and mushrooms, which Alfred had nailed.

Billy, in his Nanda Parbat Academy uniform, sat quietly but confidently. Dick couldn’t help but be impressed by how Damian and Billy had embraced magic. Gotham, known for its crime and grit, had turned into a hotspot for magic and mystery. But Dick had learned not to underestimate his Little Wing; he had a knack for making the impossible happen.

Dick’s attention shifted to Cass and Steph, who were not regulars at Wayne Manor breakfasts. He remembered the day Steph got her acceptance letter from Gotham University and Bruce’s proud smile as he handed her the Wayne Scholarship. Bruce had even set her up with an apartment near campus, which Steph moved into as soon as she turned eighteen. Cass followed her there, and they lived together happily.

Their routine had been predictable—Cass with her ballet rehearsals and Steph with her early classes. So, having them disrupt the usual breakfast routine was unusual. Dick’s mind started racing, wondering if there was a reason for their surprise visit. Threats, emergencies, challenges—he thought of all the possibilities.

After breakfast, Damian and Billy headed off to Nanda Parbat for their magical studies. Once they were gone, Steph turned to Dick. She looked nervous but determined, fiddling with her napkin.

“Dick,” she said, her voice a mix of hope and worry, “I’ve found someone. Another vigilante like us.” Cass nodded in agreement, giving Steph’s hand a reassuring squeeze. “Her name’s Harper, but she goes by Bluebird. She’s been through a lot, like me, like all of us.”

Steph continued, her voice gaining confidence, “She’s got a lot of potential. Built her own gear, including this cool Bluebird Rifle.”

Cass chimed in, “She’s skilled. I can help train her, make her stronger.”

Dick ran a hand through his hair, trying to process everything. He knew the responsibility of evaluating a new recruit wasn’t something to take lightly. “I get it. But you know how tough Gotham is. It’s not just about finding someone new; it’s making sure they’re ready for this life.”

Steph’s eyes were full of determination. “I know. But we all got a chance to make a difference. Harper deserves that too.”

Dick looked at both of them—Steph’s fiery resolve and Cass’s quiet strength. With a sigh, he said, “Alright, I’ll check her out. But for now, she shadows you, Steph. We’ll take it step by step.”

A wave of relief passed over them, and the tension lifted. Dick got busy digging into Harper’s background, checking every detail to make sure she wouldn’t disrupt the balance they’d worked so hard to create.

The more he learned about Harper, the more he realized she had faced challenges that would have broken most people. Her resilience and determination reminded him of his own struggles and those of his siblings. Her skills in engineering and her resourcefulness showed she had the heart of a true warrior. And Cullen, her younger brother, had a knack for hacking that couldn’t be ignored.

Dick decided they deserved a fresh start. He offered them a place in the Batfamily and a Wayne Scholarship for Harper at Gotham University and for Cullen at Gotham Academy.

When they moved into the apartment near the university, it was a whirlwind of excitement. Steph and Cass helped them settle in, sharing laughs and assembling furniture. Bluebird joined Black Bat and Spoiler in the Birds of Prey, and Cullen became Oracle’s new cyber partner, working late nights with her on hacking and cyber warfare. Their partnership was the start of something legendary, making Gotham’s underworld tremble in fear.

The Barcelona sun was doing its thing, turning the streets golden and making everything sparkle. Jason was taking a break from his book tour, soaking up the lively Spanish vibes, diving into some delicious local food, and trying to forget about the usual responsibilities that always seemed to follow him around.

But then, as he was chilling at a cozy outdoor café, Roy Harper showed up, looking as rugged and intense as ever. Seeing Roy brought a flood of emotions. Jason wondered why he was here and where Lian, Roy’s daughter, was. Deep down, Jason knew why Roy had shown up. They had this unspoken thing between them, made even more complicated by recent events like Bruce's death and Tim’s disappearance. It felt like a perfect distraction from the conversation they both knew was coming.

Jason wasn’t oblivious. He knew Roy’s feelings for him were real, and he felt the same way. The pull between them was strong, threatening to break down the walls Jason had built around his heart. The thought of losing Roy was terrifying. Letting Roy in completely meant exposing his deepest fears, and that scared him more than anything.

Jason looked at Roy, feeling the weight of unspoken words pressing on him. He put his utensils down, focusing entirely on Roy.

"Roy," Jason said quietly. "Life’s like a storm, right? It’s intense, knocks you around sometimes." He paused, thinking about Essence, a storm that had once swept through his life. "Essence was a hurricane, and I thought it’d change everything. It did, but when the storm passed, I was still here."

He looked at Roy with softer eyes. "But you’re different. Not a hurricane, but a steady, warm flame. A calm, comforting presence."

Jason continued, wrestling with his fear of permanence. "Our journey’s been different. It’s not the explosive stuff; it’s a steady, burning fire. It feels intense in its own way, but it’s lasting."

He took a breath, glancing at Roy with a mix of fear and longing. "I’m scared, Roy. Not because I don’t want this, but because it means something real, something that stays. And that’s both beautiful and daunting."

Roy’s laugh broke the tension, a warm and genuine sound. “You had to go all novelist on me,” he teased, a playful grin on his face. As the laughter died down, Roy’s expression grew serious.

"Jaybird," Roy started, his voice filled with emotion. "My life’s been a rollercoaster. After my parents died, I felt lost. Oliver took me in, but it came with its own set of pressures. I ended up on a dark path—drugs, messes, and more."

He took a breath, looking back on those tough times. "Then Lian came along. She was my light in the darkness. I kicked the drugs and focused on being a dad. But the pressure and fear of messing up lingered. Losing Lian, or so I thought, sent me into a tailspin again."

Roy looked at Jason with a mix of pain and gratitude. "You brought her back to me, and I owe you more than words can say." He reached across the table, taking Jason’s hand. "With you, it’s different. No pressure, no expectations. Just freedom."

He added with a shadow in his eyes, "I’m scared too. Love has always been messy for me, but with you, it feels easy. It’s light and pure, and that confuses me." He searched Jason’s eyes for reassurance. "But I’ve learned that running away isn’t the answer. I want this with you, whatever it is. A relationship, if you’re up for it."

Roy’s words hung between them, filled with raw honesty. Jason felt every word hit him deep, stirring feelings he’d kept hidden. He took a moment to steady himself, overwhelmed by the emotions.

Unable to find the right words, Jason simply nodded, holding Roy’s gaze. It was a silent but powerful affirmation of what they shared and what might come next. The bells of La Sagrada Familia rang softly in the background as Roy leaned in and kissed Jason gently. Everything else faded away, leaving them wrapped in their own world.

Driven by the passion sparked by their shared confession, Jason and Roy headed back to Jason’s hotel suite. The night was filled with unguarded emotions and passion, every touch and glance charged with meaning. As dawn’s first light crept in, reality set back in. Roy had to go back to Star City to pick up Lian from Dinah’s care.

“I can’t wait for your tour to be over,” Roy whispered. "I’ll be waiting for you, Jay."

Dick’s heart was racing as he stepped out of the car, his usual excitement about being back in Fawcett City overshadowed by a creeping sense of unease. The Head family home was crawling with League of Shadows agents—yes, the same League of Shadows Dick had been fighting for years. Instinct kicked in, and he positioned himself protectively between the danger and his younger brothers, Damian and Billy.

Dick’s mind was buzzing with questions. Why were the League agents here? Did Jason call them for some reason, or were these rogue agents doing their own thing? The uneasy alliance between Jason, Damian, and Billy didn’t do much to ease Dick’s deep-rooted mistrust.

Even with all the uncertainty, Dick’s resolve was solid. No matter what, he was determined to protect his brothers. The history between the Colony and the League of Shadows was messy and filled with scars. The past battles, sacrifices, and losses weren’t just going to disappear with a truce.

Damian stepped forward, his frown showing both curiosity and concern. Arianne, Jason’s lieutenant, was barking orders, organizing the League agents around the Head House. Dick tried to keep Damian away from any danger, but Damian had his own plans. Seeing the respectful bows and the way the League agents looked up to Damian and Billy, Dick’s suspicion turned into a calculated understanding. Damian was clearly commanding respect here, and Dick realized he needed to let Damian take the lead.

The air was tense, every eye on Arianne as Damian stepped up, determination written all over him. Damian’s voice, usually so calm, had a sharp edge as he demanded, "What’s going on here? Why are you at the house?" The worry for his brothers was evident, sending a chill down his spine.

Arianne, ever composed, greeted Damian and Billy with a reverence that showed their status within the League. She called them "princes," acknowledging their position with respect. Her nod towards Dick was brief, acknowledging his Nightwing persona with a curt nod.

The mention of Tim brought a glimmer of relief to Damian, but it also stirred up old emotions. "A lead on Tim?" Dick asked, his voice laced with hope and worry.

Arianne’s intense gaze met Dick’s, her silence speaking volumes. But Billy’s sincere question softened her stance. A restrained smile appeared as she said, "Yes, we’ve found something. For more details, you’ll need to ask my prince."

Arianne led Damian, Billy, and Dick into Jason’s home office. Jason was deep in thought, sifting through some cryptic information at his desk.

Dick couldn’t help himself. He asked casually, "So, what did you find, Little Wing?"

Arianne, noticing the lack of formality, interjected sharply. "Show some respect! You’re speaking to a prince of the famed Al Ghul bloodline, the eldest son of our Lady Head of the Shadows, Talia Al Ghul."

Dick raised an amused eyebrow at the formality, but Jason just waved off Arianne’s reprimand and sighed. "Turns out, Robin had a meeting with Gold Booster before he disappeared."

"Gold Booster?" Dick’s confusion was evident. "Why would Tim need him?"

Jason, looking a bit annoyed, clarified, "To time travel." The revelation hung in the air, disbelief spreading among the group.

"Is he trying to stop Dad’s death?" Damian’s question was filled with a mix of hope and fear.

Jason shook his head. "No, he thinks Bruce is alive. Just lost in the timestream, and he’s planning on bringing him back."

A heavy silence filled the room. The idea of Tim’s plan was a lot to process. The news hit hard, stirring up a mix of relief, disbelief, and anxious anticipation.

Dick felt a surge of guilt. Could Tim really be onto something? Was Bruce out there somewhere? The thought was both thrilling and terrifying. The possibility of Bruce being alive was a wound he wasn’t sure he wanted to reopen.

Damian was torn. He wanted to believe that Tim was right and that he might finally meet the father he’d only heard about. But he also feared that this quest might lead to disappointment and painful truths.

Billy shared Damian’s hope, not just for Damian’s sake but also for the chance to meet Batman. The idea of a family reunion stirred up a mix of emotions in him, hoping for the joy it could bring.

Jason, on the other hand, was grappling with his own fears. Revealing the existence of his family to the Justice League and Batfamily had now become a risk. If Tim’s mission succeeded and Bruce returned, it could mess up everything Jason had tried to build. The thought of Bruce finding out about them and making their lives a nightmare filled him with dread. The delicate balance Jason had worked so hard to maintain was on the brink of crumbling, and the consequences could be severe.

The tension in the room was thick, with everyone feeling the weight of disappointment. Jason, decked out in his Red Ghoul gear, was practically radiating fury, his eyes burning with an intensity that could melt steel. Arsenal was scowling hard, his face showing a mix of anger and frustration, while Nightwing, usually the calm leader, had an icy glare that made everyone shiver.

Superboy, Wonder Girl, Blue Beetle, and Impulse, normally full of confidence, were shrinking under the intense scrutiny of the trio. Jason wasted no time, his voice slicing through the silence.

"What the hell were you thinking?" he roared. "Letting Robin go time-traveling on his own and keeping it a secret while everyone else was busting their butts trying to find him? I might not always agree with you guys being out in the field, but you’re supposed to be heroes, not reckless idiots!"

Arsenal’s face was set in a hard line. "Gold Booster’s getting benched for this. Putting a teenager’s life on the line without talking to his guardian? That’s a disgrace, and you’re all part of it."

Nightwing’s disappointment was as cold as ice. "We’re supposed to look out for each other. But instead, you went behind our backs and put Robin in danger without a second thought. Do you have any clue what could’ve happened? What is happening right now? No, you don’t! Nobody knows where Robin is in time, not even Gold Booster!"

The Teen Titans were getting a harsh dressing-down that left them feeling exposed. The reality of their mistakes was hitting hard.

"We were just following orders from our team leader and we trust Robin to handle his mission!" Conner’s protest was weak against the barrage of criticism. His defense barely made a dent, and the tension stayed thick.

Nightwing’s gaze hardened. "Believe in him? He’s a mess, Conner!" Nightwing’s frustration was evident. "And your excuse is you were following orders? Orders from a leader who’s clearly struggling? You put your trust in someone who’s not in the best state of mind. Great call." He scoffed. "Even if Robin was right about Batman being lost in time, that mission should’ve been handled by the Justice League, not someone whose personal issues are getting in the way."

Wonder Girl stepped forward, tears in her eyes. "We thought we were helping," she said softly, regret clear in her voice. "We thought we were giving him a chance to make things right."

Arsenal shook his head, disbelief written all over his face. "Helping? By sending a teenager on a mission this risky? You need to get it," he said firmly. "You’re not just following orders blindly. You should’ve informed an adult and not risked Robin’s life. What’s your excuse now? ‘I was ordered to’? That’s just a cop-out."

Impulse stared at the floor, his usual energy gone. "We messed up," he admitted quietly. "Big time."

Jason leaned in, his gaze sharp. "And what about his mental health?" he growled. "Did any of you think about what this could do to him? He’s already carrying so much, and you just piled more on?"

"We get it, we messed up!" Jaime snapped at Jason, flinching as a wave of oppressive energy seemed to hit them.

"You get it?!" Jason shot back. "You thought it was a great idea to let him handle a time-travel mission alone? Brilliant move. He’s lost in the timestream, and even Gold Booster can’t get to him now because nobody knows where he is!"

Nightwing’s stern face dared anyone to argue, Arsenal’s no-nonsense attitude showed deep disappointment, and Red Ghoul’s raw anger made it clear this wasn’t just a screw-up—it was a serious betrayal of trust and a risk to Robin’s safety. As the harsh truths sank in, the young heroes were left to face the full weight of their mistakes, feeling the crushing guilt and reality of their decisions.

Chapter Text

The Batcave was buzzing with tension as Nightwing, Black Bat, Batwing, Batwoman, Agent A, Spoiler, and Oracle huddled around the Bat-Computer. The dim glow from the monitors cast shadows on their worried faces.

Agent A, his face lined with concern, couldn’t hide his disappointment. “I can’t believe he went and did something this reckless. I warned him about going off on his own, but did he listen? Nope!”

Oracle, staring at the screen, sighed and shook her head. “We all knew Robin was on a downward spiral, but a time heist? Really? It’s like he’s trying to outdo every crazy thing we’ve ever done.”

Spoiler, clearly frustrated, jumped in. “Seriously! Who thought it was a good idea for Robin to take on time travel solo? We knew he was unpredictable, but this is next-level insanity!”

Nightwing, trying to get everyone focused, clapped his hands. “Alright, enough arguing. We need to figure out how to bring him back. He’s lost in the timestream, and we don’t know where he is.”

Black Bat, trying to stay calm, spoke up. “I’ve been checking the Batcomputer’s historical database, but he’s not showing up in any known time period. It’s like he’s vanished.”

Batwoman, her red hair catching the dim light, added, “We need to find a way to track him down. He can’t be lost forever.”

Batwing, his voice rough with worry, chimed in. “We can’t just sit here. We have to do something to bring him back.”

Oracle, typing away, said, “We should look for any weird temporal anomalies. Something that doesn’t fit in the historical record. That might lead us to Robin.”

Nightwing nodded. “Oracle’s right. We have to stick together. No more blaming each other. We’re a team, and we’ll get him back.”

The tension in the Batcave was thick, but amidst the worry and frustration, determination shone in their eyes. They were the Colony, and no matter how tough things got, they’d find a way to bring Robin home.

The moment was interrupted when Batwoman’s gaze shifted to the clock entrance. She squinted as Red Ghoul, Zamurad, and Billy came down the stairs. Billy, now calling himself Leukós, looked unsure in his SHAZAM form. Leukós means "white" in Ancient Greek, a nod to the tradition his brothers followed—Jason in red, Damian in emerald-green, and Billy in white.

Batwing tried to keep things positive and greeted them with a warm smile. But the disappointment on the new arrivals' faces was clear. They seemed weighed down by their failed mission.

“You found nothing?” Black Bat asked with a resigned sigh.

Red Ghoul nodded, his shoulders slumped. Zamurad let out a frustrated curse in Arabic, and Leukós shifted uncomfortably under everyone’s gaze.

Batwoman stepped forward. “Okay, let’s not get discouraged. We’re dealing with the timestream, so it’s not going to be easy. We need to regroup and come up with a new plan.”

Nightwing, sensing the frustration, added, “We’re all in this together. We can’t let one setback get us down. We need fresh ideas, maybe a different way to track Robin through time.”

Agent A, still worried about his grandson, spoke up. “We can’t lose hope. We need every resource we have. Keep searching and trying. We can’t let Master Robin be lost forever.”

Oracle, typing furiously, joined in. “I’m running a deep scan for any temporal anomalies. Maybe there’s something we missed, some clue that could lead us to him.”

Despite the setback, the resolve in the Batcave remained strong. Batwing, noticing the disappointment in everyone’s eyes, offered an encouraging smile. “We’ll figure this out, guys. We always do.”

Red Ghoul, Zamurad, and Leukós exchanged glances, finding a bit of comfort in the Colony's support. They hadn't nailed it on their first try, but everyone’s determination was pushing them to give it another go. Still, the Colony was on edge from the failed attempt to locate Robin, so it was no surprise when they all tensed as a bright silver light appeared above them. Instinctively, everyone got into attack positions, ready for whatever might come next. Except for Red Ghoul, Zamurad, and Leukós, who recognized the familiar glow of the Patronus Charm.

"It's just the Patronus Charm. No need to freak out," Zamurad said, signaling everyone to relax. He explained calmly, “This old charm conjures a magical guardian from your most positive feelings. It’s great against dark creatures like dementors, and it can also be used to send messages. If it’s here, it’s from someone we know. Remember, Red Ghoul set up wards against evil intent.”

As the bright light faded, a majestic phoenix appeared. Leukós took the lead, “That’s Madame Xanadu’s Patronus Charm. It’s a phoenix, which represents her strength, wisedom, and solitude nature. She sees death as just another adventure and isn't afraid of it.”

Batwoman chuckled at the description and smirked at her nephews. “She must be quite the character.”

Red Ghoul’s smile was warm. “She is. That’s why I made her the first Headmistress of Nanda Parbat School for Magic.”

Jason, a mix of curious and cautious, examined the envelope and letter Madame Xanadu’s Patronus had delivered. The magical ink on the parchment shimmered with charms and spells, protecting it from damage, prying eyes, and tampering. One charm made sure only Jason could read it.

“Clever,” Jason mumbled, impressed by the magical defenses.

As the Patronus Phoenix slowly disappeared, Jason read the letter. His expression shifted from anticipation to concern, and then deepening worry. No matter how many times he read it, the message stayed the same.

He finally set the letter down with a sigh, catching the attention of the rest of the group. Agent A, visibly worried, asked, “What does it say, Master Jason?”

Jason looked up, his frown deepening. “Madame Xanadu managed to connect Robin’s essence to a spell. It’ll let us know when he’s back in our time and where the time vortex spits him out. But that’s all.”

A heavy silence settled over the Batcave. It was something, but not enough. The realization that, despite their efforts, they still couldn’t directly help Robin was a tough pill to swallow.

“Dammit,” Spoiler muttered, frustration clear in her voice. Nightwing, usually so confident, ran a hand through his hair, looking worried. Oracle, behind the monitors, sighed, her eyes showing shared concern.

Batwoman, worry etched into every line of her face, clenched her fists. “We can’t just sit here. There’s got to be something more we can do.”

Despite the new information, the feeling of helplessness lingered.

The stage was electric as Dick and Damian got ready for their performance. Hanging from their trapeze swings, they created an atmosphere thick with anticipation.

The faint strains of music drifted through the air, and with it, the trapeze swings started to sway. Dick and Damian fell into a smooth rhythm, swinging back and forth, their movements perfectly in sync with the beat. The once-silent stage was now alive with the soft creaking of their swings.

As the music picked up, so did their routine. Dick and Damian, clearly on the same page, reached out and grabbed each other’s hands mid-air. They spun and twirled, moving gracefully through the air. Their dance was fluid, each movement seamless as they alternated between holding on and letting go.

In a daring move, they both let go of their trapeze bars. The crowd held its breath as they spiraled around each other, their bodies intertwined like a double helix. Just when it seemed they might fall, they grabbed their bars again with expert timing. The audience erupted into cheers and applause, the noise echoing through the venue.

As the music swirled, Damian flipped upside down, grabbing his trapeze with his legs. Dick, from his swing, reached out and held Damian’s waist, showcasing his strength and Damian’s flexibility. It was a stunning visual that had everyone captivated. With a burst of courage, Damian leaped from his trapeze, trusting Dick to catch him. And catch him, Dick did, perfectly timing the catch mid-air.

The crowd’s gasps filled the space as Dick and Damian prepared for their grand finale. The music built to a crescendo, matching the intensity of their routine. They whirled through flips, spins, and catches, pushing gravity to its limits. The stage was a blur of motion, with their movements creating dancing shadows on the walls.

As they wrapped up their performance, they descended gracefully from their swings, landing on the stage floor with poise. Dick and Damian shared a triumphant grin, their chests heaving from the exertion. The music faded as the audience cheered wildly for Dan Danger (Dick) and Alex Danger (Damian), the dynamic duo that had just delivered an amazing act. They waved and smiled, acknowledging the applause before heading backstage.

Once behind the scenes, Dick pulled Damian into a tight hug, beaming with pride. Performing with his younger brother had brought him immense joy. He marveled at Damian’s talent, impressed by how he’d taken to trapeze like a natural.

"Dami, that was amazing! You really nailed it up there!" Dick said, his excitement evident. "You’re a true Flying Grayson now. I’ve been waiting for someone to share the sky with, and you totally exceeded all my expectations."

Damian let a small smile slip through. The praise from Dick, who was a seasoned acrobat, meant a lot to him. He soaked in the compliment with quiet satisfaction.

As they moved away from the backstage area, Dick reflected on their special bond. In the chaos of their crime-fighting lives, this performance had been a way to connect with his acrobatic roots. Dick knew it might be frowned upon to have a favorite sibling, but the bond he shared with Damian, forged in the air, was something special.

"You know, Dami, teaching you the trapeze has been such a joy. You’ve got the Flying Grayson spirit down," Dick whispered.

While backstage buzzed with activity, Damian watched as Dick wiped sweat from his brow, noticing something was off. Damian, ever perceptive, waited until they were alone to ask.

"What's wrong?" Damian’s voice was softer than usual.

Dick, momentarily caught off guard, sighed and gave a sad smile. "Can’t hide anything from you, can I?" Damian nodded, encouraging him to continue. "I’m worried about Tim."

Damian took a moment to process that. "Sometimes, the hardest thing to do is nothing and just wait. Tim needs us to be ready when he needs us. We’re like a safety net for him."

Dick looked at Damian with gratitude, impressed by his wisdom. Damian’s insight into their situation was a reminder that sometimes waiting is the hardest part, but it’s also necessary.

"You’re right," Dick said softly. "We’ll be there for Tim when he needs us, and until then, we’ll keep soaring."

In the hustle and bustle of Fawcett City, Jason and Roy were having a blast on their paintball date. The field was a riot of colors, with paint flying everywhere. It was like a scene straight out of an action movie, but with more splatters and fewer bullets. For Jason, it was a break from his usual magical gigs—just a chance to shoot something that wasn’t enchanted. Roy, on the other hand, was loving the paintball guns, even if they were a far cry from his usual arrows.

Across town, the younger crew—Damian, Billy, and Lian—were tearing it up at the arcade. Jade, Roy’s ex and Lian’s mom, was there too, adding even more energy to the scene. The arcade lights were flashing, games were beeping, and tickets were piling up like they’d hit the jackpot. Damian was grinning ear to ear, strutting his stuff as the Dance Dance Revolution King. Billy’s laughter was spreading like wildfire, and Lian was having the time of her life hanging out with her mom and friends.

Back at the paintball field, things were getting wild. Jason and Roy had teamed up, and they were unstoppable. They were dodging, rolling, and taking out opponents left and right. The air was filled with laughter and the occasional splat of paint. Even though they were outnumbered, the duo was in their element, clearly having the time of their lives.

As the paintball match went on, the real competition was about how many opponents they could take out. Jason and Roy were strategizing, laughing, and leaving a colorful trail of chaos. Every hit and every dodge was a victory, and their camaraderie shone through as they celebrated each successful move.

When the final paintball settled, it was clear Roy had won this round. Jason, ever the good sport, took the ribbing with a grin, promising himself he’d be sharper next time. After all, he was an Al Ghul, and losing wasn’t in his DNA.

Paint-splattered and grinning, Jason and Roy decided to hit up a steakhouse for some well-deserved burgers, fries, and beer. The clinking of glasses and the sizzle of food created a cozy vibe. They smoothly transitioned from their high-energy paintball game to a relaxed dinner, enjoying the dim lighting and easy conversation.

But Roy’s sharp eyes noticed a change in Jason’s mood. Cutting through the casual chatter, Roy asked, “What’s up, Jay?”

Jason sighed, his expression reflecting a mix of guilt and frustration. “I just feel bad. I’m here having a great time, and Tim’s out there lost, and we can’t do anything but wait.”

Roy reached over, placing a reassuring hand on Jason’s. “That’s the key, Jay. All you can do right now is wait. Beating yourself up won’t help Tim. So, enjoy the night while you can.”

“You’re right. I’ll try to enjoy the night. After all, you’re here with me,” Jason said, his mood lightening a bit.

“And here I thought you’d call me corny,” Roy chuckled, his laughter infectious.

Just as they were settling into the warmth of the steakhouse, Jason’s mood shifted suddenly. His face grew serious, and Roy noticed the change. “Everything okay, Jay?” Roy asked, concern in his voice.

Jason looked at him, his expression grave. “The spell just activated. Tim’s back.”

Roy’s face lit up with a smile. “That’s awesome! Where is he?”

“In the cave,” Jason whispered, his expression darkening. “But he didn’t come alone.”

Suddenly, a blinding light erupted in the Batcave, causing everyone to shield their eyes. As the light subsided, two figures emerged, facing each other in a battle-ready stance. Tim had returned to the present day and was squaring off against Batman. The exclamation of shock and concern from Nightwing, Spoiler, and Black Bat was immediate when they noticed Robin's bloodied form. He clutched his side, a vivid crimson staining his costume. Panic surged through the Colony as they took in the gravity of the situation.

"Robin!" Nightwing shouted, his voice filled with a mix of relief and alarm. "What happened? Are you okay? Silly me, of course, you are not ok. You are bleeding!"

Tim, with a strained smile, waved off their concerns, trying to catch his breath. "I'm fine," he insisted, though the visible pain in his eyes betrayed the bravado. "Just got a little banged up in the timestream. But there's something you need to know.”

The three of them, huddled around Tim, listened intently as he explained the bizarre twist that occurred during his time displacement. The air in the Batcave thickened with disbelief as Tim spoke about Batman's transformation into an entity known as "The Dark Ranger."

"Wait, what?" Spoiler exclaimed, her eyes wide with disbelief. "Batman turned into something else?"

Tim nodded grimly, his expression serious. "Yeah. The timestream's unpredictable, and it did something to Batman. He became this... dark force, hunting down threats with a ruthlessness I've never seen before."

Black Bat furrowed her brow, concern etched across her face. "So, what happened back there? Why did you two end up facing off?"

Tim's gaze dropped momentarily, and he hesitated before answering, "I had to confront him. The Dark Ranger. It was the only way to stop him from going too far."

Nightwing, always the protective older brother, clenched his fists. "You did what you had to do, Tim. But we need to fix this. We can't have Batman turning into some... dark entity."

Agent A, with a determined expression, quickly scooped up Robin, who winced in pain from his time-displaced wounds. "You're going to be okay, Master Robin. Let's get you patched up," Agent A reassured as they disappeared into the shadows, leaving the rest of the Colony to face the looming threat.

The Batcave was buzzing with tension as Dark Ranger faced off against Nightwing, Spoiler, and Black Bat. Nightwing started things off with a high-flying kick, showcasing his impressive acrobatics. He moved through the air like a pro, aiming a swift kick at Dark Ranger. But Dark Ranger was a wall of muscle and took the hit with barely a flinch.

Dark Ranger quickly retaliated with a powerful charge. Nightwing dodged with his trademark agility, then launched into a rapid series of punches and kicks. Despite Nightwing’s speed, Dark Ranger's strength was too much, and he blocked most of the attacks effortlessly.

Nightwing decided it was time to rethink his approach and created some distance with a dramatic acrobatic move. Spoiler seized the moment, jumping in with her quick and precise strikes. She darted around Dark Ranger, landing a sharp jab. But Dark Ranger, using his brute force, absorbed her hits and managed to block her next moves. Spoiler dodged expertly and stepped back to regroup.

Black Bat stepped up next, her movements smooth and controlled as she tried to wear down Dark Ranger with a series of martial arts strikes. Dark Ranger's strength was still holding firm, and he managed to break free from her attempts to restrain him.

Black Bat didn’t give up though. She switched tactics, trying to grapple Dark Ranger and limit his movements. But Dark Ranger powered out of her hold with a force that shook the cave. It was a tough, back-and-forth battle between skill and raw power.

As Spoiler and Nightwing rejoined Black Bat, they knew they had to fight together now. But things were getting more intense, with Dark Ranger switching gears from defense to offense.

Dark Ranger went on the attack, his strikes coming fast and hard. Nightwing tried to keep up, using quick footwork and defensive moves to block the blows. His face showed a mix of concentration and frustration, not just from the physical pain but from having to fight his own father.

Spoiler used her agility to dodge Dark Ranger’s attacks, moving like a blur. Black Bat was positioning herself for a chance to strike, her eyes locked on Dark Ranger as she searched for a weakness.

But Dark Ranger was a force to be reckoned with. He used sweeping attacks to push back the trio, disrupting their efforts to keep him at bay. Despite their skills, the sheer power of Dark Ranger was overwhelming.

Black Bat took the lead, determined to take Dark Ranger down with her martial arts expertise. The Batcave rang with the sound of their fight, but Dark Ranger didn’t back down. He threw Black Bat against the wall with a brutal slam.

When Spoiler and Nightwing saw Black Bat hit the ground, unconscious, their concern was palpable. Just when it seemed like all hope was lost, a burst of vibrant red smoke appeared. Out of the smoke stepped the Red Ghoul, wand raised high and a determined look on his face.

With a loud exclamation, Red Ghoul cast the spell: "Petrificus Totalus!"

The air crackled with magic as the incantation took effect. Suddenly, Bruce's once formidable form was frozen in place. His arms snapped to his sides, legs sprang together, and his entire body became as rigid as a board. The once imposing Dark Ranger now lay motionless on the cold floor, his jaws jammed shut, only his eyes moving in a silent expression of horror.

Red Ghoul, lowering his wand, turned to Robin with a piercing glare. His demand cut through the air, "What just happened here, boy?"

The Batcave transformed into a makeshift infirmary in the aftermath of the skirmish. Jason, sleeves rolled up, took charge of tending to the injuries scattered across his battered family. Spoiler, Nightwing, Black Bat, and Robin lay strewn across the floor, their appearances reminiscent of warriors who had weathered a chaotic storm. The atmosphere crackled with tension, the air heavy with a collective sense of urgency. In the midst of the palpable unease, Jason, undeterred, sprang into action. His wand was in hand, the first target was Robin.

"Vulnera Sanentur," Jason intoned, the song-like incantation carrying a soothing tone that seemed to resonate through the cave.

The magic, like an ethereal thread, wove its way across Robin's skin, delicately stitching up the visible aftermath of the confrontation. Robin winced at the pain that accompanied the mending of injuries, but the returning color to his face showed the effectiveness of the healing charm.

Unyielding, Jason swiftly transitioned to the next incantation. "Brackium Emendo!"

The cavern echoed with the noise of bone-setting back into place. Spoiler, Nightwing, and Black Bat, each bearing their share of bruises and fractures, responded with a chorus of groans that gradually transformed into sighs of relief.

The healing spree continued, with Jason seamlessly moving on to the next healing spell. Episkey, a term that sounded like it belonged in a wizarding textbook, was the remedy for the smaller nicks and bruises that still lingered among the Colony.

"Episkey!" The incantation was loud and firm, a magical band-aid for broken noses, toes, and split lips. Next on Jason's magical agenda was Rennervate, a spell reserved for those still caught in the embrace of unconsciousness. "Rennervate!"

The words carried a wake-up call, a magical nudge to bring Black Bat back to the land of the awake. Black Bat blinked herself back to consciousness, a deep frown on her lips when she realized she had fallen during the battle.

Taking a deliberate step back, Jason wore the dual expressions of fatigue and satisfaction. Jason waved his wand one last time, casting a Stamina Charm. The incantation acted like a magical version of a Red Bull, infusing the wearied heroes with a surge of energy. The Colony, just moments ago resembling individuals who had faced down a speeding truck, now sat up, renewed. Though, Robin still felt king of woozy from all the blood he had lost from his stab wound.

“Wonderful, Master Jason,” Agent A praised his grandson, voice filled with so much pride that it made Red Ghoul blush.

Meanwhile, Robin slowly picked himself up, his gaze shifted to the paralyzed figure of Batman, though it would be better to refer to him as Dark Ranger in this altered state. Robin turned to Jason with a furrowed brow and asked, "What are we going to do with him?" His eyes, filled with concern, scanned Dark Ranger, a silent plea for guidance.

Jason, with a weariness etched on his face, met Robin's gaze. He took a deep breath before replying, "I'll be taking him with me. Gotta find a magical way to heal his mind."

Robin felt torn. Guilt and frustration mixed in his chest as he shrugged, accepting Jason's decision. Magical healing was the last thing Batman would willingly accept, but Robin had already messed things up.

Chapter Text

Jason was sprawled in his favorite armchair at home in Fawcett City, grading papers from the latest finals. It felt like the semester had flown by. The quiet of the room was interrupted by the front door creaking open. Roy was back from his Titans mission.

Jason set aside his papers and watched Roy as he came in, starting his post-mission routine. Roy carefully hung up his bow and blades on the rack Jason had made, placed his quiver and patrol gear neatly, and set his boots on a spell-charmed tray.

Roy, now down to just his comfy underclothes, padded over to Jason. He planted a soft kiss on Jason’s forehead and settled into his lap. Jason took in Roy’s relaxed look, appreciating the contrast between the fierce archer he knew and this more tender version. Roy, in his thin black shirt and bare feet, seemed miles away from his heroic persona.

The only sounds in the room were the crackling of the fire and the occasional rustle of papers as Jason continued grading. Roy wrapped his arms around Jason's shoulders in a loose hug, and Jason let out a contented hum as Roy snuggled into him, his breath warm on Jason’s neck. With Roy draped over him, Jason felt a mix of comfort and distraction.

Jason kept grading, occasionally interrupted by Roy’s soft kisses—one on his neck, another on his ear. Roy had clearly drifted off, his arms tightening around Jason as he settled in for an unexpected nap. Jason’s attention to the papers faded as he enjoyed the cozy, intimate moment.

“Hey,” Jason said softly, turning his head to kiss Roy’s cheek. “You made it back in one piece. How was the mission?”

“Eh, nothing too wild. Bad guy’s behind bars, and we’re all fine. The usual,” Roy mumbled, still half-asleep. “How are the kids?”

“Oh, they’re great,” Jason said with a smile. “Damian and Billy nailed their midterms—straight Outstandings. And Lian aced her English with an A+.”

“Yeah, my little geniuses. Damian’s probably already plotting world domination,” Roy chuckled. “Lian’s got your knack for English. Should’ve seen that coming, Prof.”

“Well, it runs in the family,” Jason said, leaning into Roy’s embrace. “Thanks for asking. What about you? Any epic archery moments today?”

“Just the usual incredible, death-defying stuff. You know, Tuesday things.” Roy smirked, but then his face clouded over. “Dick was pretty out of it. He’s worried about Batman…”

“He’s only been out of the timestream for a couple of weeks. Time magic is tricky and dangerous, which is why not many people mess with it. The number of warlocks and witches who get it right is even smaller,” Jason huffed.

“They don’t get magic like you do, so they’re stressing and asking a million questions,” Roy said, trying to soothe him. He sounded tired but understanding. “They don’t mean anything by it…”

“I know,” Jason sighed, putting his papers away. “I know they’re worried and want answers, but rushing me won’t help. They need to be patient.”

The holographic conference table in the Watch Tower flickered on, casting a soft glow in the dim room. The Justice League members were clearly feeling the weight of their latest blunder. Wonder Woman started things off, looking frustrated. “How did we let Darkseid pull one over on us like this? Batman’s lost in the timestream, and we didn’t even notice the fake body.”

“I can’t believe we didn’t catch that it wasn’t really Bruce,” The Flash added, clearly annoyed.

Green Lantern, his ring glowing nervously, said, “Even when he was dead, Darkseid played us. We should’ve seen through his tricks.”

Superman, normally the rock of the team, sighed. “We were all grieving, but that’s no excuse. Batman was out there, and we should’ve been looking for him.”

“We can’t let this happen again,” Aquaman said, gripping his trident.

“Our emotions got the better of us,” Martian Manhunter chimed in. “We need to own up to our mistakes and work together to fix them.”

Hawkgirl, her wings twitching, added, “J’onn’s right. Our trust has been shaken. We need to do better.”

The room was charged with frustration and guilt. Everyone was grappling with how they let Darkseid mess with them. Superman couldn’t hide his disbelief. “I still can’t believe it came down to Robin rescuing Batman. He’s just a kid!”

“Batman trusting Robin shows the kid’s got skills, but we should’ve figured out a way to handle this without putting a young hero at risk,” Wonder Woman said firmly.

Green Lantern, looking annoyed, added, “It was reckless. We shouldn’t have let Golden Booster drag a kid into something this dangerous.”

“Golden Booster needs to understand that putting a kid in harm’s way isn’t heroic,” The Flash agreed.

Hawkgirl nodded. “We have protocols for a reason. Involving minors in high-stakes missions without proper clearance is against our code.”

Aquaman agreed. “We need to make sure this doesn’t happen again. Our younger members’ safety should be our top priority.”

“Robin’s bravery is impressive, but we need to acknowledge our role in this mess. We’re supposed to protect, not put our young heroes at risk,” Martian Manhunter said.

Wonder Woman then addressed Golden Booster’s role. “Golden Booster’s been reprimanded. No hero should put a minor in such a dangerous spot without letting their guardian know.”

Dinah crossed her arms, looking serious. “This isn’t how we should operate. We need to learn from this and make sure our younger members are safe going forward.”

Clark, folding his arms, agreed with Dinah. “She’s right. Personal differences can’t compromise the safety of our younger members. We need a solid plan for the future.”

“Protecting our younger heroes is crucial. We need stricter guidelines on their involvement in missions,” Wonder Woman nodded.

Green Arrow suggested, “Maybe a joint decision-making process for critical missions involving younger members?”

“How about a buddy system? Pairing younger heroes with experienced mentors could add extra protection,” The Flash proposed.

Hawkgirl adjusted her wings. “Regular training sessions for the younger members would help. We can’t shield them forever, but we can prepare them.”

“And we should look into magical threats too. Maybe consult Zatanna or Doctor Fate for establishing protocols,” Dinah suggested.

“Communication is key. A centralized system for mission updates and critical information would help,” Martian Manhunter added.

As they hashed out ideas, their plan started taking shape. They talked about mentorship programs, better training, and improved communication. But they kept circling back to Batman’s situation.

Superman still looked bewildered. “I can’t believe Batman’s mind got messed up by the timestream. How did he turn into the Dark Ranger? It feels like everything we knew about him is flipped on its head.”

Wonder Woman tried to reassure him. “Red Ghoul is on it. If anyone can bring Batman back, it’s Jason. He’s proven himself. My warrior won’t let his father fall into darkness.”

Green Arrow raised an eyebrow. “Is it wise to trust Jason with Batman? He’s been raised by Talia Al Ghul. Can we be sure he’s got Batman’s best interests at heart?”

Wonder Woman’s eyes flashed with anger. “Jason’s been through a lot, but he’s not defined by his upbringing. He’s a part of this team, and he cares about Batman deeply.”

Green Arrow wasn’t convinced. “Forgive me if I have doubts about someone with a League of Shadows background. We can’t afford to be naive.”

Tension spiked between Wonder Woman and Green Arrow, and they started arguing. Accusations flew and suspicions were raised. Green Arrow pointed out, “How can we be sure Red Ghoul is on our side? He’s mysterious, and I don’t trust it. We need to question his motives.”

Wonder Woman shot back, “Red Ghoul has saved Gotham, kept Fawcett City safe, and helped your son. He’s earned our trust. Doubting him now is a betrayal.”

The rest of the League exchanged uneasy looks as Wonder Woman and Green Arrow clashed. Meanwhile, Flash, worried, said, “We’ve got to face facts. Red Ghoul and his team haven’t figured out how to heal Batman. He’s stuck as the Dark Ranger.”

“Aye, and until they do, we’re left waiting. It’s frustrating, but magic is unpredictable,” Aquaman agreed.

“Patience is key. Jason is doing everything he can,” Dinah said firmly. “We can’t let internal conflicts weaken us. The League has to stay united. The only way we’ll save Batman is by working together.”

Cyborg, determined but worried, added, “Agreed. We need a plan, not division. If we fall apart, Batman won’t be the only one we lose.”

Green Lantern reminded them, “Remember what we’ve faced together before. We’ve overcome huge odds. We can’t let this situation tear us apart.”

Pedestals of ancient books surrounded Billy in the expansive library of the Rock of Eternity. His frustration bubbled as he feverishly flipped through magical tomes, desperately seeking a solution for Batman's predicament. His SHAZAM guardians, embodied wisdom, strength, and other mythical virtues, floated nearby, concerned expressions etched on their otherworldly faces.

Billy slammed a book shut, the sound echoing through the cavernous space. "This is ridiculous! There's nothing here about fixing someone who's been messed up by the timestream. How can magic not have an answer for everything?"

Solomon, the embodiment of wisdom, spoke gently, "Billy, patience is a virtue. The complexities of time magic are vast. It takes time to unravel such intricate threads."

