Chapter 1: I
Chapter Text
A long time ago, when giants still ruled the world, Trigon the Great triumphed over the four kingdoms. When fairies, mermaids, nymphs, and succubi still roamed the great plains, that was when he was proclaimed king of all things. But it didn’t take long for light to prevail over the universe, and soon the Great One was defeated. Cast into other dimensions, he swore vengeance upon the seven keys of fate and vowed to return, and all would witness his fury.
Millennia later, the rise of a fifth kingdom, under the leadership of a military man and immortal, brought the Al Ghul dynasty to power, achieving what the ancient four never had. So swiftly and so completely did he rise that the four kings and queens—underestimating the then-lord Ra’s al Ghul—did not foresee their total loss to the fifth faction. The cunning and military strength of the lord was so overwhelming that the others had no choice but to surrender, legitimizing Lord Ra’s al Ghul of distant lands as the newest king of the oligarchy that ruled the vast continent.
Thus began the fifth reign, and centuries passed until the head of state finally married. Her name was Sora, a beautiful young woman with almond-shaped eyes and soft skin, who didn’t even last two decades at his side. She died giving birth to her fourth child, who also passed away just hours later—just like the three before. Ra’s mourned his wife for a century before remarrying, but as if fate opposed his queens, once again, his wife died tragically after delivering their fourth son, followed by the child.
It seemed the great King Al Ghul was incapable of producing heirs, threatening his lineage. The four kingdoms organized uprisings to incite the population's outrage. Ra’s responded fiercely, unleashing brutal suppression upon lords and commoners alike. During one of these bloody times, amidst screams and bloodshed, Ra’s met his third and final wife, Melisande—a sensual young woman with feline brown eyes and tawny skin. The mighty king fell madly in love with her charms, and a year later, they married, with life already growing in Melisande’s womb.
Once again, fate turned its wheel, and nine months later, Melisande died seconds after giving birth to her first and only child. To everyone’s surprise, it was a girl—something strange, as all Ra’s’ previous children had been boys. Talia al Ghul, as she would be known, was a strong and healthy baby and survived the crucial hours. The commoners, upon hearing the news that their lord's child had survived, calmed and waited to see what would come next.
And so it happened. While Melisande’s body was prepared for burial, Talia was lifted onto the palace balcony, wrapped in rich green and gold robes. The king declared her his heir, and the greatest celebration the nations had ever seen began. The girl grew to become a most distinguished woman, trained from a young age by her father's own hand in military strategy and combat. Her aptitude and dexterity equaled the great warrior’s, and in time she earned renown as a strategist. But it wasn’t just her skills that drew crowds—she was also beautiful. A striking woman, inheriting her mother’s sensuality and her father’s enigmatic emerald eyes, Talia had as many suitors as she had gowns.
One glorious evening, during a magnificent ball celebrating her father’s victory over the third kingdom, dressed in her house colors and eyes sparkling from sweet wine, she met Bruce of the Wayne lineage. He captivated her immediately. As he danced with Diana of Themyscira—Talia’s rival in beauty and grace—Talia, driven by jealousy, “accidentally” spilled juice on Diana’s lovely gown and asked Bruce for a dance. It was love at first sight. That simple dance between two heirs from powerful houses blossomed into nights of tender passion amid battles and secret rides.
But during one sultry night of love between the princess and the prince, their destinies were sealed. Shortly after they parted, during an intense training session, Talia vomited on her sparring partner and knew something was wrong. It didn’t take long for her to realize that the nausea and vomiting meant there was a life growing in her womb. Talia al Ghul had never been more afraid. First, because she knew who the father was; second, because her father would never tolerate a future queen getting pregnant out of wedlock.
She reached out to Bruce, but he was so terrified by the news and its consequences that he abandoned her, leaving her alone one moonlit night at their secret meeting place—one of the worst nights of her life. Talia was lost. She could have ended the pregnancy, but her love for Bruce Wayne—despite his cowardice—was so strong that she couldn't bring herself to drink the poison she held in her hand each time.
