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Chapter Text

You must never leave here, my child. You are not ready. Not yet. 

Damian has never disobeyed Mother. She is all he knows, his only family — well, that he remembers anyway. Mother is a goddess of witchcraft and shadow. Her innate ability to spin runes into spells and channel mana made her an intimidating foe. It is her brutal standards he holds himself to. It is for her vision that he trains tirelessly. It’s his destiny she tells him, his duty, his birthright, passed from both Mother and Father as heir to the underworld. 

Soon, you still start your journey. You must be ready. You cannot fail. 

Every waking moment is spent with pinpoint precision. His training schedule is intense, and each day is spent relentlessly honing his skills. Mother says it’s necessary, that he needs to be powerful, cunning, and merciless if he is to survive beyond the walls of their sanctuary. 

Free your family. Become a titan slayer.

*

All Damian knows is the Crossroads. As far as he is concerned, this is his home — despite Mother telling him otherwise. It’s a relatively small camp, nestled clearings just beyond the rushing of the River Styx beneath the surface world. He has spent decades here among the gnarled branches and looming trees, ever since he awoke in a pool of green all those years ago. Damian does not know how much exists beyond the Crossroads, but Mother’s stories tell of a vast and vibrant world, above and below. Of great and terrible beings and creatures who rule the skies and dominate the depths. 

Damian has been hidden from the world, his very existence here is a deeply guarded secret. In fact, no one, aside from Mother, knows where he is.

They think him missing, Mother had told him. Destroyed and dismembered by his own grandfather. Nothing can kill a god, but there are many things that get close. It was only due to his bloodline that he was able to be revived in a Lazarus pool at such a speed. It had taken decades for his body to recover and for his mind to heal enough to awaken. But even the prince of the underworld is not infallible. For Damian awoke with no memory of his life below, of his life before. 

When Mother had fled with the pieces of him, she was not able to save his left arm. But between Mother’s witchcraft and the Lazarus pool, they have been able to craft a replacement. A ghostly glowing appendage, the color of the pool. Just transparent enough to see the white bone within. It makes him feel a bit broken, to be missing an arm and his memories. 

Since his return to the waking world, Mother has told him endless stories. Stories of Father, of his siblings — blood and adopted. He feels like he knows these beings despite the black hole in his memories. It was important, she had told him, for him to understand who was family, who was a friend, and who was a foe. 

Foes were particularly important to remember Mother had instructed. It was his grandfather, Ra’s al Ghul, who had taken over Gotham — the underworld. Ra’s had overthrown and imprisoned Father in one fell swoop. Mother had fled to the Crossroads, and Gotham has been under Ra’s thumb since. 

It is redemption that Damian trains for. As the blood son of the god of the underworld, he is perhaps the only being that can currently step foot in Gotham without Ra’s permission. All other beings would perish or be expelled. 

“Breathe my child, they will not listen if you do not have conviction.”

Damian huffs, and returns to glaring at the group of shades that floated in a cluster before him. Move! he orders internally. Obey! Today he was training to command shades, aberrations of souls headed to the afterlife. With a yank of his arm, the shades jerkily turn to rush at Mother. Their ghostly bodies become almost translucent.

A blast of magic disburses the shades instantly.

“Good.”

“Not good enough,” Damian growls. He struggles to command shades, there is a part of him that feels deeply inadequate at the thought that he cannot even direct his subjects. Mother tells him that there was a time when commanding the shades was as easy as breathing for him. A time when Father’s powers flowed from his fingertips. He does not remember what that feels like. 

“Progress is progress,” Mother states. “You lack confidence in your inheritance and in your stature as a god of the dead.”

Damian grits his teeth. Mother sighs, and lets her hair down. Jet black locks cascade down her shoulders, she looks almost vulnerable for a brief moment. “There is nothing more I can teach you, the powers of your father are beyond what I know.”

“Mother, I will not fail you,” Damian replies.

“Do not make promises you cannot keep child, failure is a natural part of life. You will fail, but you will not give up. You know all the magic and spells that I have to offer, the rest will be up to forces beyond what I can fathom. Go and prepare Damian, it is time.”

*

Damian makes his way back to his alcove on the edge of the Crossroad’s border. Passing through the dead branches and stones littered with runes. It’s a peaceful walk, and Damian uses the time to remember Mother’s instructions. He is to seek out the pathway to Gotham, figure out how to enter the city of the dead, and make his way down to Tartarus. His goal is to find and free Father.

Damian can freely enter the underworld due to his bloodline. But only the ruler of Gotham has the power to grant other beings permission to enter. Freeing Father is the first step, the second is to gather allies to strike the titan down. As the only free blood child of Father, he needs to be careful. Ra’s cannot know Damian has reappeared. It would be too easy, Mother told him, for his grandfather to put an end to the meddling of an amnesiac godling.

But he has Mother’s teachings, a host of spells and abilities that will hopefully allow him to travel fairly undetected. He even has the ability to return to the Crossroads when in peril. 

You are our hope, if at any point you find yourself on the verge, come back. Return to shadow.

*

Damian’s nest is sparsely decorated. There is not much in the Crossroads aside from what Mother brings from the outside world. It is not like Damian has many belongings. He has no time for distractions, as far as he is concerned, his only purpose is to defeat Ra’s.