Billy scowled, frustration boiling over. "Time is what we don't have! Jason and Damian are hurting, and I can't do anything to help their dad. We need answers, and we need them now!"

Hercules, the embodiment of strength, placed a reassuring hand on Billy's shoulder. "Impatience clouds the mind. Clear your thoughts, and the solution may reveal itself."

"But it's been weeks, and we're still no closer to helping Batman! What if he stays the Dark Ranger forever? What if we lose him?" The anguish in Billy's voice resonated through the sacred chamber.

Achilles, the embodiment of courage, spoke resolutely, "Fear serves no one. We'll find a way. We're in this together."

Billy sighed, his anger deflating into a heavy sense of helplessness. "I just want to fix this. I want to see them smile again, not carry the weight of their father's darkness."

Mercury, the embodiment of speed, zipped in front of Billy. "We'll keep searching, Billy. We won't stop until we find a solution. You're not alone in this."

The SHAZAM guardians, bound by their connection to Billy, shared a determined look. They floated back to the shelves, continuing the search for answers. At least, they were until, Atlas, the towering embodiment of strength and endurance, leaned forward, his eyes filled with determination. "Why are we struggling to find a solution when the answer is right in front of us?"

The SHAZAM guardians, including Billy, turned their attention to Atlas, waiting for him to elaborate. The tension in the room was palpable, as they all struggled with the severity of Batman's condition.

"If we can't save Batman," Atlas continued, "why not empower Batman to save himself? He's trapped in his own fractured mind, a prisoner of the timestream. We can guide him, help him understand the situation, and provide the means for him to piece himself back together."

The room fell silent as the weight of Atlas' suggestion settled in. The simplicity of the idea hung in the air, leaving them almost stunned by its brilliance. Billy's eyes widened with a mix of surprise and hope. "You're saying we can help Batman navigate through his own mind and pull himself out of this darkness?"

Atlas nodded, the resolve in his gaze unwavering. "Exactly. We use magic to create a symbolic realm, a mental landscape where Batman can hopefully find a way to heal."

The shock on everyone's faces turned into a mixture of optimism and curiosity. The possibility of aiding Batman in a more indirect way, utilizing the powers of magic to address the complexities of his psyche, offered a new perspective.

Zeus, the wise and authoritative figure among them, couldn't help but express skepticism. "How do you propose to manage such a feat, Atlas? The mind is a delicate realm, and Batman's condition is unlike anything we've encountered."

Atlas met Zeus' gaze squarely. "With one of the oldest kinds of magic – Representational Magic."

Billy, absorbing the weight of Atlas' suggestion, looked to Solomon for more guidance. The ancient being spoke with a calm authority that resonated through the Rock of Eternity. "Representational Magic is an ancient art," Solomon began, his voice echoing in the library. "Its roots trace back to the late 900s AD, a time when magic and mysticism were deeply interwoven. In essence, it involves using representative objects, often totems, to manipulate reality. The challenge lies in finding the perfect representation."

Billy nodded, the gravity of the situation settling in. "So, we need to find something that perfectly symbolizes Batman?"

Solomon affirmed with a wise nod. "Indeed. The success of Representational Magic hinges on the accuracy of the representation. It's a delicate and powerful form of magic, requiring intense concentration from the witch or warlock practicing it."

"How do we even begin to find the perfect representation of Batman? He's such a complex individual." Billy frowned. "And how do we ensure that this won't harm him further? We can't afford to make things worse."

Solomon acknowledged their concerns with a gentle nod. "Those are valid questions. The representation must encapsulate the essence of Batman – his strengths, his values, and the core of who he is. It's not a task to be taken lightly."

"Where do we start looking for something like that? It's not like there's a 'Batman essence' aisle in the magical marketplace." Billy huffed.

Atlas interjected, "We could try seeking guidance from individuals who share a profound connection with Batman. His allies, his family. They may hold insights into what truly defines him."

“Well, it this does not matter now,” Billy sighed, turning to Atlas. “So, the plan is that we create an astral prison for Batman?"

Atlas nodded solemnly. "Yes, the Chambre de Chasse. It's like a localized pocket dimension within the astral plane, and we can use Representational Magic to create it. It has been used by witches as prisons, but in this case, it becomes a safe space to contain Batman's fractured mind."

Zeus, ever the skeptic, asked, "But how do we make sure he doesn't get lost in his own mind again? We don't want to create another problem."

“The key lies in the representation within the Chambre de Chasse. We use one animal to symbolize Batman, a creature that embodies his essence. The astral plane, in this case, becomes a sanctuary, not a labyrinth." Solomon, with his profound wisdom, answered. "He won’t be able to break away from there, even after finding the symbol that represents him. That is why the Chambre de Chasse is known as the strongest magical prison. Yet, as mentioned before, if we fail in the representation, it all falls apart.”

“It is important to note that not only is the symbol we choose important, but the symbolism we place on it important as well,” Mercury pointed out. “Like foxes have been universally known as tricksters, but they have a negative connotation in Western culture, but a positive one in most Eastern cultures.” Billy hummed thoughtfully at Mercury’s words. “If the prisoner placed in the Chambre de Chasse is able to refute the symbolism you placed on the totem chosen… they will be able to break free from the astral plane."

Billy, absorbing the newfound knowledge, scratched his head, "So, we use Representational Magic to create an astral prison, and Batman will have to find keys in his mind to escape?"

Atlas nodded, "It will serve to keep Batman contained while allowing him the opportunity to navigate his fractured psyche. Once placed Batman's mind will find stability and healing. A safe haven, if you will."

"What if he can't find the keys to unlock the door and leave this Chambre de Chasse? We can't keep him trapped forever." Billy pointed out.

"The keys are representations of Batman's memories and self. We'll guide him, but he must navigate through his own thoughts to unlock the door. It's a journey of self-discovery and healing." Solomon reassured him.

Billy nodded, absorbing the weight of the responsibility they were undertaking. "We're doing this for Batman and for Jason and Damian. We can't let them down."

Tim leaned back in his chair, running a hand through his hair in frustration. "Hold up, are you telling me we could've trapped Batman in some magical mental prison and saved ourselves from all this mess?"

Billy nodded, "Yep, pretty much. We'd create a Chambre de Chasse in the astral plane, and Batman would have to find keys to unlock his own mind."

Damian raised an eyebrow, leaning against the Batcomputer, "You weren't aware of this, Drake? It's standard magical practice, especially when dealing with mind-related issues. But then again, I understand how someone like you might overlook it."

Tim shot him an annoyed glance, "Someone like me?"

Damian clarified, "Those who aren't accustomed to the magical community and its practices. Chambre de Chasse is primarily employed as a prison for witches and warlocks to confine others' minds. I guess your aversion to magic kept you from considering it."

Tim huffed, crossing his arms, "Well, excuse me for not having a magical upbringing. It's not like I have a degree in Hogwartsology."

Billy interjected, trying to keep the atmosphere light, "Hogwartsology, huh? That's a new one. But seriously, magic isn't everyone's forte, and I'm just glad we figured it out now."

Damian, ever the pragmatist, commented, "Thinking outside the box when it comes to established magical techniques isn't as straightforward as it sounds. You need a certain level of familiarity to even consider such possibilities."

Tim sighed, admitting, "Alright, fine. I'll concede to not being a magical genius. But let's focus on making this plan work. Batman's counting on us."

Cassandra, who had been quietly observing, gestured toward the holographic display, signaling her agreement. The discussion continued, blending frustration with determination as the Colony considered different animals to represent Batman in the Chamber de Chasse. Barbara's suggestion of an owl hung in the air, prompting mixed reactions. Dick's face tightened at the reminder of the ominous Court of Owls, the betrayal of Haly’s Circus, and the Grey Son Initiative.

Barbara, sensing the tension, clarified her choice, "I know the Court of Owls brings back unpleasant memories, but think about it. Owls are symbols of wisdom, knowledge, and keen observation. Bruce embodies those qualities. He's always one step ahead, using his intellect to navigate the complex web of Gotham's underworld."

Stephanie, with her typical exuberance, countered with her own idea. "What about a falcon? They're all about sharp vision, speed, and precision. Just like Batman. He's got those crazy acrobatic skills, lightning-fast reflexes, and a hawk-eye for detail. He's our vigilant guardian, swooping down from above to keep Gotham safe."

Damian chimed in with his choice, "A panther. Stealthy, agile, and powerful. Father moves with the same grace, striking fear into criminals. Father moves through the shadows like a panther, silent and swift. The panther's grace and adaptability mirror his ability to navigate any situation, making it a strong representation."

The cave buzzed with ideas, each member putting forth an animal that resonated with different facets of Bruce's character. Each suggestion brought a new layer to the discussion, highlighting the complexity of Batman's character and the challenges they faced in Representational Magic.

After a moment, Dick spoke up, his voice calm and measured, "How about a wolf?"

The room fell silent as they contemplated the choice of the animal to represent Batman in the Chamber de Chasse. Tim's fingers danced across the keyboard as he displayed images of wolves on the Batcomputer. Cassandra nodded in agreement, a slight smile on her face as she approved of the choice. Wolves, like the Colony, operated as a close-knit community, and their loyalty was unwavering.

"Dick's right," Tim chimed in, his fingers dancing across the keyboard as he displayed articles of the symbolism of wolves on the Batcomputer. "Wolves symbolize loyalty, strategic thinking, and community. Traits that align with Bruce's way of operating."

Cassandra nodded in agreement, a slight smile on her face as she approved of the choice. However, Jason, never one to hold back his opinions, scoffed at the idea. "Wolves might seem all noble in symbolism, but they can also be savage. Ever heard of the 'big bad wolf'? They're dangerous, territorial, and don't forgive easily. Sound familiar?" He shot a pointed look at the images on the screen.

Dick sighed, attempting to bridge the gap between perspectives. "Jason, symbolism can be interpreted in various ways. Yes, wolves have their dark side, but so does Batman. It's about finding common ground. The traits of loyalty and strategic thinking are there too."

Jason crossed his arms, his expression skeptical. "I just think it's a little too convenient. Wolves aren't all noble creatures. They can be ruthless, just like Bruce."

Tim leaned forward, joining the discussion, "But that ruthlessness is often in the service of protecting their pack, their family. Bruce is the same way. He might seem like a lone wolf, but he's fiercely protective of all of us."

Cassandra, sensing the tension, stepped forward. She pointed at the image of a lone wolf on the screen, then at the pack. The message was clear - Batman, despite his solitary nature, was deeply connected to his allies.

The debate continued, emotions running high as they grappled with the symbolism of the wolf. In the dim light of the Batcave, the room crackled with tension as the debate over the symbolic representation of Batman intensified. The discussion, initially centered around choosing a wolf as the symbolic animal for the Chamber de Chasse, had now transformed into a heated argument between Dick and Jason.

Dick, ever the optimist, stood firm on the idea that Bruce was a wolf in the noblest sense. "We need him back, not just as a mentor but as family. The wolf is loyal, protective. That's Bruce. He's our alpha, and we can't give up on him."

Jason, on the other hand, held a more cynical view. "The big bad wolf, Dick. Ruthless, territorial. That's Bruce too. You want him back, but you're not facing reality. Bringing him back might mean dealing with the ruthless side, and I'm not sure I'm ready for that."

The verbal sparring escalated into a physical confrontation, fists flying as the emotions of the moment took over. Stephanie, Cassandra and Tim attempted to intervene, but the energy in the Batcave had reached a boiling point.

"You're too idealistic, Dick! It's clouding your judgment," Jason snapped, deflecting a punch from Dick.

"And you're letting your anger dictate your decisions! We can't heal Bruce if we're tearing each other apart," Dick retorted, dodging a retaliatory strike.

Cassandra moved swiftly, stepping between the two combatants, her eyes pleading for them to stop. But the anger and frustration that had built up over time now found an outlet in this clash of ideologies. Finally, Barbara’s voice cut through the chaos, "Enough! Both of you. Fighting won't solve anything. We need a united front to save Bruce. We can argue about the wolf later, but right now, we need to focus on the task at hand."

The tension hung thick in the air as Dick and Jason reluctantly separated. Billy and Damian rushing towards Jason’s side, as Stephanie and Tim joined Dick’s side. Though, Damian did throw Dick a look of concern. Dick felt back about making worrying his Dami, but tempers were flying high. They were so close to healing Bruce and Dick will not let anyone stop him, not even his Little Wing.

Alfred's calming voice resonated in the cave, cutting through the residual tension. "Gentlemen, let us consider the qualities of the wolf. The wolf, as a symbol, is multifaceted. While the debate focuses on its loyalty and protection, it's essential to acknowledge other aspects that may mirror Master Wayne's intricate character."

Alfred, with his usual poise, began outlining the wolf's characteristics, his eyes moving between the strained faces of the Colony. "Firstly, intelligence and strategy. Wolves are known for their cunning and ability to plan. In this aspect, the wolf represents the sharp mind and strategic thinking of Master Wayne."

"Secondly, loyalty and protectiveness. Wolves are fiercely devoted to their pack and protective of their territory. This resonates with Master Wayne's unwavering loyalty to the Batfamily and his protective nature toward Gotham."

"Thirdly, solitude and isolation. Wolves, while social animals, can spend time alone or in small groups. It echoes Master Wayne's tendency to isolate himself due to the challenges he faces."

"Lastly, aggression and the dark side. While wolves are typically non-aggressive, they can display aggression when necessary. This mirrors Batman's occasional aggression, rooted in his traumatic past and relentless pursuit of justice."

The weight of Alfred's words hung in the air, prompting a reflective silence among the Colony. The varied traits of the wolf painted a complex picture, one that seemed to encapsulate the duality of Batman and Bruce Wayne. Dick and Jason, who had been at odds moments ago, exchanged a contemplative glance.

"Maybe we're all right. The wolf represents different facets of Bruce. It's not about choosing one side but embracing the complexity. We need to help him navigate these aspects in the Chambre de Chasse," Stephanie's words hung in the air, breaking the thoughtful silence that had settled over the Batfamily.

Her insight, though unexpected by some, resonated with the collective sentiment in the cave. Stephanie's ability to see beyond the surface and recognize the intricate layers of situations often brought a fresh perspective to the table. Alfred, with his discerning gaze, nodded approvingly. His years of experience and wisdom acknowledged Stephanie's contribution. The collective agreement that followed echoed in the cave.

Bruce stumbled through the dimly lit halls of Wayne Manor, feeling like his mind was wrapped in a fog. The usually bustling place was eerily quiet, missing the usual hum of the Batfamily's activity. As he wandered through the manor, he couldn’t shake the feeling that something was seriously off. This was his home, where he’d built his life as both Bruce Wayne and Batman. But now, the place felt empty, stripped of the upgrades and personal touches the Batfamily had added over the years.

His memories were a jumble, like trying to piece together a puzzle with missing pieces. The manor felt huge and hollow, every step echoing in the emptiness. Bruce knew he was searching for something, though he couldn’t quite put his finger on what. It was like a heartbeat urging him forward, telling him he was close to something important.

He found himself in Dick's room, but without Dick, the space felt strangely vacant. The usual vibrant energy seemed to have evaporated. Bruce's gaze landed on the Flying Grayson's poster, but his eyes were drawn to a wolf plush sitting where the plush elephant should have been. It was a weird swap, and Bruce felt unsettled by it. He picked up the wolf, turned it over in his hands, and placed it back, puzzled by the change. The missing elephant, a symbol of comfort and shared memories, made everything feel more mysterious.

Bruce’s eyes wandered around the room, landing on medals from Dick’s Math Club days. They reminded him of tournaments and proud moments, but he still couldn’t find what he was looking for.

A basketball on the floor caught his attention, its worn surface bringing back memories of countless post-training games. Bruce ran his fingers over it, feeling the echoes of laughter and camaraderie. In a burst of frustration, he grabbed a knife and sliced the basketball open, hoping to find some clue inside. To his disappointment, it was empty, as if the essence of their shared moments had disappeared.

His gaze shifted to a set of keys lying by Dick’s bedside. They triggered a flood of memories, each key representing a piece of their shared history. Bruce picked them up, feeling their weight as symbols of Dick’s quest for independence. One key in particular, to Dick’s Bludhaven apartment, stood out. Bruce froze—Bludhaven and its apartment had been destroyed in a nuclear attack. The key shouldn’t exist.

With the key now in his pocket, Bruce left Dick’s room, feeling a mix of recognition, confusion, and concern. The manor felt like a distorted version of reality, shifting and uncertain. As he made his way through the endless corridors, the key became his anchor, a tangible link to something real in this strange, surreal environment. Determined to figure out what was happening and find his way back to the true Wayne Manor, Bruce pressed on, ready to face whatever challenges lay ahead.

With the six keys firmly in hand, Bruce’s mind started to clear up, the fog lifting. He found the second key tucked inside the first pair of delicate ballerina slippers he'd given Cassandra—a reminder that even in the midst of his relentless crusade, there was room for joy and beauty. Just thinking about Cassandra dancing in those slippers brought a rare smile to his face, a fleeting reminder of the happiness he'd managed to nurture in the darkness.

The third key turned up in a photo album Tim had put together. It was packed with snapshots of Batman and Robin through the years, each picture telling stories of their camaraderie and victories. It was a bit of a time capsule, reflecting Tim’s admiration and the unbreakable bond between them. The fourth key was found in the waffle maker hidden inside the piano—an amusing nod to Stephanie's playful side. Bruce couldn’t help but laugh at the absurdity of it, a welcome break from his usually serious world.

The fifth key was tucked behind a portrait of his parents, a poignant reminder of his roots and the drive behind his mission. Their gaze seemed to urge him to remember why he started. The final key, and probably the most nostalgic, was found in the teapot from Alfred’s old tea set. That teapot had been part of Alfred’s comforting ritual after the death of Bruce’s parents, a warm gesture of solace that had stuck with him.

As Bruce collected the keys, he felt a swirl of emotions—nostalgia, amusement, and a deep sense of connection to those who had shaped his life. The keys seemed to help clear the fog, turning memories into something more tangible. Each key unlocked a piece of his past, helping the puzzle come together.

He could still feel the sting of Darkseid's Omega Ray assault, the pain as it hurled him into the timestream. He remembered fighting to stay grounded amid the swirling chaos of time, leaving behind cryptic clues for his family. Tim had picked up on these hints, but beyond that, Bruce was struggling with a gap in his memory. It was like a curtain had fallen, hiding what happened next.

He wondered if this surreal version of Wayne Manor was Tim’s way of helping him piece things together or if it was part of a darker plot by an unknown enemy. The uncertainty gnawed at him, mixing frustration with determination.

Bruce let out a heavy sigh, trying to shake off his confusion as he continued searching for the next key. He picked up the wolf figurine from the night table next to his bed. It was cool and solid in his hand, and he examined it closely, puzzled by its presence. Wolves seemed to pop up everywhere in this weird version of Wayne Manor—paintings, plushes, figurines. It was like some invisible force was obsessed with wolves, which seemed odd considering Batman's more fitting symbols would be bats or robins.

As he set the wolf figurine back down, Bruce felt a mix of frustration and curiosity. The answers he was chasing were still just out of reach. The wolf theme was becoming more than just an odd detail; it felt like a clue he was missing. He had this nagging feeling that there was one more key somewhere, and he couldn't shake the instinct that it was crucial to solving the mystery of his fractured memories.

He frowned deeply as he realized that he had already searched every room in this bizarre version of Wayne Manor—except for two places: the Batcave and Jason's bedroom. The thought of Jason's room made his heart ache. It was a place he had only visited on the anniversary of Jason’s death, a room that had become a shrine to a son lost too soon. Bruce had avoided it otherwise, unable to handle the raw pain it brought up. It was his way of protecting himself from the grief that still felt fresh.

But with the keys in hand and the missing piece of the puzzle still out of reach, Bruce knew he had to face Jason’s room. It was the final piece of his journey through this surreal maze. He braced himself, knowing he had to confront the painful memories and the room that held the echoes of Jason’s life. With a deep breath, Bruce set out towards the Batcave and then Jason’s room, determined to find the last key and piece together the mystery that had clouded his mind.

Bruce's footsteps echoed in the hallway as he headed toward the one room he’d been avoiding—the doorway to a past that felt too heavy to face. His hand hovered over the doorknob, feeling the weight of the memories waiting behind it. This wasn’t just any room; it was a snapshot of a son taken too soon. The ache of Jason’s absence was like a ghost following him around. Taking a deep breath, Bruce turned the knob and pushed the door open.

The room was like a freeze-frame of the past, full of laughter, arguments, and shared moments that felt very much alive. It was clear that Jason’s spirit still lingered here, refusing to fade with time. Bruce’s eyes scanned the room—his old leather jacket, scattered music CDs, the red jacket on the dresser—each item a poignant reminder of a life cut short. The room seemed to buzz with bittersweet energy, pulling Bruce into a mix of emotions he’d tried so hard to keep at bay.

He stepped inside, letting the memories hit him. He saw Jason’s wide grin, remembered their debates, and felt the stubbornness that had defined his son. The room was a sanctuary, a direct link to a part of Bruce’s heart he’d kept locked away. He knew the final key was somewhere among these mementos. 

Bruce looked around—CDs with all sorts of music, well-worn Jane Austen books that hinted at Jason’s surprising love for literature, and a treasure box under the bed filled with bits of his son’s life. But the key was still nowhere to be found. Frustration bubbled up, mixing with sadness and anger. In a burst of desperation, Bruce let out a raw scream, his emotions echoing off the walls.

His gaze landed on a framed document on the wall—the adoption papers. It captured the joy and tears from the day they became family. The memory hit Bruce hard, reminding him that family is more than just blood. With renewed focus, he carefully took down the frame. When he turned it around, the seventh and final key was hidden on the back. Relief, awe, and a deep connection washed over him.

With the final key in hand, Bruce knew exactly where to go next. He felt an instinctive pull leading him through the faux Wayne Manor toward his office.

Approaching his office, the weight of the key in his hand was both comforting and nerve-wracking. This key held the answers he’d been searching for since the Darkseid incident.

When Bruce reached the spot where the clock used to hide the Batcave entrance, he found a door instead. It had seven keyholes. With practiced moves, Bruce inserted each key into its lock, turning them with purpose. The clicks echoed as each layer of mystery unlocked. A smile spread across Bruce’s face as the last key turned.

He pushed the door open, and a blinding white light flooded the room.

Chapter Text

Dick pleaded with Jason; his tone tinged with urgency. "Jason, you have to understand. Bruce needs to see you. He needs to know that you're alive.”

Jason's response was laced with bitterness. "And what? Get a lecture from the big Bat about how I screwed up or how I should have stayed dead?"

"It won't be like that, Jay," Dick countered, his voice softening. "Bruce cares about you. He's been grieving for you all this time. He needs closure."

"Closure?" Jason scoffed. "Yeah, well, I needed closure too, Dick. But I didn't get that luxury when I woke up in that coffin."

Dick flinched at the reminder; his face etched with pain at the thought of his Little Wing suffering like that. "I know, Jason. I know it's been rough. But keeping yourself hidden isn't going to solve anything."

Jason sighed, a mixture of frustration and resignation evident in his voice. "Look, Dick, I appreciate what you're trying to do. But I'm not ready to face Bruce yet. Not until he can accept the truth."

"What truth?" Dick inquired, genuinely curious.

"That I'm back. That I'm alive. And that it's not some sick joke or illusion," Jason replied, his words heavy with emotion.

"You know Bruce," Dick reasoned. "He's not going to believe it until he sees it with his own eyes."

"Then let him see the evidence," Jason suggested. "Let him look through the data, the reports, whatever it takes to convince him."

"Fine," Dick relented. "But promise me you'll consider talking to him eventually. He needs you, Jay. We all do."

"I'll think about it," Jason conceded. "But for now, I need some space. And Bruce needs to come to terms with reality before we can have any kind of reunion."

"Alright, Jason. I understand," Dick said, a sense of understanding in his voice. Dick hesitated before broaching the subject. "So, are you planning to take Damian and Billy with you back to Fawcett City?"

Jason nodded; his expression resolute. "Yeah, I will. I'd rather not have their first impression of Bruce be him going all Batman paranoid on them, accusing them of being spies or trying to infiltrate his family."

Dick winced at the thought, knowing all too well Bruce's tendency to jump to conclusions. "Yeah, I get that. Bruce can be... intense."

"Intense is one way to put it," Jason remarked dryly, a hint of bitterness in his tone.

Dick sighed, understanding Jason's concerns. "I'll talk to Bruce, make sure he understands. He needs to know that Damian and Billy are innocent bystanders in all of this."

Jason's expression softened, appreciative of Dick's understanding. "Thanks, Dick. I appreciate it."

"What about you? Are you truly, okay?" Dick continued.

Jason shrugged, a mask of indifference slipping over his features. "I'll manage. Just need to keep moving forward."

"You don't have to do it alone, Jay," Dick reminded him gently. "We're all here for you."

Jason offered a small, grateful smile. "I know. And I appreciate that."

Dick reached out, squeezing Jason's shoulder in a gesture of support. "Take care of yourself, okay? And let me know if you need anything."

"I will," Jason promised, returning the gesture. "Thanks, Dick."

Dick turned back to Jason, a curious expression on his face. "Oh, before I forget, what's in the letter you wanted me to pass to Bruce?"

Jason hesitated for a moment, his gaze flickering away before returning to meet Dick's. "Just some things I need to say to him. Stuff that's better written down than said face-to-face."

Dick nodded understandingly, sensing the weight of Jason's unspoken emotions. "Alright, I'll make sure he gets it."

"Thanks, Goldie," Jason said quietly, a mix of relief and apprehension evident in his voice.

"Don't mention it," Dick replied with a reassuring smile, though he couldn't shake the feeling of unease lingering in the air. "I'll take care of it."

With that, Dick bid Jason farewell once more and headed off to deliver the letter, hoping it would bring some semblance of closure to both Jason and Bruce. Then Alfred took his chance to approach, Jason's shoulders tensed slightly, anticipating the reproach he knew he deserved. Alfred's disappointed gaze met Jason's, but instead of scolding him, the butler's expression softened with a resigned sigh.

"Master Jason," Alfred began, his voice carrying a weight of both concern and understanding. "I've taken the liberty of packing your bags, as well as a box of your favorite cookies."

Jason's lips curved into a grateful smile at Alfred's gesture, a flicker of warmth amidst the tension that had been hanging in the air. "Thanks, Alfred," he murmured, his voice tinged with remorse. "Sorry for all the trouble."

Alfred shook his head gently, his tone gentle yet firm. "There's no need for apologies, my boy. I understand your reasons, and I could never fault you for protecting your brothers."

Jason's eyes softened at Alfred's words, a swell of gratitude and affection welling up within him. The bond he shared with Alfred was a cherished one, built on years of shared struggles and unwavering support. He was the grandfather he had always dreamed of having.

"Thanks, Alfie," Jason said, his voice thick with emotion as he pulled Alfred into a heartfelt hug. "I don't know what I'd do without you."

Alfred returned the embrace, a sense of pride swelling within him as he held Jason close. "You've grown into a remarkable man, Jason," he said softly. "Your brothers need you, now more than ever. And I couldn't be prouder of the person you've become."

With a final squeeze, Jason released Alfred from the embrace, his eyes glistening with unshed tears. "Thanks, Alfred," he repeated, his voice filled with genuine gratitude. "For everything."

As they exchanged one last lingering look, an unspoken understanding passing between them, Jason turned to leave, his heart heavy yet fortified by the support of his family. “If you guys are done, the kids are in the car already,” as Roy leaned against the doorframe with that trademark smirk of his, Jason couldn't help but feel a surge of gratitude toward his boyfriend. Roy always seemed to know just what to do to lighten the mood, even in the midst of heavy conversations.

"Thanks, Roy," Jason said, his voice carrying a hint of relief as he straightened up, ready to leave. "I owe you one."

Roy waved off Jason's gratitude with a casual flick of his hand. "No problem, Jaybird. Anything for you and the kiddos."

Jason walked toward Roy, his heart lighter knowing that he had the support of his chosen family. As Roy pressed a gentle kiss to his lips, Jason felt a surge of warmth and reassurance wash over him. With Roy by his side, he knew he could face whatever challenges lay ahead. Together, they walked out of the Wayne Manor, ready to face whatever the future held.

Bruce slumped in his chair in front of the Batcomputer, his usual sharp focus completely gone. The glow from the screens flickered across his face, casting strange shadows in the dim cave. His hands shook as they hovered over the keyboard, unable to move as he stared at the evidence on the screen. Positive DNA test results blinked at him, almost daring him to believe it. Jason was alive. The son he’d thought was gone forever was actually out there, thriving. Bruce’s heart ached as he tried to process this huge revelation.

Images and articles kept flashing across the monitors, hitting Bruce like a ton of bricks. There were photos of Jason, looking happy and healthy, graduating from Oxford with flying colors. Headlines boasted about his success as a best-selling author, with critics and fans raving about his novels. Bruce was overwhelmed, realizing all the milestones he’d missed and the moments he’d never get back. He was drowning in regret and guilt, angry at himself for not seeing the signs earlier, for letting his grief cloud his judgment.

Tears blurred Bruce’s vision as he grappled with the enormity of his mistake. He felt the deep pain of knowing he could never get back the lost time or undo the hurt he’d caused. But alongside that pain, there was a glimmer of hope. Maybe, just maybe, it wasn’t too late to make things right. Taking a shaky breath, Bruce leaned back in his chair. He knew he needed to find Jason, to face him and ask for his forgiveness. He owed his son that much, at the very least. And maybe, in doing so, he could start to heal the rift that had grown between them.

As Bruce’s thoughts raced, memories came flooding back. He remembered the first time he’d held one of Jason’s novels, feeling a mix of anticipation and curiosity. Clark and Tim had both praised it, their excitement infectious. Bruce had been eager to see what his son had achieved. When he finally read it, he was blown away. The book was a masterpiece, every word drawing him into its world. He was captivated by the story, the characters, and the twists and turns.

But underneath his admiration was a gnawing ache—a painful reminder of everything he’d lost. Reading Jason’s book while believing he was dead had stirred up emotions Bruce had tried to bury. The title of one particular novel, A Death in the Family, sent a chill down his spine. The cruel irony of the title, mirroring his own tragic loss, wasn’t lost on him. As he turned the pages, a sense of dread washed over him, the weight of the words pressing down like a heavy burden.

Each sentence reminded him of his past anguish and the guilt he’d felt after Jason’s death. The story felt hauntingly familiar, echoing his own pain. Now that Bruce knew Jason was alive and had written A Death in the Family, the book took on a chilling new meaning. It seemed to haunt him, whispering accusations and probing deep into his soul. The title alone was enough to make him shiver.

Bruce couldn’t shake the feeling that Jason might have wanted him to go after the Joker. It nagged at him, like a shadow he couldn’t ignore. Was this Jason’s way of pulling him into some kind of revenge game from beyond? And then, the thought of Jason possibly being involved in the Joker’s death hit Bruce like a cold wave. The idea made him shiver, a mix of dread and twisted satisfaction bubbling up. On one hand, the idea of his son crossing such a line was heartbreaking. On the other, it was almost gratifying to think of the Joker getting what he deserved.

But more than anything, Bruce felt like his own principles were being challenged. His no-killing rule had always been a big part of who he was, a line he promised never to cross. Now, faced with the reality that Jason had become a killer, Bruce was torn. It should have been a huge disappointment, a betrayal of everything he’d tried to teach his kids. Yet, oddly enough, all he felt was relief that Jason was alive. Despite everything, that was what mattered most—Jason was back, and there was still a chance for them to be a family again.

Just then, Dick appeared behind Bruce, noticing him slumped in front of the Batcomputer, looking utterly defeated. Dick’s voice was gentle as he said, “Bruce, come on. Don’t be like this.”

Bruce sighed heavily, his face showing his sadness. “I can’t believe he didn’t want to see me.”

“It’s not about wanting to see you, Bruce,” Dick said softly. “Jason’s been through a lot. He’s not ready to face everything yet.”

Bruce’s frustration was clear as he responded, “But I’m his father. I should be able to help him through this.”

Dick shook his head, understanding Bruce’s feelings but knowing there was more to it. “You will help him, Bruce. But pushing him before he’s ready won’t do any good. Jason needs time to process everything on his own.”

Bruce’s brow furrowed as he wrestled with his emotions. “I know, but I feel like I’ve failed him.”

“You haven’t failed him, Bruce,” Dick said firmly but gently. “No one blames you for his death. Especially not Jason. The only one who does is yourself.”

Bruce looked at Dick, his face showing how much those words meant to him. “I just wish I knew how to fix things between us.”

“You will,” Dick reassured him with a supportive smile. “It’ll take time, but you’ll find a way. And remember, you’ve got us. We’re here for you, Bruce. Always.” 

With that, Dick reached into his pocket and handed Bruce a letter. “Here,” he said warmly. “This is from Jason. He wanted you to have it.”

Bruce’s eyes widened as he took the letter, his curiosity piqued. He gave Dick a rare, genuine smile. “Thanks, Dick.”

Dick returned the smile, his own expression softening. “Anytime, Bruce,” he replied, and with a nod, he left Bruce alone in the Batcave, the letter clutched tightly in his hand.

Bruce unfolded the letter with trembling hands, his heart racing as he read Jason’s words. Tears welled up in his eyes as he absorbed the contents, each line hitting him with a mix of emotions.

Dad,

I hope this letter finds you well, though I know it's probably causing you more pain than anything else. I want you to know that I'm okay, that I've come to terms with what happened to me. It's not your fault, B. I want to talk to you about something important, B. I know you've been carrying this weight for a long time, but it's time to let it go. The Joker killed me, not you. You did everything you could to save me, and for that, I'll always be grateful.

I now know that I do not need you to avenge my death. Forcing you to break your rules is not the way I need you to prove your love. That I would not be any better than the Joker if I went down that path. Revenge won't bring me back, and it won't make things right. I've made my peace with what happened, and I hope you can too.

But there's something else I need to say, B, and it's not going to be easy for either of us. I need you to understand that I can't come back to Gotham, not until things change. Not until you change. You weren't there for me when I needed you most, B. You were too caught up in your own crusade to see what was happening to me. No child should have to become a hero, B. No child should have to wear a mask and fight criminals in the dead of night. I was just a kid, B, and you let me down.

I know you love me, B. I've always known that. But love isn't enough. You have to do better. You have to put your family before your vendetta. Until you can do that, I can't come back. I won't let Billy and Damian grow up in the same world I did. They deserve better, B. They deserve a father who puts them first.

I'm sorry, Dad. I wish things could be different, but they can't. Not yet, anyway. Maybe someday we can make things right between us, but for now, I have to do what's best for my brothers. I hope you can understand.

Take care of yourself, Dad. And take care of Gotham. I know you'll do what's right.

Your son,

Jay-lad.

As Bruce reads Jason’s letter, the raw honesty of Jason’s words hits him hard. Each line is packed with Jason's pain, resentment, love, and forgiveness. It feels like a weight is being lifted off Bruce's shoulders, but it’s quickly replaced by a new kind of anguish. Jason’s words dig deep, challenging Bruce to face his own failures as a father and the part he played in shaping Jason’s path. It’s a brutal reminder of how Bruce’s choices have impacted his son, and it makes Bruce’s heart ache with regret.

Tears stream down Bruce’s face as he reaches Jason’s final words, his voice cracking with every breath. He’s overwhelmed with sorrow and shame, but there’s a flicker of hope too. Jason’s love for his brothers, Billy and Damian, shines through, showing just how strong their family bond is. As Bruce finishes the letter, he’s flooded with a profound sense of loss and longing. He understands that Jason’s choice to stay away, while painful, is necessary.

With a heavy heart, Bruce folds the letter and holds it close, his mind racing with the weight of Jason’s words. He knows he has a long road ahead—one of healing and redemption. For now, all he can do is grieve for the son he’s lost and hope for a chance to make things right.

Tim shifted uncomfortably as he stood on the doorstep of Jason, Damian, and Billy's house in Fawcett City. He wasn't entirely sure why he had mustered the courage to sneak out of Gotham and come all this way. All he knew was that he had screwed up big time, been a real jerk to his family, and now he needed to make things right somehow. Lost in his thoughts, Tim was startled when the door swung open, revealing a grinning Jason leaning against the frame.

"Well, look who's here," Jason said, a hint of amusement in his voice. "Are you planning on standing out there all day or are you gonna come in?"

Tim felt his cheeks flush with embarrassment as he mumbled an apology and stepped inside. He knew he had a lot of explaining to do. As they made their way to the living room, Jason couldn't resist giving Tim a playful ribbing. "You've got a knack for disappearing act, don't you?" he said, shaking his head. "Dick was freaking out, man. Had no idea where you'd gone off to."

Tim winced, feeling the weight of his actions pressing down on him. He'd caused his family so much worry, and now he had to face the consequences. Sitting down in the living room, Jason shot him a curious look. "So, spill it," he said. "What brings you all the way out here?"

Tim took a deep breath, trying to gather his thoughts. He knew he owed them an explanation but putting it into words was harder than he'd anticipated. Tim took a deep breath, steeling himself to finally come clean to Jason. "I'm sorry," he began, his voice wavering with emotion. "I was a total asshole. I lied to everyone, ran away, and got lost in the timestream. I messed up the rescue mission and got Batman back, but as the Dark Ranger, this dark time entity. I left everything for you to clean up, and I'm sorry."

Jason listened quietly as Tim poured out his heart, his expression softening with each word. When Tim finally fell silent, Jason let out a heavy sigh. "Kid," he said, his voice gentle, "you were just a teenager. Messing up is part of growing up, and they should've never let you get involved in this mess in the first place."

Tim's brows furrowed as if he wanted to argue, but he held his tongue, listening to Jason's words. Jason reached out and placed a hand on Tim's shoulder. "But hey," he continued, offering a small smile, "we all make mistakes. What's important is that you learn from them."

Tim nodded, feeling a weight lift off his shoulders. "I understand," he said quietly. "But," he added, a hint of determination creeping into his voice, "I'm not gonna stop being a vigilante. Gotham needs me, and I can't just walk away."

Jason's smile widened, genuine warmth shining in his eyes. "I wouldn't expect anything less from you, kid," he said. "You already finished high school and will turn eighteen soon, so there’s nothing I can say about it. Just promise me you'll be careful out there, okay?"

Tim nodded, a grateful smile spreading across his face. "I promise." Then, hesitantly, he added, "Hey, Jason... I know we've had our differences, but... I hope maybe this time, we can be friends. I mean, you were always my favorite hero growing up, and now you're my favorite author."

Jason's smile softened, and he reached out to ruffle Tim's hair affectionately. "Kid," he said softly, "you're not just my friend. You're my brother."

Tim's eyes widened in surprise, and then a wide grin broke out on his face. "Really?" he said, his voice filled with genuine happiness.

"Really," Jason confirmed, returning Tim's smile. And at that moment, Tim knew that everything was going to be okay.

As they sat there, the weight of their conversation lifting, Tim felt a surge of courage. He had something else he needed to get off his chest. "Jason," he began, hesitating slightly, "I... I think I've outgrown Robin." Jason's eyebrows shot up in surprise, but he didn't interrupt, waiting for Tim to continue. "I mean, don't get me wrong," Tim hurried to explain, "being Robin has been amazing. But lately, I've been feeling like I need something more. Something... different."

Jason nodded, understanding dawning in his eyes. "It happens to every Robin, Tim," he said gently. "Eventually, you start to feel like you're ready to spread your wings and fly solo."

Tim let out a relieved sigh, grateful that Jason understood. "Yeah," he said, a small smile playing at the corners of his lips. "Exactly."

Jason leaned back in his chair, regarding Tim thoughtfully. "So," he said after a moment, "do you have another vigilante identity in mind? Or are you planning on going rogue?"

Tim chuckled, feeling a spark of excitement at the prospect of carving out a new identity for himself. "Gotham already has a Nightwing," he said, his eyes gleaming mischievously. "I think it's time Flamebird made his debut in the dark city."

Jason's eyebrows shot up in surprise, and then he burst out laughing. "Flamebird, huh?" he said, shaking his head in amusement. "I like it. It's got a nice ring to it. And you know me, I am up for anything that will make the big bat angry."

Tim grinned, feeling a rush of adrenaline at the prospect of stepping into this new role. "Thanks, Jason," he said, his voice filled with gratitude. "For everything."

Jason clapped him on the back, a proud smile on his face. "Anytime, kid," he said. "Anytime." And as they sat there, planning Tim's next move, Tim couldn't help but feel excited for the future.

As Bruce thought back over the last month, he felt a mix of emotions swirling around him. There was a heavy dose of regret for the slip-ups, missed moments, and the pain he’d caused his kids. But alongside that was a fierce determination to fix things and be the dad they deserved. Talking things out with Dinah had been tough but necessary. It was hard to open up about his fears and mistakes, but Dinah’s support helped him face his issues and start finding a way forward.

Sitting down with Dick, Tim, Cass, and Stephanie was just as challenging. Apologizing and showing them how much he cared broke Bruce’s heart. He wondered how things had gotten so strained and how they could ever doubt his love. But when they hugged him and shared their tears, Bruce felt a spark of hope. Maybe there was still a chance to mend what had been fractured and rebuild those connections.

In those heartfelt moments with his kids, Bruce realized just how much they meant to him. They were his everything, his reason for fighting and living. He promised himself he’d do whatever it took to make things right and show them how much they were loved. Looking at their tear-streaked faces gave him a renewed sense of purpose. He might have stumbled along the way, but he was determined to be the dad they needed.

That sense of purpose only grew stronger when he finally got to join his kids on patrol. As he swung through Gotham’s dark skyline, his heart swelled with pride. There was no greater honor than fighting side by side with his children, watching them grow into the heroes they were meant to be.

With every swing of his grappling hook and every leap across Gotham’s rooftops, Batman felt alive. The city, now alive with supernatural beings blending in with the usual hustle, was always changing. From Burnley Island’s eerie depths to Diamond District’s lively streets, their presence was undeniable. But to the average person, the supernatural was still a secret. Bruce marveled at how Gotham had transformed, becoming a sanctuary for the supernatural, showing its ability to adapt and evolve.

The news from New Town hit Batman first. Red Ghoul’s plan to capture Black Mask had been a stroke of genius, and now Black Mask was in FBI custody, out of the equation. But it wasn’t just about Black Mask’s downfall. What really caught Batman’s attention was the way the supernatural beings had taken over. The streets that once roiled with criminal chaos were now under their control.