Talia made her decision and took on the burden of secrecy. But she grew slower in combat, which her father noticed, and she began layering her clothing to hide her growing belly and swelling breasts. Then one summer, on one of the hottest days Nanda Parbat had ever seen, while two women massaged her feet, one fanned her, and another fed her grapes, Ra’s al Ghul suddenly entered her room.
Because of the heat, Talia wore only a white split skirt and a tiny top that exposed her belly completely. The moment Ra’s saw the unmistakable bulge, he immediately understood. By the sixth second, his sword was drawn. Talia’s sleepy, tired eyes became instantly alert.
“Talia! What have you done, you ungrateful whore?” Ra’s roared with pure hatred, lunging so fast that only her military reflexes saved her belly from being slashed.
Her heart pounded, but she fought her father hand-to-hand. Yet in the end, he was stronger and quicker. Ra’s seized his daughter. Amid tears and blows, she begged for mercy, but he dragged her through the halls by the hair. In the throne room, he threw her before the royal seat.
“Are you insane?! Why didn’t you end this?! Do you have any idea what I sacrificed to keep this throne?!- His face was crimson with fury, his voice thundered. -I knew about your rendezvous with that fool from the Waynes. But I thought you were smarter—I thought I taught you better! This thing growing inside you could have been avoided! Do you understand me, you whore?! Huh?!”
Looking at their portrait hanging on the wall, Ra’s sighed, then turned sharply.
“You will kill that thing right now!”
The horror on Talia’s face was so profound it gave him pause. Despite her bruises, black eye, and bleeding nose, she stood, placing a protective hand over her belly. Then she knelt, lowering her head to the ground in supplication. This gesture shook Ra’s to his core—an Al Ghul never knelt. He briefly lost all color in his face before exploding with rage again. He grabbed her hair and struck her violently.
“Have you lost your mind, girl? What did I teach you? You are an Al Ghul, Talia! And you dared consort with the enemy!”He hit her repeatedly. The violence was enough to kill any woman, pregnant or not, but Talia endured. She was reckless, maybe, but she had inherited her father’s vital strength. When he drew a dagger from his boot and climbed on top of her, she screamed:
“Father!” Coughing blood, she cried out, placing her long fingers protectively over her belly. A memory of running through the palace in green clothes, wearing her father’s stolen crown, burst into her mind. She used to scream the same way as a child when he chased and caught her, laughing all the while.
That memory was so vivid it reflected on Ra’s’ face. Seizing the moment, Talia pleaded:
“For my life, Father. Let this child live!” Bloodied, she looked deeply into his eyes, waiting for his answer. She knew she stood at the edge of a precipice.
Once again, the wheel of fortune turned. Miraculously, Ra’s raised the dagger and sheathed it. He stepped off her with control, face as cold as stone, then left the room in heavy steps.
It took minutes before Talia realized what had happened. Propped on her elbows, she watched the door, afraid he might return. But nothing happened—until Sandra, also known as Shiva, her servant and closest confidante, entered. They said nothing, but the gentle touch on her elbow and the faintest concern in Shiva’s eyes told Talia all she needed.
The remaining months passed quietly. Her father did not speak to her and ordered her confined to her room during festivals and battles. She was excluded from war planning and from her role as second-in-command of the League of Shadows. Still, she lacked nothing. Ra’s might have still wanted her dead, but she was his heir—and he ensured her every request, through Lady Shiva, was met.
Then one stormy night, when the skies above Nanda Parbat raged with thunder and wind, Talia felt her first contraction. Water broke down her legs. The roaring thunder drowned her screams. Alone, she called for help, and soon two midwives and several attendants surrounded her bed. The pain of childbirth was immense but not worse than what she had already endured. At midnight, with a terrible clap of thunder and a violent gust that flung open every window and drenched the room, the candles went out—and the child was born, crying its first breath.
Wrapped in a white cloth, the baby was handed to her. With tears streaming down her face, Talia wiped the blood from her son’s face and studied his little features. She kissed his soft, wet head gently.
Then the doors burst open. Ra’s al Ghul entered with three guards of the League of Shadows. Another flash of lightning lit the room—and the dagger in Ra’s’ hand. Neither Talia nor Shiva could react. Soaked from the storm, dripping water, Ra’s had a look of pure resolve. The baby was ripped from Talia’s arms. The windows banged, the wind howled.