Damian begins to collect his gear making sure to grab his favored pair of daggers — the sister blades. Both of the blades are fashioned in light silver with runes etched into the sides which allow Damian to recall the blades to his person. Damian can technically travel short distances through any shadow, but throwing an item permits him to travel within that item’s shadow, allowing him to almost teleport. The sister blades allow him to flicker around a battle field and take enemies by surprise. It is a crucial part of his fighting style. 

He stops briefly to glance at a mural that hangs behind his bedding. The mural depicts his family — or so Mother tells him. There is a painting of Mother, himself, and two other figures. One is Bruce Wayne, his father. He is a massive hulking figure. His shoulders eclipse all the other figures. The other is Dick Grayson, his older brother. He shares Damian’s mismatched eyes except instead of green, Grayson’s more human eye is a deep sparkling blue. A huge glistening smile takes up half his face. Grayson is his half sibling, related through Father. No one has heard from him since Ra’s took Gotham. Damian knows there are other siblings but they do not share his blood. They were not in Gotham when Ra’s arrived. Mother believes they have sought refuge in Olympus. 

Sighing, he turns to the short mirror and adjusts his daggers. His heterochromia eyes blaze like nightlights against his darker skin. A black eye of death and fire and a glowing green eye. A gift from each of his parents. Absently he thinks he has more of Mother’s features, her skin tone. It’s her long eyelashes that fan his cheeks and he has just come into his more angular yet delicate face, losing his baby fat over the past years. A grey laurel wreath rests dully on his jet black hair. There are gold scars that stitch his body, evidence of where Ra’s had torn him apart and where the Lazarus pool had stitched him together. Damian tries to stay away from mirrors. 

Damian pulls on his hood and wraps his glowing arm. He is no longer a helpless child. He will reclaim Gotham and reinstate Father as the rightful ruler of the dead, no matter what it takes. 

*

Damian meets Mother at the edge of the Crossroads, along the beginning of the River Styx. She stands tall, peering down the flowing rapids. She turns to Damian slowly before cupping his cheek under the hood.

“My child, my little shadow, you have grown so much.” Damian stiffens at her touch. “It is difficult to let you go down this road without me. I have done everything in my power to prepare you so that you can succeed where I have failed. Go, claim your birthright. Death to Ra’s Al Ghul.”

Chapter Text

Mother had instructed Damian to follow the River Styx through Erebus to seek the path to Gotham. It is anticlimactic, being outside of the Crossroads. Damian isn’t sure what he was expecting, but there is nothing beside the rushing water and shadowed tree stumps. Erebus was supposed to be the in-between, where the newly dead travel before entering the Temple of Styx to be judged.

It is quiet, too quiet. How are there no shades lingering? Even the world of the dead should not feel so empty. Hours of travel later, the river takes a turn and begins rushing under rock. A cave. Distantly Damian thinks he can hear a waterfall. Downwards it is.

Damian moves forward in awe of its cavernous mouth. Mother never told him of how grandiose a rock maw could be. There are no mountains in the Crossroads. Damian feels small, dwarfed by the sheer magnitude of the cliffs in front of him. It is his awe that he blames for failing to notice a figure perched on a leafless branch to his right.

“Heading somewhere?”

Damian jolts and spins to look at the figure. The being in front of him unfurls slowly. The figure is wearing a black toga with intricate golden details. There are glowing golden wings that adorn both sides of his head nestled in dark windswept hair parted down the middle. He sports a lazy smirk as he lounges on the branch, head resting on his swinging knee. The figure appears relaxed but his glowing blue eyes are calculating. Cursing his lack of awareness, Damian catalogues the man. It is humiliating to have been caught before even stepping foot underground, but this is not a terrible outcome perhaps. The fluttering wings are a tell tale sign. This is one of his adopted siblings, Timothy Drake — God of Swiftness and Tricksters.

“Unless you have an invitation from the Demon Head himself, you look a little too alive to be heading in there bud.”

Damian should probably respond, but this is the first being he’s seen — at least that he can recall seeing — besides Mother. Damian just stares mutely. Squinting up, Damian notices that Drake’s skin seems rather pale and dusty bags hang under his eyes. Damian would have thought a resident of Olympus would get more sun.

“Hmmm, I can’t think of anyone who’d be invited from the surface. Any reason you’re tryna get in?” Drake continues conversationally.

Damian stiffens. Is Drake working with his grandfather? That is not good, not good at all. Damian regards Drake in a different light. Perhaps Ra’s influence has reached the surface world, beyond what Mother anticipated. If Drake is guarding the entry to the underworld then Damian needs to find a way around him.

Slowly he fingers the hilt of his dagger, if he can just launch it into the mouth of the cave, he can disappear into the shadows. He will not let this turn him back already, it is too early for failure. Without a second thought he flings the dagger towards the cave and disappears into its shadow.

Sorry brother, Damian thinks, perhaps they can catch up another time. But suddenly his forward momentum stops and he finds himself flung from the dagger’s shadow, rolling a few feet away from the cave’s shadow. Stunned he whips around just to turn straight into an arm looping around his midsection and tossing him away from the entrance.

Damian hits the ground and rolls. He is about to use the momentum to spring up when he feels a body land heavily on his, two legs bracketing his torso and his own dagger to his throat. Baffled, Damian stills and stares up at Drake.

“So, you either got a death wish or a little secret,” Drake leans in grinning. “Why don’t we see who you are.” Fingers pull at the hood and Damian thrashes.