It was like stepping into a different world. The supernatural factions—who had once been lurking in the shadows—were now asserting their dominance. Batman had seen many things, but this was new. Reports detailed how these beings had used their abilities to ward off attempts by the mafia to muscle in. The mafia, typically a ruthless force in Gotham, had found themselves outmatched by the supernatural's sheer power and strategy.

As Batman processed this, he couldn’t help but feel a mix of wonder and apprehension. The city was evolving, and not always in ways he could predict or control. The supernatural influence was both fascinating and unnerving. It was a reminder that Gotham was in a constant state of flux, and even he had to adjust his tactics and expectations.

Next came Cherry Hills. Freeze’s departure was significant. His exit had left a considerable gap, one that the Martha Wayne Foundation was quick to fill. But what really got Batman’s attention was the involvement of Leviathan. They had stepped in to fund Freeze’s research, which was a mixed bag. On one hand, it was good that Freeze could continue his work away from crime, but on the other, Leviathan was far from a straightforward ally.

Batman’s feelings were tangled. Freeze’s involvement with Leviathan stirred up old memories and feelings. Seeing Victor getting cozy with Leviathan wasn’t exactly comforting. But knowing that Thalia had facilitated this shift for Jason’s sake gave Batman pause. Thalia’s motives were driven by a desire to support Jason, and Freeze’s move was a step away from his criminal past.

Even though Batman was wary of Leviathan’s intentions, he chose to focus on the positive side for now. Freeze was no longer a threat, and Thalia’s influence seemed to be guiding him toward something better. It was a complicated situation, but Batman understood that sometimes, the best he could do was to let certain things play out while he focused on the bigger picture.

As for Otisburg, Bane had once ruled it with an iron fist, turning it into his personal fiefdom of fear and control. But Bane’s ambitions had taken him to Nanda Parbat, a decision that proved to be his undoing. Madame Xanadu had swiftly ended his reign, her justice as final as it was unexpected. This power vacuum had given Dick and Barbara the opening they needed to expand the Martha Wayne Foundation’s influence.

Batman remembered the first whispers of Bane’s departure. He had been skeptical, thinking it was just another ploy. But when the reports came in confirming Bane’s demise, he felt a mix of relief and unease. Relief that a major threat was gone, but unease at the power vacuum it created. The rogues of Gotham were quick to test the waters, but they hadn’t reckoned with the werewolves who had taken up residence in Otisburg. Watching the footage of their failed attempts, Batman couldn’t help but smirk. These werewolves were a new variable, and they were making it clear that the old rules no longer applied.

Next, Batman turned his attention to Crime Alley. Or rather, what used to be Crime Alley. Red Ghoul and Spoiler had been putting in the work, and it showed. The place had transformed from a neglected, crime-ridden area into a lively community. Batman recalled the nights he’d spent patrolling those streets, the weight of his parents’ death heavy on his shoulders. Now, families walked those same streets without fear. It was almost like the old days, when it was known as Park Row.

The process had been slow and painstaking. Batman had watched the results of Red Ghoul and Spoiler's efforts. As they organized community events, built trust with the locals, and gradually pushed out the criminal elements. It wasn’t just about fighting crime; it was about rebuilding a sense of community. Seeing the neighborhood come back to life filled Batman with a deep sense of pride. He had always believed that Gotham could be saved, and here was the proof.

The Bowery was another success story. Once a haven for vice and corruption, it was now a bustling hub of activity. Merchants and artisans had moved in, bringing new life to the area. Batman remembered the first time he saw the changes taking place. It was during a late-night patrol, and instead of the usual shady dealings, he saw market stalls and people chatting over coffee. The transformation hadn’t been easy. It had taken coordinated efforts from multiple fronts, including the Martha Wayne Foundation, to clean up the area. But it was worth it. Batman felt a sense of accomplishment knowing that they had turned one of the city’s darkest areas into a beacon of hope.

Yet, as Batman looked over the city, there was still a shadow that loomed large: Robinsville. The Penguin’s grip on the neighborhood was as strong as ever. Despite the waning influence of other crime lords, the Penguin had managed to hold on to his territory. His shrewdness and business acumen kept him ahead of the game, allowing him to adapt where others failed.

Batman’s relationship with the Penguin was complicated. He respected his intelligence but despised his methods. Watching Robinsville remain under the Penguin’s control was a bitter pill to swallow. It was a stark reminder that there was still work to be done. The Penguin’s ability to cut his losses and focus on his domain made him a formidable foe. Batman knew that taking him down would require more than just brute force—it would require strategy and patience.

Batman's thoughts were a whirlwind of amazement and pride as he looked out over Gotham. He’d spent years trying to breathe life back into the city’s roughest neighborhoods, but the criminal underworld had always pushed back hard. Burnley Island was especially tough. No matter how much effort the Martha Wayne Foundation put in, organized crime kept its claws sunk deep. But while he'd been tied up elsewhere, his kids had stepped up, pulling off what he'd thought was impossible.

Seeing Crime Alley and The Bowery bustling with activity now was almost surreal. The gentrification had worked, and the once-dangerous streets were now full of life and energy. His kids had taken on the mantle of protectors of Gotham and run with it. Foster homes and orphanages supported by the Foundation were giving kids a chance at a normal childhood—school, a safe place to sleep, and full stomachs. Homeless people had access to shelters and resources to get back on their feet. The change was palpable.

Standing there, looking out at the city, Batman felt his heart swell. His kids had achieved in a year what he’d been battling to accomplish for so long. They were set to rejuvenate New Town and Cherry Hills next, with Otisburg following close behind. Their commitment to Gotham was undeniable. Yet, he couldn't shake a slight twinge of jealousy. It stung a bit that they had succeeded where he’d faced constant setbacks. His relentless efforts had often felt like they were hitting a wall of corruption and crime.

But even with that bit of envy, pride was the dominant feeling. He admired their grit and determination. They had taken up the fight when he couldn’t, and they were making real progress. As he watched the cityscape—Crime Alley now a safe, vibrant area, Slaughter Swamp transformed into a nature reserve—he felt a wave of contentment. The darkest parts of Gotham were now brimming with hope and opportunity, thanks to his kids’ dedication.

Despite the envy, Batman chose to focus on the positive. Crime rates were dropping, fewer people were homeless, and poverty was loosening its grip. Gotham was changing for the better, and that was something worth celebrating.

With a renewed sense of purpose, Batman soared through the night sky, landing on a rooftop. Nightwing touched down beside him, while Flamebird, Spoiler, and Black Bat fanned out across Burnley. This area was now home to one of the new Martha Wayne Foundation branches. Batman turned to his son, his pride evident. "It's incredible what they've accomplished."

"Yeah, they've been busy. Got branches in every neighborhood now. They're helping folks find jobs, finish their education. Night schools, vocational training, you name it." Nightwing couldn't hide his happiness at sharing these accomplishments with his dad. Even after Bruce came back, Dick stayed as Chairman of the Martha Wayne Foundation, and he loved working there. "And that's not all. The Foundation's been sponsoring schools, making sure kids from lower-income families get the education they deserve."

Batman looked down at the citizens below. "They're making a real difference."

"They've even bought up the Ridge Street Theater and Bay Street Theater. They're creating cultural hubs, places for people to express themselves through art, music, theater," Nightwing continued, clearly excited about this. "Not only that, they've taken over Amusement Mill. It took a lot of work and money, but they've turned the amusement park into a fun and safe destination for families. Created hundreds of jobs, too."

"It's about time," Batman smiled under the cowl, remembering the fairs and carnivals he took his kids to when they passed through Gotham. Now there was a steady place for families to enjoy together.

Their quality time was cut short as Talia Al Ghul appeared on the rooftop beside them. Nightwing's glare at her was intense, Talia, however, seemed unfazed by his disapproval, her attention solely on Bruce. "My Beloved, it's been too long."

Batman regarded her with a guarded expression. "Talia."

Nightwing couldn't hold back. "What's she doing here?"

Talia ignored him, focusing on Batman. "We need to talk."

Batman gestured for Nightwing to leave. "Go join the others on patrol, Nightwing."

"Are you sure, B?" Nightwing's skepticism was clear.

Batman nodded firmly. "Trust me."

Nightwing grumbled but obeyed, reluctantly leaving the rooftop. As he departed, the tension between Batman and Talia thickened, their complicated history and conflicting loyalties hanging in the air. Despite everything, the connection between them was undeniable.

"He still has much to learn," Talia commented, watching Nightwing leave with a hint of amusement.

Batman turned back to her. "What do you want? Especially after keeping my sons from me."

Talia met his gaze with a mix of sadness and determination. "I did it to keep them alive, beloved. You know that."

Batman’s expression was unreadable. "You could have trusted me to protect them."

Talia shook her head, her voice tinged with regret. "After what happened to the second Robin, I couldn't take that risk. Not with my prince and later with Red Ghoul. Not with our sons."

Batman winced at the mention of Jason, his jaw tightening. "I lost Robin because of the Joker."

Talia nodded solemnly. "And I couldn't bear the thought of losing another child to Gotham's darkness. I had to keep them away from that life. Something I wish my mother had done for me."

Batman was silent for a moment, absorbing her words. "You could have told me. I deserved to know."

"Red Ghoul asked me to stay silent. He thought it would be easier if you didn't know," Talia looked at him with sorrowful eyes.

"I see," Batman closed his eyes briefly, a pang of guilt washing over him.

Talia reached out, placing a hand on his arm. "Do you hate me, Bruce? For what I've done?"

Batman opened his eyes, meeting her gaze with a mixture of gratitude and sadness. "No. I can't hate you, Talia. You kept our sons safe when I couldn't."

"Then perhaps there's hope for us yet," Talia squeezed his arm gently, a small smile touching her lips.

Batman nodded, a sense of resolution settling over him. "Perhaps."

Chapter Text

As Damian lay beside Jon in the cozy warmth of his friend's room at the Kent Farm, he felt a wave of contentment wash over him. The day had been long, filled with hard work helping Pa and Ma Kent with the cattle, but now, in this quiet moment, everything felt right.

The air tingled with the faint crackle of Jon’s Kryptonian powers. Damian could sense the tension radiating off his friend, the struggle to tame abilities that were still new and bewildering. But here, nestled in Damian's arms, Jon seemed to find a semblance of calm. The steady rhythm of Damian’s heartbeat echoed in Jon’s ears, a soothing melody that eased the tension from his shoulders.

In that moment, Jon realized just how much he cherished their friendship. Damian’s heartbeat was a constant reminder of their connection, a lifeline that tethered them together amidst the chaos of their lives. Damian had become Jon's anchor, a source of stability and comfort. As long as Jon could hear Damian’s heartbeat, he knew he would be all right.

Jon leaned closer, seeking refuge in Damian's presence, and Damian's lips curled into a gentle smile. These quiet moments with Jon were precious to him, a chance to simply be together and find solace in each other's company. With Jon's head resting against his chest, Damian felt a sense of contentment wash over him, grateful for the bond they shared. He tightened his embrace around Jon, feeling a surge of gratitude for the unwavering presence of his friend.

Jon finally broke the silence, asking Damian how things were going with his family now that Uncle Bruce was back. As Jon's question hung in the air, Damian felt a pang of sadness wash over him. The mention of Bruce brought a flood of conflicting emotions to the surface, and Damian struggled to find the right words to express himself. Taking a moment to gather his thoughts, he let out a heavy sigh. He knew that Jon deserved an honest answer, even if it meant confronting some uncomfortable truths about his family.

"Well, Jon," Damian began, his voice tinged with resignation, "things are... complicated, to say the least." He paused, searching for the right way to articulate his feelings. It wasn't easy opening up about his family, especially when the wounds were still fresh. "I'm glad that Father is back, and I'm happy to see my Bat family together again," Damian admitted, his tone bittersweet. "But..."

Another sigh escaped Damian's lips as he struggled to find the right words. "But I can't ignore the fact that things aren't as perfect as they seem. Father may be back, but that doesn't change the past."

Damian's gaze fell to the floor, his thoughts consumed by memories of his fractured family. "My mother and Jason... they had their reasons for keeping me away from Father," he explained, his voice tinged with sadness. "And now, being around my Bat siblings, I understand why."

He shook his head, a sense of frustration creeping into his voice. "Dick, Stephanie, Tim... they're all incredible fighters, but they're also... damaged, in a way," Damian confessed, his brow furrowing with concern. "They're constantly second-guessing themselves, always on edge. It's like they're afraid to make a move without Uncle Bruce's approval."

"How bad did Father have to screw up to make such excellent warriors have zero self-confidence?" Damian mused, his voice tinged with frustration and concern. It was a question that lingered in the air, unanswered and unsettling.

As Damian spoke, Jon could sense the pain that lay beneath his friend's bravado, the longing for a sense of belonging and acceptance that had eluded him for so long. Jon shifted slightly, his expression thoughtful as he continued the conversation. "Are you gonna see him? Uncle Bruce, I mean."

Damian shook his head, his expression solemn. "No. Not yet, at least," he admitted. "Akhi’s gonna let me know when he thinks it's the right time."

Jon nodded, acknowledging Damian's decision. "You trust Jason with that?" he inquired, his tone tinged with curiosity.

Damian's response was immediate and resolute. "Yeah, I do. He knows Bruce better than anyone," he affirmed, his confidence in Jason evident.

Jon nodded in understanding, recognizing the importance of having someone trustworthy to rely on in difficult situations. "I get it. It's important to have someone you trust to guide you through stuff like this," he remarked, his voice filled with empathy.

Damian's lips curved into a small smile at Jon's understanding. "Exactly," he agreed, appreciating Jon's insight.

Jon offered Damian a reassuring smile, his eyes filled with warmth. "Well, whatever you decide, I'm here for you, okay?" he reassured, his voice sincere.

Damian's expression softened at Jon's words, a genuine sense of gratitude shining in his eyes. "Thanks, Jon. Means a lot," he replied, his appreciation evident in his tone.

Billy's laughter echoed through the room as he scored another point in their game of Gobstones. His blue eyes sparkled with amusement as he watched his friend Seo-joon grimace at the foul-smelling liquid squirting from the winning stone. Gobstones, a wizarding game like marbles, was a favorite of Billy's. Despite the occasional stink, he loved the thrill of the game.

As he celebrated his win, Billy couldn't help but appreciate the blend of strategy and luck that made Gobstones so exciting. Every move was a mix of skill and chance, and he loved every bit of it. With fifteen Gobstones in hand, he felt a rush of excitement as he planned his next move, eager to outsmart Seo-joon again. With each round, Billy's aim got better, and his strategies grew sharper.

Billy's laughter bubbled up uncontrollably as he watched Seo-joon get hit with another squirt of the stinky liquid. The sight was hilarious to Billy, a source of endless fun. He knew his little brother Damian might sneer at the game, considering it beneath their family’s prestige, but Billy didn’t care. To him, Gobstones was pure joy, a chance to relax and have fun with friends. He was even a proud member of the Gobstones Club and loved every moment of it.

As Seo-joon wiped the smelly liquid off his face, half annoyed, half amused, Billy chuckled. Despite the occasional stink and mess, he wouldn't have it any other way. With Seo-joon calling it quits and heading off to wash his hands, Billy’s laughter died down, leaving a satisfied smile. He gathered up the Gobstones and put them away, feeling proud of his win.

While waiting for Seo-joon to clean up, Billy looked around the familiar corridors of the Nanda Parbat Academy for Magic. The soft glow of torches lit up the stone walls, casting dancing shadows. The faint scent of incense added an otherworldly feel to the place. When Seo-joon came back, face scrubbed clean, Billy grinned and walked alongside him through the winding corridors. Even though it was late, the academy was buzzing with activity, students moving about on their evening routines.

As they headed towards the dormitory, Seo-joon glanced over at Billy, curiosity in his eyes. "Hey, Billy, why'd you decide to stay the weekend?" he asked, genuinely interested. "I know you love Gobstones, but you usually commute from home."

Billy paused, thinking about how to answer. He trusted Seo-joon but wasn't ready to spill everything about the tension at home. Taking a deep breath, he shared a bit of the truth. "Things at home are kinda tense," he admitted softly. "I just needed a break, you know?"

Seo-joon nodded, sympathetic. He didn’t press for details, respecting Billy's privacy. Instead, he offered a reassuring smile. "I get it, man," he said gently. "Just know I'm here if you need to talk or anything."

Billy smiled, touched by his friend's kindness. "Thanks, Seo-joon," he said sincerely. "I really appreciate it."

Lian focused hard, standing in front of a makeshift target range. She was tense with anticipation. Her mom, Jade, stood next to her, guiding her through the tricky art of throwing knives at moving targets. Her dad, Arsenal, was always proud of her natural marksmanship, but this was a whole new challenge. It needed precision, focus, and control.

Lian gripped the knife, her fingers tracing the familiar contours. It was a connection to her quasi-stepfather, a reminder of the legacy she carried. But as she aimed at the moving target, her confidence wavered a bit.

Jade watched closely, a mix of pride and concern in her eyes. She knew Lian had the potential to excel, just like in so many other things. But she also understood the pressure Lian felt to live up to the legacies of both Arsenal and Red Ghoul.

Lian released the knife, and it sailed through the air with a graceful arc, hitting the moving target with a satisfying thud. A smile spread across her face as she turned to her mom, her eyes shining with excitement and pride. Jade returned the smile, her heart swelling with pride at Lian's accomplishment. Lian felt a surge of confidence, a newfound belief in her abilities.

Lian continued her training, a sense of determination settling within her. With each throw, she focused on the moving targets, her movements fluid and precise. Her muscles tensed and flexed with each leap and twist, her breath steady and controlled.

With a flick of her wrist, Lian released the knife, sending it spinning through the air with practiced ease. She followed its path with laser-like focus, adjusting her aim with split-second precision.

There were moments of frustration when the knife missed by mere inches, but Lian refused to be discouraged. With each failed attempt, she learned and adapted, honing her skills with unwavering determination. Then, in a moment of perfect alignment, everything clicked. Lian leaped gracefully into the air, releasing the knife with a flick of her wrist. Time seemed to slow as the knife arced toward the target, finally hitting the bullseye with a satisfying thud. She landed gracefully, her heart pounding with exhilaration. She had done it—hit the bullseye with pinpoint accuracy.

Lian's heart raced as she turned, startled by the slow clapping that echoed through the training grounds. It took her a moment to recognize the two figures watching her—Rose Wilson and an enigmatic girl around her age.

Rose’s presence was reassuring, her blonde hair a stark contrast to the girl's striking appearance. Lian's eyes widened as she studied the girl—her skin was an unusual shade of grey, her eyes a piercing pink, and her hair a striking white. There was an aura of mystery and power around her.

"Not bad," the girl remarked calmly. Lian felt a rush of nervous energy at her voice. "Nika al Ghul, aka Flatline," she introduced herself. "Jason, Damian, and William’s maternal-adopted cousin."

Lian's heart skipped a beat, recognizing Nika from stories told by Dami, Billy, and Jason. "Thank you," Lian replied, her voice tinged with uncertainty.

Nika's lips curved into a faint smile, her pink eyes gleaming with amusement. "You have potential," she said approvingly. "But potential alone isn't enough. It takes discipline, dedication, and a willingness to push past your limits."

Lian nodded, soaking in Nika's words. Rose stepped forward, and Lian couldn't help but feel a surge of admiration. Rose was a formidable warrior, her reputation well-known. "You’ve been doing great, Lian," Rose said encouragingly. “Why don’t you and your mother join us to train?”

Jade accepted, and excitement bubbled within Lian. She watched as her mom and Rose discussed training plans and techniques. Meanwhile, Lian turned her attention to Nika, intrigued by her presence. Despite her initial apprehension, she found herself drawn to Nika. They began chatting and discovered shared likes and dislikes. With each passing moment, Lian felt a new friendship forming between them.

As they exchanged stories and experiences, Lian felt a sense of belonging she hadn't realized was missing. In Nika, she found a kindred spirit, someone who understood the pressures and expectations of being part of a family as storied as the Al Ghuls.

Jason sat at his desk, staring at the blinking cursor on his laptop screen. His fingers hovered over the keyboard, but no words came. He sighed in frustration, running a hand through his hair as he tried to shake off the feeling of being stuck. Jason had poured his heart and soul into crafting the intricate plot, but now, when he was so close to the end, his creativity seemed to have abandoned him.

The Court was almost finished, but Jason was struggling to find the right words to bring the story to a satisfying conclusion. It was a tale of mystery and intrigue, inspired by the dark history of Gotham's Court of Owls. Jason had spent countless hours researching occult lore and demonology to make the story as authentic as possible, more authentic than civilians would ever imagine. Magic knows how many tomes from the Rock of Eternity Jason had to go through. But now it felt like all that effort was going to be wasted.

The story followed a group of exorcists as they investigated a series of gruesome murders with suspected demonic influence. During the first half of the novel, the exorcists chased after the demonic monster, their every step haunted by the shadow of evil. Jason had written heart-stopping chase scenes and pulse-pounding confrontations, but now he was struggling to find a way to tie it all together.

And then there was the twist in the second half of the book. Jason had always prided himself on his ability to surprise his readers, and The Court was no exception. The revelation of the satanic cult had been a stroke of genius, a plot twist that would keep readers guessing until the very end. But now, as he tried to write the climax, Jason felt like he had painted himself into a corner.

Jason leaned back in his chair, frustration gnawing at him as he stared at the blank screen. He had poured his heart and soul into The Court, weaving together a tale of darkness and redemption that had kept him captivated for months. Now, with just the finale left to write, he had hit a wall. He closed his eyes, taking a deep breath as he tried to clear his mind. He knew he had to push through this block, to find a way to finish the story he had worked so hard on.

Esperanza, his editor, had been eagerly awaiting the completion of the novel, her excitement palpable every time she checked in on his progress. She had assured him that The Court would be a bestseller, a masterpiece that would captivate readers and critics alike. But as Jason sat there, staring at the blinking cursor on his screen, he couldn't help but feel like he was letting her down. The pressure weighed heavily on him, each passing moment stretching into eternity as he struggled to find the words to finish his magnum opus.

It wasn't that he didn't know how the story would end - he had planned it out meticulously, every twist and turn leading to this final moment of catharsis. But now, faced with the daunting task of putting it all into words, he felt paralyzed by doubt and uncertainty. With a frustrated sigh, Jason rubbed his temples, trying to ease the tension that had settled there. He closed his eyes, willing the words to come to him, but all he found was silence. It was maddening, this emptiness that seemed to swallow him whole, leaving him adrift in a sea of unfinished thoughts and half-formed ideas.

Jason's brow furrowed as he stared at the screen, trying to visualize the scene playing out in his mind. The exorcists had finally uncovered the truth behind the murders - a sinister satanic cult hidden in the shadows, pulling the strings behind the demonic attacks. With a surge of adrenaline, Jason's fingers danced across the keyboard as he brought the cult's nefarious plot to life on the page. The cultists, their faces twisted with madness and devotion, had created an undead monster with dark magic, intending to use it as a weapon to bend the world to their will.

But as the exorcists closed in on the cult's hideout, they found themselves facing not one, but two enemies. The demonic monster, driven by its own insatiable hunger for destruction, turned on its creators with savage ferocity. The cultists, who had believed themselves to be in control, now found themselves at the mercy of the very creature they had unleashed upon the world.

Jason's heart pounded in his chest as he wrote, the words flowing from his fingertips like a river of darkness. The battle that ensued was fierce and bloody, the exorcists fighting desperately to survive against the onslaught of supernatural horrors.

And then, just when it seemed like all hope was lost, the tide turned. With a final burst of strength, the exorcists managed to banish the demonic monster back to the depths of hell, freeing it from the cult's twisted grasp. But the victory came at a cost. The cultists lay dead at their feet, their bodies torn and mangled by the very creature they had sought to control. As the exorcists looked on in horror, they realized that they had become unwitting pawns in a game of darkness and deceit.

Jason blinked in surprise as he heard the familiar sound of laughter echoing through the room. He glanced up from his computer screen to find Roy leaning against the doorway, a mischievous glint in his eyes. Realization dawned on Jason as he took in the dim light filtering through the windows. He had been so engrossed in his writing that he hadn't even noticed the passage of time.

Jason leaned back in his chair, his chest heaving as he reread the scene, he had just written one last time. It was intense, thrilling, everything he had hoped for in the climax of his novel. With a sense of satisfaction, he saved his work and then turned with a sheepish grin to face Roy, who was watching him with amusement.

"Hey there, writer extraordinaire," Roy teased, crossing the room to stand beside Jason. "Been busy today, huh?"

Jason chuckled, rubbing the back of his neck sheepishly. "You could say that. I've been trying to finish up The Court, but I hit a bit of a snag."

Roy raised an eyebrow, a playful smirk playing on his lips. "Well, lucky for you, I come bearing gifts." With a flourish, he set a plate of cheese sandwiches and tomato soup on the desk, the enticing aroma filling the room.

Jason's stomach rumbled loudly at the sight and smell of the food. He hadn't realized just how hungry he was until that moment. Gratefully, he reached for a sandwich, taking a hearty bite, and savoring the familiar taste. "Thanks, Roy," he said between mouthfuls. "I must have lost track of time. I haven't eaten a thing all day."

Roy chuckled, leaning in to press a quick kiss to Jason's cheek. "Well, now you can fuel up and finish that novel of yours. I have a feeling it's gonna be a bestseller." Jason smiled, feeling a surge of warmth at Roy's words. With Roy's support and encouragement, he felt he could conquer any obstacle, even writer's block. "Esperanza's gonna be thrilled when she sees how far you've come today."

Jason nodded, a satisfied smile tugging at the corners of his lips as he swallowed another mouthful of the sandwich. "Yeah, just the last chapter and epilogue to go. Then Esperanza will have a brand-new novel to work her magic on."

Roy raised an eyebrow, curiosity gleaming in his eyes. "And how long do you reckon that'll take you?"

Jason shrugged, a playful glint in his eye. "Shouldn't take more than a couple of weeks, unless I hit another one of those pesky writer's blocks."

Roy nudged him playfully with his elbow, a mischievous grin spreading across his face. "Nah, you'll be fine. No more writer's block for you."

Jason gasped dramatically, clutching his chest in mock horror. "You just had to go and jinx it, didn't you? Now I'm doomed to be struck down by the curse of the blank page!"

Roy laughed, shaking his head at Jason's theatrics. "Come on, Jaybird. You've got this. And if you ever need a little inspiration, you know where to find me."

Jason's smile softened at Roy's words, grateful for the unwavering support and encouragement. As Jason savored the last spoonful of tomato soup, the warmth of the broth spreading through him, he couldn't help but feel a sense of contentment wash over him. The comforting aroma of the meal lingered in the air, filling the room with a homely ambiance. Across from him, Roy watched quietly, a small smile playing on his lips as he observed Jason's enjoyment of the simple pleasure of a good meal.

Outside, the sky had darkened, casting long shadows across the room as evening descended upon them. The soft glow of the desk lamp illuminated the space, casting a warm, golden light that danced across the walls. The gentle hum of the computer filled the silence, punctuated by the occasional click of the keyboard as Jason scrolled through his work. With Damian away for the night, Lian with his mother, and Billy having decided to stay the weekend at the Nanda Parbat Academy for Magic with his friends, the house was quiet. It was a rare moment of peace and tranquility in their hectic lives, and Jason cherished it more than words could express.

As he set down his empty spoon, the atmosphere in the office shifted subtly, the tension in the air palpable. He could feel Roy's gaze on him, a silent presence that seemed to weigh heavily on his shoulders. Roy finally broke the silence and asked. “Are you going to continue ignoring what is happening in Gotham? Or if are you ready to talk about it?”

The weight of Roy's question hung in the air, making Jason's shoulders tensed as he felt the gravity of the moment, the weight of his boyfriend's concern pressing down on him like a heavy burden. He knew he couldn't avoid the topic forever, but part of him had hoped to enjoy just a few moments of peace before confronting the harsh realities waiting for him outside.

With a heavy sigh, Jason closed his eyes, the weariness settling into his bones like an unwelcome guest. He rubbed his temples, trying to ward off the exhaustion that threatened to overwhelm him. When he finally opened his eyes again, he turned to face Roy, his expression a mixture of frustration and resignation.

"Yeah, I know," Jason muttered, his voice tinged with weariness. "I can't keep ignoring it forever, can I?"

Roy watched him carefully, his gaze filled with understanding and concern. He could see the struggle raging within Jason. "So, what are you gonna do?" Roy asked softly, his voice gentle but insistent.

Jason ran a hand through his hair, his thoughts racing as he tried to find the right words. Finally, he spoke, his voice quiet but determined. "I'm glad Bruce is back," Jason admitted, his words heavy with emotion. "He's always gonna be my dad, no matter what."

Roy nodded in understanding, his expression sympathetic. He knew how complicated Jason's relationship with Bruce was, the mixture of love and resentment, so similar to his and Oliver’s that it made Roy wince sympathetically.

"And I can see he's changing," Jason continued, his voice growing stronger with conviction. "Alfred and Dinah have been telling me, and even Thalia came to visit and told me herself. But that doesn't mean everything's okay," Jason admitted, his voice tinged with bitterness. "There's still a lot of stuff that needs to be talked about, a lot of things that need to be addressed."

Roy reached out, placing a comforting hand on Jason's shoulder. He could feel the tension coiled within his boyfriend, the weight of his burdens threatening to crush him. "We'll figure it out together," Roy reassured him, his voice steady and reassuring. "You don't have to face this alone."

Jason nodded, a faint smile playing at the corners of his lips. "It's my right not to see Bruce," Jason murmured, his voice laced with resignation. "He caused so much pain, not just to me, but to Steph, Dick, Cass, and Tim. Seeing the damage he did to them... it's enough to make me want to pick up the kids and run to the ends of the earth and never look back."

Roy nodded, his expression filled with understanding. He knew firsthand the pain of estrangement, the burden of carrying unresolved issues with a loved one. And while he couldn't fully comprehend the complexities of Jason's relationship with Bruce, he could empathize with the struggle that Jason was feeling.

"You're right," Roy agreed, his voice soft and reassuring. "It's your decision whether or not you want to see Bruce. Just like it's my decision not to see Oliver anymore."

Jason's eyes softened at Roy's words, a wave of gratitude washing over him. It meant the world to him to have someone who understood, someone who supported him unconditionally. And while he couldn't deny the significance of Bruce's efforts to change, he knew that he needed time, time to heal and time to come to terms with the past.

"I'm glad Bruce is changing," Jason admitted, a small smile tugging at the corners of his lips. "But that doesn't mean I'm ready to see him anytime soon."

Chapter Text

The dinner table buzzed with laughter and chatter as everyone enjoyed a mix of Lebanese and Vietnamese dishes. The air was filled with delicious aromas, making everyone's mouth water.

Lian and Billy were in the middle of a playful game, trying to sneak bites from each other's plates when the other wasn't looking. Their laughter filled the room, adding to the light-hearted atmosphere. Meanwhile, Damian, always the careful one, made sure his plate was strictly vegetarian. His love for animals was clear in his choices, and he wouldn’t compromise his principles, no matter how tempting the food was.

Roy was spoon-feeding Jason, who put up a half-hearted protest, rolling his eyes but not really minding. The warmth between them was undeniable. As they shared stories and jokes, Jason couldn't help but feel grateful for the family around him. They all had their quirks, but in that moment, they were united by love and kinship, creating memories that would last forever.

After dinner, as they moved on to dessert, Roy looked around the group, beaming with pride. "Well done, everyone," he said, his voice full of genuine pride. "Another year, another round of stellar academic achievements. I couldn't be prouder of each and every one of you."

"Thanks, Dad!" Lian grinned, her eyes sparkling with excitement. She had worked so hard all year, and being recognized for it meant the world to her. "I worked really hard, but it feels amazing to see it pay off."

"Indeed," Damian nodded, a satisfied smirk on his lips. He always prided himself on his intellect and academic skills. "I expect nothing less than excellence from myself."

Billy grinned, his eyes twinkling with mischief. "Yeah, well, it helps when you've got the best teachers," he quipped, sending a playful wink Jason’s way.

Jason chuckled, warmth spreading through his chest at the sight of their happy faces. "Well, I might be biased, but I like to think I’ve taught you a thing or two," he replied, his tone light and playful.

Roy watched them, pride swelling in his chest. These kids were his family, his pride and joy, and seeing them thrive brought him immense happiness. "You’ve all worked incredibly hard, and it's paid off. I couldn’t be prouder."

As the conversation shifted to the new school year, Jason turned to Damian. “Have you chosen your electives for the third year at Nanda Parbat Academy for Magic?”

Damian nodded. “Yes, akhi. I selected Art Magic, Rituals & Curses, Apparition, and Magical Politics.”

"Art Magic, Rituals & Curses, Apparition, and Magical Politics," Jason repeated, nodding in approval. "Solid choices, Damian. It's clear you’ve put a lot of thought into this."

Damian inclined his head, a determined glint in his eyes. "I have," he said firmly. "I believe these subjects will provide me with a well-rounded education and prepare me for the challenges ahead."

Roy chimed in, his expression thoughtful. "Art Magic makes sense," he mused. "You’ve always had a talent for it. And Magical Politics... well, that's a given considering your lineage." He paused, a curious look on his face. "But Rituals & Curses? That’s an interesting choice. Care to elaborate?"

"Given our family's situation," Damian explained, a serious note in his voice, "it’s essential to know about various rituals and curses. You never know when that knowledge might come in handy."

"Wise thinking, Damian," Jason remarked, a smile tugging at his lips. "It’s always better to be prepared for any situation."

Jason nodded, his gaze filled with pride and admiration for his brother’s wisdom beyond his years. He might not like the idea of child soldiers, but if there was one thing he’d agree with Bruce on, it was the importance of always being prepared.

Dick walked down the winding stairs to the Batcave, feeling lighter and happier than he had in a long time. Every step he took seemed to lift the weight off his shoulders, replaced by a sense of hope for the future. Jason was back, Bruce was alive and safe, and for once, things felt like they were falling into place.

Reaching the bottom, Dick smiled as he saw Bruce finally giving Jason the space and privacy he deserved. It was a huge step for Bruce, showing he was growing as a father and a leader. Dick had braced himself to play peacekeeper between Jason and Bruce, but now, with Bruce's new understanding, Dick felt a freedom he hadn't experienced in years.

But then, his heart sank when he spotted Tim hunched over the Batcomputer. Despite the joy of having Bruce and Jason back, Tim's relentless pursuit of Jason's past gnawed at him. Tim’s return from his crazy journey through the timestream had brought a new determination to uncover the mysteries of Jason’s life. He spent hours on the computer, digging into every piece of information he could find about Jason’s past, almost obsessively.

For Dick, it was frustrating and worrisome. He got that Tim needed answers, driven by his insatiable curiosity. But Jason had asked for space and privacy, and Dick couldn't shake the feeling that Tim's investigation was crossing a line. He worried it would reopen old wounds for Jason or worse, push him away completely.

Watching Tim furrow his brow in concentration, fingers flying over the keyboard, Dick felt torn. He wanted to tell Tim to stop, to respect Jason’s boundaries. But he also knew Tim’s intentions were good, aiming to protect their family from any hidden threats.

With a heavy sigh, Dick leaned against the Batcomputer console, his expression a mix of frustration and concern as he looked at Tim. This conversation felt like a broken record, and Dick couldn’t shake the feeling of déjà vu.

"Tim," Dick started, trying to keep his cool, "how many times do we have to go over this? Jason's back, he's safe, and he needs space. Can't you just let it go?"

Tim's fingers didn't stop moving on the keyboard. "I just don't buy it, Dick," he shot back. "Jason's past is full of secrets and half-truths. He's hiding something. I can feel it."

Dick ran a hand through his hair, clearly frustrated. "Or maybe he's just trying to move on from all the pain and trauma. Ever think about that?"

Tim hesitated, doubt flickering in his eyes before he straightened up, looking more determined than ever. Dick sighed again. He got that Tim needed answers, but he also knew that letting paranoia take over could ruin everything they’d worked so hard to rebuild.

"Tim, I get it," Dick said, softening his tone. "But we can't keep dwelling on the past. Jason's here now, and he's trying to move forward. We owe it to him to respect that."

Tim's eyes stayed glued to the screen, his expression unreadable. "I just want to make sure we're not missing anything," he mumbled, mostly to himself.

Dick's heart ached seeing Tim like this, so worried and stressed out. He knew Tim was trying to protect their family, but digging up the past wasn’t helping. With a heavy sigh, he put a hand on Tim's shoulder. "I know, Tim," he said gently. "But sometimes we just have to trust that things will work out."

Tim looked up, his gaze uncertain. But then his frustration bubbled over. "I can't just sit back and ignore this, Dick!" he said, his voice desperate. "There's something going on with Jason, something he's not telling us. I have to find out what it is!"

Dick felt his patience slipping. "And what if there is? What if there's nothing? What if Jason just wants some privacy, some space to figure things out on his own? You're suffocating him!"

Tim's jaw clenched. "I can't just do nothing, Dick," he said, his voice defiant. "Not when there's something off about Jason. I have to protect our family."

Dick's heart sank, seeing how stubborn Tim was being. The tension was thick, and he knew they couldn't keep fighting like this. "For God's sake, Tim! You need to listen to me!" Dick's voice echoed in the Batcave. "You can't keep digging into Jason's past like this. It's not healthy! You need help. Let us help you!"

Tim wasn't backing down. "I'm fine, Dick! I don't need your help or anyone else's. I can handle this!"

"Tim, please," Dick pleaded, his voice softer now. "I just want to help you. We all do. But you have to let us in."

Tim's face was a mix of anger and frustration as he spun around and stomped off, his footsteps echoing through the Batcave. Dick watched him go, feeling a mix of worry and frustration. He knew Tim was hurting, trying to make sense of a chaotic world, but Tim’s stubbornness was driving a wedge between them.

Tim’s relentless search for answers was driven by a fear of losing another loved one. Dick understood that, but Tim's stubbornness was his worst enemy, pushing away the help he needed. No matter how many times Dick tried to reach out, Tim just pushed him away, retreating into his own thoughts and fears. It was like trying to break through a brick wall.

Standing there in the dimly lit Batcave, Dick felt a pang of guilt. Maybe he hadn't handled things right. Maybe he’d been too harsh, too quick to anger. But how else could he get through to Tim? How else could he make him see that it was okay to ask for help, that he didn’t have to carry the weight of the world on his shoulders alone?

Dick sighed, running a hand through his hair, feeling the weight of it all. He wished there was an easy solution, a quick fix. But life wasn’t that simple. Some problems couldn’t be solved overnight. As he turned back to the Batcomputer, Dick knew he couldn’t give up on Tim. No matter how many times they fought, Tim was family, and family stuck together, even when things got tough.

Determined, Dick decided to keep trying, to keep reaching out to Tim, no matter how many times he was pushed away. Family stood by each other, through thick and thin. Not wanting to let his little brother go, Dick rushed to catch up with Tim. He couldn’t let Baby Bird keep running from this. Tim needed help, and Dick was going to make him see that.

"Why can’t you just let me go?" Tim’s jaw clenched, his fists balled at his sides as he fought to control the torrent of emotions inside him. "I don’t need help, Dick!" Tim’s voice echoed through the cave, raw with anger and defiance. "I’m fine, okay? I can handle this on my own!"

"Tim, please," Dick said, his voice softer now, full of genuine concern. "You’re not fine. You’re hurting, and you’re pushing everyone away because you’re scared. I get it, I do. But you can’t keep doing this to yourself."

Tim’s breath came in ragged gasps as he struggled to regain control. His hands trembled with pent-up frustration, and he felt the weight of Dick’s words pressing down on him.

"I can’t do this, Dick," Tim whispered, his voice barely audible. "I can’t just sit back while Jason keeps secrets from us. I need to know the truth. I can’t lose another family member. Mom’s gone, Dad’s gone, Bruce was lost, and we finally got everyone back... I can’t lose anyone else..."

Dick’s heart ached at the pain in Tim’s voice. "You’re not alone, Tim," he said softly. "We’re in this together. But you have to let go of this obsession. Whatever Jason’s hiding from his past has nothing to do with our safety, just like those things you experienced in the timestream that you keep to yourself. It’s tearing you apart, and it’s tearing us apart too."

Tim’s shoulders slumped as he acknowledged the truth in Dick’s words. He was tired—tired of the endless cycle of doubt and mistrust, tired of fighting a losing battle against his own fears. "I’m sorry, Dick," Tim murmured, his voice thick with emotion. "I just... I don’t know how to stop."

Dick moved closer, wrapping Tim in a comforting embrace. "It’s okay, Tim," he whispered, holding his brother tight. "We’ll figure it out together. I promise."

The atmosphere in the Wayne Manor library was relaxed and casual, a nice break from their usual chaos. Bruce was in his favorite armchair, swirling a glass of scotch, lost in thought as he watched the flames in the fireplace. Diana was lounging on the sofa nearby, looking elegant as ever with a glass of wine in her hand. She had a faint smile, enjoying the moment of peace. Clark was opposite Bruce, looking pretty chill with a beer. These get-togethers were a chance for him to unwind, away from the pressures of being Superman.

Bruce cleared his throat, breaking the comfortable silence. He looked at his two friends, uncertainty flickering in his eyes. "Did either of you... know? About Jason, I mean. Before Darkseid's attack."

Clark chuckled, shaking his head. "Not a clue, Bruce. Jason managed to keep his identity hidden from me for years. Quite the feat, really."

Diana nodded, her expression turning serious. "I had no idea either," she said, a bit of regret in her voice. "It wasn't until after your presumed death that the truth came to light."

Bruce took a sip of his scotch, contemplating their responses. "I guess I shouldn’t be surprised," he mused. "Jason always did have a knack for keeping secrets. He was the best at undercover out of all my kids."

Clark laughed softly. "He definitely had us all fooled," he said, smiling. "But I suppose that's what makes him a true detective's son."

Diana nodded in agreement. "Indeed. Jason's resilience and resourcefulness are a testament to his upbringing."

Bruce felt a bit of the weight lift off his shoulders. "Thank you," he said quietly. "For being there for him when I couldn’t. It means more than you know."

Clark's eyes softened with empathy. "It was a lot to take in," he admitted. "Discovering that Jason was alive, after everything... It was a shock."

Diana looked pained. "To think he had been suffering in silence all those years, without our knowledge... It weighs heavily on me."

Bruce's heart ached seeing his friends' remorse. "It's not your fault," he reassured them. "We were all dealing with our own battles. We couldn’t have known."

Clark smiled warmly. "You know, Bruce, Diana always had a special bond with Jason, and I've always been closer to Dick. But getting to know Jason as Jason Alexander Head, he became more than just a nephew. He became my friend."