Ra’s opened the cloth. Talia screamed as two guards pinned her to the pillows. Shiva drew her sword, ready to strike. But the wheel of fate turned once more. A flash of lightning illuminated the child—and Ra’s saw that it was a boy. Silent now, the child stared into his grandfather’s eyes. A boy—after so many failed sons. His bloodline survived.
Ra’s fell to his knees and wept, holding the child solemnly. The thunder stopped, the wind stilled, and the servants hurried to shut the windows.
Silence fell. Shiva, Talia, and a dozen attendants stood frozen in shock—even the guards were stunned.
“What is his name?” asked Ra’s through tears, holding the bundle in one hand, letting the dagger fall to the floor.
“Damian. Damian of House Al Ghul, Father.”
Chapter 2: II
Chapter Text
In the second month of Damian's life, King and Queen Wayne came—after much pleading from their only and legitimate heir—to deal with the birth of the illegitimate child Bruce had fathered. Their arrival was kept as discreet as possible, using only a modest carriage borrowed from one of the lords of their lands. Alongside them traveled the best assassin in Gotham, tasked with protecting them from any misfortune.
The grand castle loomed imposingly, and a gust of wind swept through the Waynes’ cloaks as they stepped out of the carriage. Lady Wayne had her hair pulled back into an elaborate bun, wearing a simple circular tiara with a small emerald resting on her forehead. Lord Wayne wore a blue cloak and dark garments, crowned with a simple circlet. Bruce was dressed like his father—minus the crown.
The wooden gates opened, and the three were quietly ushered inside by a small group of servants who led them to the throne room. The massive double doors swung open, and they entered in silence, the only sound being the echo of their footsteps on the stone floor.
Ra’s al Ghul watched them in silence, like a snake—expressionless, but young Bruce could feel the heat and pressure of those intense eyes burning into him and his family. The air was so thick with tension, you could cut it with a sword.
Bruce Wayne, wanting to plead for clemency, dropped to his knees, drew his sword, planted the blade in the ground, and rested his forehead against the pommel.
“Your Majesty, after much reflection, I’ve come to take responsibility. A few months ago, due to my own recklessness during an encounter with your daughter, she became pregnant. My initial reaction was a disgrace, and now I want nothing more than to make amends—to the child and to Talia. So, I come asking for her hand in marriage and to claim the child as my heir. This will not only resolve the current scandal, but also serve the realm, for I love Talia. And despite the long-standing feud between our houses, I am willing, as the future king of Gotham, to bring peace between us.”
The king, who had his face buried in his hands, lifted his head, straightened his back, and laughed. Ra’s laughed deeply, heartily—like he’d just heard the funniest joke of his life. It took minutes for him to stop. His face returned to its serious expression, and after a long pause, he finally spoke.
“Let me see if I understand this right. You have the audacity to court my daughter for months, get her pregnant, abandon her, and now you want some right over the child or the future of our houses?”
Ra’s rose, his voice heavy and cutting like lead. The Waynes stood motionless, but Bruce knew they feared Al Ghul’s reaction. Still, the young prince remained firm in his stance.
“What do you say, Talia? What is your answer as the future queen and mother of the child?”
Bruce’s heart stopped in his chest. He looked up the moment he heard her name. From the shadows behind the throne curtains emerged Talia al Ghul. She moved like a serpent—graceful, silent. She wore a green skirt with golden accents and an elegant blouse that covered her arms but left her shoulders and belly bare. Her hair had grown longer than ever, now reaching her lower back. Her emerald eyes held a cold, sharp glint—the same one she wore in battle. Bruce realized then that the woman before him was no longer the one he had fallen in love with—she was a true assassin.
Talia drew the massive katana from her back and took a fighting stance, right arm raised, left extended like a coiled viper ready to strike.
“You will leave this castle. Now.” She hissed, deadly.
“That child ceased to be yours the moment you abandoned me. And you will never be considered its father.”