Desperately, Damian grabs his second dagger and flings it to the side, melting into its shadow and reappearing a few meters away.

“That’s a neat trick you got there,” Drake stands leisurely, “I almost didn’t recognize it.” His body language is relaxed, but there is a glint in his eye that Damian cannot decipher. “There are not many who can flee to shadow, in fact,” he continues, casually twirling one of Damian’s daggers, “I only know of one and she’s a hell of a lot taller than you kiddo.”

Okay, rude. Mother only has a few inches on him.

“It’s too bad I’m faster.”

In a blink, Drake materializes in front of Damian. Damian panics, shuffling back. A hand whips out and grabs the front of Damian’s cloak. Growling, Damian swings his dagger towards Drake’s neck only for his wrist to be caught. Damian cannot even process that he is moving before he is slammed into the base of a tree, head bouncing off the bark. Momentarily stunned, Damian’s grip on the dagger loosens. Drake slides the dagger from his grip and uses his other hand to secure Damian’s hands above him.

“I heard rumors that Talia fled after Gotham fell, looks like she’s been getting busy.”

Damian fumes at the implication. Mother has a single minded focus on revenge for her family. She would never consider siring another child while Father is imprisoned. Damian tries to wrack his brain to remember what Mother told him about Timothy Drake. Quick, she had told him, both in his thinking and in his movement. Damian begrudgingly agrees.

Damian continues thrashing as light fingers grip the fabric of his hood and slowly pull it back. It takes him a moment to realize Drake has gone still. As Damian’s eyes adjust to the light he glares up to meet stunned blue orbs.

“You —”

“Get off—“ Damian starts.

The moment is broken. Blue eyes harden imperceptibly and flicker up to their surroundings. Damian tries to hide a yelp as he is unceremoniously flung over Drake’s shoulder. Between one second and the next they are flying, speeding faster and higher than Damian has ever gone. Wind whips his clothes and hair, stealing his breath away.

Ngh. This is not ideal. Damian was so close to the entryway. Everything is a blur and then it's not. He feels hands place him down and his stomach rolls. Staggering away, Damian heaves and coughs. A headache forming. Blinking involuntary tears from his eyes, Damian feels an arm snake its way around his midsection as he’s tugged against a chest. Another arm wraps around his head.

It takes him a moment to realize Drake is hugging him. Slight tremors shake from Drake’s body and Damian stills awkwardly. He hasn’t been hugged before, at least that he can remember. He doesn’t know what kind of relationship he had with his siblings, Mother has only told him of their godhood and powers. Perhaps they were closer than Damian realizes.

“Dami. Where. . .where have you been?” He feels Drake’s lips brush his forehead.

Dami?

“Hidden.”

Drake leans back to study him. Hands ghosting over Damian’s body as if to reassure himself that this is not a hallucination. Damian does not know how he is supposed to react. Drake’s hands lightly trace over one of Damian’s jagged golden scars.

“Do you remember. . .?”

Damian lowers his eyes slightly and he feels Drake exhale lowly. When Damian looks up again, Drake is biting his lip. Damian can see the gears in his head turning, revelations and theories flying across sharp blue eyes. Drake breathes out slowly. Damian idly wonders what conclusion he’s come to.

“You’ve grown,” Drake comments quietly, “Come, sit. We are safe here.”

Damian glances around, pale broken stone walls surround them on all sides. Piles of rubble and broken clay pots dot the floor. There are deep brown splatters that coat corners of the wall and the smell of smoke wafts in the air. The place looks sieged. Distantly he hears Drake mumbling something behind him.

“What happened here,” Damian asks grimacing. His head is still pounding.

“Ra’s. He seeks to expand his domain beyond Gotham. . . towards Olympus. The living world is simply caught in the crossfire.”

Damian gulps, this is worse than he could have imagined. His mission is more important than ever. He turns to tell as much when his knees buckle. Drake is at his side in an instant, and slowly lowers Damian to the ground.

“Ngh— wha”

“Shit shit shit, I forgot, how could I forget,” Drake mutters, “well at least this confirms it.”

Damian blinks rapidly, why does he feel so weak? “Dra—“

“Dami, you need to return to Erebus,” Drake’s voice filters through the pain. “You cannot survive here.”

Blood and darkness, Damian thinks, they’re on the surface. Staying here would be a one-way ticket to Gotham and into Ra’s arms. His head lolls gently on Drake’s shoulder, eyes fluttering. It feels like his body is shutting down. He senses Drake’s breath hitch and a hand runs through his hair.

“Hey baby bat, listen to me. I. . .I’m going to give you my blessing, I need you to use that power to return to Erebus.”

Suddenly, Damian feels a rush of foreign energy. It coats his skin and buzzes across his nerves. It flickers, like wing beats. Damian pictures the pair of golden wings on Drake's head. Gasping he goes rigid against Drake’s hold.

“Go, now!” Drake urges.

Damian uses the burst of energy to tap into his mana. Channeling the energy to picture his home.

“Return to shadow,” he whispers. The last thing he sees before darkness swallows him is Drake’s thoughtful pinched expression.

Chapter Text

Damian comes to slowly. There are phantom aches in his joints as he rolls over to sprawl in the middle of his summoning circle. Groaning, he throws his arm over his eyes, protecting his eyes from the glaring glowing runes. What a failure. He barely made it to the entrance before being kidnapped by his own brother and almost succumbing to probably the worst headache he’d ever had. 