Bruce felt a swell of pride and gratitude. Later, after Clark and Diana had left, Alfred came in to collect the glasses. His steady presence brought a sense of calm. Bruce turned to him, hesitation in his voice. "Alfred, do you think... do you think I’m doing the right thing by giving Jason the space he asked for?"

Alfred paused, meeting Bruce's gaze with understanding. He sighed gently before speaking. "Master Bruce, sometimes giving someone the space they need is the greatest gift you can offer."

Bruce nodded, his thoughts drifting. "I just want what’s best for him."

"And that, Master Bruce, is precisely why I'm proud of the man you’ve become," Alfred said, smiling gently, his eyes filled with pride and affection.

Bruce hid his smile behind his coffee cup, listening to the usual morning sounds filling Wayne Manor. The clinking of cereal bowls and the shuffling of feet signaled the start of another day. First to appear was Dick, his cheerful demeanor a stark contrast to the fatigue from last night's patrol. Despite the early hour, Dick's sunny smile never faltered as he chattered away, filling the room with his infectious energy.

As Dick helped himself to a second bowl of cereal, Tim stumbled into the dining room, looking more like a zombie than a teenager. He didn't even bother to open his eyes as he slumped into his chair. Alfred placed a cup of coffee in front of him, shooting him a disapproving look. Tim raised the cup to his lips with a sigh of relief, the warmth of the coffee seeping into his tired bones as he took a long sip.

Bruce's brow furrowed in concern as he noticed the subtle tension between Dick and Tim. He was the World’s Greatest Detective, after all. This was more than just their differing opinions about Bruce's presumed death and return—it ran deeper, like an undercurrent of unresolved issues simmering beneath the surface.

The memory of his own twisted mind, manipulated to harm those he loved, still haunted Bruce. He shuddered at the thought of raising his fists against his own children, a betrayal that cut him to the core. He was eternally grateful to Jason for stopping him. That gratitude was mixed with pride—pride that his son could overpower him now. Though, it did push him to create contingency plans in case anything like the Dark Ranger ever happened to Jason.

But now, as he watched Dick and Tim, Bruce couldn't shake the feeling of unease. What had happened between them during his Justice League mission? Had there been an incident, a disagreement, that had driven a wedge between his sons? Bruce was determined to get to the bottom of it, his instincts kicking into overdrive. For now, they would carry on with breakfast, but as he watched his sons exchange cautious glances across the table, Bruce turned to Alfred with a subtle nod, silently conveying his intention to address the issue later.

The sound of a car pulling up outside made Bruce stop brooding. A spark of anticipation lit up his eyes. He knew exactly who it was before the door even swung open—Cass and Steph. The two of them now lived in their apartment near Gotham University, and Bruce missed their laughter echoing through the halls of Wayne Manor, their spirited pranks filling the air with warmth and vitality.

Cass and Steph stepped into the dining room, their energy infectious, a magnetic pull that drew everyone in and filled the room with a sense of excitement. Steph wasted no time heading straight for the waffle station, her eyes lighting up at the sight of the golden, fluffy treats. Meanwhile, Cass glided gracefully into the room, her movements fluid and elegant. With a smile that could light up the darkest of nights, she greeted Bruce, Dick, and Tim with kisses on their cheeks, a gesture that never failed to warm their hearts. Bruce's chest swelled with affection as he watched them settle into their seats.

Bruce's attention was abruptly drawn to the entrance of the room as Alfred materialized with his customary grace, a silver tray in hand and a single letter resting atop it. The sight was unusual; Alfred was notoriously strict about maintaining a boundary between work and family time, especially during meals. Bruce's curiosity piqued, he accepted the letter from Alfred, a perplexed furrow creasing his brow as he glanced at the envelope's elegant script. The unexpected interruption stirred a mixture of apprehension and intrigue within him, a feeling that only intensified as he broke the seal and unfolded the contents.

Dear Wayne Family,

You are cordially invited to the exclusive book launch party celebrating the release of "The Court," the latest novel by the esteemed author Jason Alexander Head.

Join us for an evening of literary indulgence as we unveil this thrilling masterpiece to the world. Rub shoulders with esteemed guests, indulge in delectable refreshments, and immerse yourself in the spine-tingling world of Jason Head's latest creation.

Your presence at this event would be an honor, as we celebrate the talent and creativity of one of the finest literary minds. We eagerly anticipate your attendance and look forward to sharing this unforgettable experience with you.

Warmest regards,

Esperanza Gonzales.

Bruce's heart skipped a beat as he read the invitation, his fingers trembling slightly as he traced the words on the elegant stationery. The news hit him like a bolt of lightning, sending a jolt of excitement through his veins.

After months of silence, Bruce had pretty much given up hope that his relationship with Jason could be fixed. The past had left some deep wounds, and he thought those scars were permanent. But now, with the chance to attend Jason's book party, a glimmer of hope flickered to life within him. Thoughts of reconciliation and rebuilding the bridges between them raced through his mind. He knew it wouldn't be easy—there would be obstacles to overcome and apologies to make—but for the chance to mend their fractured relationship, Bruce was ready to do whatever it took.

Glancing around the breakfast table at his kids, each lost in their own conversations and laughter, Bruce felt a surge of determination wash over him. He would seize this opportunity, determined to make amends.

With renewed purpose, Bruce turned to Alfred, his eyes alight with determination. "Alfred, cancel our appointments for the day," he said firmly. "We have a party to attend."

--- END OF ARC II ---

Chapter Text

One of the bigger drawing rooms in Wayne Manor was set up by Alfred to be used as a dressing room for the family. They had Jason’s book event to prepare for, and Alfred was determined they wouldn't look unpresentable.

“I am so excited!” Dick flitted around the room, hugging and kissing his siblings in exuberance. “We’re finally going to one of Little Wing’s book launch parties! And I can’t wait to see the city my little brothers have claimed as theirs!”

Bruce couldn't help but chuckle at the sight of his son twirling around the room with all the excitement of a teenager getting ready for their first date. Dick's energy was infectious, filling the room with joy and anticipation.

But Bruce noticed a subtle shift in Dick's usual style. Known for his flamboyant fashion sense, Dick never shied away from bold colors and daring combinations. His wardrobe was a vibrant reflection of his personality. Yet today, his outfit was more understated. It seemed Alfred had managed to convince Dick to go for a more classic look for Jason’s grand event.

Bruce had to admit, his eldest son looked striking in a blue shawl lapel suit, white dress shirt, blue tie, and white dress shoes. The ensemble softened Dick’s sharp features and added a touch of elegance.

Bruce tilted his head as he realized what Dick had just said. “You’ve never scouted—I mean visited—Fawcett City?”

That’s right, the book launch was happening at Fawcett University’s Library, where Jason Alexander Head was a Creative Writing Professor. Similar events had taken place at Oxford, Jason’s alma mater, when A Death in the Family was launched. This might have been Bruce’s first visit to Fawcett City, as there had never been anything noteworthy about the city—no significant crime rates or organized crime needing Batman’s attention. Bruce would have expected his children to scout the city as soon as they knew Jason was alive and not planning to return to Gotham full-time.

Dick finally stopped spinning and turned to look at Bruce with a pained expression that Bruce had come to associate with the aftermath of Darkseid’s attack. “Little Wing only came out of the woods after Superman brought your ‘body’ to the manor. With Baby Bird mostly in San Francisco and later MIA, the bulk of keeping Gotham from crumbling fell on Babs and me. So, Little Wing mostly visited the manor when he wasn’t teaching or writing or when he had to drop Dami and Billy when he was needed for a mission. I did drop Dami and Billy at Fawcett once, but I did not get to see much.”

Bruce noticed Tim flinching at Dick’s words, even though Dick hadn’t meant to hurt him. Bruce held back a sigh, making a mental note to talk to Tim later. The tension between his children couldn’t continue. Things fell apart when he was thought dead, and despite Dick and Jason’s efforts to keep things afloat, Tim seemed to have fallen through the cracks.

Just then, Cass stepped out from behind the folding screen and twirled around the room. Bruce’s frown quickly turned into a beaming smile. Cass giggled with delight as she spun around, her laughter like music in the air. Her dress—a stunning one-shoulder black mermaid gown adorned with dark beading—clung to her, accentuating her curves. Each step made the fabric swirl elegantly around her.

Bruce couldn't help but wonder how she moved so smoothly in her Louis Vuitton black high heels. His daughter looked breathtaking. It was hard to believe how much she’d grown up in his absence. His little girl was a full-grown woman now.

“Oh, Cass! You look beautiful!” Dick exclaimed, rushing to hug his little sister, who giggled and hugged him back.

Bruce approached them, smiling at his eldest children. He had been doing that a lot lately, showing his care and emotions. Working with Dinah had been tough, but every painful moment was worth it. Knowing his children had believed him dead and weren’t sure if he loved them had broken him in a way only Jason’s death had before.

“You do look incredible,” Bruce murmured, kissing Cass’ head, careful not to mess up her elegant bun. “The only thing missing is this.” Bruce pulled a string of pearls from his pocket and held it out.

Cass gasped when she saw the necklace. “Grandma’s pearl necklace! I can’t!”

“You can and you will,” Bruce said, shaking his head as he clasped the necklace around Cass’ neck. “She would have passed it down to her first granddaughter anyway.” He stepped back, looking at Cassandra wearing Martha Wayne’s pearls, his eyes tearing up. “Now you look perfect.”

“Thank you, Dad,” Cass said, hugging Bruce tightly.

Dick watched with tears in his eyes, his heart filled with love. Some days, he still couldn’t believe how far Bruce had come in just a few months. The Wayne stubbornness seemed to help with more than just vigilante work. Dick was proud of the man and father Bruce was becoming.

But Dick’s smile slipped when he saw Tim. His Baby Bird had become more of a recluse since the Dark Ranger incident. Tim clearly blamed himself for putting his siblings in danger and the changes Bruce had gone through, even though the timestream was to blame. Dick had tried to explain that to him, but his words fell on deaf ears.

With a soft sigh, Dick approached Tim, his footsteps echoing softly against the polished floors of the dressing room. Tim stood before the mirror, his reflection showing his concentration as he straightened his red tie with meticulous care.

As Dick got closer, he couldn’t help but admire how sharp Tim looked. Tim was rocking a burgundy slim-fit suit that complemented his complexion perfectly. The black dress shirt added a sleek touch, and his black shoes completed the look with effortless style.

“Here, let me help,” Dick said, smiling as he quickly fixed Tim’s tie. Stepping back to take it all in, he beamed. “Perfect.”

“Thanks,” Tim mumbled, looking down at their shoes.

“We need to finish that talk in the Batcave soon,” Dick sighed, noticing Tim tense up. “Bruce is already picking up on things and will want to ‘fix’ this after Jason’s book launch. Cass and Alfred can only run interference for so long.”

Tim sighed, shoulders slumping in defeat, but at least he was finally looking Dick in the eye. “I get it… and I know you’re right… but…”

“It’s not easy, I know,” Dick patted Tim on the back. “It took Bruce ‘dying,’ you going missing in the timestream, and Alfred and Jason dragging me kicking and screaming to start seeing Harley.”

“Harley Quinn?” Tim repeated incredulously, blinking in shock. “She’s your therapist? Didn’t her license get revoked after, you know, all her criminal activities? And since when do you go to therapy?”

“I told you, since Darkseid messed with our lives and you went rogue,” Dick shrugged. “Yeah, Harley’s license got revoked, but she’s my own brand of chaos and style… she just fits. That’s what you need in therapy, someone who fits and makes you feel comfortable.” Dick smiled comfortingly, hugging Tim when he noticed his discomfort. “You might not find the right therapist right away, but if you keep looking, you’ll find someone who’s perfect for you.”

“Like Bruce with Dinah, and you with Harley?” Tim asked.

“And whoever Jason talks to back at the All-Caste,” Dick added.

That made Tim freeze and step back from the hug, looking at his older brother in shock. “Jason goes to therapy?”

“Baby Bird, Jason died. Of course, he goes to therapy, or whatever the magical equivalent is,” Dick huffed a laugh, a broken sound that startled Tim. “That kind of trauma doesn’t just go away. None of our trauma will just vanish. Do you think that because Bruce is back, all those months we thought he was dead and all the time we spent trying to heal him would just disappear?”

Tim looked at Dick with wide eyes, blinking away tears. It hit Dick that Tim had thought exactly that. “Is that why you were so determined to bring Bruce back? So much so that you ignored all bat-protocols and went rogue?”

“Bruce was dead, just like my mom and dad,” Tim whispered, voice thick with emotion as he stared at the floor. “Jason was back, but he was criticizing everything, calling Robin a symbol of child soldiers. You and Babs took over Wayne Enterprises and the Foundation, making all these big decisions. Batman wasn’t patrolling Gotham; he was just a magical mirage to trick criminals into thinking we hadn’t lost our leader!” Tim barked a broken laugh, tears rolling down his cheeks. “Everything was changing so fast; everyone was forgetting about Bruce and his mission…”

“No, Baby Bird,” Dick shook his head, hugging his little brother tightly, not caring about the wet spots forming on his suit. “We never forgot about Bruce. Everything we did was in his honor, in his memory. We wanted to make Gotham the city Bruce and Batman had dreamed of.”

“And you did,” Tim’s voice was muffled against Dick’s suit. His arms wrapped around Dick’s back. “I was just a fool not to see it before.”

“You weren’t a fool, just young and inexperienced. We’ve all been in your shoes,” Dick chuckled, kissing Tim’s head and nuzzling his styled hair. Tim would have to redo his hairstyle, but he didn’t seem to care. “You should’ve seen the tantrums I used to throw. My arguments with Bruce are legendary for a reason. Ask Babs and Jason; they’ll tell you all about it.”

Tim chuckled and finally let go. The two of them turned to see the rest of their family. Dick noticed Cass had strategically moved Bruce so he wouldn’t see their interaction, giving them the privacy they needed. Dick mouthed a ‘thank you’ to Cass, who simply smiled back.

Meanwhile, Tim’s eyes landed on Steph, who had just finished getting ready. A smile spread across his face as he took in how amazing she looked in her purple-eggplant crisscross halter gown. The dress draped perfectly, highlighting her figure. Steph’s eyes sparkled with excitement, her laughter bubbling up as she radiated joy, her blonde curls cascading down her back.

What really caught Tim’s attention was the pearl bracelet on her right wrist. From Bruce’s fond expression, Tim realized it was a gift from him. The meaning hit Tim hard—this bracelet was part of a set with Martha Wayne’s famous pearl necklace. Bruce giving Steph this bracelet, something meant for a daughter or granddaughter, showed he finally accepted her as family. It also meant he approved of her relationship with Cass. With this gesture, Steph was basically Bruce’s daughter-in-law.

“Good for you, Spoiler,” Tim whispered with a smile.

Tim then wandered over to a pile of books in the corner. He picked up copies of *Ethereal Echoes of Hill House* and Ethereal Echoes of Bly Manor. Unlike Jason’s first two novels, Tim never got these signed. Tonight, he was going to fix that. He also planned to buy Jason’s newest book, *The Court*, and get that signed too. Tim had made peace with Jason being his Robin, his favorite author, and his big brother, and he was going to milk it for all it was worth. Not everyone gets a big brother who’s both their hero and favorite author!

“Are those Ethereal Echoes of Hill House and *Ethereal Echoes of Bly Manor?” Dick asked, finally noticing what Tim was holding. His smile widened with pride. “Did you know Baby Bat drew the book covers?”

“I did,” Tim nodded, smiling. “I even got a call from him ranting about how Esperanza didn’t let him design the cover for The Court because the topics were too inappropriate. They didn’t want the scandal of a thirteen-year-old doing the cover for a novel about satanic cults.”

“Baby Bat called you?” Dick looked surprised but was practically glowing with happiness.

Tim chuckled and shook his head. “I think he just needed someone to rant to and decided to bug me.”

“It’s a start! This is great!” Dick beamed, practically bouncing with excitement.

Tim was about to say something but stopped when he saw Dick’s smile. It’s not that he didn’t get along with Damian or William; it’s just that when they came into his life, Tim was too busy sulking to get to know them. Unlike the rest of his family, Tim was never around the manor when Jason would drop off Damian and Billy for their sleepovers. He never bonded with them. So instead of being his little brothers, they were just a couple of strangers Jason always had around.

Which was a pity because Tim had always wanted a little brother, and Jason had brought him two. Making a promise to himself to do better this time, Tim smiled back at Dick and kept his thoughts to himself. When Alfred informed them that the limousine was ready, Tim followed his family outside with an excited skip in his step.

They had a book launch to get to!

Jason stood at the front of the room, a mix of nerves and excitement bubbling inside him as he looked out at the crowd. Dressed in a white suit with a gleaming gold vest and tie, he looked like a confident author ready to unveil his latest work. The Fawcett University Library was buzzing with anticipation, packed with journalists, editors, sponsors, and professors, all eager to hear from him.

But it was his family’s presence that really warmed his heart. Talia, Nyssa, and Roy were there, their supportive smiles giving him an extra boost of confidence. And seeing Clark, Lois, and Diana in the audience made him feel a bit giddy with gratitude.

Yet, it was his dad who held Jason's attention the most. Bruce, surrounded by Dick, Tim, Steph, Alfred, and Cass, was a striking presence. Jason had been pretty nervous about seeing him, unsure of how things would go. But as he locked eyes with Bruce, a wave of calm washed over him. Bruce’s silent support was more reassuring than anything.

With a small smile, Jason glanced down at the podium where his new novel lay waiting. As he got ready to share the prologue, he couldn’t help but feel a swell of pride. This was his moment, and he was ready to seize it. As he began to read, the room fell into a hushed silence, everyone hanging on his every word.

"In the depths of the night, where darkness reigns supreme and the whispers of the unseen echo through the shadows, lies a city gripped by fear. It is a place where the line between the living and the dead blurs, where ancient evils lurk in the alleys and hidden corners.

The murders began with whispers, rumors whispered in hushed tones in the dead of night. Bodies found torn asunder, their screams silenced by the cold embrace of death. Each victim marked with the touch of the infernal, their souls tainted by the darkness that now threatens to consume them.

As the body count rises, so too does the terror that grips the city. Fear seeps into the hearts of the people, casting a shadow over their once peaceful lives. Sleepless nights are spent behind locked doors, whispers of demons haunting the streets spreading like wildfire.

No one is safe from the grasp of the unknown. Families huddle together, seeking solace in the warmth of their loved ones, yet knowing deep down that darkness lurks just beyond their doorstep.

The city streets, once bustling with life, now lie deserted and silent. The echoes of footsteps are drowned out by the eerie whispers of the night, as if the very air itself is alive with malevolence.

This is our story. The story of how we, a group of exorcists, ventured into this nightmarish city to investigate this mystery. And what we discovered was something unimaginable, something we would have not even dreamt of. It was a revelation that shook us to our core, challenging everything we thought we knew about the forces of darkness and the depths of human depravity.”

As Jason smoothly transitioned from the haunting prologue to the start of the first chapter, his deep, soothing voice filled the library, captivating everyone. The air buzzed with anticipation as listeners hung on his every word, getting lost in the gripping tale he wove.

Esperanza watched with a mix of pride and excitement, her heart swelling as she saw the audience's enraptured expressions. With each passing moment, it was clear that this novel would shoot to the top of the bestseller lists, just like Jason’s previous books.

As Jason dived deeper into the first chapter, his voice rose and fell with the story's ebb and flow, the tension in the room palpable. Each sentence seemed to resonate with power and emotion, painting vivid pictures in the minds of everyone listening. The words felt alive. When he finished the first chapter, a ripple of applause broke the spell his words had cast over the room.

For Esperanza, watching Jason work his magic was pure joy. She had always believed in his talent, but seeing it come to life in such a profound way filled her with awe. Ever since the manuscript of A Death in the Family landed on her desk, she knew Jason Alexander Head was destined for greatness. It was satisfying to be proven right.

As Jason said his goodbyes to Clark and Lois, he felt the exhaustion hit him hard. The night had been a whirlwind of non-stop talking and everyone wanting a piece of him. Despite the nice chats and hugs, he felt like he couldn't breathe. Desperate for a break, he bolted from the library, craving a moment alone. He knew Esperanza would give him a hard time later for ditching, but he couldn't handle another minute of questions and demands.

Since he left the podium, it had been relentless. Reporters wanted interviews, Diana's hug almost crushed him, and his siblings wouldn't leave him alone. It felt like everyone wanted something—signing books, making small talk—it was overwhelming.

With exhaustion pulling at him, Jason knew he had to get out before he collapsed. Slipping away from the crowd, he felt instant relief as he reached a quiet hallway. Leaning against the wall, he closed his eyes and let the calm wash over him, taking a deep breath and letting the tension melt away.

As he stood there, savoring the quiet, he sensed Bruce's presence even before he opened his eyes. There was something about his father, a familiar energy that Jason had learned to pick up on. Despite Bruce's stealthy approach, Jason's magical senses had him covered.

With a resigned sigh, Jason knew they needed to talk—an overdue conversation since his return from the dead and Bruce's own return from the timestream. The calm he had felt while speaking at the podium was now replaced by a bubbling nervousness, but he knew it was inevitable.

Pushing himself off the wall, Jason turned to face Bruce, his expression guarded yet determined. "We're not doing this here," he said firmly, hiding the turmoil inside. "Let's go to my office. The literature department building is only about five minutes away."

Without waiting for a response, Jason started walking out of the library, the cold night air biting at his skin. He could feel Bruce trailing behind him, a silent companion in the darkness.

As they walked side by side, the weight of unspoken words hung between them. Jason's mind raced with questions and doubts, uncertainties that had plagued him since his return. But he pushed those thoughts aside, focusing on the task at hand. With each step, he felt a sense of resolve wash over him. He had to confront Bruce and lay bare the truths that had been festering for too long.

Even before the Joker killed him, there had been tension. Bruce had once accused Jason of killing Felipe Garzonasa, a little fact Jason had yet to forgive. What went through Bruce's mind to accuse a kid of murder?

When Jason unlocked the door to his office, he gestured for Bruce to enter. Bruce nodded and stepped inside, a faint smile tugging at his lips at Jason's polite gesture. Despite the gravity of the situation, Bruce couldn't help but feel a sense of pride at the display of Jason's manners. It seemed Alfred had managed to teach at least one of his children some manners.

Stepping into the office, Bruce glanced around, taking in the meticulously organized space that screamed Jason's personality. The carefully arranged bookshelves, the personal mementos on the walls—it all made Bruce swell with pride.

When he turned to face Jason, though, a sense of apprehension settled in his stomach. This conversation was clearly weighing heavily on Jason, and Bruce couldn't shake the feeling that they were about to tread into difficult territory. There were so many things left unsaid, so many apologies and questions, it left Bruce feeling lost, unsure of where to begin. For once, he decided to follow his heart instead of his head, asking the one question that had haunted him since discovering Jason was alive.

"Jason," Bruce's voice cut through the tension, raw with emotion, "why? Why didn't you come home sooner?"

Jason, who had promised himself he’d stay calm, felt a blaze of resentment flare up instantly. Bruce had always been good at unnerving him, stirring his temper. How could he ask that? Didn't he understand the pain he'd caused?

"You know damn well why," Jason shot back, struggling to keep his composure. “You never truly loved me back then. I was just another cross for you to bear, another reason for your vendetta. Just like your parents.”

"Jason," Bruce stammered, his voice cracking, "how could you think...? How could you think I didn't love you?"

Jason felt anger surge through him, drowning out reason. "Oh, spare me, old man," he hissed, dripping with sarcasm. "Maybe because you never said 'I love you.' Maybe because you accused me of murder without hesitation. You ripped Robin away from me. And after I died? The Joker still breathing, a new kid stepping into my shoes. I wasn't even buried in the family plot, no 'Wayne' on my gravestone despite being legally a Wayne. My birth mother, the one who sold me out, lying next to me with 'loving mother' engraved on her tombstone. You didn’t even investigate. And my memorial? Just a costume and a plaque that reads 'A Good Soldier'—as if that's all I was to you. So, tell me, Bruce, with all that, how was I supposed to believe you cared about me?"

The room fell silent, the weight of Jason's accusations hanging in the air. Bruce stood there, speechless, his eyes full of regret. "I do love you," Bruce confessed, his voice trembling. "I've always loved you. I thought you knew, but that's not an excuse. I'm sorry. I'm sorry I never told you. I love all of my children. You, Dick, Tim, and Cass. And I know I’ll love Damian and Billy when I get to know them. Of course, I love you. Please, Jaylad, I'm sorry... I'm sorry I didn't save you..."

Jason turned slowly, his anger fading as he saw the tears glistening in Bruce's eyes. He'd never seen Bruce cry before, and it shook him. The rage melted away, leaving behind vulnerability.

"I never blamed you for not saving me," Jason said softly, his voice sad. "My death wasn't your fault. It wasn't mine, or Dick's. It was Sheila's and the Joker's. I don't want your guilt. Not now, not ever."

Bruce's expression was uncertain. "What... What do you want, then? What do you want me to say? What do you want me to do?"

"I want us to move forward, Bruce. I want us to try to understand each other. To rebuild what we once had. But it's gonna take time. A lot of time." Jason met Bruce's gaze, the weight of their shared history heavy between them. “I want you to love me anyway, no matter what I’ve done, who I’ve become. Because I am no longer that little boy I used to be. I’ve changed… a lot.”

"I know and I do," Bruce swore, his words ringing with conviction. "I do love you. No matter what. I will always love you."

Jason paused, absorbing the intensity of Bruce's declaration. "...Okay," he breathed, a flicker of relief mingling with the uncertainty.

"Okay?" Bruce echoed, still tinged with desperation and doubt.

"Okay." Jason closed the gap between them, enveloping Bruce in a tight embrace. “Let’s talk then, because we have a lot to discuss and a middle ground to find.”

Tears streamed down both their faces as Bruce and Jason clung to each other in the middle of the office. Bruce's arms shook with emotion as he held onto Jason tightly, his heart pounding with the fear of losing him again. It felt like if he let go, Jason would vanish, and everything they had worked for would crumble like sand slipping through his fingers.

Bruce's heart ached with regret. He couldn't shake the haunting memories of the young boy who had died so tragically, the son he hadn't been able to save. Holding Jason now, he felt a surge of guilt, a painful reminder of his failures as a father.

For Jason, the tears flowed freely as he allowed himself to grieve for the loss he had suffered all those years ago. In this moment, he was no longer the hardened necromancer, but the broken child longing for the love and protection he had been denied. Each sob echoed with the pain of abandonment, the longing for a father who had failed to reach him when he needed him the most.

Their tears mingled in a bittersweet embrace. Jason didn't know how long they stayed like that, but eventually, he gathered the strength to pull back and continue the conversation. First, though, they needed a drink. He went to the minibar under his desk and pulled out a bottle of arak.

“Up for a drink, old man?” Jason teased as he poured them each a glass.

Bruce picked up the glass with a bemused expression. “It looks like you picked up Talia’s taste… I haven’t had arak since my time in the league…”

“I am umi’s son after all,” Jason shrugged, deciding not to dwell on the weirded-out look on Bruce’s face. “You’ve probably figured out some of what happened to me. I got revived, woke up in my coffin, dug myself out, wandered around Gotham in a comatose state, and then T’s men found me and took me to her. She threw me into one of her father’s Lazarus Pits.” Jason winced, recalling that horrible day as if it had been yesterday. “Not the best way to wake up, that’s for sure.”

Jason sat back in his chair, slouching as his expression darkened. "So, there I was, all patched up after the Lazarus Pit craziness. And what do I find? The Joker's still out there, wreaking havoc like it's his day job, and Batman, well, he's already replaced me with a shiny new version. Can you believe that?"

Bruce listened intently, his brows furrowing not liking the use of the word replace. No son would ever replace the other. However, Bruce understood that Jason was talking in past tense and that is how he felt at the moment, but not how he feels right now. So, he stayed silent as Jason continued telling his story.  

"Umi started seeing me as her son halfway through my training and decided I needed a world tour to sort out my head. I didn’t like it at the time. I’d finished my training at Nanda Parbat and was ready to go to Gotham and stake my claim or something. But T didn’t want me to do something I’d regret one day," Jason continued, a bitter edge to his voice. "Some of the guys she sent me to train with were solid, you know? But others, man, they were like the worst kind of scum. Pure evil, no redeeming qualities whatsoever."

A shadow crossed Bruce's face as he absorbed Jason's words. "You... you killed them?" he asked, his voice barely above a whisper. He knew Red Ghoul killed when he deemed it necessary, but it was still hard to accept that his son was the same feared and competent necromancer.

Jason met Bruce's gaze, unflinching. "Yeah, I did. Look, I'm not saying it's the ideal solution, but sometimes you gotta do what you gotta do. When the system fails, when there's no one else to step up, sometimes you have to take matters into your own hands."

Bruce struggled to reconcile his principles with Jason's actions. "I can't condone killing, Jason. You know that," he said, his voice tinged with sadness.

"I get it, Bruce. I do," Jason replied, his tone softer now. "But trust me, I didn't take those decisions lightly. I did what I had to do to protect innocent lives. Isn't that what being a hero is all about?"

Bruce sighed, running a hand through his hair in frustration. "Maybe... maybe you're right," he admitted, reluctantly. "But that doesn't mean I have to like it."

Jason nodded, a hint of understanding passing between them. "I know, B. And for what it's worth, I wish things could've been different too."

Jason lounged back in his chair, the weight of his past choices heavy on his mind. "So, yeah, after all that craziness, I had this whole grand plan, you know? I was gonna storm back into Gotham, take control of the drug scene, clean up the streets, especially in Crime Alley where Batman seemed to turn a blind eye, and then, just to twist the knife a bit, I was gonna confront you, show you the fallout of your choices by asking you to off the Joker."

Jason paused, a rueful smirk spreading across his lips. "By the end of my tour, the All-Caste happened. It was T's last hope to find a fix for my Pit Madness. Not even going to Oxford managed to calm me down." Jason chuckled sardonically. "Even the All-Caste didn’t get rid of my Pit Madness, though I did get a couple of cool magical swords." Jason’s expression darkened. "Then the Untitled happened."

"The Untitled?" Bruce asked warily, slipping back into his Batman persona.

Jason waved his worry away carelessly. "We dealt with them. Demons that wanted to bring the apocalypse. However, the carnage…" Jason shuddered at the memory of all the gore and blood. "I tried my best to write it down, but even then, I couldn’t come close to capturing it. If that hadn't satiated the bloodthirst of the Pit Madness, then there was nothing in this world capable of fixing me."

"Jason," Bruce whispered brokenly, hating that his son had to go through so much. Why did his children always have to pay for his mistakes?

Jason sighed, running a hand through his hair. "Umi, she’s the one who snapped me out of it afterwards, you know? She made me realize I was chasing after something I’d never get from you. Family, love, all that jazz. Turns out, I already had it with her and Damian. And afterwards with Billy, Roy, and Lian."

Bruce's expression softened, a hint of sadness in his eyes. "Jason, I’m sorry. I never meant to make you feel like you weren’t part of the family."

Jason waved him off, a bittersweet smile on his face. "Water under the bridge, B. I've made my peace with it. Besides, I figured out what I really wanted. Peace. So, here I am, graduated top of my class and now I’m teaching and writing."

Bruce nodded, a sense of pride swelling within him. "I’m glad you found your path, Jason. And if you ever need anything, you know where to find me."

Jason grinned, a genuine warmth in his eyes. "Thanks, Dad. It means a lot to me."

Chapter Text

At a cozy café near Fawcett University, Diana and Jason shared a moment, laughing over their tea. Jason had a strong English Breakfast while Diana enjoyed her Jasmine tea. Their table was packed with delicious brunch goodies: smoked salmon finger sandwiches, crumbly cheese scones, buttery pistachio madeleines, and decadent chocolate bonbons.

They chatted easily, the conversation flowing with laughter and thoughtful pauses. For Jason, it was a break from his Creative Writing class and missions, a chance to relax. Diana cherished the time spent with her dear nephew.

Leaning back in her chair, Diana smiled as she saw two students—a guy and a girl—approach their table hesitantly. Jason greeted them warmly, his laid-back vibe putting them at ease. Their nervousness melted away, replaced with excitement.

"So, how are you guys finding the latest assignment?" Jason asked, genuinely interested.

The guy, Alex, shifted nervously but grinned. "It's challenging, but in a good way. I've been trying to incorporate your feedback from last time, and I think it's really helped improve my writing."

"That's great to hear," Jason nodded. "Keep pushing yourself, and you'll only get better."

The girl, Sam, chimed in excitedly, "I've been experimenting with different narrative styles, trying to find my voice. It's been hard, but I'm loving every minute of it."

"That's the spirit," Jason said with a supportive smile. "Writing is all about exploration. Don’t be afraid to take risks and try new things. That's how you'll discover what works best for you."

Soon, the students had to head to their next class, but not before thanking Jason for his guidance. They left with smiles and a bounce in their step. Watching them go, Jason felt a deep sense of fulfillment. Knowing he had made a difference in their lives filled him with pride.

Turning to his Aunt Diana, he noticed her warm gaze, making his cheeks flush. "So, how's it going, Professor Head?" she asked, her voice full of genuine warmth.

Jason grinned, barely containing his excitement. "It's incredible, Aunt Diana. I never imagined teaching could be so fulfilling. Mentoring the next generation of writers—it's a dream come true."

He gushed about his students, each one shining with potential. "They're brilliant, Aunt Diana. I can see them doing amazing things—teaching, writing poetry, crafting novels, even reporting on big issues."

"And Sasha," he said, thinking of his prodigy and trusted TA. "She’s something else. Just graduated from the English and Literature program, and now she’s staying on for her master’s degree. I couldn't be prouder."

Diana listened with a warm smile, her eyes glowing with pride. Watching Jason thrive as a professor filled her with joy. She felt grateful to witness his journey firsthand. To think they once believed his life was over—he had risen from the ashes and taken the world by storm. Her little warrior had grown, and she couldn't be prouder of her nephew.

Diana leaned forward, a wistful smile on her lips. "I've missed these moments, Jason," she said, her voice tinged with nostalgia. "Our brunches, training sessions, and just hanging out. Those were some of the best times of my life."

Her words hit Jason, stirring a mix of emotions. He felt a pang of sadness for the time they'd missed but also gratitude for the moments they'd shared. He realized his hiding had affected more than just him and Bruce—there were so many others who loved and missed him.

"Yeah, me too, Aunt Diana," Jason replied softly. "Those were some of the happiest times of my life. You've always been there for me."

Diana's smile widened, her eyes shining with affection. "You're my little warrior, Jason," she said proudly. "I've always been fiercely protective of you, and I always will be. You're my favorite, and everyone else can go fuck themselves."

Jason chuckled at her colorful language, feeling a familiar warmth spread through his chest. Her unwavering love and loyalty were his constant source of strength.

"You've always had my back, Aunt Diana," Jason said gratefully. "I'm lucky to have you."

"And I'll always be here for you," she promised, squeezing his hand gently. "You've grown into such a remarkable young man, Jason. I'm so proud of everything you've accomplished."

Blushing, Jason chuckled nervously. He glanced down at his Rolex to hide his embarrassment, but his heart sank as he realized the time. With a regretful sigh, he turned to Diana. "Sorry, Aunt Diana," he said apologetically. "I hate to cut this short, but I've got to get going. My students are already in class, and I don't want to keep them waiting."

As he rose from his seat, he felt a pang of sadness leaving Diana's company. But duty called, and he couldn't let his students down. With a final smile and a promise to catch up later, Jason bid Diana farewell and headed out the door.

Jason flashed Sasha a warm smile, he couldn't help but beam with pride at the lively atmosphere in his classroom. Sasha, his trusty TA, was hustling to set up the projector, preparing the material for the class. With a satisfied sigh, Jason plopped his bag onto the nearest chair and took a moment to soak in the sight of eager faces staring back at him. As Sasha added the final touches to her setup, Jason's gaze drifted to the back of the room, where he spotted his dad, Bruce, attempting to blend in inconspicuously.

A smirk tugged at Jason's lips at the sight of Bruce's clumsy attempt at undercover surveillance. As he observed Bruce's fumbling attempts at stealth, Jason couldn't help but feel a swell of fondness for his family. Sure, they had their moments of meddling and nosiness, but beneath it all was an unmistakable bond forged by years of shared experiences and unconditional love.

With a chuckle, Jason shook off the distraction and refocused on his students. As Jason began his lesson, he leaned against the edge of his desk, his eyes bright with excitement. "Alright, everyone," Jason said, his voice echoing with enthusiasm. "Today, we're diving into the fascinating world of storytelling. But before we get into the nitty-gritty of crafting stories, we need to take a step back and appreciate where it all began."

He gestured dramatically at the whiteboard behind him, where Sasha was passing the different slides of the power point. "Long before the invention of the printing press, before the days of fancy pens and notebooks, people relied on something called oral tradition. That's right, we're talking about stories passed down from generation to generation through spoken word."

With a twinkle in his eye, Jason painted a vivid picture of ancient civilizations gathered around campfires, their faces illuminated by the flickering flames. "Imagine sitting under the stars, surrounded by your family and friends, as a skilled storyteller weaves a tale of heroes, gods, and epic adventures. That's how stories were born—straight from the heart and into the ears of eager listeners."

He paced back and forth, his gestures animated at the projection at the board. "From the epic poems of Homer to the folktales of indigenous cultures, oral tradition was the original form of creative expression. These stories weren't just entertainment—they were a window into the soul of humanity, reflecting our dreams, fears, and aspirations. They were created to explain and teach."

As he spoke, Jason's excitement was contagious, his students hanging on his every word. "Now, fast forward a bit to the invention of writing. Suddenly, stories weren't just spoken—they were written down for all to see. Well, for those who could read that is.” Jason shrugged uncaringly, making his students laugh. “From the hieroglyphs of ancient Egypt to the development of writing systems like cuneiform in Mesopotamia revolutionized the way stories were told. No longer confined to the spoken word, stories could now be recorded and preserved for future generations."

With a flourish, Jason gestured to the power point projection behind him, where images of ancient scripts danced across the surface. "Imagine the scribes of ancient Mesopotamia, etching their tales into clay tablets with intricate symbols and characters. Or the priests of ancient Egypt, inscribing stories of gods and pharaohs onto the walls of temples and tombs. These were the earliest written forms of creative expression, paving the way for the literary masterpieces that would follow."

He paused for a moment, allowing his words to sink in before continuing. "Now, let's fast forward to ancient Greece and Rome, where creative writing reached new heights of brilliance. Here we have the classical literature of antiquity, the backbone of Western literary tradition."

With a wave of his hand, Jason gestured to Sasha to pass on to the next slide. "In Greece, we had the epic poems of Homer—The Iliad and The Odyssey—which told of epic battles, heroic deeds, and the triumph of the human spirit. And let's not forget the dramatic works of playwrights like Sophocles, Euripides, and Aristophanes, whose timeless tragedies and comedies continue to captivate readers to this day."

As he spoke, Jason couldn't help but feel a surge of admiration for the creative genius of these ancient writers. "These works weren't just stories—they were windows into human experience, exploring themes of love, loss, honor, and betrayal. They laid the groundwork for many literary conventions and genres still in use today, shaping the very fabric of our cultural heritage."

Amanda, a bright-eyed student with a passion for ancient history, raised her hand eagerly. "Professor Head, I was wondering—how did the ancient Greeks and Romans view storytelling compared to modern-day literature?"

"That's an excellent question, Amanda," Jason smiled at Amanda's question, impressed by her thoughtful inquiry. "In ancient Greece and Rome, storytelling wasn't just a form of entertainment—it was a fundamental aspect of their cultural identity. The Greeks, in particular, placed a high value on the power of narrative to educate, entertain, and inspire. Many of their most famous works were performed in public theaters as part of religious festivals or civic ceremonies.”

Jason spoke, his voice warm with enthusiasm. “In contrast, modern literature tends to be more focused on individual expression and personal exploration. While we still appreciate the power of storytelling to entertain and educate, our approach to literature has evolved to reflect the complexities of our modern world."

Another student, Marcus, a thoughtful young man with a penchant for philosophy, raised his hand next. "Professor Head, do you think the themes explored in classical literature are still relevant today?"

Jason nodded thoughtfully, impressed by Marcus's insightful question. "Absolutely, Marcus," he replied, his voice brimming with conviction. "The themes explored in classical literature—love, honor, betrayal, the struggle for power—are timeless and universal. While the cultural context may have changed, the fundamental truths embedded within these stories remain as relevant today as they were thousands of years ago."

He paused for a moment, allowing his words to sink in before continuing. "In fact, many of the issues explored in classical literature—such as the nature of justice, the meaning of life, and the complexities of human relationships—are still hotly debated topics in our modern world. That's what makes these works so enduring—they speak to the core of what it means to be human, transcending the boundaries of time and culture."

As Jason fielded more questions from his eager students, he couldn't help but feel a sense of pride in their curiosity and passion for learning. But it reached a moment where Jason had to cut the questions short, as there was still much to teach in this lesson. As Jason delved into the next phase of his lesson, he could feel the energy in the room crackling with anticipation. The medieval period, with its tales of knights, dragons, and forbidden romances, never failed to captivate his students' imaginations.

"With the onset of the Middle Ages," Jason continued, his voice animated with enthusiasm, "creative writing took on new forms and flourished in ways that would shape the literary landscape for centuries to come. One of the most iconic works of this period is Beowulf, an epic poem that chronicles the heroic exploits of its eponymous protagonist as he battles monsters and dragons in a quest for glory and honor."

"But Beowulf is just one example of the rich literary tradition that thrived during the Middle Ages. From Dante's Divine Comedy to the medieval romances of Tristan and Isolde." Jason explained, his voice rising with passion.

The room buzzed with excitement and curiosity, as eager hands shot up. One student, Emily, a petite girl with bright blue eyes and a cascade of chestnut curls, raised her hand tentatively. "I was wondering," she began, her voice filled with curiosity, "how did medieval writers preserve their stories without modern technology? Wasn't it difficult to ensure that their works were passed down accurately?"

Jason smiled at Emily's thoughtful question, impressed by her keen insight. "That's an excellent question, Emily," he replied, nodding in approval. "You're absolutely right that preserving stories in the medieval period posed unique challenges. Without the printing press or digital archives, writers relied on handwritten manuscripts to preserve their works. These manuscripts were painstakingly copied by scribes, often over generations, which meant that errors and variations could creep in over time."