She stepped forward with deadly grace, raising the tension to a razor's edge. Bruce stood immediately. Their eyes met—but there was no feeling in Talia’s gaze. None. His father drew his sword quickly and placed a hand on Bruce’s shoulder, signaling that there was no saving this. This was the end.
“Leave my castle immediately. I never want to see your face again.” The princess said coldly.
Bruce could do nothing more. His father was already pulling him away, desperate not to provoke further conflict and destroy the fragile balance between their two realms.
But before leaving, Bruce looked back one last time—and the image burned into his soul forever.
A tall, beautiful woman, standing tall with her katana’s tip resting on the floor, her face emotionless.
Far away, in cold and barren lands of vast plains where the sun rarely shone and everything seemed dead, three mountains towered over the center of the land. The tallest stood at the back, its peak piercing the clouds. These were the Mountains of Azarath.
No living soul dwelled there at the time, yet the mountains were legendary for their forests—especially the third one, which, by some miracle, was full of trees. Few who ventured in ever returned, except for a lost soul or two.
Between the peak and the base of the third mountain was a tunnel leading into a small opening inside the mountain itself. There, universes blurred, and a cosmic rift into another dimension existed. This land, also named Azarath, looked like paradise on Earth. Rolling green hills, crystal waters, marble streets, and golden-columned homes—it was the realm of a peaceful, cordial people.
Thousands of centuries later, a powerful child was born: Raven. Darkness ran through her veins, the burden of a cursed bloodline. Raised like a living weapon, Azar “the Third,” priestess and ruler of the island, quickly saw the need to restrain and train the girl if she were to live among her gentle people.
They decided Raven’s nature had to be completely transformed—that the darkness in her core had to become light. That meant suppressing half her soul, stunting her development and crippling her ability to understand or control her immense power.
As the years passed, Raven’s life became that of a hermit. While boys and girls played in green fields and swam in the crystal sea, Raven meditated, studied ancient texts she barely understood, and floated alone in empty halls. While others experienced love and joy, Raven was silenced by incense and solitude.
Her world was an eternal gray, and over time that gray seemed to cling to her. Her skin turned pale, her body too thin—so different from the vibrant, healthy Azarathian women. Thus came her eighteenth birthday.
But fate had a sick sense of humor. On that fateful day, the mighty Trigon appeared in Azarath. In the blink of an eye, he brought darkness. The sky turned black, the air’s scent of gardenias rotted into sulfur and decay.
That day, Raven met death. And just like that, all of Azarath was annihilated—leaving only her behind.
From the earliest days of her childhood, when she was taught to suppress and contain, Raven had been forced to bottle it all up. But now, the gates of her soul burst wide open. If Azarath hadn’t already been reduced to ash, Raven would have burned it to the ground herself.
Her explosion was so intense, it shattered her consciousness. She woke days later in a cold, white world, covered in silence.
Chapter 3: III
Chapter Text
It was just another day like any other cold day in the mountains. Except this time, the sun was shining, lighting up all the whiteness and fluffiness of the previous night’s snowfall. Raven sighed—there she went again to clean that little cemetery. At least she had the comforting and warm sunlight over her head. She wore the same clothes as always: several layers of worn-out clothing under a brown long-sleeved dress, topped with a tattered animal-skin coat, old purple pants, and two boots that matched the pitiful state of her other clothes.
Miraculously, some bird was singing somewhere, and within her usual calm focus, she could hear it. Raven took a deep breath before starting to move. She had an old wooden shovel that was enough to push the snow, and then she put one foot in front of the other and slowly started her work. It was part of the young woman’s routine to keep that place as immaculate and sacred as possible, and whenever she could, she would place flowers or say prayers over those graves.
Not that Raven believed in anything—but that was all she could do, all she could do after… No, she wouldn’t think about that. Not when the sun was so harmonious, and not when she knew that thinking led to feeling. So she sighed again, returning to her total focus on the present. The clearing that opened up within the mountain’s structure might have been tiny, but it had a certain charm every time Raven took it in. It was like her own little corner, a place that belonged to her and no one could take away.