He didn’t realize that Drake had flown him to the surface. The dead and their gods do not belong amongst the living.

Gingerly picking himself up off the ground, Damian stumbles over to his nest and gracelessly plops onto the bedding. It’s quiet. There’s only a slight rustling breeze. Mother must be out. 

He doesn’t know how long he lies there, wallowing in his own disappointment. He has to try again. Standing up, he summons his daggers. Time to follow the river. As he moves to exit his nest, he catches a glint of light in the mirror and does a double take. 

One of the leaves on his laurel is glowing. A bright orange light with glittering flakes of gold. It takes a moment for Damian to realize he can feel the hum from the leaf. It feels distinctly like Drake’s magic. It feels alive and if Damian closes his eyes and focuses, it almost feels like tendrils of mana are mixing with his own. What was that he called it? A blessing? Mother has never mentioned this. Tt. Damian snatches a black piece of fabric  and wraps his head in a headscarf, hiding the glowing leaf from view. He doesn’t have time to dwell. Drake seemed like an ally, and seemed like he harbored some positive feelings towards Damian – at least the old Damian anyway. He hopes this blessing is true to its namesake. 

*

Damian treks back out of the Crossroads and to the edge of the River Styx. He approaches the cave entrance more discreetly, ducking behind the rotting trunk of a nearby tree. Not willing to get caught off guard again. Part of him wonders if Drake will be there again. Damian won’t pretend to know what gods and goddesses get up to these days. He would guess that the God of Swiftness would be busy delivering messages. 

Hmmm, no Drake. But someone is here. Near the entrance stands a figure. Taller and much more broad than Drake was. On his hip he holds a bright red helmet. Two swords are slung across his back and bronze armor adorns his shoulders and chest. He looks like a warrior. 

Damian’s eyes travel to the figure’s face and chiseled jaw as it splits into a large yawn, he can hear the being cracking his neck from over ten meters away. His dark hair is cut with a white streak right in the middle of his forehead. Eyes like blood diamonds sparkle cruelly. A splash of white warpaint covers both of his eyes. There is a charged energy in the air, manic almost.

Another guard? Damian wonders. His mother has told him stories about many of the gods, goddesses, and creatures, but he does not know what they look like. Aside from the air of danger, there are no defining features Damian recognizes. This being could be anyone from a demigod to Ra’s himself — although Damian sincerely doubts the latter. Grimacing Damian hides back behind the tree. Gnawing his fingernail while he weighs his options. But when he turns to look again, the being is gone. 

“Boo.”

Damian yelps and thrusts his daggers forward only for them to glance off a hard metal surface. 

“Wow you really are a little pipsqueak. Tim said you grew but. . .”

Damian glares at the being crouched in front of him. The man’s smile is all teeth and Damian fights the urge to flinch back. A large hand comes up and grasps Damian’s cheeks, squeezing them together rudely. Red eyes devour his face.

Affronted, Damian tries to pull his head back only to find himself backed against the tree trunk. The being chuckles. 

“Talia must have lost her marbles if she thinks this is gonna work.”

Temper rising, Damian growls and violently twists out of the being’s hand and uses his dagger to teleport a few meters away. He steadies his stance and raises his weapons. 

“Alright kiddo, prove me wrong then,” laughs the being as he unsheathes one to the swords from his back. 

Damian lunges, warping through the shadows until he pops up behind the being, launching a dagger at the back of his neck. A clang of metal tells Damian the dagger was parried. Summoning the weapon back to himself, Damian continues flickering in and out of the shadows appearing for milliseconds to stab at the being. He feels faster, lighter than usual. His attacks are largely being parried, but he sneaks one cut in. A feeling of triumph bubbles in his gut, he can do this. Golden blood drips sluggishly. A god then, Damian needs to end this quickly if he wants to preserve enough energy and mana to enter the cave. 

Damian grits his teeth, tapping into his mana and imbuing his dagger with death magic. This should cut through his opponent’s armor and attack his life force directly. It’s not like he can kill a god, but hopefully it is enough to incapacitate. Slipping into the shadows, he flickers until he’s in the being’s own shadow before bursting up to stab straight into his chest. 

The being’s eyes widen, surprise flares for a moment as Damian darts back to put a safer distance between them. 

Damian holds his breath as he watches the man slowly pull the dagger from his chest, gold dribbling down the armor. Hopefully he’s done enough, he can make an offering for forgiveness later. He is about to take a step towards the cave entrance when the being erupts into manic laugher.

“Not bad, not bad. But you’re not the only student of death.”

Damian tenses. The air shifts, it feels dense, heavy. Almost liquid. Damian can barely breath as a feeling of bloodlust descends. He gasps, taking a half step back. It’s as if his movement triggers the being. Molten eyes lock onto him. The man’s eyes are blown wide, barely a hint of red rims his pupils. Predator and prey. Damian scrambles to raise his dagger in time to parry a strike. Suddenly Damian is fully on the defense, his blocks barely make it in time and he quickly finds himself littered with small slashes. His own blood begins seeping from cuts on his arms and torso. He slowly realizes that this man must have been toying with him before. There’s no time for him to even think about fleeing back to the Crossroads. It is taking all of his attention and to not get sliced in half.