He paused for a moment, before continuing. "Despite these challenges, medieval writers were remarkably adept at preserving their stories through oral traditions, handwritten manuscripts, and later, printed books. Their commitment to storytelling ensured that even in the absence of modern technology, their works would endure for centuries to come."

Another student, Alex, a tall and lanky young man with a mischievous glint in his eye, raised his hand eagerly. "I'm curious about the role of women in medieval literature," he said, his voice tinged with curiosity. "Were there any female writers during that time, and if so, what kind of stories did they tell?"

Jason's smile widened at Alex's question, impressed by his interest in exploring the often-overlooked contributions of women to medieval literature. "While women's voices were often marginalized in medieval society, there were indeed female writers who made significant contributions to the literary landscape."

He went on to explain how women like Christine de Pizan and Marie de France had defied societal expectations to pen their own stories, often exploring themes of love, chivalry, and courtly romance in their works. "These women may have been few in number," Jason said, "but their impact on medieval literature was profound, paving the way for future generations of female writers to come."

“Then came the Renaissance and Early Modern periods,” Jason explained, “brought with them a renewed interest in classical literature and a surge of creativity that would forever change the literary landscape.

“During the Renaissance we saw the emergence of literary giants like William Shakespeare, whose plays revolutionized drama and continue to be performed and studied to this day. And let's not forget the novel," Jason added, a smile playing at the corners of his lips. "Works like Miguel de Cervantes' Don Quixote paved the way for a new era of storytelling, one that would give rise to some of the most beloved and enduring works of fiction in history."

With a flourish, Jason gestured toward the images projected on the screen, each one a window into a different era of human thought and expression. "The Enlightenment," he began, his voice tinged with reverence, "ushered in a new era of intellectual inquiry and social change, challenging long-held beliefs and sparking a revolution in literature."

“Voltaire's biting satire in Candide, a work that dared to question the very foundations of society and religion, while simultaneously championing reason and rationality.” Jason’s words were met with nods of understanding and murmurs of appreciation from his attentive audience.

But as Jason transitioned to the Romantic movement, the mood in the room shifted once again, infused with a sense of passion and emotion. "Romanticism," he explained, his voice alive with enthusiasm, "emerged as a reaction against the cold rationalism of the Enlightenment, celebrating the beauty of nature, the power of emotion, and the boundless potential of the individual. William Wordsworth has written some of the most soul-stirring poetry I’ve ever read. It captured the sublime beauty of the natural world in vivid detail.”

“And none of us could ever forget one of the greatest classics out there!” Jason exclaimed. “Mary Shelley's haunting masterpiece, Frankenstein, which explored the dark depths of human ambition and the consequences of playing God.”

One student, Lily, a quiet girl with a passion for poetry, raised her hand tentatively. "I'm fascinated by the Romantic movement," she confessed, her voice soft but filled with enthusiasm. "What inspired writers like Wordsworth and Shelley to explore themes of nature and individual experience?"

Jason smiled at Lily's question, nodding in approval. "The Romantic movement emerged as a response to the rationalism and scientific inquiry of the Enlightenment. Writers like Wordsworth and Shelley sought to reconnect with the natural world and explore the depths of human emotion and experience. Romantics rejected the constraints of society and embraced the beauty and power of nature as a source of inspiration.”

"For Wordsworth, nature was a sanctuary—a place where he could find solace and meaning in the midst of a rapidly changing world," Jason explained. "And for Shelley, the natural world served as a backdrop for exploring themes of identity, mortality, and the human condition in works like Frankenstein."

With a twinkle in his eye and a hint of excitement in his voice, Jason delved into the dynamic landscape of modern and contemporary creative writing. "In the 20th and 21st centuries," he began, "we've witnessed an explosion of creativity like never before. It's a thrilling time to be a writer, with so many diverse forms and styles to explore."

Leaning forward, Jason gestured animatedly as he spoke, his passion for the subject evident in every word. "Take modernist experimentation, for example," he continued. "Think of James Joyce's Ulysses. It's a literary masterpiece that challenges traditional storytelling conventions, pushing the boundaries of narrative structure and style."

Pausing for a moment to let his words sink in, Jason then shifted gears to discuss postmodern metafiction. "Now, if you want to talk about narrative complexity, look no further than Italo Calvino's If on a winter's night a traveler," he exclaimed. "This is a prime example of postmodern metafiction at its finest—playful, inventive, and utterly captivating."

But Jason didn't stop there. He wanted his students to understand the full scope of creative writing in the modern age. "Of course, we can't ignore contemporary genre fiction," he continued. "Take Cassandra Clare's The Mortal Instruments series, for instance. It's a perfect example of how genre fiction can captivate readers with its compelling characters, rich world-building, and thrilling plot twists."

As Jason wrapped up his discussion on contemporary creative writing, a hand shot up in the back of the classroom. It belonged to Sarah, a bright-eyed student with a penchant for fantasy novels.

"Um, Professor Head?" Sam spoke up, her voice tinged with curiosity.

Jason nodded encouragingly, a warm smile lighting up his face. "Yes, Sam, what's on your mind?"

Sam shifted in her seat, her gaze earnest as she posed her question. "I was wondering, how do you think modern technology has impacted the way writers tell stories?"

Jason's eyes lit up with enthusiasm at the thought-provoking query. "That's a great question, Sam," he replied, leaning forward to address the class. "Technology has opened up a world of possibilities for storytellers, from digital publishing platforms to interactive storytelling apps. It allows us to reach a wider audience and experiment with new forms of narrative expression."

Another student, Nick, raised his hand next. With his glasses perched on the tip of his nose, he looked eager to join the conversation. "Professor Head," Nick began, "do you think social media has changed the way writers engage with their readers?"

Jason nodded thoughtfully, considering Nick’s question. "Absolutely," he replied. "Social media provides writers with a direct line of communication to their readers, allowing for real-time feedback and interaction. It's a powerful tool for building communities and fostering connections between authors and their audience."

As the discussion continued, Jason fielded questions from several other students, as the bell rang, signaling the end of the lesson, Jason couldn't help but feel a pang of disappointment that time had flown by so quickly. Lost in the fervor of discussion and the exchange of ideas, he hadn't realized how swiftly the minutes had passed.

With a rueful smile, Jason addressed his students one last time before they departed for their next class. "Before you go, I have an assignment for you," he announced, his voice projecting across the room. "For next week," Jason continued, "I want you to write an essay reflecting on your favorite era of creative writing that we covered in today's class. Choose an era that resonates with you, and justify your choice by examining a short story, novel, myth, or poem from that period."

With a final word of encouragement, Jason dismissed the class, watching as his students gathered their belongings and filed out of the classroom. Then Sasha and Jason began packing up their belongings, Sasha's warm smile mirrored Jason's own, their shared satisfaction evident in the easy banter that flowed between them.

"Another successful class," Sasha remarked, her voice tinged with pride. "You always know how to keep them engaged, Jason." It had taken years, but Jason had finally managed to stop her from calling him Professor Head.

Jason grinned in response, a flush of pride coloring his cheeks at Sasha's praise. "Thanks, Sasha. Couldn't do it without your help, though," he replied, nodding towards the stack of papers Sasha had been grading throughout the lesson.

Sasha waved off his gratitude with a playful roll of her eyes. "Please, you're the mastermind behind all of this. I'm just here to lend a hand."

Their conversation then turned to Sasha's own academic pursuits, and Jason's genuine interest in her studies was evident as he inquired about her progress in pursuing her Master of Arts degree in Children’s Literature.

"It's coming along," Sasha replied, a hint of excitement in her voice. "I'm diving deep into some classic children's stories, and it's been fascinating to explore how they've shaped our understanding of childhood and imagination."

Jason nodded, genuinely intrigued by Sasha's studies. "Sounds fascinating. I can't wait to hear more about it," he said, offering Sasha an encouraging smile.

With their conversation winding down, Sasha gathered her belongings and prepared to head off to her tutoring session at the Fawcett Library. With one last goodbye and a shared smile, she bid Jason farewell. As Sasha disappeared through the door, Bruce emerged from the shadows of the classroom corner and made his way over to Jason's desk. Jason greeted him with a rueful smile, before grabbing his bag.

They walked side by side towards the exit of the university, the sound of their footsteps echoing softly in the empty hallway. Despite the lack of words, their silence was no longer tense. Though, Jason would not call it a comfortable silence either. But it was progress.

Stepping out into the crisp afternoon air, a smile spread across Jason's face as he spotted Alfred waiting by Bruce's car. His grandfather's familiar barely-there-grin was like a wave of comfort and nostalgia. With a nod of acknowledgment, Jason settled into the backseat beside Bruce, feeling a sense of calm wash over him as Alfred took the wheel.

As they drove through the streets of Fawcett, Jason leaned back in the car seat, a mischievous glint in his eyes as he turned to Bruce. "You know, picking me up from class is only going to add fuel to the fire of those rumors about me and Dickface dating," he teased, a playful smirk playing on his lips.

Bruce raised an eyebrow, a ghost of a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. "I suppose the media will find any excuse to stir up drama," he remarked, his tone dry with amusement.

Jason chuckled, shaking his head at the absurdity of it all. "Yeah, especially after they went wild over the whole Wayne family showing up at the book launch. The headlines were ridiculous," he said, rolling his eyes. “Worst than the last time he accompanied me to an event. Like there were even some headlines talking about a possible marriage and how sweet it was that I was meeting the in-laws. If they only knew!”

Bruce nodded in agreement, a soft chuckle escaping him. "They certainly have a flair for the dramatic," he admitted, unable to suppress a smile at the thought of the outlandish clickbait titles. "That was an excellent lesson, Jason," Bruce remarked, smoothly changing the topic of conversation. His voice carried a tone of genuine admiration. "I'm glad to see you in your element, teaching a class. It fills me with pride to witness your dedication and skill."

Jason's cheeks flushed with a mixture of embarrassment and pleasure at his father's words. "Thanks, B," he replied, a bashful smile gracing his lips. "I'm just doing what I love, trying to inspire the next generation of writers."

Bruce nodded, a proud smile playing at the corners of his lips. "Well, you're doing it exceptionally well," he insisted, his tone leaving no room for argument. "Your passion for literature and writing shines through in your teaching, Jay-lad. It's a gift."

Despite his father's praise, Jason couldn't help but feel a twinge of self-doubt. "I appreciate that, old man," he said, his voice tinged with modesty. "But I still have a lot to learn. Teaching isn't easy, and I want to do right by my students."

Bruce's expression softened with understanding, his gaze filled with paternal affection. "You're doing more than just 'doing right,'" he reassured him, his voice gentle but firm. "You sure are a much better teacher than I could ever be."

Jason's heart swelled with gratitude at his father's words, a sense of validation washing over him. "Thanks, Dad," he said, his voice choked with emotion. "That means a lot coming from you."

As they continued their car ride, Jason turned his attention to Alfred, who sat in the front seat with a serene expression. "Hey, Alfred, next time you should come along too," he suggested, a note of warmth in his voice.

Alfred's smile widened at the invitation, his eyes meeting Jason's in the rear-view mirror. "I shall do so, Master Jason," he replied, his tone warm with affection.

Inside the buzzing skateboarding gym, Cass, Dick, Tim, Steph, Damian, Lian, and Roy eagerly awaited the rest of the family, their excitement practically crackling in the air. Tim, especially, was in the zone, muttering skateboarding stats under his breath like he was gearing up for a championship.

Cass radiated confidence as she scoped out the scene, her eyes shining with anticipation. Dick flashed a mischievous grin, his enthusiasm clear in the twinkle of his eyes. Meanwhile, Lian and Damian traded friendly jabs, their competitive spirit adding a spark to the atmosphere. Steph couldn't contain her energy, bouncing on her toes with excitement, her animated chatter filling the room. And Roy, the epitome of chill, lounged on his bench with a laid-back smile, taking it all in.

When the door finally swung open and Jason, Bruce, and Alfred strolled in, Dick greeted them with an enthusiastic wave, his grin spreading wider as he soaked in the rare moment of togetherness. He was so excited and relieved that he no longer had to keep any secrets or act as an arbitrator between family. They were finally together, just hanging out like a real family. The thought filled him with pure joy.

Bruce hesitantly ruffled Damian’s hair before sitting beside him. They had only recently been introduced to each other, and there was still some awkwardness between them. But Bruce was determined to bridge the gap with his youngest son. He reached out to kiss Damian's forehead, hoping it conveyed the love he felt inside.

Jason, on the other hand, gave a quick peck on Roy's lips and a gentle kiss on Lian's forehead with confidence. Meanwhile, Alfred slipped into his role as the family caretaker, making sure everyone had snacks and drinks. As Alfred returned with a tray laden with refreshments, the gym buzzed with anticipation. Lemonade and coke were eagerly poured into cups, while nachos, popcorn, and candy were passed around with eager hands. The air was alive with excitement as the group settled in, their eyes fixed on the skaters preparing to showcase their skills.

As the competition got underway, the room erupted into cheers and applause with each impressive trick and flawless routine. Skateboards soared through the air, executing flips and spins with precision and style, leaving the audience in awe.

Amidst the excitement, Tim leaned forward, his eyes sparkling with enthusiasm as he started mumbling his expert analysis of each performance, much to his family’s amusement. "That's a classic ollie right there. Perfect form, but come on, give us some more height! Make it dramatic!"

"Now, check this out," he continued, barely containing his excitement. "That's a kickflip into a tailslide—super tricky! If he nails it, it'll be epic!"

The whole family was there, laughing, teasing, and soaking in the show together. It was a day to remember, a rare moment of unity and pure fun, and they were all savoring every second of it.

As the competition heated up and the skaters pushed their limits, Tim's running commentary gave the family a hilarious crash course in skateboarding. More skaters hit the ramps, each bringing their unique flair, and Tim's enthusiasm only grew.

His family watched with amused smiles, thoroughly entertained by his energetic play-by-play. Seeing Tim so animated and full of youthful exuberance was a treat, and they couldn't help but revel in the moment, enjoying the spectacle before them. Laughter filled the air as Tim's siblings teased him about his over-the-top commentary. Playful jabs and remarks flew around.

"Tim, you're like a sports commentator on caffeine overload!" Dick joked, flashing a teasing grin.

Steph added with a playful wink, "Seriously, Tim, you should consider announcing as a career. You've got the voice and the dramatic flair for it!"

Tim's exaggerated pout showed a twinkle of amusement as he shrugged off the teasing. "Hey, someone's gotta keep things lively around here," he quipped, his tone light and playful.

The teasing continued as they watched the competition, each sibling taking turns poking fun at Tim's commentary. But underneath the laughter and jokes, there was a deep sense of affection and camaraderie that bound them together as a family.

As the day wound down and it was finally Billy’s turn to shine, the whole Wayne-Head-Harper family stopped talking and zeroed in on him. The air was thick with anticipation as Billy kicked off his routine, everyone holding their breath.

Billy started with a solid ollie, getting some serious height. He transitioned smoothly into a series of kickflips and heelflips, his feet moving like he was born on that board. The rhythmic sound of his board hitting the ground echoed through the gym, accompanied by cheers from the crowd.

As the music pumped through the speakers, Billy’s movements got even more fluid and dynamic. He dropped into the half-pipe, gaining speed before launching into a backside air, twisting his body mid-flight before landing with perfect control. Without missing a beat, he flowed into a frontside 50-50 grind, his trucks locking onto the coping as he slid effortlessly across.

With each trick, Billy’s confidence grew. He approached the quarter pipe with a determined look, executing a stylish boneless, grabbing the board with one hand and planting the other foot on the ramp before popping back onto the board mid-air. The crowd’s cheers spurred him on as he nailed a varial kickflip, the board spinning beneath him before he landed smoothly.

Feeling the energy of the audience, Billy decided to push himself further. He approached the vert ramp with speed, launching into a melon grab, his hand gripping the side of the board as he soared above the lip. The crowd’s cheers grew louder, but Billy wasn’t done yet. He dropped back into the ramp, building momentum for his next big move.

Billy set his sights on a 540-degree spin. As he shot up the ramp, he twisted his body in the air, the board following his movements in a perfect spin. Time seemed to slow down as he spun, and then, with a slight wobble but impeccable balance, he landed the trick. The gym erupted with applause, but Billy had one more trick up his sleeve.

With the crowd’s encouragement ringing in his ears, Billy went for a daring 720-degree spin—a move that few skateboarders dared to try. The tension in the air was palpable as he soared through the air, every eye in the gymnasium fixed on him. His body twisted in a blur of motion, and with a final burst of energy, Billy executed the maneuver flawlessly. The board spun beneath him as he landed with just a slight wobble, a testament to the sheer difficulty of the trick.

As he rode away from his final landing, a triumphant smile spread across his face, his heart pounding with adrenaline and pride. The gym exploded into cheers and applause, the sound bouncing off the walls as everyone rose to their feet for a standing ovation. For Billy, it was a moment to remember forever.

When Billy was announced the winner and got his shiny trophy, the gym erupted with cheers and applause. Dick whooped with joy, grinning from ear to ear as he clapped his hands together like a maniac. "Way to go, Billy!" he shouted, pride practically radiating off him. Beside him, Cass pumped her fist in the air, her usually calm face lighting up with a rare smile.

Tim, always the analyst, nodded approvingly. "Impressive," he murmured, watching Billy accept his trophy with a mix of humility and pride. “That was the best performance of the afternoon!”

Steph wrapped an arm around Tim’s shoulders, giving him a playful nudge as they cheered for their brother. Lian and Damian exchanged a look of shared satisfaction, their usual rivalry forgotten in the celebration. Roy and Jason beamed with pride, their hearts swelling with love and admiration for Billy as they clapped enthusiastically. Even Bruce and Alfred, usually more reserved, showed their approval with warm smiles and steady applause.

As the cheers started to die down and people began to leave, the Wayne family stayed behind a little longer, soaking in the glow of Billy's success. Today had been a damn good day.

Chapter Text

As Bruce, Jason, and Tim lounged around the breakfast table in the cozy warmth of Wayne Manor, the smell of a mouthwatering English breakfast filled the air, teasing their senses and putting smiles on their faces. Alfred, the ever-graceful butler, glided around the kitchen, dishing out hearty portions onto their plates.

Bruce's plate was a feast for the eyes and stomach, piled high with crispy bacon, juicy sausages, perfectly cooked eggs, and a hefty serving of black pudding. On the side, there were baked beans, plump tomatoes, and earthy mushrooms, all topped off with a slice of golden toast and some fried bread. Each sip of his hot coffee made Bruce grin with contentment, relishing the simple pleasure of a satisfying meal.

Next to him, Jason opted for a more refined choice, reaching for a cup of fragrant Earl Grey tea to complement his breakfast spread. His plate mirrored Bruce's. After a moment of appreciation for Alfred's culinary skills, Jason dove into his meal, savoring every bite and sip, the warmth of the tea soothing his soul.

Meanwhile, Tim eyed his plate with a mix of hesitation and longing, knowing he had to face the challenge of finishing it. Unlike Bruce and Jason, Tim struggled with his appetite and tended to eat sparingly. The sight of the full plate before him filled him with a sense of trepidation, but he knew he couldn't disappoint Alfred, who had put so much effort into preparing the meal.

Tim's journey to healing and self-discovery had been a real rollercoaster, full of ups and downs, twists, and turns. For the longest time, he'd been carrying around this heavy load of baggage from his past, all the stuff his biological parents put him through. It was like this big, dark cloud hanging over him, but he never really talked about it. Instead, he put on this front like everything was okay, like he had it all together.

But as time went on, the cracks started to show. Tim found himself getting sucked deeper into this dark hole, and it was getting harder and harder to climb out. Thankfully, he had his family, especially Dick, who was always there to lend a helping hand and push him in the right direction. Dinah and Harley had tried to help, bless 'em, but their approaches just didn't click with Tim. Then surprisingly came Dr. Beth Chapel, aka Dr. Mid-Nite, who often provided medical and psychological support to the Justice Society of America, and something just clicked. She had this way about her, this warmth and understanding that made Tim feel safe and seen.

In their sessions together, Tim opened up about things he'd never even told his closest friends. He realized that a lot of his issues with food and self-worth came from his messed-up childhood, from feeling unloved and unwanted. But Dr. Chapel helped him see that he wasn't defined by his past, that he had the power to rewrite his story and create a brighter future for himself. So, there he was, sitting at the breakfast table with his family, feeling grateful for how far he'd come.

Taking a deep breath, Tim picked up his fork and began to eat, albeit slowly at first. Each bite felt like a small victory, and with each mouthful, he felt a sense of accomplishment. Despite his initial reluctance, he couldn't deny the comforting taste of the food, and soon he found himself starting to enjoy the meal. With gentle encouragement from Alfred, Tim continued to eat, his pace gradually picking up as he became more accustomed to the flavors. By the time he finished his breakfast, he felt a sense of pride in himself for overcoming his apprehension.

Jason leaned back in his chair, looking around the table. "So, where's everyone else?" he asked, breaking the comfortable silence.

Tim paused, taking a gulp from his second cup of coffee before answering. "Steph's pulling double duty today. She's helping out at the clinic with Dr. Thompkins before heading to her classes at Gotham University."

"Cass is probably in her element, dancing up a storm at the Gotham Ballet Theater," Tim continued, a hint of pride in his voice. "She's been putting in extra hours lately, getting ready for her upcoming performance."

Jason's lips curled into a knowing smile. "And Dick?" he prompted, already anticipating the answer.

Tim's eyes lit up with mischief. "Oh, Dick got invited to hang out with the Titans today. They're probably off saving the world or something."

Jason chuckled, shaking his head. "Figures. That's where Roy disappeared to this morning, then. Should've guessed."

Bruce watched the interaction with a warm smile, feeling content. Seeing Jason, alive and vibrant, sitting at the table with them still felt like a miracle. Some days, he still couldn't believe he had his son back.

"And what about Lian, Billy, and Damian?" Bruce leaned forward, looking at Jason with curiosity.

"Lian's at Fawcett Preparatory School, attending her classes," Jason answered, a hint of pride in his voice. "Billy and Damian are over at Nanda Parbat Academy for Magic, probably causing mischief as usual."

Bruce let out a soft sigh, a mixture of disbelief and amusement in his tone. "It's still hard to believe that Nanda Parbat, of all places, has turned into a school for magical children," he said, shaking his head.

Tim chuckled, a wry smile playing on his lips. "Yeah, who would've thought that the same place that once trained the deadliest assassins in the world would now be a haven for magical education," he said, his tone filled with irony.

Jason joined in the laughter, and even Alfred couldn't help but crack a smile at the absurdity of it all, his eyes twinkling with amusement as he observed the playful banter around the table.

Alfred, ever the attentive butler, turned to Jason. "And what are your plans for the day, Master Jason?" he asked, his tone gentle but inquisitive.

Jason's lips curled into a sly smirk, a mischievous glint in his eyes as he leaned back in his chair. "Well, while Bruce and Tim are off handling business at Wayne Enterprises," he began, nodding in their direction, "I'll be heading over to Nanda Parbat Academy of Magic. I was invited to give a guest lecture to the older kids."

Bruce nodded in confirmation, a hint of pride shining in his eyes at the mention of Tim's decision to join the family business. It had been an easy choice for Tim, opting to skip college and dive straight into Wayne Enterprises. Gotham University couldn't teach him more than Bruce and Lucius could.

"What exactly will be the topic?" Bruce asked, his brow furrowing slightly.

Jason's smirk widened, a glint of mischief in his eyes as he leaned forward. "Oh, just a little class on sacrificial magic," he replied casually, as if discussing the weather.

The mention of sacrificial magic sent a shiver down Tim's spine. Even Bruce frowned, still uneasy with the fact that three of his sons were into magic. And necromancy, of all things, was something he still struggled to accept. But he had learned to keep his mouth shut about it, not wanting to break the fragile bond he was rebuilding with Jason.

Jason stood up and turned to his grandfather. “Thanks for breakfast, Alfie. It was delicious.”

“You are most welcome, Master Jason,” Alfred replied, sending Jason a look of mild exasperation, making his grandson chuckle. Jason knew what he was doing and loved the chaos he was sowing.

“I better get going, I have a meeting with Madame Xanadu,” Jason said before apparating away.

Tim sighed, shaking his head. “I will never get used to that.”

“Neither will I,” Bruce agreed with a wry smile.

The Magizoology class fell into stunned silence as everyone stared at Damian, who looked like a walking petting zoo. He was covered head to toe in magical creatures—Murtlaps, Salamanders, Fire Crabs, and even a few Bowtruckles. It was like he had his own mini-zoo hanging off him.

Everyone's eyes widened, trying to take in the bizarre sight. Some kids leaned in closer, totally fascinated by the oddball critters crawling all over Damian, while others just stood there, mouths open in shock. Boys and girls alike couldn’t tear their eyes away from him. There was something oddly captivating about Damian with all those creatures making him their new best friend.

Even Damian seemed to be enjoying himself, flashing a rare smile as he interacted with his magical entourage. His laughter filled the room, making everyone else grin too. He was clearly in his element, surrounded by all that magic. For a moment, the whole classroom felt like something straight out of a fairy tale, with all those creatures adding a special kind of magic to the air. And right in the middle of it all was Damian, soaking up the attention and loving every second.

Professor Dhruv Ram stood at the front, eyes wide with disbelief as he watched the chaos unfold. This was supposed to be a simple intro to Magizoology, just a chance for the students to meet the magical creatures they’d be studying. But Damian had turned it into something straight out of a storybook.

As the creatures swarmed around Damian, the professor couldn't help but feel a twinge of concern. Was Damian in danger? But as he watched the boy interact with the creatures, a smile spreading across his face, the professor realized Damian was in complete control. It was like he was some kind of magical Pied Piper, effortlessly drawing the creatures to him with his presence alone.

As the class continued to watch in awe, Professor Dhruv Ram couldn't help but chuckle to himself. It seemed Damian had inherited not just his brother's knack for causing trouble but also his charm, turning even the most mundane situations into something extraordinary. With a resigned shake of his head, Professor Dhruv Ram decided to let it play out. Who was he to stop such a magical moment? If Damian was anything like his older brother William Head, this was probably just the start of the chaos.

Sakura and Akane exchanged amused glances, their eyes twinkling with shared amusement as they watched the spectacle. As two of Damian's closest friends in the class, they knew all too well about his affinity for magical creatures and his uncanny ability to attract them.

Sakura shook her head with a soft chuckle, her lips quirking up in a playful smile. "Well, Damian’s done it again," she remarked with affectionate amusement. "He's like a magnet for magical creatures."

Akane nodded, her laughter bubbling up as she watched their classmates react to Damian's impromptu menagerie. "You'd think they'd never seen a guy covered in magical creatures before," she teased, eyes sparkling. "But Damian does have that effect on people."

The two girls shared a knowing smile. They had spent countless hours exploring the school grounds with him, often accompanied by a parade of magical creatures drawn to Damian like moths to a flame.

But what truly amused Sakura and Akane was their classmates' reactions. The way they giggled and sighed, eyes filled with a mix of awe and longing—it was as if Damian had cast some kind of enchantment over them, weaving a spell of fascination. As they watched the scene unfold, Sakura and Akane couldn't help but laugh, enjoying the sight of their classmates falling under Damian's spell.

"Hey, Mr. Head, do you know what kind of magical creatures you've got hanging all over you? If you do, mind sharing with the class?" Professor Dhruv Ram's voice cut through the room, snapping everyone back to attention. Sakura and Akane quickly straightened up, trying to hide their grins as the entire class turned to Damian, waiting for his response.

Damian, despite having a bunch of magical creatures perched on him, stood up straighter, looking cool and collected. With a respectful nod towards the professor, he took a deep breath and began.

"Sure thing, Professor," he said, his voice steady. "I'd be happy to introduce you all to these magical creatures."

He gently lifted a Bowtruckle from his shoulder, cradling the tiny creature in his hands so everyone could see. The class leaned in, eyes wide with curiosity.

"This little guy is a Bowtruckle," Damian explained, his voice carrying a quiet reverence for the creature. "They're peaceful and shy, usually found living in trees where they eat insects." His classmates listened closely, hanging on his every word as he described the Bowtruckle's nature.

"But don’t let their size fool you," Damian continued, his tone turning serious. "If their home is threatened, Bowtruckles can be fiercely protective and pretty aggressive." The class watched in awe, captivated by the tales of the Bowtruckle's bravery.

"To keep a Bowtruckle happy and make sure you don't get scratched up, you can offer them woodlice as a peace offering," Damian added with a grin. "That way, you can collect wand-wood without any trouble." The room filled with nods and murmurs of understanding.

Damian's impromptu lesson left his classmates impressed, admiring his expertise and the way he made everything so easy to understand. Sakura and Akane exchanged proud looks, happy to see their friend shining in front of everyone.

Sakura eagerly raised her hand. "Yes, Sakura?" Professor Dhruv Ram gestured for her to speak.

"Damian, you mentioned that Bowtruckles guard their home trees. Can you tell us more about how they protect their territory?" she asked, eyes bright with curiosity.

Damian nodded thoughtfully. "Sure thing. Bowtruckles are super loyal to their home trees, especially ones good for making wands, like the Wiggentree."

He glanced at the Bowtruckles still perched on his shoulders. "When their territory is threatened, they'll defend it with everything they've got, using their sharp fingers as weapons to fend off intruders," he said, admiration evident in his voice. 

The class listened intently, totally absorbed in Damian's explanation, as he continued to share his passion for these magical creatures.

Another student, a curious girl named Lily, couldn't hold back her excitement and waved her hand like she was trying to flag down a taxi. "Hey, Damian, could you tell us more about where Bowtruckles hang out? Are they only found in certain places, or can you find them all over the wizarding world?"

Damian nodded, thinking for a moment before answering. "Bowtruckles are mainly found in western England, southern Germany, and some Scandinavian forests," he said, looking pretty confident. "These spots are perfect for them since they have plenty of trees to live in and protect."

With the Bowtruckles settled back on his shoulder, Damian turned his attention to another magical creature, the Murtlap. He held it carefully, almost like he was showing off a weird-looking pet. The Murtlap had this odd mix of rat-like features with a crazy growth on its back that looked kind of like a sea anemone.

"This here is a Murtlap," Damian began, clearly fascinated by the creature. "They’re usually found along the coasts of Britain, chilling among the rocky shores and sandy beaches."

He paused to let everyone take it in before going on. "Murtlaps have a pretty weird diet," he said with a chuckle. "They love munching on crustaceans, but if a human steps on one, they might get a nasty surprise." 

The class burst into laughter at the thought of people getting nipped by Murtlaps. Damian grinned, happy to see everyone enjoying his little lesson.

"But even though they can be a bit cheeky, Murtlaps have some useful magical properties," Damian continued, getting a bit more serious. "The stuff growing on their backs, when pickled and eaten, can help boost your resistance to jinxes, which is pretty handy for any witch or wizard."

He let that sink in before adding, "Just be careful not to overdo it with Murtlap essence, though, because too much can make you grow purple ear hair."

Damian then turned his attention to the Fire Dwelling Salamander, addressing his classmates with an excited grin. "Alright, let’s talk about the Fire Dwelling Salamander. This little guy is pretty awesome, literally born from flames."

"Salamanders come to life from salamander fires, and they’re super tied to the fire that births them. But, even though they’re all about the flames, they’ve got some cool tricks," Damian said. "Feed them pepper, and they can hang out away from their flames for up to six hours. Pretty impressive, right?"

"The color of a Salamander’s scales shows the heat of the fire it came from—ranging from bright reds to hot oranges. And if you mess with one, it can shoot flames, so watch out." Damian pulled a pepper from his pocket and fed it to the Salamander in his hand, which happily munched away, making the class laugh and coo at the sight.

“But the most fascinating thing about Salamanders is their blood—it’s got crazy powerful healing and regenerative properties.” Damian couldn’t help but get excited thinking about how useful that could be.

He handed the Salamanders back to the professor, who returned them to their fiery home, and then moved on to the Fire Crab. "The Fire Crab," Damian started, looking around at his classmates. "Despite its name, it’s not much like regular crabs. It looks more like a fancy tortoise with a shell that shines like jewels."

He paused to let that sink in. "In Fiji, they’re working to protect these guys from Muggles and greedy wizards who want their valuable shells."

There was a collective gasp from the class when Damian revealed the Fire Crab's defense mechanism. "If it feels threatened, the Fire Crab has a pretty wild way to defend itself," he said with a chuckle. "It can shoot flames from its rear end. Not something you want to be on the receiving end of."

The students exchanged surprised glances, some stifling giggles at the image of a flaming Fire Crab. But amidst the laughter, there was a newfound respect for the cleverness of magical creatures.

After Damian’s explanation, Professor Dhruv Ram asked, "Mr. Head, can you tell us about the process for getting a license to own a Fire Crab as a pet?"

Damian nodded thoughtfully. "Sure, Professor. To get a license for a Fire Crab, you have to show you really understand how to take care of it and are committed to its well-being."

He continued, getting more animated. "You’ll go through a thorough screening process to prove you can provide a good environment. This includes the right housing, diet, and safety measures to avoid any accidents."

Akane, feeling inspired by Damian's knowledge, eagerly raised her hand. "Hey Damian, any special precautions for taking care of a Fire Crab with a jeweled shell?" she asked, her eyes sparkling with curiosity.

Damian grinned, happy to see her so engaged. "Great question!" he said, looking around the room. "Fire Crabs with jeweled shells need a bit of extra TLC. You’ve got to keep those jewels clean and make sure they don’t get scratched or damaged since that can actually mess with the Crab's health."

He explained that there are different types of Fire Crabs, each with unique jewels on their shells. "Some have rubies, sapphires, or emeralds, and each jewel gives the Crab some special properties," he said, getting a bit more animated. "You need to keep those in mind when you’re taking care of them."

Professor Dhruv Ram chuckled and shook his head. “Damian, you might as well take over my job. I don’t know why you’re even in this class—you already know everything I’m teaching!”

The students laughed, and Damian’s cheeks turned a bit red from the professor’s playful comment. But he was clearly proud, his eyes shining and his chin lifted just a bit higher.

"Maybe I should, Professor," Damian replied with a smirk. "But where’s the fun in that?"

The class burst into applause, clearly impressed with Damian’s impromptu lesson. Damian took a small bow, feeling a warm sense of satisfaction. Maybe this was why his brother decided to become a professor—it was pretty rewarding.

Seo-joon and Billy sat together in the dimly lit auditorium of the Nanda Parbat Academy for Magic, buzzing with excitement as they waited for Red Ghoul to arrive. The room was filled with the soft murmur of students chatting, the anticipation almost tangible. It wasn’t every day a legendary practitioner of soul necromancy showed up to teach, and everyone knew how big this was.

Suddenly, the room went silent as the doors at the back swung open and Red Ghoul entered. Dressed in full regalia, he looked every bit the imposing figure they’d heard about. He walked confidently down the aisle, and the students couldn’t help but whisper among themselves, trying to soak in every detail of his presence.

Seo-joon’s heart was pounding as he watched Red Ghoul, eyes wide with anticipation. The stories about Red Ghoul's mastery and his command of the All-Sword had always fascinated him, and now he had the chance to learn from the man himself. Next to him, Billy fidgeted with excitement, struggling to keep his cool. He had learned magic from his older brother before, but this was different—this was Red Ghoul, and nobody knew he was Billy’s brother. The secret made Billy a little nervous but thrilled at the same time.

When Red Ghoul finally spoke, his voice echoed through the hushed auditorium, commanding everyone's attention. "Sacrificial Magic," he began, his tone serious and captivating, "is an ancient and often misunderstood form of witchcraft, one that taps into the very essence of life itself to channel power from offerings." His words hung in the air, heavy with the weight of centuries of tradition and taboo.

He went on, his voice steady and compelling, diving into the details of the practice. "Depending on who or what is sacrificed," he said, "the witch can gain not only mystical enhancements but also physical strength."

Seo-joon felt a shiver run down his spine, the implications of what he was hearing sinking in. He glanced at Billy, who looked just as fascinated and uneasy. Sacrificial magic was a dark, dangerous art, full of both allure and peril.

Red Ghoul's words echoed in their ears as he went into the nitty-gritty of sacrificial rituals, explaining the types of offerings typically used. "Sacrificing a non-magical human won't really do much for a witch looking to boost their power," he pointed out.

Seo-joon and Billy were completely hooked, their heads swimming with questions and new ideas. Seo-joon couldn't hold back any longer and raised his hand. "Um, excuse me, Red Ghoul," he started, his curiosity evident. "If a witch sacrificed a supernatural being, like a vampire or a werewolf or even another witch, could they get their supernatural abilities?"

Red Ghoul paused, thinking for a moment before he answered. "Yes, Seo-joon," he said thoughtfully. "Sacrificing a supernatural being would let a witch harness and channel their abilities. That could mean extra strength, speed, or even healing powers, depending on what’s sacrificed."

Billy jumped in, clearly intrigued. "And what about using sacrificial magic for barrier spells or wards?"

Red Ghoul turned to Billy, clearly impressed by the question. "Good question, Billy," he said, sounding pleased. "Sacrificial magic is very sensitive when it comes to creating physical symbols for protective spells. These symbols act as barriers or wards to protect the offerings used in rituals."

He continued, getting into the details. "But," he added, more seriously, "if the ritual gets interrupted by another spell or enchantment, it can stop the sacrificial magic and make the protective spell useless."

As Red Ghoul talked more about the darker side of sacrificial magic, a sense of unease settled over the classroom. Seo-joon and Billy exchanged nervous looks, their minds buzzing with the weight of what they were learning.

"As tempting as it might be to use sacrificial magic," Red Ghoul went on, his tone serious, "you need to understand the huge consequences of getting involved in these dark, forbidden arts. This kind of magic taps into life and death itself, using energies way beyond what we can fully grasp."

Seo-joon squirmed in his seat, feeling the weight of Red Ghoul's words. The idea of all that power was hard to ignore, but at what cost? The thought gave him chills. Billy, meanwhile, was lost in thoughts about the responsibility that came with such power. The lure of forbidden knowledge was strong, but he knew better than to give in. History had shown that those who messed with the dark arts often paid a heavy price.

"As magic users," Red Ghoul said, his voice firm, "we have to use our powers wisely and carefully. Sacrificial magic might seem like a quick way to get power, but it comes at a high cost—one we might not be willing to pay. The fallout from these actions can be severe, not just for the person doing it, but for everyone."

When Red Ghoul finished his talk, the room went silent, his words hanging in the air like a dark cloud. For Seo-joon and Billy, it was a stark reminder of the dangers in the world of magic—a lesson they'd carry with them long after the class was over.

Chapter Text

In a quiet corner of Gotham City, Drusilla and Laura stood under the dim streetlights, their faces tense with worry. They were talking about the recent murders targeting magic children, and the air felt heavy with fear.

"Laura, we need to stay out of this," Drusilla said urgently. "We promised the Dark Knight we'd keep out of trouble. Getting involved could put us all in danger."

Laura, looking frustrated, shook her head. "But Drusilla, we can't just ignore this. Innocent kids are being targeted," she argued, her voice filled with determination. "We have to protect our own, no matter what."

Drusilla sighed, sounding exasperated. "I know you want to help, Laura, but we agreed that if we wanted to stay in Gotham, we'd only get involved if trouble came to us. This hasn't affected us yet," she said gently but firmly. "Jumping in could make things worse, not just for us, but for everyone."

"But what about our kind?" Laura's voice trembled with urgency, her eyes full of fire. "Are we just going to do nothing while innocent children are hunted?"

Drusilla's response was quick and cutting. "There's no need to worry. The killings are happening outside Gotham. They won't happen here," she snapped. "There are no witches or warlocks in Gotham, and there never will be. The All-Sword wielder has claimed this city, and he'll return to create one of the greatest covens in America."

Laura looked confused. "But I thought Fawcett City was his territory."

Drusilla waved her hand dismissively, looking smug. "The All-Sword wielder was destined for Gotham before he was born. He might not live here now, but he'll come back. No witch or warlock will make this place their home without his say-so," she explained. "Right now, he's protecting Fawcett City for Leukós, making sure its power stays hidden until the time is right. It's the same for Lady Talia and Zamurad's Infinity Island. They're just waiting for the perfect moment."

Laura stood there, fists clenched, frustration radiating from her. "I'm not just going to sit back and do nothing. I have a meeting with Nightwing, and I'll make sure he knows what's going on."

Drusilla raised an eyebrow at Laura's parting words, her amusement deepening as she watched her go. "Suit yourself," she murmured under her breath, her voice barely audible over the rustle of the wind.

With a graceful motion, Drusilla transformed into a bat, her form morphing effortlessly as she took to the sky.

Nightwing strolled up to the meeting point in Otisburg, where Alpha Laura Hale was waiting for him. She was tall and muscular, with an air of authority that was hard to miss. Her blonde hair caught the sunlight, and her no-nonsense expression was clear in her brown eyes. Nearby, a pair of twin kids, a boy and a girl, were playing with a red-haired boy who looked about thirteen. They zoomed around the street like little lightning bolts, their laughter echoing off the brick walls as they played a wild game of tag.

The red-haired boy, pale and freckled like stars against his ivory skin, chased after the twins with pure determination. His blue eyes sparkled with mischief and happiness, his messy hair bouncing with each step he took. The twins' blonde hair shimmered like strands of gold in the dim light. Their skin glowed with health, kissed by the sun, as they giggled and dodged the red-haired boy's attempts to catch them. Though they looked identical, subtle differences set them apart: the boy's eyes held a warmth and kindness, while the girl's gaze sparkled with playfulness, her determination matching her brother's.

As they zipped around the alley, their laughter and shouts of glee filled the air, a stark contrast to the tension simmering between Nightwing and Laura. Unaware of the seriousness unfolding around them, the kids enjoyed their game. Laura leaned against the building’s wall, arms crossed, her expression tired but determined. Nightwing approached her cautiously, his cape billowing behind him in the faint breeze.

"Hey, Nightwing," Laura greeted him, sounding both relieved and worn out. "Heard about the chaos with the rogue werewolf?"

Nightwing nodded, his brows knitting together with concern. "Yeah, I heard. Was it as bad as they say?"

Laura's lips tightened into a grim line. "Worse. But don't worry, we handled it."

Nightwing's eyes flickered with unease, and he shifted his weight. "Handled it how?"

Laura's hard gaze softened a bit, understanding his concern. "You know how it is. Sometimes, things in our world need... drastic measures."

Nightwing winced slightly, the thought of a wild execution in the heart of Gotham sending a shiver down his spine. "Right. Different rules, I guess."

Laura nodded, a hint of sympathy in her eyes. "Exactly. It's something you'll have to get used to, sharing Gotham with us."