Silence reigned supreme over all that blinding white snow. Nothing could be heard but that bird and Raven’s breathing. Life in the cliffs of the third mountain timidly blossomed as the sun showed itself. The front face of the mountains was dead and gloomy, but their backs were always full of trees. Where flora and fauna flourished the most—despite the climate—was right there on the third highest mountain in the center.
Half an hour later, Raven looked over the final result of her work: everything was clean, and that little cemetery looked worthy once again. She put the shovel down for a moment to stretch. Lifting her arms, she let out a soft moan of pleasure as she felt her muscles and joints stretch. Then she rolled her shoulders and tilted her head, squatting down to grab the tool again.
Raven looked once more at the place before heading back the way she came, entering the invisible crevice to return to her home. In the blink of an eye, the blue sky and snow were replaced by a mild forest, surrounded by thin and medium-trunked trees. That place exuded peace, but unlike the mountain forest, no life flowed there—except for the trees and Raven. The cabin ahead was simple, but cozy. Circular and flattened in shape, it had a brown roof and worn white walls.
Entering through the small door, the first thing you’d see was the kitchen with its wooden shelves, full of boxes and jars containing various herbs, wooden-handled pots, plates, and cups. Some dried lavender hung from a rig on the highest shelf, along with other withered branches. To the left of the house’s circumference, there was a deep fireplace carved into the structure. Further left stood a large brown wooden table with shelves above it crammed with books, papers, glass vials, and trinkets like horns, amulets, feathers, and more. Near the door, a wood-burning oven hung with garlic, thyme, and other herbs. A halved tree trunk served as a table with two old wooden chairs.
The house had a weird but pleasant mix of herbs, old stuff, and wood. Raven headed for the staircase leading to the mezzanine where her single bed stood, beside a window that lit the small room. There was a chest holding her clothes, a lantern stand next to the bed, some books, and a cup. She began removing her layers of clothes, dropping them all onto the bed, ending up completely naked, taking off her boots last.
Opening the chest, she took out a simple dress and put it on, then grabbed a cloth she’d left drying on the window frame and headed back down the stairs, stepping outside again. She walked into the forest again and followed the path to the right, down a gentle slope leading closer to the river. The sound of running water and the forest scent became stronger in that area. As she neared the river, she felt the usual pebbles brushing against her feet.
She took off her clothes again, piling them with the cloth on the ground, and entered the water. The temperature clashed with her body, but she loved the usual chill of those waters. So she kept going, diving in one go once the water reached her waist. That was one of Raven’s small pleasures—when the cold water triggered a rush through her body, and she felt magnificently alive.
She took a few long seconds before fully submerging. Her cheeks blushed, her wet hair clung to her breasts and back. She kept walking until the water was shoulder-high, then washed under her arms, between her thighs, and under her breasts, making sure the water flowed as she scrubbed—just like the caretakers used to do back in Azarath. Then she submerged again and scrubbed behind her ears.
Since Raven didn’t have much to do that day, she decided to stay in the water a little longer, even though she was already clean. So she let her body float as she threw her head back, letting herself drift. If anyone asked Raven—which no one ever did—whether she preferred to meditate sitting in lotus or lying down, she’d say lying down. Preferably in that water. There was no feeling in the world like looking at the sky while hearing nothing but the silence under the water. That’s when she forgot she had a body, forgot she was someone, and just blended into that massive fluid entity. No past, no thoughts, no future. Just the beautiful sky stretching out in a soft blue above the green-filled trees that gave off a scent indescribably divine.
Raven stayed like that for a while until she got hungry and had to go back. She got dressed, carried the damp cloth in her hand, and entered her house again. Upstairs, she put away the clothes she’d left on the bed and hung the now-dry cloth by the window again. Going down, she grabbed a box with some cheese and set it on the table. She placed a kettle of water on the fireplace near the cauldron and threw in some herbs. She reached for the shelf at head height and took down the last bit of bread.
She was not thrilled to realize she’d soon have to go out to buy more supplies. That annoyed her because she knew people would ask for her help—or she’d end up helping them anyway. Since discovering a kingdom about two days’ journey away—on the day she almost starved trying to find food—she had seen the harsh truths of the human world her mother once warned her about. People were sick, losing teeth, coughing up phlegm or blood, crying from pain and fear. That day left Raven with a terrible sadness for those people, and since her upbringing in Azarath with the monks involved studying healing, she saw no reason not to help.