Between one moment and the next, Damian feels the sword pierce his shoulder. He cannot muffle a cry as he falls to the ground and the blade plunges deeper, pinning him like a butterfly. The pain makes his legs kick out, spasming helplessly as the man looms over him. 

His face is silhouetted against the sky and all Damian can make out is a toothy smile and deranged maroon eyes. Monster, Damian thinks.

“Got you.”

Damian grits his teeth as the blade slides an inch deeper. Distantly he can feel a burning sensation on the right side of his head. In desperation, Damian grabs the man’s blade with both hands in an attempt to pull it out of his shoulder. But the  blade is slippery with his own blood and he barely makes progress before the man stomps down on his stomach, knocking the air out of him. 

“Argh,” Damian grunts. There is no air in his lungs to yell. Grip on the sword loosening, his eyes water as he tries to suck in air. 

“Wha — Jason what the fuck,” a voice cries.

There’s a rush of wind and Damian suddenly finds himself pressed against a chest. The sword has disappeared. It’s Drake, his mind supplies. Suddenly the heavy atmosphere lifts and Damian finally feels like he can breathe again. 

“Shit,” the man says. “I got carried away.”

“Clearly,” Drake responds before turning to Damian. “Hey Dami, let me look at your shoulder.” Damian huffs, frustrated and angry with his inability to best the man. 

“How did you know I was here,” Damian asks. Drake turns him to inspect the wound. 

“The blessing,” Drake responds, as he uses Damian’s headscarf to staunch the blood flow, “it’s a bond of sorts. I felt your panic and pain.”

Damian tenses as the man walks forward. “Shh, it’s fine. Jason won’t hurt you anymore,” Drake assured him, “isn’t that right, Jason?”

Jason. This must be Jason Todd, the revered God of War and supposedly one of his adopted siblings. Mother has told him a lot about Todd. He is not officially a child of the underworld, but his perchance for violence and death practically makes him an honorary member. 

The man, Todd, scratches the back of his head and somehow manages to look sheepish. “My bad kid, I get a little excited when someone draws blood, take it as a compliment.” 

“When I said to watch the cave, I didn’t mean like this Jason,” Drake admonishes.

“Yeah yeah, hop off me you wannabe hummingbird. We caught the brat didn’t we?” Todd drawls, “So what now, we lockin’ him away in a tower and throwin’ away the key? Now’s not a great time for a family reunion with grandpops on the rise.”

“Excuse me?” Damian snaps, “that is exactly why I need to get to Gotham.” 

“Mm, sure thing short stack. As much as I adore a little blood and death, even I won’t send family to a slaughterhouse,” Jasons says, “Tim, shall we?”

“Neither of you will keep me from my birthright,” snarls Damian, beginning to pull away from Drake’s arms.

“Your birthright eh? You pop out of gods knows where and think we’ll just let you march back into hell? Dream on kiddo,” scoffs Todd. 

Drake’s arms lock around him, caging him in. Damian looks up to see Drake staring at Todd. 

“No. . . Timbo we talked about this.”

“You know it’s the only way, no one else can get in.”

“We quite literally just found him!”

“What are our options Jason, we’re losing this war.”

“I promised, you know I promised him.”

“This is bigger than Dick, and you know it.”

“You think I give a rat’s ass about those pea brains in the sky?”

“Boys,” a melodic voice calls, “let’s take this elsewhere with less prying eyes, shall we?”

Behind Todd stands Mother. Her eyes shadowed and hands clasped behind her. 

“Talia,” Todd breathes, “you should not have hid this from us.” Damian feels the air thicken again. Even Drake seems to tense. 

“I did what I had to,” Talia states coldly, “listen to your brother. Even in your haze of bloodlust, you must know Ra’s reign rots our world. Come, let us return to the Crossroads.”

Chapter Text

Damian sighs, resting his head on the edge of the pool. Green water ripples out around him in small shimmering waves. A Lazarus pool, a rare spring that bubbles up from Elysian. Commonly known as the Fountain of Youth. The famous waters have always been associated with the underworld and are known to be guarded fiercely. 

Mother had built the Crossroads around the pool, using it as a base to allow Damian to train without having to worry about injury and death. He absentmindedly runs his hand over the shoulder Todd had stabbed. There is nothing but smooth skin. He is not used to fearing death. Sure, he cannot die, not permanently in the mortal sense. But like any other member of his Father’s family in death, the River Styx would return him to his Father’s halls, straight to the steps of Ra’s stolen domain and into his clutches. It is why his mother had drilled his escape plan into his head, the spell to return him to the Crossroads.

Damian emerges from the pool and clothes himself. In the distance he can hear voices waft through the trees. Mother is speaking with Drake and Todd. 

“He needs more power to fight Ra’s,” he hears Drake say. “It will take more than my swiftness to free Bruce and slay a titan.” 

“I am not blind to the faults of my teaching godling,” Talia murmurs, “it was for this reason that the fates let you find him.” 

“We coulda started this years ago, Talia,” Todd grounds out. “We thought he was a goner.”

Sliding on a black toga, Damian joins them. 

“Aside from a select few, almost no one has entered Gotham since the city fell. Everyone Bruce granted access to no longer has it.” Todd looks at Drake meaningfully. 

Talia follows Todd’s stare to Drake. “He caught me, right after the fall,” Drake explains hesitantly. “My swiftness allows me to briefly travel to Gotham, even without permission. But even I could not outrun time.” Drake grimaces, unconsciously scratching the back of his head. 