Nightwing sighed, running a hand through his hair. "Yeah, I guess so."

But Nightwing couldn't shake the worry he had for Colin Wilkes, the orphan boy from St. Aden's. Colin had a run-in with a rogue Omega werewolf a couple of months back, and the thought of it still sent chills down Nightwing's spine. When he heard that Colin had been bitten and turned into a werewolf, it broke his heart. A thirteen-year-old boy's life turned upside down in one terrible moment.

"What about Colin? Is he... okay?" Nightwing asked, his voice laced with worry.

Laura turned to look at the red-haired boy playing with the blond twins, a small smile tugging at her lips. "Colin's doing just fine, Nightwing. In fact, he's doing better than fine."

Nightwing's eyebrows shot up in surprise. "Really? But after what happened... How's he coping?"

Laura met his gaze, her eyes filled with pride and affection. "He's a tough kid, you know? Despite everything, he's handled his new reality like a champ."

A hint of relief washed over Nightwing as he took in her words. "That's... good to hear. But, wait, what do you mean by 'his new reality'?"

Laura's smile widened, a spark of excitement in her eyes. "I adopted Colin, Nightwing. He's part of the pack now. My son, actually."

Nightwing's eyes widened in astonishment, his mouth opening and closing wordlessly for a moment. "You... adopted him? But... how does that even work? I mean, outside of the usual legal stuff. Adopting a kid must be different when it comes to packs, right?"

Laura chuckled softly at his reaction, her smirk sharp as she showed off her fangs. "It's not as complicated as it sounds. He's now the son of the alpha, part of our pack. And he's adjusting really well."

Though Nightwing still had some reservations about the pack's ways, he couldn't deny the relief he felt knowing that Colin was safe and cared for. "Well, that's... good to hear. I'm glad he's got someone like you looking out for him."

Laura nodded, warmth in her gaze. "He's a special kid, Nightwing. And he's got a bright future ahead of him, werewolf or not."

Laura's somber look deepened as she leaned closer to Nightwing, the dim streetlights casting shadows across her face. Her voice dropped to a whisper. "Nightwing, there's something else you need to know."

Nightwing's senses sharpened, his instincts kicking in. He leaned in, eyes narrowing. "What is it?" he asked, his tone low and urgent.

Laura took a deep breath, steadying herself. "The supernatural rumor mill has been going wild. There are whispers of sacrificial rituals happening between Gotham and Metropolis."

The weight of her words hit Nightwing hard. "Sacrificial rituals?!" he exclaimed, a mix of disbelief and horror in his voice.

Laura nodded, her expression grim. "Children from various covens have been disappearing. Whoever's behind this is using their deaths and their magic to mess with the ley lines between our cities."

Nightwing felt a cold dread settle in his stomach. The thought of innocent lives being taken and their magic twisted for some dark purpose filled him with rage. "To what end?" he asked, his voice strained.

"To create enough ambient thaumatographic output to open rifts to demonic realms," Laura explained, her tone grave.

The color drained from Nightwing's face. The idea of demonic rifts opening up was too horrific to imagine. "Thanks, Laura," he said, his voice laced with determination. "I'll take it from here."

With a swift movement, Nightwing grappled away into the night. He activated his communicator, linking directly to Oracle and Batman. "Oracle, Batman," Nightwing's voice crackled over the comms, urgency in his tone. "We've got big trouble on our hands."

In the Clocktower, Oracle's fingers flew across her keyboard. "What's the situation, Nightwing?" she asked, her voice steady.

"Children from various covens are disappearing, and someone is using their deaths to open demonic rifts between Gotham and Metropolis," Nightwing relayed quickly.

A heavy silence fell over the Batcave as Batman absorbed the information. "We need to move quickly," he said, his voice unwavering.

"Agreed. I'm on my way to investigate further. Oracle, keep an eye on any unusual activity in the ley lines," Nightwing instructed. He paused for a moment before adding, "And someone contact John Constantine!"

Batman’s breath caught as he took in the scene, the stench of death hanging heavy. It was like a nightmare had come to life. The sight of innocent life brutally cut short hit him hard. Robin stood beside him, both of them too stunned to speak, the silence filled with their shared grief and disbelief.

Batman's stomach churned at the grisly scene. The cabin walls were covered in symbols that seemed to writhe and twist in the dim light, each stroke of crimson blood a testament to the horror that had taken place. The metallic tang of blood hung in the air, a sickening reminder of the violence.

But it was the sight of the girl, her lifeless body sprawled on the floor, that froze Batman in place. She lay there, so small and innocent, her auburn hair spread out around her like a halo of fire, contrasting sharply with her pale skin. Her green eyes, once vibrant, were now empty, frozen in terror.

As he knelt beside her, a wave of sorrow threatened to engulf him. She was just a child, robbed of her innocence and future. Her blood, thick and sticky, pooled around her, a macabre halo staining the floor. On her forehead, the symbol branded into her flesh seared into Batman's mind, a twisted mark of darkness that spoke of unspeakable horrors.

It felt like the pages of a horror novel had come to life. The scene before him was straight out of the darkest corners of his imagination, a nightmare made real. But unlike fiction, this was no story to dismiss. This was reality, stark and unyielding, a cruel reminder of the horrors lurking just beyond the mundane world.

Every detail seemed to jump out at Batman, each one more horrifying than the last. The air was thick with the stench of death, almost suffocating him. The walls felt like they were closing in, filled with a creepy energy that seemed to pulse with its own life. Shadows danced at the edges of his vision, twisting into grotesque shapes that seemed to mock him.

But it was the silence that really got to him, a deafening absence of sound that seemed to fill the space. No screams, no cries for help, just the cold, unyielding silence of death. And in that silence, Batman felt a chill settle over him, a primal instinct telling him to run, to escape the horrors within these walls.

In all his years as the Dark Knight, Batman had faced countless horrors in Gotham's streets. But none had struck him as deeply as the senseless sacrifice of a child. The very thought of it turned his stomach, filling him with a visceral disgust. Behind the mask, Bruce Wayne's heart ached with a sorrow that cut to his core. He couldn't shake the image of the girl's lifeless form, her innocent eyes forever frozen in eternal sleep. How many dreams had died with her? How many futures lay shattered?

Batman couldn't help but wonder about the girl's life before it was cruelly taken. What were her hopes and dreams? What joys had she experienced? Did she have a family waiting for her? A mother who would never feel her embrace again, a father who would never hear her laughter? The thought was like a dagger to Batman's heart, each imagined scenario a fresh wound that refused to heal.

Kneeling beside the young girl, he felt a surge of anger rising within him, hot and fierce. His usual stoicism faltered, replaced by raw, visceral pain. This wasn't the first time he'd encountered death, but the loss of innocent life always struck him hard.

How could anyone be capable of such cruelty? What kind of monster could look at a child and see only a pawn to sacrifice for power? Beneath the anger, there was a deeper pain, a sorrow that threatened to consume him. These children had been robbed of their futures, their hopes and dreams snuffed out in an instant. And for what? A twisted ritual born of madness and cruelty.

His own memories, buried deep beneath layers of trauma and pain, threatened to surface. The loss of his parents, taken from him in a senseless act of violence, still haunted him to this day. But the memory that truly called to him at that horrible moment was the loss of his son. The explosion still rang in his ears, he could still taste the blood in the air, and the scene of Jason’s broken body would forever be branded in his eyes.

Batman felt a surge of anger boiling within him, a righteous fury that burned like a white-hot flame. Those responsible for these heinous acts wouldn't escape his wrath. They would be hunted down, brought to justice, and made to answer for their crimes. But amidst the fury and the grief, there lingered a sense of helplessness, a bitter realization that no matter how hard he fought, no matter how many battles he won, there would always be more innocents lost to the darkness.

Batman turned to Robin, his expression grim as he surveyed the scene before them. "We need to tread carefully," he said, his voice low and urgent. "This isn't like anything we've encountered before."

Robin nodded in agreement, his gaze fixed on the symbols that adorned the cabin walls. "Alpha Hale’s intel was right, it's definitely ritualistic," he observed. "But the question is, what kind of ritual and who's behind it?"

Batman pondered the question for a moment, his mind racing through the possibilities. "Given the nature of the symbols and the precision of the cuts," he mused, "I'd say we're dealing with someone well-versed in the occult. And judging by the victim's age, it's likely they were targeted specifically."

Robin nodded, his brow furrowed in concentration. "So, the question is, why target a child?" he asked, his voice tinged with frustration. "What could they possibly hope to gain from such a heinous act?"

Batman's jaw clenched at the thought, his fists tightening at his sides. "From what I could pick up from our magical acquaintances, innocence and purity are very powerful. There’s a reason why many oracles and prophets remained virgins over the centuries, to maintain their purity and keep their powers strong." Batman’s tone was a raspy growl as his eyes combed through the cabin. "We'll need to search every inch of this place, leave no stone unturned until we have answers."

As they meticulously combed through the cabin, Batman and Robin began to uncover a series of cryptic clues scattered throughout the room. They came across other telltale signs of foul play: a blood-stained altar hidden beneath a tattered cloak, a collection of arcane artifacts tucked away in a dusty corner, and a series of ritualistic implements carefully arranged on a makeshift altar.

Robin's eyes narrowed as he examined the artifacts, his mind whirling with possibilities. "Whoever did this was meticulous," he remarked, pointing to a series of intricate carvings etched into the stone floor.

"These symbols," Batman said, his voice tinged with concern as he studied the intricate designs, "they're not just random markings. They're part of a larger pattern, a language of sorts."

Robin nodded, his eyes narrowing as he examined the symbols more closely. "It's like a code," he observed, pointing to a particularly elaborate glyph etched into the wooden beams above. "But deciphering it won't be easy."

Batman frowned, his mind racing as he tried to unravel the meaning behind the symbols. "We'll need to consult with some experts," he decided, making a mental note to reach out to Gotham's most knowledgeable occultists. "They may be able to shed some light on what we're dealing with."

“Fortunately, Oracle had already contacted John Constantine at Nightwing’s request,” Robin said as he leaned to get a better look at the symbol branded on the girl’s forehead. Batman growled in displeasure; he didn’t like the drunk British mage, but he had to admit Constantine was the best when it came to dealing with demons. “Maybe we should contact Raven as well.”

“Raven is with the Titans on a space mission,” Batman shook his head.

Robin tilted his head thoughtfully. “Then maybe we should contact Red Ghoul.” Batman tensed at the mention of his second son. “He seems to know enough about ritualistic sacrifices to give a lecture about it.”

“We will not!” Batman growled.

It was bad enough that Batman had Robin and Nightwing involved in this mess. He did not plan to add the son that he had lost and only just got back. Robin turned to his dad, confused and opened his mouth to protest before being cut off by a glare from Batman. Robin huffed and got back to work.

The Batmobile rumbled into the Batcave, its sleek exterior gleaming under the fluorescent lights. Batman and Robin emerged from the vehicle, their faces drawn and grim with the weight of what they'd seen. As they made their way to the center of the cave, they found the rest of the Colony gathered, their expressions a mix of concern and determination.

Batwoman stood tall, her crimson cape billowing behind her. Beside her, Batwing hovered in the air, his mechanical wings humming softly. Nightwing offered them a reassuring nod, his confidence unwavering even though his stance was stiff. Spoiler watched with curiosity and concern, her fingers tapping anxiously against her thigh. Black Bat stood poised and alert, while Agent A observed with a quiet intensity.

As Batman moved to the Batcomputer to download the data they had gathered, Robin stepped forward to lead the debriefing. At eighteen, he was ready to step up in his role at the Colony. “Alright, everyone, gather around. I've got to fill you in on what we found out there. It's not pretty.”

“We found some abandoned towns between Gotham and Metropolis, and what we discovered... it’s a nightmare. Five kids, innocent little ones, between the ages of eight and twelve, were sacrificed. In the most gruesome way you can imagine. Symbols branded on their foreheads, blood everywhere. It's like something out of hell itself.” Robin shuddered as he glanced at the pictures Batman projected on the Batcomputer, making the rest of the Colony curse in pure fury.

The Colony gathered around, each member grappling with the gravity of the situation.

Batwoman spoke up first, her voice steady but urgent. "We can't keep this to ourselves. If something this twisted is happening between Gotham and Metropolis, the Superfamily needs to know. They're just as much a part of this as we are."

Batwing nodded in agreement, deep in thought. "We can't afford to let this slide. Whatever's behind this, it's a threat to all of us. We need to pool our resources and work together to put an end to it."

Nightwing, ever the strategist, weighed in thoughtfully. "But we have to consider the implications. If we involve the Superfamily, it could draw unwanted attention. We need to tread carefully."

Spoiler, her gaze intense, added her perspective. "We can't let fear dictate our actions. If there's a chance the Superfamily can help, we have to take it. Lives are at stake here."

Batman, who had been quietly listening, finally spoke, his voice carrying the weight of their collective resolve. "Alright, we'll reach out to them. But we do it smartly. We’ll brief them on what we know and work together to stop this before more lives are lost."

Robin and Black Bat exchanged hesitant glances. Robin, his brow furrowed in concern, spoke up. "I’m not sure bringing in the Superfamily is the best idea. They don’t work like we do. They're more public, less covert. They might accidentally tip off whoever's behind this."

Batgirl nodded, looking troubled. "We need to work this case from the shadows. We know how to navigate the darkness and uncover the truth without drawing unwanted attention. The Superfamily operates differently. They might unintentionally alert the wrong people."

Batwing added thoughtfully, "What about reaching out to the Hale Pack or Countess Drusilla? They might have insights into the supernatural world that could help us crack this case."

Batwoman, her brow furrowed, shook her head. "I'm not sure that's a good idea. We're still getting used to having supernaturals in Gotham. Bringing them in could complicate things even more."

Robin, arms crossed, chimed in skeptically. "And let's not forget their methods. Werewolves and vampires aren't exactly known for their restraint. We can't afford to get mixed up in their blood feuds and vendettas."

Black Bat, looking troubled, agreed. "Our priority has to be protecting Gotham and its people. If involving the Hale Pack or Countess Drusilla puts that at risk, then it’s not worth it."

Spoiler, intense as ever, added her two cents. "We can't let fear dictate our actions, but even I can see the potential problems with involving outsiders."

Batman, who had been silent, finally broke in. His tone was firm and decisive. "We can't risk compromising the investigation. At least not yet. We'll handle this internally for now."

The Colony exchanged resigned glances, each member accepting Batman's decision with a mixture of disappointment and understanding. They knew better than to question the Dark Knight's judgment, especially in matters as serious as this.

With a sense of finality, Batman turned his attention to the Batcomputer, his fingers flying over the keys with practiced precision. Moments later, Oracle’s face appeared on the screen, her expression serious but determined.

"Oracle," Batman began, his voice steady, "heard anything back from Constantine?"

Oracle's response was quick. "He's busy right now but will be in Gotham in three days to go over the data."

The Bat-family collectively sighed in relief. They might not be involving the Superfamily, but knowing Constantine was on board helped.

Oracle's hologram cast an eerie glow across the Batcave. The images of the symbols on the cabin walls flickered before their eyes, each curve and line a cryptic puzzle waiting to be solved.

"The symbols have Latin origins," Oracle explained, clearly frustrated. "But their roots go deeper than the Roman Empire."

Nightwing leaned in, concentrating. "Any luck cracking the code?"

Oracle shook her head. "Not yet. But I've pieced together some clues. The rituals are tied to the full moon, using its power for some unknown purpose. The goal seems to be achieving balance, though I'm not sure what that means."

The Colony members exchanged looks of concern and intrigue. The idea of rituals under the full moon sent shivers down their spines. Robin suddenly straightened up, eyes wide with realization.

Batman noticed Robin's intense expression. "What is it, Robin?"

Robin, buzzing with insights, didn't waste time. "Using the full moon to power rituals isn't uncommon in magic," he began. "But the key here is balance."

Spoiler, confused, interjected. "Balance? What do you mean?"

Robin sighed. "Think about what Red Ghoul told us about Gotham and Metropolis's magical ley lines," he said, his voice gaining intensity. "Gotham has dark magic, Metropolis has light magic. These rituals are happening between both cities, which means whoever's behind this is using both to create equilibrium."

Robin's insight sparked realization among the Colony. Spoiler tried to grasp the explanation. "So, they're using Gotham's dark magic and Metropolis's light magic to achieve balance?" she asked, incredulous.

Robin nodded, looking grave. "Exactly. They're trying to create a delicate equilibrium. It's ironic because you'd think balance is something good people want... but no one good would aim for balance through sacrifices."

"Well, shit," Spoiler cursed.

Chapter Text

Heavy breathing filled the kitchen as Jason and Roy pulled away from each other after their steamy makeout session. Jason smirked, noticing how swollen Roy's lips were and the rosy blush staining his face. He looked positively delectable.

"You just love being taken advantage of, don't you?" Jason teased, caressing Roy's pink-stained cheek.

Roy rolled his eyes but gave a small smile. "I have no idea what you mean," he teased, trailing a finger up and down Jason's cheek.

Jason raised an eyebrow, then turned his face to pull Roy's finger into his mouth, causing Roy's eyes to widen comically. He stared into Jason's eyes as he sucked and teased his finger until satisfied with the dazed expression on Roy's face. Roy's lower lip trembled as Jason pulled his finger from his mouth with a lewd 'pop' before reconnecting their lips.

Moaning into Jason's mouth, Roy buried his hands in Jason's hair, trying to keep their lips connected longer. He allowed Jason's tongue access into his mouth and began playing with the wet muscle, earning pleased groans from Jason, whose hands were now cupping Roy's arse cheeks.

Finally, a cough broke them apart. Roy's lips were shiny with saliva, and a thin trail connected him and Jason, which Jason broke when he turned around to look at who interrupted them. Jason rolled his eyes upon seeing John Constantine by the kitchen door, laughing at their behavior.

"Having fun, luvs?" John asked, his English accent thick with amusement.

Roy laughed, then slapped Jason on the chest. "Go, you need to apparate Billy and Damian to Metropolis for their skateboarding and art competition. I'll see what this imbecile needs."

"Imbecile? You’ve been spending too much time with Damian," Jason laughed before magically popping away from the kitchen.

Roy looked at John uncomfortably. He had never been alone in a room with the drunkard warlock. Constantine usually talked business with Red Ghoul and Nightwing regarding Titans matters. "Would you like something to drink?"

"A pint," John grunted, stomping towards the living room and slumping into the leather armchair.

Roy sighed, grabbed two cold beers from the fridge, and followed John to the living room. He handed John his pint and sat on the sofa. The two of them sat in silence, waiting for Jason to return from Metropolis. Roy noticed John glancing at him from time to time, which was starting to unnerve him. Constantine usually didn't care about anyone or anything that didn't involve magic, so why was he suddenly interested in Roy?

"Ever helped him during his missions?" John asked, catching Roy off guard.

Roy cautiously nodded. "Yeah, Arsenal and Red Ghoul often team up on missions worldwide. It's pretty handy having someone who can heal with a wave of his wand. I can also boost his energy when he's low, helping him cast spells to get us out of tight spots."

Roy is enveloped in Jason's magic, a subtle red glow weaving around him in intricate patterns, gently touching his skin and illuminating him from within. The magic moves with fluid grace, showing a deep connection between Roy and Jason, where Roy has willingly shared his power and energy. Jason’s magic has thoroughly infused Roy, yet their companions haven't seemed to notice. John wonders if Jason himself is aware of how deeply his magic has intertwined with Roy’s, subtly transferring with every spell, lingering with every night spent under Jason’s protection, and leaving an indelible mark with each healing touch. It seems Roy has opened himself so completely to Jason that their magic is now inextricably bound.

John Constantine observed Roy, a flicker of surprise crossing his features as he processed the depth of the connection between Roy and Jason. It was unusual for non-magical humans to willingly immerse themselves in such intimate magical bonds, especially with warlocks like Jason. John couldn't help but feel astonished at Roy's level of trust and openness.

"Blimey," John muttered, his eyes lingering on Roy. "You’ve really let him get under your skin, haven’t you?"

Roy met John's gaze, a mix of defiance and vulnerability in his eyes. "It's... complicated," he said, his voice carrying a blend of resignation and determination. "Jason and I, we’ve been through a lot. Sometimes you have to take risks, even if it involves magic."

John nodded slowly, grasping the weight of Roy's words. Despite the risks, there was a bond between them that transcended ordinary understanding—a connection forged through shared experiences and mutual trust.

"Just be careful, mate," John cautioned, his tone serious. "Magic's tricky, and it's easy to get in over your head."

Roy offered a small, grateful smile. "I’ll keep that in mind, John. Thanks."

As Jason stormed into the living room, his expression a mix of anger and frustration, John sensed the tension. Jason's gaze locked onto him with a fierce intensity, a silent warning not to meddle too deeply.

John raised an eyebrow, unfazed by Jason's glare. "Easy there, mate," he said, his tone light but with a hint of amusement. "Just having a chat with our friend Roy here."

Jason's scowl deepened, but before he could retort, John continued more seriously. "Speaking of which, maybe we should chat about boundaries and disclosures."

Jason's expression shifted to discomfort. He glanced at Roy, then back at John, his demeanor tense but attentive.

"As warlocks," John said, "we need to inform non-magical beings before getting involved with them. Saves a lot of heartbreak down the road."

There was a moment of silence as Jason processed John's words, the weight of their implications sinking in. Finally, he nodded reluctantly, acknowledging John's point.

"You’re right," Jason conceded, his voice subdued. "I should’ve been more upfront with Roy about the risks."

Roy, who had been listening quietly, offered a small nod. "It's okay, Jason," he said, his voice understanding. "We’ll figure it out together."

John's brow furrowed with curiosity as he addressed the elephant in the room. "What brings you to Fawcett City? Last I heard, you were dealing with some cursed pyramid in Egypt."

Jason's inquiry drew a heavy sigh from John. "Ah, well, seems like there’s never a dull moment in my line of work," John remarked with a wry smile. "Got a call from Oracle; seemed urgent."

Jason's concern spiked at the mention of Oracle, his expression shifting to one of heightened attention. "What's going on? Is something wrong with my family back in Gotham?" he asked, his voice tight with worry.

"It's not your family directly, but there's trouble brewing between Gotham and Metropolis," Constantine explained. "Someone's been conducting sacrificial rituals along the ley lines connecting the two cities."

Roy, looking puzzled, chimed in. "Why didn't anyone reach out to you about this, Jason? You're the Red Ghoul, the expert in these matters."

Jason's expression darkened, his jaw tensing with barely contained fury. "Because Batman's too damn stubborn to ask for help when he needs it," he growled, his voice laced with resentment.

Roy let out a resigned sigh, shaking his head. "Classic Bruce move," he remarked, exasperated. "Refusing to call Jason is 100% in character. That being said, it's a stupid-ass decision."

He paused, frustration evident. "Jason was bound to find out, the rumor mill in the magical community is on another level. The supernatural community learned long ago to always have each other’s back.” Roy turned to his boyfriend, who had a look of cold rage on his face, and sighed. “Jason's clearly pissed about being left out of the loop. And honestly, who can blame him? Jason's practically an expert in this type of magic. He could probably teach Bruce a thing or two. But Bruce is too stubborn to admit he needs help, even if it means putting more lives at risk."

As Roy spoke, John could sense the underlying tension in the room. The rift between Jason and Bruce ran deep, fueled by years of misunderstandings and unspoken grievances. But amidst the frustration and anger, there was also a shared determination to do what was right and protect those who couldn't protect themselves.

"Well, looks like we've got our work cut out for us," John said, breaking the silence. "Time to show Batman what happens when you make an enemy of the supernatural community."

With a nod of agreement from Roy and a determined glint in Jason's eyes, the trio set off, united in their resolve to confront the darkness lurking between Gotham and Metropolis.

As another day of investigation dragged on, Dick's worry gnawed at him. Something felt off about the whole situation, and when he saw Bruce alone, he knew he had to bring it up.

"B," Dick said, his concern clear as he approached his adoptive father. "We need to talk."

Bruce looked up, exhaustion written all over his face. "Dick," he replied wearily, bracing himself for the inevitable conversation.

Dick hesitated for a moment, gathering his thoughts before diving in. "I couldn't help but notice that the crime scene reminded you of one of Jason's novels," he began, his tone cautious. "I hope you're not considering Jason as a suspect because of that."

Bruce's expression darkened at the implication, a flash of hurt crossing his face. "Of course not, Dick," he replied, frustration in his voice. "I may not always see eye-to-eye with Jason, but I would never suspect him of something like this."

Dick felt a pang of guilt for causing Bruce more pain. "I didn't mean to imply that, Bruce," he said quickly. "It's just... with everything going on, I couldn't help but worry."

Bruce sighed, running a hand through his hair in frustration. "I understand, Dick," he said, his tone softening a bit. "But you have to trust me. I only mentioned the similarities in my report because I believe there's a connection to the magical world, nothing more."

Dick nodded, relieved by Bruce's reassurance. "I trust you, B," he said earnestly. "I just worry sometimes, you know?"

Bruce placed a reassuring hand on Dick's shoulder, a small smile tugging at the corners of his lips. "I know, Dick," he said gently. "But we'll get through this together, like we always do."

Just then, a magical portal sparked to life in the middle of the Batcave, putting everyone on edge. The tension eased slightly when John Constantine stepped through, but it shot back up when Jason and Roy followed, suited up and looking ready for a fight. Jason's glare could melt steel, and we all felt a bit guilty under his stare. We might not have agreed with Bruce keeping Jason out of the loop, but we didn't exactly put up a fight either.

Bruce, sensing the awkwardness, stepped forward, trying to keep his cool. "Jason, Roy," he started, sounding all serious. "I know you're mad, and I get it. But you gotta trust me. There's something dangerous happening here—"

Jason cut him off, dripping with sarcasm. "Something dangerous? Really, Bruce?" he shot back, bitterness in every word. "You kept us in the dark about it all. Being Batman doesn't give you a free pass to play god with our lives."

Bruce's jaw clenched, feeling the weight of Jason's words. He thought he was doing right by his family, but now, with Jason's anger staring him down, he couldn't help but question himself.

Dick stepped in, his face pleading for understanding. "Jason, we didn't mean to leave you out," he said, genuine as ever. "We just didn't know how to help without putting you at risk."

Jason's expression softened slightly, a hint of understanding in his eyes. "I hear you, Dick," he said, his tone softer now. "But next time, just give me a chance to decide for myself, okay?"

"Listen up, everyone," Jason's voice cut through the tension like a knife. "I need to make something crystal clear. When it comes to this kind of situation, I'm the lead expert, got it? And I'm not just talking about within the superhero community. People from all over the world come to me with questions about curses, necromancy, sacrificial rituals—you name it. So, the fact that you lot thought you could keep this from me? Not cool. Not cool at all."

He paused, his gaze piercing through each member of the Colony. "You had no right to sideline me," he continued, his tone unyielding. "From now on, I expect to be included in every step of the process. Understood?"

Jason's words hung heavy in the air, a stark reminder of his expertise in matters that extended far beyond the realm of capes and cowls. He wasn't just talking about the superhero gig—he was the go-to guy for all things supernatural, from curses to necromancy to sacrificial rituals. People from all over the world sought him out for answers, trusting in his knowledge and experience.

The Colony shifted uncomfortably under Jason's gaze, feeling the weight of his admonishment. They had no right to keep him out of the loop, especially when his skills were precisely what the situation called for.

Jason's gaze then shifted to Alfred, his demand clear. "Alfred," he said, his voice commanding. "What intel do we have?"

Alfred met Jason's gaze with a mixture of respect and concern. "Master Jason," he began, his voice steady. "We've gathered some information about the ritualistic activity occurring between Gotham and Metropolis. It appears to be connected to the ley lines that run through both cities, drawing on their magical energies."

Jason's jaw tightened at the news, his mind already formulating a plan of action. "Any leads on who might be behind it?" he asked, his voice edged with urgency.

Alfred hesitated for a moment before responding. "Not yet, Master Jason," he admitted. "But we're working on it. With your expertise, I have no doubt we'll get to the bottom of this."

Jason nodded, his expression resolute. "Good," he said firmly. "Because whoever's behind this is playing with fire, and they're about to get burned."

As Red Ghoul and John Constantine visited the sites of the sacrificial rituals, their expressions grew grim. The air in those cabins felt downright vile, thick with the stench of twisted, corrupted magic. Sacrificial magic was the worst kind—they hated it with a passion. It was like someone had taken the natural flow of magic in nature and twisted it into something dark and foul.

The very thought of it made Red Ghoul's skin crawl. Sacrifices done over magical ley lines? That was a whole new level of messed up. Ley lines were like the veins of the earth, channels of raw magic that crisscrossed the world. Messing with them was like tampering with the lifeblood of the planet.

John Constantine shared Red Ghoul's sentiments, his face twisted in disgust as they surveyed the scene. "Bloody hell," he muttered under his breath. "This is worse than I thought."

Red Ghoul nodded grimly in agreement. "Aye, mate," he said, his voice tinged with bitterness. "It's like someone's taken a wrecking ball to the natural order of things."

Red Ghoul's keen eye caught something amidst the twisted sigils etched into the floor. He pointed it out to John, who cursed under his breath as realization dawned. The symbol they were looking at wasn't just any old rune—it was the mark of something far more sinister.

"Damn," John muttered, his brows furrowing in concern.

Red Ghoul shook his head in frustration, a low growl rumbling in his throat. John muttered curses, his English accent thick with anger.

"Bloody hell," he muttered, his voice strained with tension.

"Son of a—"

"Chorozon," John interrupted, horror creeping into his tone.

As they pieced together the clues, a sinking feeling settled in the pit of Red Ghoul's stomach. "Bloody hell," he muttered, his voice strained with tension. "They're trying to summon Chorozon."

John's eyes widened in horror at the mention of the name.

"F*ck," he whispered, his voice barely above a breath.

Red Ghoul's hands clenched into fists, his frustration boiling over. "This ain't just any demonic summoning," he spat out, his voice tight with anger. "They're trying to give Chorozon a true body to possess. Once he's here, he'll be able to walk the Earth without fear of being exorcised."

Now both of them were cursing, their anger and fear mingling together in a storm of emotions.

"Damn it all!" Red Ghoul exclaimed, his voice filled with frustration.

"Sh*t!" John cursed, his tone tinged with desperation.

The stakes had just been raised, and they were running out of time to stop whatever dark forces were at play. John turned to Jason with a wary look, his expression grave as he delivered the news. "Jason, we can't involve the Colony in this anymore," he said, his voice tinged with concern. "It's gotten too dangerous for non-magical beings."

Jason sighed, his shoulders slumping in resignation. He knew John was right—it wasn't safe for the Colony to be mixed up in this mess. "Yeah, I get it," he replied, his tone heavy with regret. "We can't risk anyone getting hurt."

John nodded in agreement, a somber look in his eyes. "Some of them won't be happy about it," he admitted, his voice tinged with sadness. "But they trust you, Jason. They know you'll do what's best."

Jason's brow furrowed in frustration as he processed the situation. "Damn," he muttered under his breath. "This complicates things. Batman won't just let this go, especially since he didn't want Red Ghoul and Constantine involved in the first place."

The realization hung heavy in the air, casting a shadow over their plans. Batman's stubbornness was legendary, and he wouldn't take kindly to being sidelined, especially in a situation as dire as this.

Jason clenched his jaw, a flicker of defiance in his eyes. "Let him come," he said, his voice firm. "I'll deal with him if I have to."

As John and Jason had deduced, most of the Colony members stepped back from this investigation, trusting Red Ghoul to have everything under control. It was a tough decision, but they knew it was for the best, given the dangerous stakes involved. However, there were a couple of holdouts—Robin and Batman.

Despite the warnings and concerns, Robin and Batman were determined to do their own research. They delved deeper into the case, uncovering similar power readings in Metropolis to those found at the sites of the sacrificial rituals. It was a troubling discovery, one that only fueled their sense of urgency.

Without so much as a word to the others, Robin and Batman sprang into action. They hopped into the Batmobile and raced towards Metropolis, their determination driving them forward. It was a risky move, one that went against the collective decision of the Colony, but they couldn't sit idly by while the city was in danger.

John and Jason exchanged worried glances as they realized what had happened. "Damn it," Jason muttered, frustration simmering beneath the surface. "They should have listened to us."

John's jaw tightened, his expression grim. "We need to find them before they get themselves into trouble," he said, his voice laced with concern.

In the bustling streets of Metropolis, Batman and Robin moved like shadows, leaping from rooftop to rooftop. Robin couldn't shake a nagging doubt. "Batman," he whispered amidst the city's noise, "maybe we should've listened to Red Ghoul and backed off."

Batman's jaw tightened at the mention of Red Ghoul's warning. "This is our investigation, Robin," he growled, his voice determined. "We won't let anyone dictate our actions."

Robin wasn't convinced, his footsteps faltering as doubt clouded his thoughts. "But Batman," he protested, "we're not equipped to deal with this kind of threat. The Colony handles serial killers and the like, not demonic summonings."

Batman halted, turning to face his young companion with frustration and exasperation. "Robin, we can't afford to back down now," he insisted, his voice stern. "We have a responsibility, and we will not let anyone run us off, no matter the cost."

Robin's eyes widened in shock. "You're putting us in danger because of your pride," he accused, his voice trembling with emotion. "Red Ghoul was right—you're acting more out of stubbornness than logic."

The tension between them crackled like lightning. Standing on that rooftop, with the city sprawled out beneath them, Batman and Robin faced a decision—one that could make or break their partnership.

Before they could decide, they were attacked by Dementors. It was like they had bitten off more than they could chew. They tried to fight back, but these Dementors weren't messing around.

No matter how hard they swung, the Dementors didn't flinch. It was like trying to punch a ghost—completely useless. Dementors were some seriously messed up creatures, the kind that made your skin crawl just thinking about them. They sucked out all the joy and happiness from the air, leaving nothing but darkness and despair in their wake.

As they closed in on Batman and Robin, the air grew colder, the city's sounds drowned out by the chilling rattling of their breath. It was like the world was closing in around them, suffocating them in darkness.

Batman and Robin fought with everything they had, but it was like trying to hold back a tidal wave with a broomstick. The Dementors just kept coming, relentless in their pursuit. With each passing moment, the darkness closed in a little tighter, squeezing the hope out of them like a vice.

In the midst of the chaos, Batman and Robin realized they were in way over their heads. They needed help, and fast. But with the Dementors bearing down on them, the odds were looking pretty damn grim.

Just when it seemed like all hope was lost, Damian and Billy swooped in to save the day. It was like a scene straight out of a comic book—there they were, Zamurad and Leukós, ready to kick some Dementor butt. With a quick flick of their wands, they summoned their patronuses, calling forth their shimmering guardians.

In a burst of radiant silver light, the patronuses appeared. Zamurad's patronus was a sleek fox, its silver fur gleaming as it moved gracefully, eyes alive with intelligence. Leukós' patronus was a magnificent St. Bernard, its silver coat glistening, exuding strength and steadfastness.

Batman didn't waste a second. "Get out of here, now!" he barked, his voice urgent. But Robin couldn't help but be grateful for the timely rescue.

"Thanks for the save, guys," Robin said, his voice filled with relief. But Leukós and Zamurad weren't letting Batman off that easy.

"If we hadn't stepped in, you'd be toast," Leukós declared with a smirk. "Dementors don't mess around—they'd have sucked the life right out of you."

And they knew all too well about the Dementor's Kiss—a horrifying ability that could literally suck the soul right out of a person.

As the situation grew more intense, it became clear that even Damian and Billy's powerful patronuses were struggling to hold back the darkness. The Dementors pressed in relentlessly, their chilling presence threatening to overwhelm them all.

Just when it seemed like they were about to be engulfed by despair, a brilliant light pierced through the gloom. It was Jason's Stag, appearing out of nowhere with its radiant glow. The majestic creature stood tall and proud, driving the Dementors back with its sheer presence. With a flick of its antlers, the Stag unleashed a wave of light that washed over the rooftop, banishing the Dementors and their oppressive aura. It was like a beacon of hope in the midst of the darkness, guiding them toward safety.

With the Dementors vanquished, Red Ghoul, Zamurad, and Leukós sprang into action. Drawing on their magical abilities, they worked together to exorcise the lingering spirits of the Dementors, helping them find peace in the afterlife.

It was a solemn task, but one they approached with determination and compassion. As they guided the broken souls of the Dementors toward the light, they couldn't help but feel a sense of closure. These weren't just mindless creatures of darkness—they were once human, souls tormented by tragic deaths. As the last of the Dementors faded into the ether, a sense of relief washed over them.

As the chaos began to subside, a hushed silence settled over the rooftop. The air crackled with residual magic, a reminder of the fierce battle that had just taken place. But amidst the stillness, there was a sudden burst of energy—a swirling vortex of light that materialized into a magical circle. Before Batman and Robin could even react, Red Ghoul was practically shoving them through the portal. With a jolt, they found themselves on the other side, blinking in surprise as they took in their new surroundings.

But their moment of disorientation was short-lived. They were met with the sight of a furious John Constantine, eyes blazing with anger, posture tense with barely-contained fury. Batman and Robin exchanged uneasy glances, unsure of what had transpired in their absence. They knew they had a lot of explaining to do, but facing John's wrath was not exactly high on their list of priorities.

"What the bloody hell were you two thinking?" John demanded, frustration clear in his voice. "Running off on your own like that—you could've gotten yourselves killed!"

His voice echoed across the Batcave, words a torrent of frustration and anger aimed squarely at Batman and Robin. He paced back and forth, eyes flashing with intensity.

"Lucky for you two idiots that Damian and Billy were in town for their competitions," John seethed, dripping with sarcasm. "Dementors are the nastiest pieces of work you'll ever come across. They thrive on darkness and despair, sucking the joy and happiness out of everything they touch."

He paused, his gaze piercing as he locked eyes with Batman and Robin. "Get too close to a Dementor, and it'll strip you bare," he warned, voice grave. "It'll feed on your happiest memories, leaving you with nothing but pain and suffering. You'll be a hollow shell of your former self, devoid of hope or humanity."

The gravity of John's words hung heavy in the air, sinking into Batman and Robin like a weight. They had underestimated the danger they faced and now were facing the harsh reality of their recklessness.

Batman opened his mouth to speak, but John held up a hand to silence him. "Don't even bother," he snapped, tone sharp with disappointment. "We'll deal with this later. Right now, we've got bigger things to worry about."

As Batman and Robin stood there, chastened by John's scolding, they couldn't help but feel a pang of guilt. They had acted recklessly, and now they were facing the consequences of their actions.

Chapter Text

Jason stormed into the Batcave, his fury almost tangible. His usual calm was replaced by a rage that electrified the air around him. He locked eyes with Bruce and Tim, his voice sharp and venomous as he let loose his pent-up anger.

"What were you thinking?!" Jason's voice echoed through the Batcave, each word a dagger aimed at Bruce and Tim. "You had no right to drag Damian and Billy into this mess! They're just kids, damn it!"

His fists clenched at his sides, trembling with anger. Jason's eyes blazed with a fire that could melt steel, his frustration boiling over. He'd trusted Bruce and Tim to respect the boundaries and rules he'd set for the safety of his brothers, and they had failed him spectacularly.

"You could have gotten them killed!" Jason's voice cracked with emotion, his words dripping with raw fury. "Do you have any idea what it's like to watch someone you love be torn apart by those monsters? To feel utterly helpless as they're consumed by darkness?"

The weight of his words hung heavy in the air, a grim reminder of the consequences of their actions. Jason's anger was a storm, threatening to consume everything in its path. In that moment, he wasn't just Red Ghoul, the formidable warlock of Gotham—he was a brother, betrayed and furious, his heart bleeding for those he loved.

"And don't you dare try to justify it with your 'greater good' crap!" Jason's voice rose, the intensity of his fury growing with each word. "You think I don't know about sacrifice? About doing whatever it takes to protect this city? I've spilled more blood for Gotham than you'll ever know!"

His eyes flashed with a mix of pain and indignation, the weight of his past sins heavy on his shoulders. Jason had faced darkness unlike anything Bruce and Tim could imagine, and he bore the scars—both physical and emotional—to prove it.

"But I will not sacrifice my brothers on the altar of your ego!" Jason's voice thundered through the Batcave, defiance burning in his eyes. "You want to play hero, fine. But leave Damian and Billy out of it. They deserve better than to be pawns in your game!"

His words hung in the air like a challenge, a gauntlet thrown down in the face of their authority. Jason turned his glare solely on Bruce, his eyes blazing with righteous anger. "You, Bruce," he spat, venom in his voice. "All those promises about changing, about respecting boundaries and trusting me... they were all lies, weren't they? Just empty words to shut me up while you keep playing your twisted games."

Bruce met Jason's accusing glare with heavy silence, guilt weighing on him like a leaden cloak. He knew Jason was right, knew that his actions had once again betrayed the trust his son had placed in him. But the words caught in his throat, unable to find their way past the lump of remorse that had formed there.

Jason's chest heaved with frustration, his fists clenched as he struggled to contain the storm inside him. "I should have known better than to trust you," he continued, his voice raw with hurt and betrayal. "But I guess some lessons are just too hard to learn."

The air between them was thick with tension, the weight of unspoken words hanging like a storm cloud ready to burst. Bruce's silence said it all, a reminder of the growing rift between them. Jason turned away, heart heavy with disillusionment, leaving Bruce to watch helplessly, knowing some wounds cut too deep to heal.

Jason's anger shifted to Tim, disappointment etched in his features. "And you, Tim," he growled, his voice dripping with disdain. "I thought you were smarter than this. I thought you were starting to think for yourself, to see through Bruce's crap. But no, you're still his lapdog, doing whatever he says."

Tim's eyes widened, Jason's words hitting like a punch to the gut. He had always looked up to Jason, admired his strength and independence. Hearing such harsh criticism cut deep, leaving him reeling with a sense of betrayal.

"I thought you were better than this, Tim," Jason continued, his voice softer now, tinged with sorrow. "I thought you were finally breaking free from Batman's shadow. But you're just as blind as the rest of them, willing to sacrifice everything for his crusade."

Tim's throat tightened, his vision blurring with unshed tears. He had spent so long trying to prove himself to Jason, to earn his respect. But now, faced with his brother's disappointment, he felt like a failure.

"I'm sorry, Jason," Tim whispered, his voice barely audible over his own emotions. "I didn't mean for things to turn out like this. I just wanted to help."

But Jason's expression remained stony. "Save it, Tim," he spat, his tone bitter. "You've made your choice. Don't expect me to clean up your mess when it all comes crashing down." With that, he turned on his heel and walked away, leaving Tim alone with his regrets.