Besides that, she also earned money by doing other things—helping midwives, making perfumes that she sold cheaply (to everyone’s amazement, since perfume was pricey even for nobles, let alone peasants). In short, Raven helped however she could. But the problem was that her name had spread quickly through the kingdom, and over the two years she’d been around, people came to see her as a powerful and benevolent being who saved those in need. A savior.
She hated that title and the image they had of her. She warned everyone she helped not to talk about her—but that never worked. People talked so much that posters were made, summoning her to the king himself. That made Raven even more cautious—she never took off her cloak or lowered her hood anymore. But her heart still hurt for those who suffered, and she couldn’t deny help when she had so much to give.
She mentally braced herself and, sipping steaming tea, sat down to eat enough to last her hours—because whenever she went out, she always stayed longer than planned. When she finished, she went upstairs again and got dressed in several layers, put on her undergarments and battered boots. She found the cloak she always used—the same one she wore when she ended up on that mountain.
She braided her hair, closed the cloak over her shoulders, pulled up the hood, and teleported out, heading toward the exit of that universe. When the cold air and mountain wind hit her face, she felt the chill—but in seconds, she vanished into the darkness of time and space, arriving exactly where she wanted.
The kingdom was just as miserable as the last time she’d been there, but she noticed less trash in the streets—a piece of advice she’d given most of her "clients." Don’t flood the streets with waste—it was horrible for public health. She was happy to see there was less filth. She exited the alley and started walking. People were coughing, two women were arguing, and the sound of children crying in nearby houses immediately made her feel awful.
Raven tried to go unnoticed, but unfortunately, her cloak was a dead giveaway. When she moved in that magnificent all-black Azarathian fabric, everyone recognized her. One of the arguing women said:
“Look who it is! Look! It’s her!”
Silence fell. People walking nearby stopped to watch the small dark figure moving. Even the children’s crying seemed to stop, just to satisfy the curiosity about her. That’s what they called her. No one really knew what she was or her real name, but the voice of a woman was enough to stir the kingdom’s curiosity.
It didn’t take long for her to find a man lying on the ground with a bottle in hand, crying for help. Drunk, and no one seemed to care—judging by his smell, skin, and clothes. He took a huge gulp from the bottle before lifting his eyes to see her approaching. Shocked like death itself had arrived, he rubbed his eyes as if to be sure he was really seeing her. When the cloaked darkness got closer, he just shrank against the wall. Raven crouched and reached out, touching his hand. Calmed by the fact that it was a real hand and not a claw, the man relaxed. Raven touched his forehead and took a mental note. The man was burning up.
“I’m in pain. I’m in pain, help me.”
Raven reached into her cloak, grabbed the pouch at her waist filled with potions, and whispered a command mantra, asking him to forget her face. She opened the pouch and searched for the right vial, found it, opened it, and told him to drink it in one go. He did—and within seconds, she saw his eyes blur. Before he could fall asleep from the healing magic, she leaned into his ear and, ignoring the smell, said firmly:
“Quit drinking. Bathe in the nearest lake. Find a proper place to sleep.”
The words sank in, and the man collapsed into a deep sleep. She stood and headed for the town square.
The smell of meat filled her nose as she crossed the square, heading into the commercial streets. First, she would go to the baker—to buy bread and maybe a little treat for herself, since she had spare coins. Then to the small bookstore and antique shop, which would take up most of her coin purse. Finally, she planned to buy some simple clothes—maybe to update something in her life.
Raven didn’t usually splurge, but her birthday had passed just three days ago, and she was in the mood for a little indulgence. And maybe it wasn’t such a bad thing to spend a little now and then, especially since there were two books she’d been eyeing for a long time in the city’s wealthy district, and she had finally saved up enough.
Walking discreetly, she suddenly bumped into something small—no, someone. Her heart pounded so hard she had to brace herself not to let her powers slip.
“Oh, heavens! Forgive me! I didn’t see where I was going…” she said, then looked down at the person she’d bumped into. A hunched, blind old woman stared back. Those two white eyes seemed to fixate on hers before a thin hand with long nails grabbed her wrist tightly.