“I was captive for years, trapped in time. He. . .found me amusing.” Drake paused, as if unsure whether to continue. “But, it was during my time there that I was able to confirm that Bruce and Dick were still alive. Let’s just say Ra’s liked to gloat. Bruce – he knew I could escape to the surface in a blink. So he and Dick used the last of their power to crack my time prison.” 

“And here I am,” Drake continues, “I have not, uh, been brave enough to visit Gotham again. So I have spent my time monitoring Ra’s from the surface and organizing to push back his forces when they emerge from the underworld.” 

The conversation pauses. “So, what happened. . .when Gotham fell?” Drake asks slowly. “Bruce and Dick. . . they refused to talk about it, they couldn’t even utter Damian’s name.”

Damian looks to Mother with interest. He has never been told the details of the battle. Talia purses her lips and silence coats the air again. “I fled here with Damian to use the Lazarus pool, and we have trained ever since.” 

There is another pause as his siblings wait to see if she will continue. She does not. 

“The past decade has been spent fighting Ra’s little shade army that he’s been sending to the surface,” Todd states. “We think he’s using Bruce’s power to control them.”

Damian blinks, “that was why there were no shades along the River Styx?”

“Yup,” Drake responds, “they’ve been commanded to clear a path to Olympus.” 

“But it’s fine brat, not even Ra’s can ascend that blasted mountain.” Todd says dismissively. “It’s a fool's errand.” 

“Well, that’s the confusing part,” Drake picks up. “Ra’s can’t get to Olympus. He’s got to be planning something. That’s why we’ve been monitoring the entrance to the underworld. He can’t ascend to the skies without help from a god or goddess who resides there.” 

*

It’s late by the time Todd and Drake prepare to leave. The plan is for Todd to return to train Damian, he loftily stated that ‘unlike Timbo ,’ Damian had to earn his blessing . 

“It’s more than just giving you some of my power, kiddo,” explained Todd. “There aren’t many ways to break the bond a blessing creates, you gotta prove yourself worth the extra headache if you’re going to live in my head rent free.”

Drake on the other hand will return to monitoring the entrance to the underworld. He had also mentioned procuring some “help” for Damian. To see if any other deities might be willing to give Damian their blessings. 

The following days are spent at the Crossroads with Todd, dawn til dusk. Training with Mother could not have prepared Damian to fight with the literal God of War. Sure, Drake’s blessing has made him quicker, but oftentimes Damian feels like a bee, buzzing around Todd’s head and poking his skin with a stinger. 

The only attacks that seem to do any damage are ones imbued with a little death magic. Necromancy his mother calls it. But death magic is costly and Damian does not have the mana to cast it more than once or twice. A fact that Todd consistently takes advantage of during training. 

After one particularly grueling day with Todd, Damian sits near the Lazarus pool and pats at his bruised armed with cloth soaked in emerald liquid. 

Hearing steps, Damian looks up to see Drake and another bulking figure approaching. It’s a man, even wider than Todd. The man’s jet black hair is tied in a loose ponytail and a thick beard settles low on his naked hairy chest. In his hands is a hammer, almost as tall as Drake. Its bronze hue reflects off the filtering light. It matches the bronze prosthetic leg the man has. 

“Hey Dami,” calls Drake, “this is Conner.” 

Damian studies the man curiously, eyeing the prosthetic. 

“God of the Forge, at your service,” introduces Conner. “Heard ya might be needing some help taking down the old man.”

“Conner can help get you better gear –” Drake starts.

“The best gear, you mean,” Conner cuts Drake off. “Whatever fickle blades you have now are garbage compared to what I can make you. Tim mentioned you use the shadows made by a pair of daggers to fight.”

“You are an ally?” Damian asks. 

“Of a sort. My father doesn’t know I am here, and would likely not be pleased if he found out.”

“Your father?”

“Oh you know, the one and only King of Olympians and the sky above, Clark Kent,” Conner responds bitterly. Drake wraps an arm around Conner’s shoulders and leans into him. Damian stares. 

“You are quite close.” Damian observes. 

Drake chuckles, “Yeah, you could say that.”

“Mother has never mentioned the God of the Forge.”

“I’m not surprised,” Conner responds. “I. . .haven’t been around much. My family – my father specifically refuses to meddle with the underworld. Keeps saying it’s not his war.” Conner drags a hand down his mouth slowly. “I followed my father unquestionably, and so I did not raise a finger when Ra’s took Gotham. Well, you can see how that has turned out.” Conner sighs. 

Mother had never mentioned anything good about Clark Kent. He was a paradon of the old ways, entrenched in his belief in his own power and superiority. Rarely coming down from his throne in the sky and certainly never setting foot below ground to meddle in the affairs of the underworld. 

“But Clark is still stubborn as ever, hell. I don’t even know if he’d bat an eye until Ra’s is at the foot of his throne,” continues Conner, hand clenching. “But I know better now.”

The clearing lapses into silence. 

“Enough of that, why don’t you check these out.”

Conner opens his giant palms and two golden blades materialize. The blades are iridescent and when the light catches them, Damian can somehow see a deeper purple sheen. They’re beautiful and otherworldly.

“Nightmare rock, not easy to get ahold of if ya ask me,” Conner chuffs. “Took pretty much all of what I’ve been able to get my hands on over the past millennia. Don’t bother asking me how many times I had to slay medusa and cyclops for this.”