Alfred's usually stoic demeanor cracked slightly as he watched John Constantine and Jason disappear through the swirling portal. The worry lines on his face deepened, his concern for the boys evident.

"Dreadful business, this," Alfred murmured, disapproval in his voice. "I fear Master Bruce may have bitten off more than he can chew this time."

Beside him, Dick clenched his jaw, fists balled at his sides. His gaze bore into Bruce's back with an intensity that could melt steel. Nightwing was seething, his frustration with Bruce's recklessness boiling over.

"I can't believe he let this happen," Dick muttered through gritted teeth. "He knows better than anyone the dangers of getting civilians involved. And now he's put Damian and Billy right in the thick of it."

Alfred sighed heavily, his gaze fixed on the spot where the portal had vanished. "Master Richard, I must interject. Master Damian and Master Billy ventured into this of their own accord. Master Bruce did not summon them."

Dick's frustration bubbled over. "But why were they there in the first place, Alfred? Because Bruce got himself into trouble, as he always does. They were there to clean up his mess, to save him."

Alfred's expression softened, understanding Dick's frustration but unwilling to let him blame Bruce entirely. "Master Bruce's intentions may have been misguided, but he did not intend for the boys to be put in harm's way. They chose to involve themselves out of loyalty and a desire to protect their family."

Dick shook his head, his anger still simmering. "I know, Alfred. But it shouldn't have come to this. Bruce should have known better than to drag them into such a dangerous situation."

Dick stormed toward Bruce, frustration boiling over. "How could you do this, Bruce? How could you put Damian and Billy in harm's way like that?"

Bruce met Dick's accusatory glare with a steely resolve, jaw clenched in stubborn defiance. "I didn't mean for things to escalate, Dick. I thought I could handle it on my own."

Dick scoffed, voice dripping with disbelief. "Handle it on your own? Bruce, you're not invincible. You can't just charge into every dangerous situation without thinking about the consequences."

Bruce's expression hardened, voice cold and calculated. "I had to act, Dick. Lives were at stake. Lives of innocent children. I couldn't afford to wait for backup."

Dick shook his head, frustration palpable. "That's not good enough, Bruce. You can't keep making decisions like this without consulting the rest of us. We're a team, remember?"

Bruce's jaw tightened, gaze unwavering. "I made a judgment call, Dick. Whether you agree with it or not, it was necessary."

Dick's fists clenched at his sides, voice rising. "Necessary? Bruce, you're playing a dangerous game, and Damian and Billy are paying the price. I won't stand by and watch you put them in harm's way like this."

Alfred grimaced as the argument escalated, the tension thickening with each raised voice. The trust between mentor and protégé was clearly shattered, leaving only the bitter taste of betrayal. As the argument raged on, Alfred couldn't help but feel a pang of concern as Tim, with a heavy heart, peeled off his Robin suit and left the Batcave for the sanctuary of Wayne Manor.

In that moment, Alfred couldn't shake the sinking feeling that Bruce's stubbornness would only make things worse. Despite his best efforts to reason with his son, Alfred knew Bruce's protective instincts often clouded his judgment, leaving him blind to the potential consequences of his actions.

As Dick's impassioned pleas echoed off the walls of the Batcave, Alfred couldn't help but wonder if this would be the breaking point in their already strained relationship with Bruce. It was a sobering realization, one that filled him with a sense of foreboding for the future of the Wayne family.

Billy and Damian sat side by side, looking pretty sheepish as Roy Harper let them have it with a mix of frustration and concern. They knew they'd really messed up, and the weight of their disobedience was hard to shake.

Roy’s usual easygoing vibe was nowhere in sight as he laid into them. "Do you guys even get what could’ve happened?" Roy asked, clearly exasperated. "Dementors aren’t a joke. You could’ve gotten seriously hurt, or worse."

He paced in front of them, clearly frustrated. "Jason set those rules for a reason," Roy said, his voice edged with sadness. "He’s trying to keep you safe until you’re old enough to handle this kind of stuff. But you just went and ignored all that."

Billy stared at the ground, mumbling apologies. He knew he’d let Jason down, and the guilt was eating him up. Damian, on the other hand, crossed his arms and stayed silent, looking pretty tough on the outside but clearly feeling the weight of his actions inside.

Roy’s eyes were full of concern and disappointment as he continued, his voice softening. "You’re not just putting yourselves at risk. You’re putting everyone here in danger. We’re a family, and we look out for each other. Don’t forget that."

As Roy kept on with the lecture, Billy and Damian exchanged looks, understanding just how serious their mistake was. Despite the tough talk and their own feelings of guilt, they knew they needed to step up, learn from this, and earn back the trust they’d lost. It was a tough lesson, but one they knew they had to take to really become the heroes they wanted to be.

Once Roy was done laying down the law and had sent them to their rooms, Billy flopped onto his bed, feeling like he'd just been hit by a truck. He knew they’d messed up, but it was hard not to feel frustrated. They were just trying to do what they thought was right, right? But as he stared up at the ceiling, guilt was eating at him like a hungry critter.

In his own room, Damian let out a heavy sigh as he collapsed onto his bed. He pulled the covers up tight, trying to find some comfort. His mind was on overdrive, replaying the whole mess over and over. Lying there in the dim light, Damian wrestled with his feelings. He wanted to prove himself, but he also felt responsible for the chaos. Even though it stung to think their good intentions had only made things worse, Damian wasn’t about to take all the blame.

Just then, Damian’s door creaked open, and Jon Kent zipped in, looking worried. The half-Kryptonian had heard about the Dementor fight through his superhearing and had rushed over from Metropolis with his super speed and flight.

Jon blurted out, "Damian, I was so worried about you! When I heard what was going on, I wanted to jump in, but Superman stopped me. He said it was too risky, but I couldn’t just sit around."

Damian, feeling the weight of everything, couldn’t help but soften a bit at Jon’s concern. It felt good to see his friend so worried about him. He reached out and squeezed Jon’s hand, a silent thank you. "I’m glad you’re here now, Jon," Damian said softly.

Jon wrapped his arms around Damian, pulling him into a hug as they lay together in silence. Damian snuggled close, finding comfort in Jon’s presence. They didn’t need words; being close was enough. In the middle of all the chaos, it felt good just to be with Jon, who was like a light in the darkness.

"Thanks for coming," Damian whispered, feeling a rush of gratitude.

Jon smiled, his blue eyes warm with concern. "Of course, Damian. I couldn’t just do nothing when I heard what was happening," he said gently.

As they lay there together, the stress of the day started to fade, replaced by a peaceful calm. Damian snuggled up closer to Jon, feeling a wave of contentment. Jon’s presence was like a cozy blanket on a chilly night, wrapping him in warmth and pushing away all the worries and fears. With Jon there, Damian found himself opening up in a way he usually didn't with anyone else, sharing his worries and doubts without holding back.

"It's just... everything feels so messed up right now," Damian said, his voice soft and a bit shaky. "I don't know how to fix it."

Jon gently brushed a stray hair from Damian’s face. "You don’t have to fix everything by yourself," he said quietly. "We’re a team, remember? We’ll figure it out together."

Damian’s heart did a little skip at Jon’s words, a warm flush spreading across his face. He’d always admired Jon’s strength and kindness, but recently, he felt something deeper he couldn’t quite put into words.

"Yeah, I know," Damian replied, his voice carrying a hint of affection. "Thanks, Jon. I don’t know what I’d do without you."

Jon’s smile grew, a faint blush coloring his cheeks. "You don’t have to worry about that," he said softly. "I’ll always be here for you."

Damian might not have all the answers, but with Jon by his side, he felt like things would be okay. As they drifted off to sleep, hearts syncing with each other’s, Damian couldn’t shake the feeling that maybe there was something more between them than just friendship.

Downstairs in the living room, Roy shot Jason a questioning look, his brow furrowed with concern. "Shouldn't we do something about Damian having a boy in his bedroom? I mean, he's supposed to be grounded," Roy muttered, glancing towards the staircase where Damian's room was.

Jason waved off Roy's concern with a dismissive gesture. "Nah, Jon being there will probably do Damian some good," he replied casually, leaning back in his chair. "Besides, we've got bigger things to worry about right now."

Roy's expression turned serious at Jason's words, his gaze lingering on his lover's face. He knew that Jason was right—they had more pressing matters to attend to. But still, the thought of Damian breaking the rules made him uneasy. Just then, John Constantine entered the room, his presence adding an air of gravity to the situation.

Roy's expression hardened as he turned to face the British warlock, his mind already racing with thoughts of the dangers they were facing. "Alright, John, spill it," Roy said, his tone firm and commanding. "What's the plan?"

John's expression grew grim as he listened to Roy's question, his mind already racing with possible solutions. "We can't afford to wait around for the next full moon," he declared, his voice laced with urgency. "The timing will be too difficult to predict, and we could end up losing another magical child to these sacrificial rituals."

Roy nodded in agreement, his features set in determination. They couldn't sit back and let this madness continue unchecked. They needed to take action, and they needed to do it now.

"We need to set a trap," John continued, his tone decisive. "Something that will draw whoever's behind this out of hiding and into the open."

Jason's brow furrowed in thought as he considered John's words. Setting a trap sounded like their best shot at catching whoever was responsible, but it wouldn't be easy. They needed something enticing enough to lure their quarry out of the shadows, but also subtle enough not to arouse suspicion.

"It won't be simple," Jason admitted, his voice tinged with frustration. "We need to think carefully about what kind of bait we'll use. And we also need to consider who could be behind all of this."

The idea that someone powerful enough to command a horde of Dementors was lurking in their midst sent a shiver down Roy's spine. This wasn't just some run-of-the-mill villain they were dealing with—it was someone with real power and influence, someone who posed a serious threat to the supernatural community. But despite the danger, Roy refused to back down. They were the only ones who could stop this madness, and he wasn't about to let fear or uncertainty hold them back.

"We'll figure it out," Roy said firmly, his gaze meeting Jason's and John's with unwavering resolve. "Together, we'll find whoever's behind this and put an end to it once and for all."

Jason smiled gratefully at his boyfriend, while Constantine remained silent. After a thoughtful pause, the British warlock turned to the lovebirds with his brows furrowed. "Listen, mate. Those cabins where the sacrificial rituals took place? I felt something... something darker than just your run-of-the-mill dark magic. It was demonic, Ghoul."

John's revelation sent a shiver down Jason's spine, the weight of it settling heavily in the pit of his stomach. He could feel the hairs on the back of his neck standing on end as he absorbed John's words, his mind racing with the implications of what they meant.

Straightening up in his seat, Jason's focus sharpened as he processed the information. He couldn't deny the truth of what John had said—he had felt it too, that unsettling presence lingering in the air like a malevolent shadow. But demons... demons were a whole different breed of trouble. They were beyond his realm of expertise, and that left him feeling vulnerable, exposed to a threat he didn't fully understand.

Furrowing his brow in frustration, Jason shook his head slightly. "I sensed it too," he admitted, his voice tinged with uncertainty. "But demons... they're not my forte. I couldn't even begin to guess where it might be coming from."

Roy's frown deepened into a perplexed scowl, his mind racing to grasp the concept. "But how can a human have demonic blood? Isn't that something out of legends and fairy tales? Are we talking about the antichrist here? I mean there’s Raven and Trigon might be a demon, but that’s more of an alien version than the religious sense."

Jason's frustration boiled over, his words dripping with exasperation. "It's not just folklore, Roy. It's real. Demons have been meddling with humans since the dawn of time, leaving behind a trail of tainted bloodlines.” His explanation hung heavy in the air, punctuated by a curse muttered under his breath. The thought of such dark lineage coursing through someone's veins sent a chill down his spine. “Those with even a drop of demonic ancestry can sometimes wield powers beyond comprehension."

John's voice cut through the tension like a blade, his tone laced with finality. "Whoever is behind these rituals isn't just some ordinary human. They're a hybrid, a twisted fusion of demon and human. And they're dangerous."

"Damn," Jason muttered under his breath, his frustration evident in his tone. "How could we have missed this? How could we not have seen the signs earlier?"

John's voice cut through the tension, sharp and resolute. "It doesn't matter now. What matters is stopping whoever—or whatever—is behind these rituals before more innocent lives are lost."

Roy's suggestion hit them like a brick, making us all sit up straight. He looked nervous as hell, eyes flicking between us like he was hoping for someone to shoot down his theory. "What if this hybrid is trying to earn his dad's approval or something? You know, like trying to impress him by wreaking havoc on our world?" Roy blurted out, his voice laced with uncertainty.

The idea hung in the air like a bad smell, making us all uneasy. Thinking that this demonic-human hybrid could be the spawn of Chorozone himself? It sent a chill down their spines just thinking about it.

Jason's face darkened at the mention of Chorozone, and you could tell he wasn't messing around. The Duke of Hell was no joke, and the thought of going up against his kid was enough to make anyone sweat bullets. Jason shot John a worried glance, and from the look on his face, he was feeling the same way.

John's expression had turned serious, his brow furrowed deep in thought. Chorozone wasn't your run-of-the-mill demon; he was top-tier, the real deal. If his offspring was anything like him, we were in for a world of hurt. They knew they had their work cut out for them if they were going to take down this hybrid spawn of Chorozone. It was gonna be one hell of a fight, that was for sure.

Chapter Text

The rest of the night was pretty tense, and somehow, Constantine managed to get to the kitchen before Jason. He was busy popping trays of bacon into the oven when Jason came up the stairs and did a double take.

"John?" Jason asked, still half-asleep.

"Morning, kiddo. Just getting the bacon going," Constantine said casually. "I already cracked the eggs, and they’re ready to scramble once the bacon’s halfway done. I was debating between pancakes or French toast, but since I put the hash browns in already, maybe just regular toast?"

“Uh, I think toast’s good,” Jason said, his eyes glued to John, who was now pouring tea and fixing it just the way Jason liked. He set it on the counter and pulled out a couple loaves of bread for toasting, along with some shredded cheese.

Jason took the tea, still looking a bit confused, and sat down on a stool. Constantine got busy with a large skillet, adding a splash of olive oil and a couple pats of butter. He checked on the hash browns and bacon, flipping the hash browns and pulling out the bacon tray to sprinkle a bit of brown sugar on it before sliding it back into the oven. Then he grabbed a whisk, gave it a rinse, and started whisking the eggs.

Jason watched in awe. Constantine gave the eggs a final check, then dripped a drop into the pan. When it hissed, he poured in the eggs and started stirring with a heat-proof spatula, moving them around until they were just right. He scooped some scrambled eggs into one bowl, added cheese, and stirred it in before transferring everything to a second bowl. He covered both bowls with lids and left them on the counter, then started making toast.

“Anyone else up?” Constantine asked casually.

“Dami and Billy are already at Nanda Parbat Academy for Magic,” Jason said with a grimace. “Roy’s taking Lian to school. They’ll be staying at the academy dorms for a while until we sort things out. It’s safer for them to apparate to class.”

“Good call,” Constantine said, whistling a tune as he finished up breakfast.

Just then, the door opened, and Roy walked in, taking in the scene with wide eyes. He slid into the seat next to Jason. Constantine handed him a cup of coffee and grabbed a bottle of juice for Jason, who had finished his tea.

“He can cook?” Roy whispered to Jason, completely surprised.

“I know, right?” Jason whispered back, still in shock.

“Of course, I can cook!” Constantine grumbled from the stove. “Been doing it since before either of you were born. Now eat up—we’ve got a lot to figure out!”

They ate in silence for a while, until Roy broke it with a puzzled look. “Why sacrifice kids?” he asked, confusion clear in his voice. “Wouldn’t it be smarter to go after older witches or warlocks who have more power?”

Jason looked uncomfortable, but it was Constantine who jumped in to explain. “Because kids are innocent,” John said, taking a bite of his toast. “That innocence is powerful in magic. It’s not just about being untouched—it’s about having a pure kind of magic that hasn’t been messed up by darker stuff.”

Roy frowned, still trying to wrap his head around it. Jason, ever the teacher, tried to make it clearer. “Think of it like this,” he said, his voice soothing. “Purity in magic is like starting with a clean slate. The cleaner the slate, the stronger the magic. When someone’s intentions are pure, their spells and rituals work better. Sacrificing kids taps into that purity and makes the dark magic even more potent.”

Roy’s face grew serious as he started to understand the twisted logic behind the dark rituals. The room fell silent again, just the clinking of cutlery filling the space.

“Children represent new beginnings and potential,” Constantine added, breaking the silence. “Their innocence can make magical rituals much more powerful. It’s like their pure presence boosts whatever the ritual is trying to achieve.”

Roy’s eyes widened with dread. “So, Chorozone’s kid is using this to give his father a new body and life on Earth.”

Jason’s face showed deep concern as he processed Roy and John’s explanation. “It’s messed up, man,” he said quietly. “But yeah, it makes sense. They’re twisting magic to reach their messed-up goals.”

“It’s like messing with the very core of innocence and hope,” Constantine said quietly, his voice a mix of sadness and frustration. “Kids symbolize new starts, growth, and untapped potential. When they’re used in these rituals, it makes the magic way more intense.”

Roy suddenly jumped up, looking between Jason and John with a panicked expression. “Does this mean Billy and Damian are in danger?” he blurted out. “They’re both magical kids!”

Jason quickly shook his head, trying to calm Roy down. “No, they should be okay,” he said, trying to sound reassuring. “For the ritual to work, they need magical kids tied to specific ley lines between Gotham and Metropolis.”

Roy looked relieved but was still worried. “But what about Billy? He’s the Champion of Magic,” he pointed out, clearly concerned.

Jason nodded, acknowledging the concern. “Yeah, but Billy’s connected to the Rock of Eternity,” he explained. “That connection should keep him out of danger.”

Roy relaxed a bit, but still looked concerned about Damian. “What about Damian?” he asked. “He’s a Wayne, but he’s also got some Al Ghul blood.”

Jason’s face turned serious. “Damian’s tied to Nanda Parbat and Infinity Island,” he said. “His Al Ghul blood does give him some magic, but it also connects him to those places. As long as he stays clear of the ley lines Chorozone’s kid is targeting, he should be fine.”

“Your kids might be safe, but a lot of others are still at risk,” Constantine reminded them. “We need to get a plan together, and fast.”

Seo-joon walked into the Nanda Parbat Academy library, and as always, he felt a rush of awe at the sight. The soaring ceilings and elaborate carvings were impressive, but it was the moving bookshelves and magical atmosphere that really blew him away. 

He wandered deeper into the library, taking in the sheer number of magical texts, from ancient Egyptian scrolls to old grimoires written in Latin. It was like a treasure chest of knowledge, holding secrets from across history. He ran his fingers over the book spines, feeling the weight of centuries of magical wisdom. Each book was like a puzzle waiting to be solved.

As he touched an old tome, a mix of anticipation and anxiety bubbled up inside him. He was about to enter his fifth year, a big deal for his magical education. Soon, he'd have to take a bunch of tests that would determine if he could move on to more advanced classes. It was a critical moment, and the pressure was starting to get to him. The thought of not making the cut was stressful, especially knowing these tests would decide if he could keep up with the more challenging material.

Seo-joon knew these tests were important. Magic was no joke—it's powerful and dangerous if not handled right. The tests were a way to make sure only the most skilled students moved forward.

He buried himself in his books, each page a challenge and each spell a new hurdle to jump. Despite his efforts, he couldn't help but feel like he was always a step behind his best friend, Billy.

Billy Head seemed to live in the library. Seo-joon couldn't remember the last time he saw Billy anywhere else. The kid was always buried in books, surrounded by towering stacks of them that he called his own.

Seo-joon couldn’t shake the nagging worry he felt for Billy. It wasn’t like Billy to stay holed up in the dorm all the time, especially with that intense look in his eyes. Something was off, and Seo-joon’s concern was growing.

He wandered through the library, scanning the rows of bookshelves, and his heart sank when he spotted Billy in a dark corner. The dim glow of Lumos was casting long, spooky shadows over the piles of books surrounding him. Seo-joon approached, trying to keep his anxiety in check.

As he got closer, he glanced at the titles sprawled out on Billy’s table: *The Power of Purity*, *The Growth of the Magical Cores of Children*, *Sacrificial Rituals*, *Power of Death and Life*. Each title made Seo-joon’s stomach drop.

What was Billy getting into?

The more Seo-joon looked, the more uneasy he became. This wasn’t just some academic curiosity—this was seriously dark and dangerous stuff. Then it hit him: his Umma had mentioned a bunch of magical kids being killed in New Jersey. The connection made his worry spike even more. Was Billy in danger? What the heck was happening in New Jersey?

Seo-joon’s heart was racing as he confronted Billy, his voice a mix of fear and frustration. “Billy! What the heck is going on?” he demanded, unable to hide the concern in his voice. “What are you researching? Did you forget that Red Ghoul warned us about sacrificial magic?”

Billy’s eyes went wide with surprise. He looked like a deer caught in headlights, and Seo-joon could see the guilt all over his face. “I… I’m just helping Madame Xanadu with some research,” Billy said, his voice wavering under Seo-joon’s intense stare. But Seo-joon wasn’t buying it for a second.

Seo-joon walked into the library at Nanda Parbat Academy for Magic, feeling that familiar awe as he took in the impressive surroundings. The towering shelves, the moving books—it all seemed to have a magic of its own. But today, he was on a mission, looking for Billy who had been spending more and more time here lately.

When Seo-joon finally spotted Billy in a dim corner, hunched over a pile of books, his heart sank. The titles laid out on the table sent a shiver down his spine: *The Power of Purity*, *Sacrificial Rituals*, *The Growth of the Magical Cores of Children*. What was Billy getting into?

Seo-joon’s worry was palpable as he approached, trying to keep his voice steady. "Billy, what’s going on? Why are you researching this stuff? Did you forget about what Red Ghoul warned us about sacrificial magic?"

Billy looked up, caught off guard. He tried to play it cool, but his nervousness was clear. "Uh, I'm helping Madame Xanadu with some research," he said, though Seo-joon could tell he wasn’t being entirely honest.

Seo-joon decided to go along with the cover story for now. "Oh, really? What’s she got you looking into?"

Billy seemed relieved for the change of subject. "Red Ghoul’s trying to set a trap without putting any magical kids at risk. He’s out of ideas, and Madame Xanadu thought I could help."

Seo-joon nodded, taking in the information. "So, there are all these different catalysts in rituals, right? Life and purity are pretty powerful ones, especially together."

Billy’s expression brightened. "Exactly. That’s why magical kids are being targeted. They represent purity."

Seo-joon thought for a second, then asked, "What if they’re trying to make a bigger target out of whoever’s behind this? Have you heard of the Heart Purification Ritual?"

Billy frowned, clearly unfamiliar with it. "Heart Purification Ritual? What’s that?"

Seo-joon explained, "Back in Korea, before the Hunters and all that, witches and wizards used to go through this ritual before their wedding. It was supposed to symbolize purity. It’s kinda outdated now, though."

Billy’s eyes widened in surprise. "I didn’t know that. That’s… interesting."

Seo-joon chuckled a bit. "Yeah, it’s pretty old-fashioned and was outlawed a long time ago. But it might be just what Red Ghoul needs. If someone went through it, they'd become really pure—maybe even a bigger target because their magic would be stronger."

Billy’s face lit up with excitement. "That’s a great idea! Do you have the ritual details?"

Seo-joon shook his head, grinning. "Not on me, but I can ask my mom. She’s a historian and knows a lot about magical history. She might have something that could help us."

Billy's sudden appearance in the magic room at Fawcett House caught Roy, Jason, and Constantine off guard. Jason’s shock quickly turned to frustration. “What are you doing here?” he snapped, clearly upset. “I told you to stay in Nanda Parbat! You’d be safer there!”

Billy, however, wasn’t fazed. He turned to Constantine, knowing he’d get a more level-headed response. “I know how to lure Chorozone's child into a trap,” he said, his voice full of confidence.

Roy’s eyes widened in surprise. “How do you know about Chorozone's child?” he asked, his voice mixed with disbelief. “And how did you know we were planning to trap him?”

Billy shot Roy a look that could only be described as classic Talia Al Ghul, deadpan and unflinching. “I’m the Champion of Magic,” he said simply. “Super hearing is kind of a given.”

Jason groaned, running a hand through his hair in frustration. “Smart ass,” he muttered. “I try to be a good guardian, and now I’ve got two little brothers making me gray before I’m even thirty.”

Constantine rolled his eyes at Jason’s drama and turned back to Billy with a raised eyebrow. “Alright, what’s your plan, then?” he asked, gruff but not unfriendly.

Billy grinned, standing a bit taller as he laid out his proposal. “The Heart Purification Ritual,” he announced, his eyes shining with determination. He handed over a sheet with the ritual’s step-by-step instructions.

Roy’s gaze shifted between the paper and Billy, a mix of concern and resolve on his face. “You’re sure about this?” he asked, uncertainty in his voice.

Billy met Roy’s gaze head-on, his eyes fierce. “We have to try,” he said firmly. “If it means stopping Chorozone's child and saving those magical kids, it’s worth the risk.”

Jason clenched his jaw, his fists tightening. “We don’t have much time,” he said urgently. “We need to act fast. The next full moon is in a couple of days.”

“I’ve got all the ingredients at The Rock of Eternity,” Billy said, his excitement evident.

Even though the situation was serious, Billy felt a surge of excitement. Being the Champion of Magic for five years had made him eager to finally make a real difference. Jason had kept him out of the hero stuff until he turned eighteen, which Billy understood, but it didn’t stop him from wanting to help out.

There were times before, like when Batman was dealing with time sickness, when Billy wished he could have done more. But now, he could actually play a key role. He was ready to gather the ingredients, perform the ritual, and help catch Chorozone’s kid.

“How did we not think of this before?” Constantine laughed in disbelief. “Go for it, kid!”

Billy’s excitement was palpable. “SHAZAM!” he shouted, the magic zapping through him as he transformed into Leukós. In a flash, his normal clothes were swapped for his white and gold suit, his muscles bulging with newfound power.

With a grin stretching from ear to ear, Leukós didn’t waste any time. He flicked his wrist, summoned lightning, and zipped off to the Rock of Eternity. The thrill of magic buzzing through him sent a shiver of excitement down his spine. As he arrived at the Rock, he felt a surge of determination.

Leukós moved quickly, scanning the room for the ingredients he needed: 2 bulbs of hemlock root, a pinch of Myrrh resin, 6 oz. of Lausenschlange oil, a vial of Pseudomonas aeruginosa, a handful of Mullein, and a few clumps of Gum arabic.

Once he had everything, he got to work. With practiced ease, he mixed the first three ingredients over high heat until they started to boil.

Handling the vial of Pseudomonas aeruginosa carefully, he added a few drops at a time, stirring as the potion began to turn a faint pink. He kept at it, adding the remaining ingredients, watching as the mixture thickened and took on a light pinkish-white hue.

After letting the potion simmer for a few more minutes to make sure it was just right, he took it off the heat. He bottled it up, sealing it tightly to keep it potent. 

Holding the finished potion, Leukós felt a wave of satisfaction. This was their best shot at setting a trap for Chorozone's child, and he was ready to see it through. With the potion in hand, they were one step closer to hitting their goal.

Chapter Text

Roy and Jason were in the kitchen, the cozy glow of the light making the space feel warm and inviting. Roy, eager but a bit clumsy, followed Jason's cooking instructions as best as he could, though sometimes his enthusiasm got the better of him. Jason, both amused and patient, guided him through the steps.

"Careful with the onion, Roy," Jason said, watching Roy's somewhat haphazard chopping. "We want them diced, not minced."

Roy looked up, grinning sheepishly. "Sorry, Jay. I got carried away. But hey, it's just rustic style," he said, showing off the uneven pieces.

Jason laughed, shaking his head. "Rustic, huh? Well, as long as they cook evenly. Just don't chop off a finger, alright?"

As Roy kept chopping, Jason moved in close, wrapping his arms around Roy's waist. Roy leaned back into the embrace, smiling softly at the feeling of Jason's warmth.

"You're getting the hang of it, Roy," Jason murmured, his breath tickling Roy's ear. "But seriously, safety first. No kitchen accidents on my watch."

Roy nodded, enjoying the closeness. "Got it, Chef Jase," he replied with a grin.

With one hand on Roy's, Jason guided the knife, showing him the right way to slice tomatoes. Roy followed, finding the rhythm calming as they worked together.

Roy paused, a mischievous glint in his eye as he looked over his shoulder at Jason. "You know, Jase, I can't help but notice your hands are wandering."

Jason chuckled, his lips brushing Roy's ear. "Just making sure you're focused, sweetheart," he said playfully.

Roy smirked, turning to face Jason. "Hmm, well, I guess I can't complain about that," he said, leaning in for a quick kiss.

Jason grinned, kissing him back before stepping away slightly. "Alright, let's finish these veggies before they think we've abandoned them."

Suddenly, Billy burst into the kitchen, cringing at the sight of the two being affectionate. "Ew, okay, stop! Here’s the ritual, take it! I'm heading back to Nanda Parbat!" he exclaimed, slamming a jar on the countertop before disappearing in a flash, leaving Jason and Roy stunned.

Jason couldn't help but laugh at Billy's dramatic exit, exchanging an amused glance with Roy. Roy joined in, their laughter filling the kitchen as they processed what had just happened. But as the laughter died down, Jason's expression turned serious. He picked up the jar Billy had left behind, a sense of determination settling over him.

"You better call John. We’ve got the ritual, and we're ready to trick Chorozone’s kid. The full moon is tomorrow," Jason said, his voice firm.

Roy nodded, the weight of their mission sinking in again. He grabbed his phone, dialing John's number to set their plan into motion. But as they waited for John, Roy couldn't shake the worry gnawing at him. He turned to Jason, his brow furrowed with concern.

"Jay, are we sure there's no other way to trick Chorozone's kid?" Roy asked, his voice shaky. The idea of Jason diving headfirst into danger made his heart pound with fear. He couldn't imagine life without him.

Jason's expression softened, his eyes mirroring Roy's concern. He took Roy's hand, trying to offer some comfort. "I know, Roy. But this is our best shot," Jason replied, his tone gentle but firm.

"Why can't Constantine be the one who drinks this Heart Purification potion?" Roy asked, uncertainty in his voice.

Jason thought for a moment, his face serious. "Honestly, I think John would die if he drank that," he said, his tone grave. "And let's face it, his soul's been sold so many times to demons that it's probably worthless at this point."

Roy shuddered at the thought. "Yeah, that makes sense," he muttered, though the unease still gnawed at him. Constantine was unpredictable, his motives murky and his allegiances constantly shifting.

Roy squeezed Jason's hand tightly, his mind racing with worries. The thought of losing Jason was unbearable. "I don't know if I can handle it, Jay. I don't know if I can survive if something happens to you," Roy admitted, his voice barely above a whisper.

Jason's heart ached at Roy's words, the depth of his love for him washing over him like a wave. He pulled Roy into a tight embrace, holding him close as if he could protect him from all the dangers they faced.

"We'll get through this together, Roy. I promise," Jason murmured, his voice filled with determination. "This mission is bigger than just us. We're fighting to protect everyone, to stop something terrible from happening."

Roy nodded, finding comfort in Jason's words. He knew they had to do whatever it took to stop Chorozone's kid, no matter the risks. As they waited for John to arrive, Roy clung to Jason's words, hoping they would be enough to get them through the challenges ahead.

Jason let go of Roy and knelt before him, making Roy's heart skip a beat. His breath caught in his throat as he watched Jason take his hands, pressing them against his lips with a reverence that left Roy speechless.

"Roy, will you marry me?" Jason asked, his voice filled with sincerity and love.

"What?" Roy stammered, his mind struggling to process Jason's unexpected proposal. He blinked in confusion, his eyes wide.

Jason chuckled at Roy's reaction, a warm smile on his lips. He took a deep breath, his gaze never leaving Roy's. "John already revealed that my magic has made a home in your non-magical core, Roy. Which is the first step in bonding a magical being with one who doesn't have magic," Jason explained. "And this ritual? It's actually the first step in a magical marriage ceremony."

Roy's eyes widened as the realization hit him. His heart swelled with emotion. He felt the familiar rush of Jason’s magic flood through him, warming him to the core.

"Marry me," Jason repeated, his eyes sparkling with love.

Tears welled up in Roy's eyes as he nodded, unable to find the words to express his overwhelming joy and love. He reached out to Jason, pulling him into a tight embrace.

"Yes," Roy whispered, his voice choked with emotion. "Yes, I'll marry you."

Jason's face lit up with joy as he stood, his eyes shining with happiness. He leaned in, pressing a tender kiss to Roy's lips before sweeping him off his feet and spinning him around the kitchen. Roy laughed, the sound bubbling up from deep within him as he wrapped his arms around Jason, feeling lighter than air.

The magic room in the Fawcett House buzzed with excitement as friends and family gathered to watch Roy and Jason's wedding. Talia, Nyssa, Nika, Damian, Billy, Lian, Madame Xanadu, Constantine, and a few others stood around, all smiles and bright eyes. Roy and Jason faced each other in the center of a shimmering arcane circle, the ancient runes glowing with magical energy.

Jason's hands started to glow with a soft light, and the magic flowed from him, blending with the symbols around them. He and Roy exchanged a smile, hearts full of happiness.

Constantine couldn’t resist a quip. "You two are bloody mad... I like it!" he said with a twinkle in his eye, earning laughs from everyone. Even Talia, who usually had little patience for Constantine's antics, let it slide this time, too happy to be annoyed.

Billy beamed with pride, feeling accomplished. Damian and Lian, the youngest in the group, were practically bouncing with excitement, thrilled at the idea of officially becoming a family.

Madame Xanadu stepped forward to officiate, holding out a beautifully woven rope. Roy and Jason took it, their fingers shaking a little from the nerves. As they tied knots, their movements were slow and deliberate, blending their souls and energies in a way that went beyond the ordinary.

The room fell silent, the only sound the soft rustling of the rope. Everyone watched, captivated by the magic of the moment. For Roy and Jason, it felt like time had stopped, their whole world shrinking down to just the two of them. Nothing else mattered but their love.

When the last knot was tied, Jason looked expectantly at Madame Xanadu. She handed him the jar containing the Heart Purification Ritual, the liquid inside shimmering faintly. Jason hesitated, heart pounding. He knew what he was about to do wouldn’t be easy.

Taking a deep breath, Jason drank the potion, his throat tightening as he swallowed. For a moment, nothing happened. Jason looked around, confused. Then, suddenly, he dropped to his knees, a silent cry of pain escaping his lips.

The room buzzed with concern as everyone moved forward, worried about Jason. Madame Xanadu held up a hand to stop them, her calm presence keeping everyone at bay. They watched in tense silence as Jason's body tensed and his face twisted in pain.

Roy felt a wave of terror as he watched Jason struggle. He wanted to rush to his side, but Madame Xanadu's authority kept him rooted in place. Jason's face turned ashen, his body shaking from the intensity of the ritual. For a moment, it seemed like he might not make it. But then, slowly, color returned to his cheeks, and the tension eased. With great effort, Jason stood, legs trembling but with a reassuring smile on his face.

Relief washed over Roy, his fear melting away. He smiled back at Jason, feeling the weight lift from his shoulders. The room let out a collective sigh of relief, and the tension disappeared like mist in the morning sun. Their family gathered around them, their faces lit with gratitude and love.

Madame Xanadu continued the ceremony, her voice resonating as she spoke the sacred words. "In nomine amoris et magicae aeternae, in aeternum coniunguntur," she intoned, her eyes glowing with the moment's power. (In the name of eternal love and magic, they are forever joined.)

Jason and Roy exchanged glances, their hearts pounding with anticipation. Jason took Roy's hand and spoke his vow, "Promitto te diligere, protegere, et semper adesse," he said, the words flowing effortlessly. (I promise to love, protect, and always be with you.)

Roy's eyes filled with tears of joy as he responded, "Promitto te amare, honorem, et in luctibus et gaudiis tecum manere," he declared, his voice trembling with emotion. (I promise to love, honor, and to stay with you in sorrows and joys.)

Their promises hung in the air, infused with magic. The room pulsed with energy as they leaned in to seal their vows with a tender kiss, their hearts beating as one.

Madame Xanadu smiled. "May your love be a beacon in the darkness, guiding you through all the trials and triumphs that lie ahead," she said, her words filled with blessing and hope.

As Roy and Jason stepped out of the circle, Lian rushed into Roy's arms, her laughter filling the room as she hugged him tightly. Constantine clapped Roy on the back with a grin. "Well, well, looks like you've gone and done it, mate!" he exclaimed.

Talia embraced Jason tightly, whispering words of pride and affection. Damian and Billy stood beside them, sharing the moment as a family. Jason hugged his mother back, his heart overflowing with gratitude. "I couldn't have done it without you, Mom," he murmured, his voice filled with emotion. "Thank you for everything."

Nika and Nyssa approached the newlyweds with warm smiles. Nyssa hugged Jason tightly. "Congratulations, Jason," she said, her words heartfelt. "We're so happy for you both."

Nika hugged Roy. "Congratulations, Roy," she said, her voice filled with sincerity. "You make a wonderful couple."

Roy and Jason exchanged glances, their hearts full of love and gratitude for their family's support. The heartwarming scene was interrupted when Constantine clapped his hands. “As beautiful as the wedding had been, we have a crucial task to accomplish.” His tone was sharp, a stark contrast to the warmth of the ceremony.

Damian, Billy, Lian, and Nika grumbled, reluctant to leave, but they knew they had no choice. They followed the others, their steps heavy with disappointment.

Nyssa reassured Jason with a gentle smile. “I promise you that everyone will be safe on Infinity Island. I’ll protect them with my life.” Jason nodded, but there was a flicker of worry in his eyes as he watched them go.

Roy hesitated, torn between logic and his desire to stay with Jason. He knew he wouldn't be much help in the upcoming mission, but leaving Jason behind felt like abandoning him. With a heavy sigh, he kissed Jason goodbye, promising to return soon.

Jason held onto Roy's hand tightly, his own heart heavy with worry. "Be careful," he urged. "The only way I will be able to focus tonight is if I know you and the kids are safe.”

Roy nodded, his eyes filled with determination. "I will keep them safe," he promised, squeezing Jason's hand before joining the others.

John opened a portal, and one by one, they disappeared, leaving only Jason and Constantine behind. Constantine's smirk widened as he turned to Jason, his eyes gleaming with anticipation.

"It's finally time," Constantine declared maniacally.

Jason carefully etched magical glyphs on the dusty floor of the old building, each symbol crackling with energy. The room buzzed with the power of his work, shadows dancing on the worn walls.

Stepping back, Jason's heart raced. He hoped the ritual circle would stop Chorozone's child. Hiding in the shadows, he waited, dread creeping in.

Then, he felt it—a ripple of dark energy. The child of Chorozone was close. Muscles tensed, Jason watched, ready to act.

From the darkness, the child appeared, eyes blazing with otherworldly power. They stepped into the circle, activating the glyphs. Magic filled the air, light engulfing the child as they struggled, cries echoing through the building.

Jason's heart pounded with fear and relief. The child was trapped, their power neutralized by the glyphs.

Jason and Constantine huddled in the shadows, speaking in urgent whispers, a sense of unease hanging over them.

"This feels too easy, John," Jason muttered, eyes narrowing as he watched the child struggle in the circle.

Constantine frowned, deep in thought. "Aye, it does. But sometimes, things just fall into place. Doesn’t mean we shouldn’t be careful."

Jason nodded, jaw clenched. "I can't shake the feeling there’s more to this. What if they have some trick up their sleeve?"

Constantine shook his head, grim. "Nah, it's the Heart Purification Ritual. It's got 'em hooked. No need for tricks when you’ve got a powerful spell doing the work."

Despite Constantine's reassurances, doubt lingered in Jason's mind. The child's blood-red eyes unsettled him deeply.

But watching the creature struggle, Jason knew they couldn't let their guard down. Whatever lay ahead, they'd face it together, armed with determination and resolve.

"It's those eyes, John," Jason muttered, barely audible. "They're just... wrong."

John's face hardened, determined. "We'll handle it. Let's focus on keeping this bugger contained."

With a nod to Constantine, Jason stepped out of the shadows, standing before the child of Chorozone.

"Bloody hell!" Constantine spat, frustration and disbelief etched on his face. "Ghoul, this one’s gone."

Jason snapped his attention to Constantine, urgency in his eyes. "What do you mean she's gone?"

Constantine took a drag from his cigarette, exhaling smoke with a grave expression. "She was probably a regular girl until the night terrors took over."

"Night terrors?" Jason's brow furrowed, mind racing. "Like what happened to Etrigan?"

Constantine nodded grimly. "Exactly. Etrigan got hit until he was halfway to crazy, just to make him dance to someone else's tune."

"But that didn’t work," Jason said, a flicker of hope.

Constantine leveled a stern look at Jason. "It almost did. And they didn’t have a blood link to Etrigan. But she—" He pointed to the girl. "—she’s tied by blood to a Duke of Hell. You're an Al Ghul, Jason. You know what that means."

Jason turned pale, stomach churning. "If she's being forced into this, maybe we could get Zamurad involved."

Constantine raised an eyebrow, amused. "Weren't you the one who insisted Zamurad stay out of this?"

Jason glared at him. "I did, and I stand by it. But in a controlled environment, it's different. Just like with Talon. Only Zamurad can help her."

Constantine snorted, a grin on his lips. "You're right. Physical and spiritual necromancers are a dime a dozen, but blood necromancers? Rare as hen's teeth. And finding any necromancer is like finding a needle in a haystack. House Al Ghul is like a legend!"

His laughter echoed, filling the room with macabre energy. "And Zamurad wants to specialize in Magizoology! Bloody brilliant!"

Jason shook his head, rolling his eyes. "Let's get her secured. I'll arrange things with Madame Xanadu. She must know a place where I can keep her until we find a cure."

Suddenly, Batman crashed through a window, glass exploding everywhere. Shards scattered like glittering knives, disrupting the carefully inscribed glyphs on the floor. Their protective magic was undone in an instant.

Jason's eyes widened in shock and disbelief. How could his father, the Dark Knight, be so reckless? He wanted to berate Batman for his impulsiveness, but there was no time.

Constantine's face contorted in fury. "You bloody arsehole!" he snarled at Batman.

But as the child of Chorozone broke free, her eyes blazing with malevolence, all thoughts of reproach vanished. The only thing that mattered now was survival.

Chapter Text

The fight broke out in a whirlwind of spells and curses, magic crackling through the air. Constantine and Jason moved together seamlessly, trying to keep Batman out of the line of fire.