Damian lifts the blades reverently. They feel perfectly balanced and almost hum with a burning energy. The place where he grips the blade feels like it was molded for his hands, whispers of something seems to intertwine with his own mana.

“Nightmare rock channels mana, it should be easier for you to imbue these with magic than with your old blades,” Drake explains. 

“Do you accept the blades?” Conner asks.

“I would be honored,” Damian whispers. Immediately Damian feels a flash of heat on his head. Startled, he reaches for his laurel to feel the warmth of a second leaf. 

“There it is,” laughs Conner somberly. “Look Damian, I wasn’t around last time. Hell even if you had your memories, I doubt you’d even remember me. Think of this as an apology, on behalf of myself and my father, lord knows he will never say so himself.”

“Well, I’d better get back to Olympus before Clark notices. Good luck Damian.”

Damian watches the two leave the Crossroads and raises a hand to his laurel. Two blessings, he’ll make a run of this yet.

Chapter Text

“Nghf,” the breath slams out of Damian as he’s tackled to the ground. Head ringing, he hears Todd cackle. 

“Those pretty little knives ain’t gonna do much if you can’t hit a lil harder, pipsqueak.”

Damian growls. It feels like they have been training for weeks and Damian is barely seeing any results. Sometimes he’s not even sure if Todd is training him or just enjoying having a breathing punching bag. Damian pulls himself to his feet. Damian feels the frustration boiling over, they don’t have time for this. It’s too late for him to be this inadequate, this weak. If he cannot beat a god, how will he beat a titan? 

Damian warps at Todd again. He’s drained, exhausted. Running on the fumes of resentment in his own failure. As he flickers around Todd’s back and just as he sees Todd swing his blade he tries to dive back into shadow. Except he can’t. Damian’s body stalls. He’s out of mana. 

He sees the moment Todd realizes something is wrong. A look of horror crosses his face. It takes a split second, and Todd turns his blade so the flat side hits Damian instead, sending him crashing into a nearby tree instead of slicing him in half. The tree splinters and Damian spits blood. He wonders how many of his ribs just turned to dust. 

“What the fuck was that? You little –”

“Again,” Damian growls, staggering to his feet. Blood and spit dribble down his chin. 

Todd scoffs, “Fuck no.”

“Again!” Damian yells, voice cracking. He can feel hysteria building. He can’t fail this. 

“We’re done kid.” 

Todd leaves him in the clearing, hand clenched around his sword. When all Damian can hear is the breeze through the dead grass, he collapses to his knees. No, no, no, no. This can’t happen. It’s unacceptable. He feels cold. He reaches for his mana only to find an empty well. It feels like a void in his chest.

Empty. He’s empty. No power, no mana, no memories. 

Damian’s stomach rolls. Why does he feel like this? Gods, he doesn’t even know who he is. It feels like he can’t breathe, almost like when Drake had taken him to the surface. Why does it feel so hot? Blindly Damian stumbles towards the sound of moving water. If he can just get to the river, maybe he’ll feel better, yeah, that will fix it. 

He reaches the river in a haze, sinking down to stare as his garbled reflection in the rushing water. In the dim dusk light, Damian sits, involuntary shivers shake his form. His heart is racing. How can he feel like there is no air from above the rapids? Damian tilts forward.

“Hey!” 

Damian must be far gone if he’s hearing voices. His eyes flutter, exhaustion taking over. Suddenly a pair of arms scoop him up. Blinking rapidly, Damian stares up into a pair of golden eyes. 

“Hello there sunshine,” the voice calls. 

“Who–”

“It’s not often I see a panic attack send someone into the River Styx, but I could never ignore a damsel in distress.” 

“Not a damsel,” Damian mumbles. A panic attack, how humiliating he thinks. 

The being sets him down back on the river’s edge and takes a step back. With a deep breath, Damian straightens himself and stares at the new arrival. In a word, the man is radiant. His skin is dark, even darker than Damian’s but his eyes are beams of gold. They match his equally glossy hair. On his back there is a large golden bow. Gold and red armor adorn his figure. Damian is certain this is a god. Nothing else would stand in Erebus with such confidence. The man is brimming with so much mana that he practically emits light.

“I was wondering what finally brought my brother out of the forge, what a little treat I’ve found,” the god’s voice is melodious and enchanting. “I don’t think we’ve met, I would have remembered you.”

The god leans closer and Damian takes a half step back. He feels a thumb swipe up something on his chin. “Gold blood, a god to boot huh?” Yellow eyes lock onto him and a sly smile graces the man’s face as he traces the golden scars that adorn Damian’s shoulder. “You’re very pretty, I think I’ll keep you.”

“I am not an object to be kept,” Damian retorts, wiping his chin. It tingles where the god touched. This must be one of Conner’s siblings. But there are many and Damian does not know enough to tell which one.

“Dad lets me keep anything I want actually,” the being says loftily. “But that’s fine, I overheard a little from earlier. Sounds like you got a bit of a mission ahead of you. Dad’s been complaining about the shade army for years, after you get rid of them, you can come and live with me on Olympus.” 

“I do not think that is possible.”

“Hmmm, maybe your pretty little head shouldn’t be thinking then. Don’t you worry, I’ll figure something out. But in the meantime, I don’t like that you bear my brother’s mark and not mine.”