"Orbis!" Jason shouted, shooting a jet of light at the child of Chorozone. She was quick, though, flicking her hand to deflect it and throwing up a protective shield with a swift Protego.

Constantine followed up with a Blasting Curse, aiming to disorient her. She dodged with a dancer's grace, then retaliated with a powerful Petrificus Totalus aimed at Constantine.

Jason was there instantly, breaking the binding spell with a Finite Incantatem. The air crackled with energy as the two sides clashed, neither willing to back down.

Constantine gritted his teeth, eyes blazing as he unleashed another barrage of curses. "Stupefy!" he yelled, sending a jet of red light toward their adversary.

She barely had time to react, deflecting the spell with a Shield Charm. But Jason was already flanking her.

"Expulso!" he cried, causing a small explosion at her feet. The blast sent her stumbling back, momentarily off balance.

Batman lunged forward with a fierce roar, joining the fray. His fists flew in a blur, striking with seasoned precision. But the child of Chorozone wasn't an ordinary foe. With a flick of her hand, she conjured ropes of darkness that bound Batman in place.

Jason and Constantine exchanged sly grins seeing Batman ensnared. It was risky, but they knew Batman's interference could mess up their chances of taking her down.

Again.

So, they left Batman to his fate and got back into the fight, determined to take down their enemy for good.

"Incendio!" Jason yelled, sending a fireball at the child of Chorozone. She tried to dodge, but it grazed her, making her scream as the flames burned her side.

In retaliation, she hit back with Crucio, the Cruciatus Curse, known for its torturous effects. Constantine jumped in quickly, countering with an Aguamenti spell to break her focus by conjuring a stream of water.

Taking advantage of the distraction, Jason didn't waste a second. With a determined look, he cast Bombarda Maxima, causing a huge explosion that shook the old building. Debris flew everywhere, disorienting her for a moment. Jason and Constantine pressed their advantage, attacking in sync to keep her on the defensive.

But she was tough, her dark magic swirling around like a protective cloak. Frustrated, she fired back stronger spells, pushing them hard. Despite the odds, Jason and Constantine fought with everything they had, using all their magical skills to keep her at bay. The old building echoed with the sounds of their spells clashing.

With a furious shout, she unleashed the deadliest curse of all: "Avada Kedavra!" The Killing Curse shot toward Jason, its green light filled with deadly intent. Acting on instinct, Jason summoned a pile of debris to block it just in time.

Constantine didn't miss a beat, conjuring thick ropes to tie her down. But she wasn’t easy to hold. She struggled against the binds, her dark magic surging as she summoned shadows to obscure their vision.

Jason reacted quickly, casting Lumos Solem to disperse the shadows. Just as they started to regroup, she broke free.

"Ghoul, watch out!" Constantine yelled as she prepared to strike. But Jason was already moving, casting Impedimenta to slow her down.

She dodged the jinx with uncanny speed, retaliating with Sectumsempra, slashing out with invisible blades. Jason cried out, falling to the ground, bleeding from cuts all over.

Quick as a flash, Constantine cast Vulnera Sanentur to heal Jason's wounds. Then, he fired a freezing charm, "Glacius!" at their foe.

But she was relentless. With a sinister grin, she countered with Fiendfyre, a dark fire curse that consumed everything in its path.

Jason and Constantine knew they had to act fast. Drawing on their combined magic, they unleashed Reducto, a Blasting Curse that exploded with tremendous force. The child of Chorozone let out a demonic cry as the spells collided with her, her form engulfed in a burst of light and shadow. For a moment, the air crackled with magic as the battle reached its climax. When the dust settled, the child of Chorozone lay unconscious on the ground. Without losing momentum, they cast Fulgari, producing vicious, luminous cords to bind her arms.

Jason and Constantine exchanged solemn looks as a heavy silence settled over the abandoned building. They both understood the gravity of what they had just done. This wasn’t how they had envisioned the battle ending, but circumstances had forced their hand. The binds they had conjured were only temporary, and they knew the child of Chorozone would break free soon enough. It was a grim realization, but they both knew it was the only humane course of action. Ending her life quickly and painlessly was the most merciful thing they could do.

With a heavy heart, Jason summoned his All-Blade and approached the fallen child of Chorozone. His hand trembled slightly as he raised the blade, his mind filled with conflicting emotions. As the blade descended, cutting through the air with a swift and decisive motion, a wave of sadness washed over Jason. This shouldn’t have ended up like this; they could have saved her. But Batman just had to get involved and screw things up. Beside him, Constantine watched in silence, his expression grave. As the life faded from the child of Chorozone, a sense of finality settled over them both.

With a heavy sigh, Jason and Constantine dropped to their knees in exhaustion. They had fought a fierce battle—physically, magically, and emotionally—and they were weary to the bone. Despite the toll it had taken on them, they knew they had done what needed to be done. Amidst the sorrow and regret, there was also a sense of relief. They had succeeded in their mission, and no other magical child had died as a result.

Suddenly, Constantine tensed and stood up, casting a Flipendo jinx that knocked an approaching body backward. Jason raised an eyebrow when he saw the body was Batman. Constantine's jaw clenched with anger as he watched Batman rise from the ground, his eyes blazing with fury. The realization that Batman had been freed from his binds the moment the child of Chorozone died only fueled Constantine's rage further.

Jason, standing beside him, raised a skeptical eyebrow, his expression a mixture of annoyance and resignation. He knew there would be no reasoning with Batman, not now.

"So, ruining our plans and getting this poor girl killed wasn’t enough for you," Constantine seethed, his voice laced with bitterness. "You had to bloody attack us now?"

Batman's glare hardened, his fists clenched at his sides. "At least I'm not a murderer!" he retorted, his voice dripping with accusation.

Jason let out a bitter laugh, the sound tinged with a hint of hysteria. "You’re really a piece of work, Bats," he said, shaking his head in disbelief. "Truly one of a kind."

He took a step forward, his eyes flashing with anger as he met Batman's gaze head-on. "You tell me you’re happy for me and accept me, even when I tell you I wouldn’t stop killing if I thought it was needed. Yet here you go, calling me a murderer like a goddamn hypocrite."

Jason's frustration was raw and unfiltered. "You know what the worst part is?" he said, his voice trembling with anger. "She didn’t have to die. We had a way to contain her, to give us time to find a solution, but you ruined it."

Jason's fists clenched at his sides, the weight of their actions pressing down on him. "And yeah," he admitted, voice barely above a whisper, "it burns to know we could have saved her. But it’s better than letting her escape and kill another magical child."

He took a deep breath, his chest heaving. "We make the hard decisions when we have to. That’s the difference between us."

Jason fell silent, staring Batman down. The tension between them was thick, a rift widening with every word.

Batman's jaw tightened, eyes narrowing. "You think you have the right to decide who lives and dies?" he shot back, voice cold. "You're no better than the criminals you fight."

Jason laughed bitterly. "You’re a real piece of work, Bats," he said, shaking his head. "You tell me you’re happy for me, that you accept me, even when I say I won’t stop killing if it's necessary. Then you call me a murderer."

Batman's fists clenched. "You're just a kid playing at being a hero," he spat. "You have no idea what it means to be responsible."

Jason's eyes blazed with rage. "I may be young, but I've faced more pain and loss than you can imagine," he shot back. "I've made the hard choices you’re too scared to make."

"You think you have the moral high ground?" Batman sneered. "You don't know what it means to truly protect people."

Jason's nails dug into his palms as he fought to keep his temper in check. "And you do?" he spat. "You hide behind a mask and a cape, thinking you're above the law."

The tension crackled between them. Each word was a dagger, slicing through the air.

"You're nothing but a criminal pretending to be a hero," Batman said coldly. "A stain on everything I stand for."

Jason's chest heaved with suppressed rage. "And what do you stand for?" he retorted. "Control? Fear? You're not a hero, Batman. You're a tyrant."

The words hung between them, charged with emotion and bitterness. The air crackled with tension.

"You'll never understand what it means to truly protect people," Batman growled. "You're just a lost cause, Ghoul. A lost cause."

Jason's body trembled with anger. "I may have made mistakes, but at least I admit them," he snapped, voice cracking. "I face the consequences of my actions."

“Both of you, shut the fuck up!” Constantine growled, cutting through the heated argument.

Jason and Batman turned toward Constantine, ready to argue, but Constantine’s focus was on the corpse of the child of Chorozone. Her skin was boiling, radiating heat.

“Everyone get down, it’s about to explode!” Constantine's voice was urgent. He pushed Jason and Batman away, trying to shield them.

Jason stumbled back, confusion and concern replacing his fury. Batman hesitated but recognized the urgency in Constantine’s tone.

But it was too late. A deafening explosion tore through the air, shattering glass and crumbling debris.

Everything went black as the force of the explosion engulfed them.

Bruce shifted uncomfortably in his hospital bed, wincing as he felt every ache and pain. His head pounded with each movement, a constant reminder of the concussion he'd gotten. The cracked ribs jolted with every breath, and his broken leg, wrapped in a heavy cast, left him unable to move.

The explosion had left Bruce battered, but the real damage was done to Constantine and Jason. The dark magic from the blast had put them into a deep sleep, and no one could wake them. Madame Xanadu had taken them to Nanda Parbat, working non-stop to heal them and break the magical coma.

As Bruce lay there brooding, he couldn’t shake the guilt eating at him. The explosion had been his fault, a result of his own rash actions and failure to control his temper. He felt responsible for the injuries Constantine and Jason were dealing with.

Clark and Diana stood by his bedside, their faces a mix of frustration and concern. Diana's eyes were blazing with anger, and Bruce knew that if Clark hadn’t been there to hold her back, she’d have let him have it.

Clark's face was full of disappointment. His usually bright eyes now showed a deep sadness that tugged at Bruce’s heart. Bruce could see the pain in Clark’s eyes, the hurt from seeing someone he respected make such reckless choices.

Feeling the weight of their disappointment, Bruce looked away. He couldn’t bear to meet their eyes, knowing he’d let them down. He was supposed to be their protector, the one who kept them safe, and now he was here, injured in a hospital bed while his son suffered far worse.

As Bruce lay there, surrounded by the aftermath of his mistakes, he wondered how things had gone so wrong. He’d let his anger control him, let his emotions cloud his judgment. Now, facing the wreckage of his choices, he realized just how much damage he’d caused.

Diana was seething as she laid into Bruce. "Bruce," she snapped, her voice cold, "you’ve really crossed the line. You were told to stay away from magical stuff, but you didn’t listen—not once, but twice. And guess what? Red Ghoul and Constantine saved your butt both times." Her eyes were on fire as she continued, "You’ve put yourself and everyone else in danger."

Bruce flinched, the reminder that his son had almost died again stinging him deeply. Diana didn’t care about his reaction and pressed on. "Now the Justice League Dark is livid. Your interference messed up our plans and nearly got Red Ghoul and Constantine killed. You’re done, Bruce. From now on, Batman is benched."

Bruce stared at her, a mix of confusion and worry in his eyes. "Benched? What does that even mean?"

Diana’s smirk was cold satisfaction. "It means exactly what you’ve done to Gotham. No heroes allowed there, so Batman’s not allowed anywhere else. You’re benched from all Justice League missions and any covert ops outside Gotham. Batman is benched."

All the guilt Bruce had felt before was gone, replaced by a blazing anger. "I’ve dedicated my life to protecting this world!" he roared, fists clenched. "I’ve sacrificed everything, and this is my reward?"

Diana didn’t flinch, her eyes flashing with defiance. "Protecting? You’ve gone way too far, Bruce," she shot back, her voice sharp. "You’ve become the very thing you swore to fight."

The accusation hit Bruce hard, his chest tightening with fury. "What do you know about sacrifice?" he spat, venom in his voice. "You live in a world of gods and immortals while I’m down here doing the dirty work."

Diana’s jaw tightened, her fists balled. "Don’t you dare belittle my struggles," she snapped, voice dripping with scorn. "You think you’re the only one who’s suffered? Your pain doesn’t give you the right to endanger lives."

Bruce’s eyes blazed with rage. "You don’t get it," he growled. "You’ve never had to make the tough calls, live with the consequences."

Diana’s gaze turned icy. "And you’ve never learned from your mistakes," she retorted, her tone sharp. "You’re so blinded by your ego you can’t see the damage you’re causing."

The words hit Bruce hard, his breath catching in his throat. "I won’t stand here and be judged by you," he snarled. "I’m Batman, damn it! I answer to no one."

Diana’s eyes flashed with anger. "Then you’re no better than the villains you fight," she spat. "You’ve become a tyrant, Bruce. I won’t sit by and watch you ruin everything we’ve fought for."

"Diana, that’s enough," Clark said firmly, stepping in to calm the heated argument. He placed a hand on her shoulder, trying to defuse the situation. "You crossed a line."

Diana bristled at his touch, her eyes still blazing. "He needed to hear the truth, Clark," she shot back. "He’s lost sight of what it means to be a hero."

Clark sighed, feeling the weight of the situation. "I get it, Diana," he said gently. "But there are better ways to make your point. What you said... it was too harsh."

Clark’s face softened as he turned to Bruce, though there was a sadness in his eyes. "Bruce, I know this is tough," he said gently. "But the decision's made. Batman's stuck in Gotham, and there's no changing that."

Clark hesitated for a moment before hitting Bruce with the final blow. "And there’s one more thing," he said, his tone heavy. "The Justice League Dark put a curse on you. You won’t be able to leave Gotham, not even for work."

Bruce’s eyes widened in shock, a wave of panic rising inside him. It felt like the ground had disappeared beneath him, leaving him floating in despair. This was way worse than he’d imagined, a punishment he hadn’t seen coming.

Betrayal burned in Bruce’s chest as he looked at Clark, struggling to believe that his closest allies had done this to him. His jaw tightened, fists shaking with anger. "You can’t do this," he growled, his voice low and dangerous. "I won’t let you."

Clark’s expression softened with sympathy. "I’m sorry, Bruce," he said quietly, regret in his voice. "But this is how it has to be. The League’s made their decision."

Bruce’s eyes narrowed, fists still clenched. "You’re all against me," he said quietly. "You’re supposed to be my friends."

Clark’s heart ached seeing Bruce’s pain, but he knew this was necessary. "We are your friends, Bruce," he said, his voice firm yet gentle. "But sometimes, doing what's right means making tough choices, even if it hurts."

With a heavy heart, Clark led Diana away, leaving Bruce alone with his anger and sense of betrayal. Bruce watched them leave, the weight of their words feeling like a heavy burden on his soul. Alone and betrayed by those he trusted, he knew things would never be the same.

Jason’s head was all over the place as he tried to make sense of what had happened. Madame Xanadu’s face was right there, her warm smile a sharp contrast to the mess in his mind.

“What happened?” he croaked, his throat feeling like sandpaper.

Madame Xanadu’s voice was soothing as she explained. “The child of Chorozone had her body rigged to blow up if she died, with some nasty dark magic thrown in. We managed to lift the curse and heal you and Constantine.”

Jason felt a huge wave of relief. The thought of what could have gone wrong made him shiver, but he pushed it aside and focused on the now.

“Justice League Dark already took Constantine back to his House of Mysteries,” she continued, her tone gentle but firm. “But there are people waiting for you.”

Jason nodded, feeling a deep gratitude for Madame Xanadu’s help. As she moved away, his eyes found his siblings and Alfred. Their worried faces made his heart ache.

Trying to sit up was a struggle; his body felt like it was fighting him every step of the way. Seeing the worry on his siblings' faces made him feel guilty.

Alfred’s steady gaze met his, and Jason felt a surge of thankfulness. “We’re here for you, Master Jason,” Alfred said softly, his voice full of warmth and concern.

Jason managed a weak smile, feeling his heart swell with emotion. As his siblings gathered around him, he felt a rush of warmth. Billy, Damian, Dick, and Cass pulled him into tight hugs, their relief evident as they clung to him like they were afraid he’d vanish again. Damian was a bit standoffish at first but eventually came forward, his worry showing through.

“God, I thought we lost you,” Billy said, his voice thick with emotion.

Jason ruffled Billy’s hair with a tired smile. “Not getting rid of me that easily, Billy.”

Dick’s eyes were shiny with unshed tears as he pulled back to look at Jason. “You scared the hell out of us, Little Wing. Timmy would be here, but he thought that after your fight…”

Jason sighed, “Tell Timbo to get over himself and come visit. It takes more than one fight to scare me off.”

Cass squeezed Jason’s hand, her eyes saying everything she couldn’t. She’d always been the quiet support, and Jason was grateful for her steady presence.

Damian’s expression softened slightly as he met Jason’s gaze. “Tt. I’m relieved to see you’re okay, akhi.”

“Yeah, well, let’s not forget why I was in danger in the first place,” Jason muttered, his eyes darkening with emotion.

The reunion was a mix of relief and tension. Jason’s earlier good mood was gone, replaced by a mix of anger and hurt over Bruce’s actions.

Billy’s face darkened, sparks flickering around him as his magic reacted to his frustration. “Bruce is going to hear from all of us, no doubt.”

Dick’s jaw was set tight as he exchanged a look with Alfred, who just looked resigned. “He’s not getting off easy.”

Cass’s fists were clenched, her eyes blazing with resolve. “He needs to face the music.”

Damian’s scowl deepened, his tone dripping with contempt. “Dad’s actions were reckless and inexcusable.”

The room was thick with tension, everyone simmering with silent rage. Jason shook his head, trying to push away the weight of Bruce’s actions. He decided to switch gears. “Did anyone find out who the child of Chorozone was or where she came from?” he asked, curiosity edging his voice.

Before anyone could respond, Barbara and Tim walked in, looking grim. Barbara spoke up first, her voice steady but serious. “Her name was Emily Reynolds. She was a twenty-six-year-old from New Jersey, living a pretty normal life. No criminal record, no connections to the supernatural. From what we gathered, she started having strange dreams about a year ago.”

Tim nodded, adding to Barbara’s explanation. “Emily’s nightmares got worse over time. She tried seeing therapists and doctors, but nothing helped. About six months ago, she started isolating herself, getting paranoid, convinced that something was following her.”

Barbara continued, her face troubled. “Her friends and family saw a big change in her behavior. She started talking about ancient rituals and dark forces, saying she was being targeted by something evil. They tried to help, but she wouldn’t accept it.”

Jason listened closely, his concern evident. “Did she have any prior connections to magic or the occult before the nightmares?”

Tim shook his head. “None that we found. She was just living a normal life until these dreams began.”

Barbara sighed, her voice heavy with sadness. “Unfortunately, Emily’s descent into darkness led to her losing control, manipulated by her father’s schemes.”

Jason’s jaw tightened as he took in the information, a mix of anger and sadness welling up inside him. “Poor Emily. She didn’t stand a chance against whatever was messing with her.” He forced a smile. “Thanks for the update, Barbara. And thanks, Tim.”

Tim gave Jason a small, reassuring smile. “Of course, Jason. We’re all in this together.”

Chapter Text

The training room was buzzing with the sounds of shuffling feet and controlled breaths as Dick and Jason squared off in the center.

Dick, bouncing lightly on his toes, had a confident grin plastered on his face. He was all about agility and flexibility, moving like a dancer with his blend of capoeira and gymnastics. His every move was unpredictable, and he knew it.

Jason, meanwhile, stood firm, his muscles tensed and his fists clenched. He was all about raw power and brute force, mixed with a bit of street fighting grit.

As soon as the match kicked off, Dick was darting around, his footwork smooth and fluid. He feinted and weaved, looking for an opening. Jason stayed grounded, watching Dick carefully. Dick launched into a series of flips and cartwheels, closing the gap between them. He aimed a high kick at Jason's head, but Jason ducked under it and countered with a powerful right hook aimed at Dick’s ribs.

Dick twisted mid-air, barely avoiding the punch, and landed lightly behind Jason. He hit Jason’s back with quick strikes, targeting pressure points to weaken him. Jason shrugged off the blows and turned to face Dick with a snarl. 

Jason charged with a roar, throwing a flurry of punches. Dick danced out of reach, moving gracefully as he dodged and weaved around Jason's attacks. Dick then zipped in with a rapid series of kicks and punches, hitting vulnerable spots like Jason’s knees and solar plexus. Jason grunted with effort, blocking as best he could, and then landed a powerful uppercut that caught Dick off guard, sending him staggering.

Dick flipped backward to recover, then flashed a grin before launching into a dazzling display of acrobatics. He somersaulted through the air, raining down kicks and punches from all directions. Jason growled in frustration, swinging wildly but missing as Dick stayed just out of reach, his movements a blur of speed and grace.

Finally, Dick saw his chance. With a lightning-fast spin, he nailed Jason with a spinning hook kick right to the jaw. Jason staggered back, dazed, and collapsed to the ground. Dick stood over him, extending a hand with a triumphant gleam in his eyes. But just as he reached down, Jason seized the moment. With a burst of energy, he surged forward, catching Dick off guard. 

Dick’s eyes widened as Jason's fist connected with his stomach, knocking the wind out of him. He stumbled back, breathless, and before he could recover, Jason was on him. With a roar, Jason unleashed a barrage of punches and kicks, his strikes powerful and relentless. Dick struggled to defend himself, still reeling from the surprise attack. Each blow from Jason was bone-jarring, driving Dick into a corner. With one final, crushing uppercut, Jason sent Dick sprawling to the mat.

The training room went quiet as Dick lay there, a bit dazed and definitely beaten. Jason stood over him, catching his breath but grinning from ear to ear. After a moment, Jason reached down and offered a hand to help Dick up. They both flopped down on the benches, gulping water and wiping the sweat off their foreheads.

"Man, that was awesome," Dick said, still grinning. "I missed this, Jay."

Jason nodded, his chest still heaving from the effort. "Yeah, me too. It’s been way too long since we had a good spar."

Since Batman had been back from the timestream, they hadn’t had a chance to train together much. Today, though, they’d made time for it, just to reconnect as brothers.

When they’d finally caught their breath, they headed over to the small infirmary set up next to the training area. Jason motioned for Dick to sit on one of the benches, then grabbed the first aid kit. He got to work tending to Dick’s injuries, cleaning and dressing the cuts and bruises with careful, practiced moves. Dick winced a bit but didn’t complain, trusting his younger brother’s skills.

Once Jason finished up, it was Dick’s turn to play nurse. He inspected Jason’s wounds and applied some antiseptic where needed. Jason just sat there, relaxing as Dick worked on him.

There was a comfortable silence between them, with only the soft rustling of bandages and the occasional hum of the infirmary equipment filling the air. Jason could have used magic to heal them both, but Dick had talked him into doing it the old-school way. Dick had been feeling nostalgic about their earlier days.

As Dick worked, a question seemed to be bugging him. He finally broke the silence, his voice a bit sad. "Hey, Little Wing, why didn’t you invite me to your wedding with Roy?"

Jason’s face softened, and he sighed. He could tell Dick was hurt. "It wasn’t intentional, Dick. The wedding was kind of a spur-of-the-moment thing. Everything happened so fast, and we just decided to go for it. It was a magical thing, you know?"

Dick nodded, though he still looked a bit disappointed. "I get it, but it would’ve been nice to be there for you."

Jason’s expression grew remorseful. "I know, and I’m really sorry, Dick. I shouldn’t have left you out like that. I was angry at Bruce and took it out on you, which wasn’t fair."

Dick gave a small smile, appreciating the honesty. "It’s okay, Jay. We’re good."

Dick gave Jason a reassuring smile, brushing off the apology. “It’s all good, Jay. I get why you were upset. You and Roy deserve to be happy.”

Jason’s shoulders relaxed at Dick’s words, grateful for his brother’s easy forgiveness. “Thanks, Dick. That really means a lot.”

Dick’s face lit up with curiosity. “So, any plans for a reception or something for the civil part of the wedding?”

Jason’s grin widened, the tension between them easing. “Yeah, definitely. Roy and I aren’t too fussed about a big church wedding, but we’re planning on signing the papers soon. And there’ll definitely be a reception for everyone to celebrate with us.”

Dick’s mood brightened at the news. “Awesome! I can’t wait to party with you guys.”

After Dick finished bandaging up the wounds, they headed up from the basement to the main floor of Jason’s place. Dick glanced around, taking in the familiar surroundings. “Where are the kids? I’ve missed Damian, Lian, and Billy.”

Jason smirked at the question. “Oh, they’re off to Japan. Damian’s doing sword lessons with Katana.”

Dick’s eyebrows shot up. “Seriously? Damian’s still at it?” He was impressed, knowing Damian’s commitment to his training was serious.

“Yep,” Jason confirmed with a nod. “He missed a month of lessons with Katana because of all the craziness, so he’s extra eager to catch up.”

Dick laughed, imagining Damian getting pushed hard by Katana. “I bet Katana’s thrilled to have him back.”

Jason added with a grin, “And Jon’s with them too.”

Dick’s eyes widened. “Jon? You mean Uncle Clark’s Jon, not John Constantine?”

“Yep, that’s the one,” Jason said, trying to keep a straight face. “Apparently, he sneaked out to hang with his friends.”

Dick shook his head, chuckling. “That kid’s going to be trouble.”

Jason laughed, a hearty sound that filled the room. “Yeah, but you’ve got to admire his spirit.”

They reached the top of the stairs and settled into the cozy living room. Dick clapped Jason on the shoulder. “Let’s do this again soon, okay?”

Jason smiled. “Definitely. But next time, I’m winning.”

Dick laughed. “We’ll see about that, little brother. We’ll see.”

In the calm of Katana's dojo in Japan, Damian and Katana faced off, the soft light filtering through the paper screens creating a peaceful vibe.

Katana, sitting up straight with a serious look, said, “Sword fighting isn’t just about muscle, Damian. It’s about focus, discipline, and really understanding the art.”

Damian listened closely, his gaze fixed on her. He admired Katana a lot, respecting her skills and her dedication.

“The sword is like an extension of yourself,” Katana continued, her voice gentle but firm. “To use it well, you need to be in sync with your body and mind.”

Damian nodded, taking in her words. He’d always been drawn to sword fighting, seeing it as both a martial art and a way of life.

“Of course, the best way to really get it is to train,” Katana said with a hint of a smile as she pulled out her katana.

Damian grinned and unsheathed his own sword. The dojo soon echoed with the clash of steel as master and student went at it, both wielding their katanas with impressive skill.

Damian started the sparring match, coming in with a series of quick strikes. His moves were energetic but not as polished as Katana’s. She blocked each hit effortlessly, her sword moving with a smooth grace as she deflected Damian’s attacks. With a quick flick of her wrist, she countered with a fast strike aimed at Damian’s shoulder.

Damian barely managed to block it, his arms trembling from the force. Determined not to give up, he pressed on with another round of attacks. This time, Katana let him push forward, keeping an eye out for any openings. She sidestepped a slash aimed at her midsection and countered with a quick jab at Damian’s side.

Damian reacted quickly, blocking the blow with a desperate move. But Katana didn’t let up, her sword spinning in a graceful arc as she hit him with a rapid series of strikes. Damian tried hard to keep up, but Katana’s skill was top-notch, her strikes getting faster and more precise.

Seeing Damian getting frustrated, Katana called out over the clash, “Focus on your footwork. Keep your balance and let the sword become part of you.”

Damian nodded, more determined than ever, and adjusted his stance. He took a deep breath, focusing on his center as he got ready to go at it again. This time, he was more controlled, his moves more deliberate as he took Katana’s advice to heart. He feinted, parried, and searched for a chance to strike.

Katana couldn’t help but smile, clearly impressed with how quickly Damian was picking things up. Their katanas clashed rhythmically as their sparring heated up.

As they reached the peak of their spar, their blades moved in a blur, each trying to outdo the other. In the end, Katana’s experience won out. With a final decisive move, she disarmed Damian, sending his katana flying. Damian stumbled back, panting and staring up at Katana with awe.

Katana extended a hand, helping him up with a proud grin. “Nice job,” she said, clearly impressed. “You’re getting better every day.”

Damian beamed, feeling a mix of pride and excitement. But he wasn’t done yet. Katana saw the fire in his eyes and nodded. They reset their positions, ready for another round. Damian’s determination was palpable.

This time, Damian took the lead, coming at Katana with a flurry of quick, confident strikes. His moves were smoother and more controlled, and he was clearly trying to catch his master off guard. Katana responded with calm precision, blocking each hit, but Damian didn’t let up. His attacks came faster and harder.

Damian saw an opening and feinted left before swinging a fast slash to the right. Katana barely blocked it, and the force pushed her back. Damian took advantage, pressing the attack with a relentless series of strikes. His movements were a blur as he closed in on Katana, his focus driving him forward.

Katana fought back skillfully, her katana a flash of light as she parried and countered. But Damian was unyielding, his strikes coming from unexpected angles and testing her defenses. With a sudden burst of speed, Damian spun into a powerful attack, his katana slicing through the air. Katana tried to block, but the force of Damian’s strike knocked her sword out of her hands, sending it clattering to the floor.

The dojo fell silent as Katana looked at her empty hands in surprise. She had been disarmed by her own student. But instead of being upset, her face showed nothing but pride.

Damian stood there, panting but grinning from ear to ear. He reached out a hand to help Katana up, a sign of respect for his mentor.

Katana took his hand and pulled herself up with a proud smile. “Nice job,” she said, genuinely impressed. “You’ve really outdone yourself.”

Damian’s grin grew wider at the praise. They bowed to each other, both knowing they’d both come out stronger from this sparring session.

After a moment, Katana’s expression softened, her eyes full of pride. “Damian, I’m really proud to have you as my student,” she said, her voice warm and sincere.

Damian’s face lit up with a rare flush of delight. He bowed his head respectfully. “Thanks, sensei. It means a lot to me to hear that.”

Katana’s smile was bright. “You’ve grown so much, not just in skill but in character. I know you’ll keep pushing yourself.”

“Thank you, sensei,” Damian said, his voice steady. “I’ll keep working hard and honor everything you’ve taught me.”

Katana nodded, her eyes shining. “I’m sure you will, Damian. And remember, I’m always here to guide you, no matter where you go.”

As Damian left the dojo, Jon ran up to him with a huge grin and open arms. Damian was surprised but couldn’t help smiling as Jon hugged him tightly.

“Wow, Dami! That was awesome!” Jon said, his voice bubbling with excitement. “You were like a real samurai! I can’t believe how cool you looked!”

Damian’s cheeks turned red from the praise, and he buried his face against Jon’s shoulder, feeling a mix of embarrassment and happiness.

Jon laughed softly, hugging Damian a bit tighter. “You’re the best, Dami,” he whispered, his voice full of sincerity.

Lian and Billy, who had been watching with amusement, shared a knowing look. They joined their friends, sitting down with them in the peaceful Japanese garden next to the dojo.

Katana approached gracefully, carrying a tray with delicate teacups and a pot of steaming green tea. She performed a traditional tea ceremony, her movements elegant as she served everyone. The kids watched, fascinated by how Katana poured the tea and explained each step with a calm voice.

Once the ceremony was done, they toasted with their cups before sipping the warm, soothing tea. As they enjoyed their tea, Damian felt a deep sense of peace.

But as they relaxed, Damian’s thoughts drifted to a more serious topic he’d been mulling over. Taking a deep breath, he decided it was time to open up to his friends.

Damian broke the silence with a thoughtful look. “You know, I’ve been thinking,” he said quietly, “maybe my akhi was right. Maybe we should’ve never reached out to Batman again.”

His friends exchanged concerned glances, sensing the heaviness in Damian’s words. Billy, Jon, and Lian all leaned in, ready to hear more.

“I was so eager to get to know him,” Damian admitted with a touch of regret. “But now I wish I hadn’t pushed Jason to do it. Batman has just brought a lot of trouble into our lives.”

Jon put a comforting hand on Damian’s shoulder. “It’s not your fault, Dami,” he said softly. “Wanting to meet your dad isn’t a bad thing.”

Lian nodded in agreement, her expression understanding. “Yeah, Damian. You had every right to want that.”

Billy chimed in, his tone reassuring. “But we all know Batman’s messed up big time,” he said firmly. “It’ll take a while for him to earn back anyone’s trust.”

Damian’s jaw set with determination. “He won’t be earning my trust,” he said firmly. “Not after everything that’s happened.”

Billy leaned in, looking serious. “You know,” he said quietly, “I might’ve put a little curse on Batman.”

Damian’s eyes widened in surprise. “A curse?” he echoed, incredulous.

Billy nodded with a sly grin. “Yep. The Justice League Dark wasn’t happy with him, so I made sure he won’t be leaving Gotham anytime soon. And a curse from the Champion of Magic? That’s not something you break easily.”

Damian couldn’t help but smirk. “Well, that’s one less problem to worry about,” he said, feeling a sense of satisfaction.

With that, they all shared a laugh and clinked their teacups together in a silent toast.

Bruce wandered through the silent halls of Wayne Manor, his footsteps echoing in the emptiness. The mansion, once full of life and laughter, now felt like a giant, empty shell. He sighed deeply, his shoulders slumping with the weight of his mistakes. The vast emptiness of the manor was a stark reminder of the family he’d pushed away.

Wayne Manor had never felt this lonely, not even after his parents died. Back then, Alfred was always there, a steady source of support. Now, Alfred was living in the Wayne Penthouse with Dick and Tim, while Cassandra and Stephanie had moved in with Cullen and Harper. Bruce was alone in this enormous house, a painful reminder of his own stubbornness and obsession.

He sank onto a nearby bench, burying his head in his hands. The burden of regret was almost too much to bear. Just as he was lost in thought, a sudden movement snapped him back to reality. An assassin had launched an attack.

With lightning-fast reflexes, Bruce dodged a deadly sword swing, his heart racing. He quickly sized up his attacker: Talia Al Ghul, and she was angrier than he’d ever seen her. Her eyes blazed, and her movements were swift and fierce. They faced off, locked in a tense standoff. Bruce knew he was at a disadvantage—barely recovered from a broken leg and without a weapon—but he wasn’t about to back down.

The fight began in a blur of movement. Their bodies moved with precision as they clashed, Bruce relying on years of training and instinct despite the throbbing pain in his leg and ribs. Talia was a fierce opponent, her sword flashing as she pressed her attack with relentless strikes. Bruce fought back with everything he had, his fists moving quickly as he blocked and countered her blows. The odds were against him, and he knew it, but he wasn’t about to give up.

With a burst of speed, Talia closed in on Bruce, her sword aimed straight at his heart. Bruce barely managed to block the blow, but in the process, he left himself wide open. Talia took advantage, her sword driving into his shoulder with deadly accuracy. Bruce cried out in pain as the blade pierced him, pinning him to the wall.

He groaned, the sword embedding itself in the wall behind him, and his vision swam with the intensity of the pain. His breathing was ragged as he fought to stay conscious.

Talia stood before him, her face cold and unfeeling. "You were always so predictable, beloved," she said, her voice dripping with disdain.

Bruce gritted his teeth, determined not to show any weakness. Talia’s laughter was cruel, echoing through the empty corridors of Wayne Manor.

“Talia,” he said weakly, “I... I never meant—”

Talia’s eyes flashed with anger. “You almost got our son killed, Bruce,” she snapped. “He told you to stay away, to keep your distance from this mission. But you never listen, do you?”

Bruce’s frustration flared. He knew he’d made mistakes, and that his actions had put Jason in danger, but he hadn’t wanted things to go this far.

“He’s my son, Talia,” Bruce shot back, his voice filled with defiance. “Not yours.”

Talia’s gaze was icy. “I’ve been more of a mother to Jason than you’ve ever been a father,” she retorted. “I gave him life when you let him die. And now, you’ve put him at risk again.”

The guilt hit Bruce hard, making his heart sink. He had failed Jason, and now he had pushed things to the edge again. He had no defense, no way to excuse his actions, just the weight of regret pressing down on him.

Talia’s voice was sharp and menacing. “Stay away from my sons, Bruce,” she warned. “Or I’ll make sure it’s the last mistake you ever make.”

Bruce swallowed hard, feeling the weight of her threat settle heavily in his stomach. He knew Talia meant every word and had the means to follow through.

As Talia vanished into the shadows, Bruce was left alone, the pain in his shoulder throbbing with each breath. He struggled to stay conscious, his mind racing with the thought of whether this was truly the end of his complicated relationship with Talia and their son, Jason.

As the sun started dipping below the horizon over Infinity Island, the air was buzzing with excitement. It was Jason and Roy's wedding reception, and the place was a mix of heroes, allies, and old foes coming together for the big event.

The reception was taking place in the grand ballroom of the Al Ghul family estate, a massive mansion surrounded by lush tropical gardens. The room was decked out with elegant decorations—flowers hanging from everywhere and twinkling fairy lights giving the place a magical vibe. Even with all the beauty, there was still a hint of tension in the air.

Infinity Island had been owned by the League of Assassins for ages, and it took a while for the superhero community to get used to the League's new direction. But tonight, the island was hosting a different kind of gathering. The League of Shadows and the superhero crowd had come together to celebrate Jason and Roy's marriage, showing that even former enemies could find common ground.

Guests started arriving, greeted with a mix of curiosity and a little nervousness. The Justice League, Justice League Dark, and Titans were all there, along with Jason's friends like Arianne, Jade, Rose, Essence, Celine, and Severus. Everyone was there to show support for the happy couple.

Jason's family was front and center—his mom, Talia, and his aunt, Nyssa, were beaming with pride. Even his cousin Nika showed up. And of course, Damian, Lian, and Billy were there too.

As the night went on, the initial tension melted away, replaced by laughter and joy. People danced and mingled, putting aside their differences for the evening. When Jason and Roy finally took the dance floor for their first dance as a married couple, the room erupted in cheers and applause. It was a moment of pure happiness.

When Roy let Jason go to dance with his daughter Lian, Jason seized the chance to slip away from the dance floor. He was quickly surrounded by his friends, who showered him with hugs and congratulations. Celine and Severus approached him with huge smiles, ready to celebrate and share in the joy of the night.

"Congrats, Jason!" Celine said, pulling him into a big hug. "I’m so thrilled for you and Roy!"

Severus jumped in too, giving Jason a hearty pat on the back. "Yeah, congrats, man!" He then laughed and shook his head. "Only you would dig up some ancient Korean bonding ritual that hasn’t been seen in centuries."

Celine playfully smacked Severus on the arm, rolling her eyes. "Come on, it was sweet! I’d love someone to go all out like that for me."

Severus rubbed his arm with a mock pout. "Hey, I can be romantic too, you know," he said, though he had a slight blush on his cheeks.

Jason couldn’t resist teasing. With a mischievous grin, he said, "Maybe someone will, and maybe it’ll be soon."

Severus shot Jason a mock glare, which only made Jason laugh harder. Celine looked between them, a bit puzzled. "What’s going on with you two?"

Jason wiped a tear from his eye, still chuckling. "Oh, nothing much. Just some friendly banter."

Celine shook her head with a smile. "Well, whatever it is, it’s nice to see you all having fun," she said warmly.

They chatted for a bit about how things were going in London. The UK magical community had been in a tizzy over the US sacrifices, but things had settled down once Red Ghoul’s involvement came to light. Jason felt a warm glow knowing the magical community trusted Red Ghoul so much.

If only Batman trusted him that much...

When Celine and Severus went off to chat with Essence, Jason found himself facing Jade and Arianne. Their smiles were more reserved but still warm. Jade’s smile, though quieter, was genuine as she approached him.

"Congrats on the wedding," Jade said softly.

Arianne nodded and handed Jason a stack of papers. Jason looked at them, confused, and then his eyes widened when he realized they were adoption papers.

His heart swelled with emotion as he looked up at Jade and Arianne. "I... I don’t know what to say," he managed, his voice cracking a bit.

Jade’s smile softened. "I can’t be a full-time mom to Lian and keep her safe," she said quietly. "But you and Roy have been amazing. I thought it was time to make it official."

Jason felt a wave of gratitude. Despite her own challenges, Jade was ready to trust him with Lian. It was a big deal, and he knew it wasn’t something she took lightly.

"Thank you, Jade," Jason said, his voice full of appreciation. He signed the adoption papers, each signature a promise to Lian and his new family.

Arianne took back the papers with a proud smile. "Congrats, Jason," she said warmly. "You’re officially a dad now."

Jason’s heart was full as he hugged Jade and Arianne. Despite Jade’s reserved demeanor, her gesture spoke volumes. He knew he’d always be grateful for her trust and generosity.

Feeling a bit overwhelmed after everything, Jason decided to take a breather. He stepped back from the party, giving himself some space. Looking around, he saw his friends and family mixing and celebrating, their laughter and happiness filling the air.

As he stood there, soaking it all in, he couldn’t help but feel a bit awestruck. It felt like a lifetime ago when he was just a street kid, scrapping to survive in a world that didn’t care about him. Back then, having a family seemed like a far-off dream, something he didn’t dare to hope for.

Then, after dying and coming back to life, he’d thought that real happiness was always going to be out of reach. The weight of his past and the ghosts that haunted him felt like too much to ever really get past.

But now, as he looked around at his loved ones, he saw just how much he’d come through. He’d built a life from the wreckage of his past, shaped by the love and support of those who’d stuck by him through everything.

He’d found success as a novelist, pouring his heart into his stories and sharing them with the world. And here he was, surrounded by the people he cared about the most, basking in their warmth and joy.

Jason couldn’t help but smile as he watched Damian and Jon being their goofy selves. The two of them were playfully flirting, while Billy, Nika, and Lian had a blast teasing them. Over by the drinks table, Talia, Nyssa, Dinah, and Diana were deep in animated conversation, their voices rising and falling with excitement. The thought of those four women teaming up was enough to give anyone pause—they were definitely a force to be reckoned with.

Meanwhile, Madame Xanadu and John Constantine were off in their own little world, debating magical theories with their heads close together. Jason had no clue what they were talking about, but he knew better than to interrupt when they were in one of their heated discussions.

And then there was Alfred, standing proudly with Luke, Kate, Cass, Steph, Dick, Barbara, and Tim. They were like family to him, each one special in their own way. They’d been through so much together, and Jason was grateful for every single one of them.

The only one missing was Bruce. But Jason figured it was only a matter of time before the old Bat made his way back into the fold. He wasn’t mad at Bruce forever, especially since he knew his dad was genuinely trying to make things right. In the meantime, Jason planned to enjoy watching Bruce squirm a bit—he couldn’t resist a little payback for all those times Bruce had pushed him away.

Still, deep down, Jason knew forgiveness was inevitable. They were family, after all, and that wasn’t going to change. As he looked around at everyone he loved, Jason felt a wave of peace settle over him. He was exactly where he was meant to be.