Before Damian can voice his dissent, the being sweeps closer and pecks a chaste kiss on his cheek. Immediately, Damian can tell the god has blessed him, a new leaf glows. Mana blooms in Damian’s chest. It steals his breath away, he has never felt so much raw magical energy.

“I hope that’s enough to light your way down little death god.”

*

It’s dark by the time Damian makes his way back to the Crossroads. He can feel the phantom poking from Drake’s blessing – asking where he is. He feels silly for running off, but that does not banish the weight of his duty. With a clearer head and mana restored, he feels more whole. Except for the black hole in his memories. It never bothered him before, back when it was just him and Mother. But he’s seen more of the world now, met others, it feels. . .lonely to meet family that he should have known. 

Damian feels like he has to earn their relationship back, to prove his worth, what better way to do that than to free Father. 

Damian approaches the middle of the Crossroads where Drake, Todd, and Mother stand. 

“What. . .will it take to earn your blessing Todd?”

Todd hums and hesitates. 

“Look kiddo, you. . .You basically just met me – at least you feel that way. Surely you can tell, I ain’t like the others and my blessing ain’t like the others’ either.” Todd sighs, “It’s so weird to have to explain this to you. Every god and goddess knows I’m a lil loopy, a lil unhinged. If I’m going to give you some of that firepower, I gotta make sure you can handle it. Gods know it’s easy to lose yourself in it.”

Todd turns mumbling, “out here being a responsible older brother, imagine that Dickie.”

“Okay.” Damian says. 

Todd spins to look at him, “That’s it? Just ‘okay’?”

Damian feels mana swirl in his gut. “I’ll prove that I can handle it.”

He turns to look at Mother and Drake. Drake’s eyes are trained on him, rather above him to his head. Drake approaches slowly and raises his hand as if to touch Damian’s newest leaf before stopping. His eyes narrow. 

“Unexpected, but not unwelcome. Although it does not bode well to have caught his attention. His kin are known for being. . .obsessive.”

“Who is he?” Damian asks. 

“Jonathan Kent, the youngest and favored son of Clark. The God of Light,” bitterness color’s Drake’s voice. Thinking of Conner, Damian wonders if there is a deeper story there. 

Mother’s gaze is conflicted. “We cannot afford to turn down any help,” she says softly. 

“No we cannot,” Drake agrees, “I will need to let Conner know. For better or worse, Clark will inevitably find out that his sons have given you their blessings.”

*

And find out Clark Kent does. Not even a week passes when Damian and Todd’s sparring session is interrupted. The smell of ozone is the only warning they get before a bolt of lightning strikes between the two. Both gods are flung back by the pure crackling energy, Damian can almost taste the mana in the air. As the dust begins to clear, a massive hulking figure stands in the middle of the Crossroads. 

The God of Thunder cuts an imposing figure. His long white hair whips in stark contrast to his tanned skin. His eyes are golden, the same shade as Jonathan’s except Damian swears he can feel an untamed electric energy emitting from them. His loose toga barely contains the cords of rippling muscle. The famed thunderbolt in hand, Kent turns purposefully towards Damian. 

“Greetings young man, I don’t believe we have met.” 

“Lord Kent,” Damian greets, head bowed. 

“I was wondering what had caught my boys’ attention down here in the gloom.”

Kent approaches Damian leisurely. A hand that could crush Damian’s entire head grips his chin. The God of Thunder turns Damian’s head to inspect his laurels. 

“Well, this is your family’s mess and I will not fix it for you. But perhaps I can spare you some aid. It would be nice to have this. . .issue resolved. I tire of Ra’s shades poking at my domain. . .On my authority, I bless you with permission to visit the surface and Olympus.”

There’s a flash and Damian feels Kent’s blessing hit. It’s a baffling amount of energy that makes his skin crackle. He feels dizzily high with how much energy itches in his fingertips, aching to release it. Damian cannot help a groan as his eyes flutter, he feels full, overflowing.

Kent’s hand tightens, bringing Damian back to the present. He raises half-lidded eyes. That will bruise. “My youngest seems enamoured with you little shadow. It would behoove you to tread lightly, it would be a shame to have to mar such a pretty face.”

There’s a deafening clap, and Kent is gone. Damian blinks sluggishly and sways, it feels like there are lights dancing behind his eyes. A hand grips his upper arm, steadying him. 

“What an asshole,” Todd mumbles. 

Silently, Damian agrees. Off to the side, Mother stands in the shadows. Her face is partially obscured  by shade, but her body is stiff and Damian can see her hands clench. Absently, he wonders if Mother’s distaste for the God of Olympus runs deeper than hating his guts. 

They take the rest of the day off from training. When Drake pops in, he and Damian run off to test the new blessing. Thankfully, Drake flies a little slower and Damian actually gets to see the surface. 

It’s beautiful from far above, there are glistening blue waters and green leaves on trees. Things feel alive, in a way Damian isn’t sure he fully understands. It feels like everything around him gives off energy. But for all the beauty in nature, the humans are in shambles. War, Drake explains. Humans versus humans, with a lot of influence from Ra’s shades and Kent’s followers. Damian is overwhelmed with the vastness of it. 

They don’t go to Olympus, but Damian does get a glimpse of the pathway upwards and the carnage at the base. Even from the sky, he can see the shades at the gates. Todd is right, it seems they cannot ascend and are just lingering. How bizarre.