“It’s okay. After all… it was time for us to meet anyway, Raven.”
Chapter 4: IV
Chapter Text
Raven didn’t have much time to react, as the old woman, who possessed unusual strength for her age, grabbed her by the wrist.
“Don’t be afraid, girl. No, no, let’s have some tea and talk. This old lady needs some company.”
Blushing, Raven followed the woman from corner to corner. She wanted to resist the command, but felt strangely compelled to help the old lady, even if it might cause her trouble in the near future. When the two stopped and Raven had a chance to recognize where they were, she realized they were in the upscale area of the city, standing right beside the expensive bookstore. That’s when she noticed the woman opening a wooden door that led to the upper floor of a house adjacent to the bookstore building.
“That bookstore only sells to kings and lords, and I must say it’s of fine quality, don’t you agree?”
“Yes… I agree?” Raven didn’t understand how the woman knew her name or why her establishment was located exactly above the bookstore she adored.
“All your questions will be answered, dear. Don’t be afraid, come, let’s go up.”
The old lady’s worn cloak was the last thing Raven saw before stepping into the shadows beyond the doorway. She glanced around the street, where lords and gentlemen strolled, along with some ladies. The sky was gray, heralding dusk. She looked at the old wooden staircase ahead, unable to see beyond the first few steps leading upward. Raven was about to turn back when the woman’s voice echoed from somewhere above.
“Don’t be afraid of the dark, my child. I’m not going to drug you and eat your flesh like Hansel and Gretel.” The voice echoed, making Raven uncomfortable, wanting to leave immediately, but the voice continued. “I bet you’re hungry. I’ll make some mint tea and chocolate cakes.”
The scent of mint filled the corridor, drawing Raven forward until she placed both feet inside and began climbing the stairs.
“I don’t know if we’ve met before, but I would like to know how you know my name?” asked Raven as she climbed. She glanced back at the door, but saw only darkness behind her. Her heart paused for a moment, then she kept walking toward the light.
“I’ll tell you once these little treats are ready, but first, come here.” It took Raven a moment to understand how the staircase could be so long: magic. The stairs wound left, then right, then left again, and once more to the right. With her final three steps, she reached the top. The room before her was large. A round table stood in the center, covered with fabric similar to Raven’s cloak. A crystal ball rested in the middle, along with some stones, runes, and dice. Beneath all this was another cloth marking the zodiac signs, covering the entire table.
A cauldron bubbled with a fragrant potion, emitting not only mint and chocolate but another extremely pleasant scent Raven couldn’t identify. At the far end of the room was a lit oven, a metal pipe connected to it venting out smoke from burning wood. A thick curtain covered the window, blocking out the light, with the room lit by countless candles scattered throughout. A small table sat near the cauldron with two cushioned chairs, and a large green rug covered half the floor.
“Welcome to my den, young Raven!” The witch chuckled at Raven’s shocked face. The young woman took two more steps inside, and the wall that had led to the staircase disappeared, leaving only a door.
“I must admit I’ve heard about you, dear. In fact, the whole kingdom has, and not just this one, believe me,” said the witch as she paced. She then approached the cushioned chairs by the central reading table and pulled one out to sit.
“My name is Nimue, but everyone calls me Madame Xanadu,” said the old woman, settling into the chair she had pulled out. “Don’t worry, dear, I only want to talk. I won’t try anything. I just want to talk, because I have something important to tell you.”
Raven, who had been standing there like a fool, realized she could defend herself and that something significant must be happening, for she couldn’t shake the strong connection she felt to this woman, even without knowing why. She, too, had magic, and it wasn’t as if an old witch could do her serious harm. She approached, trying not to look more suspicious than she already did. She pulled out a chair and sat down.
“Well, as you already know, my little bird, your abilities as a witch and healer have spread far and wide, and many people are calling for your help. I might say it was foolish to draw attention, but let’s see what the cards have to say for you, since the spirits were pestering me to find you…”
“Well, I’m certainly confused as to why you called me, Madame Xanadu, but I still have things to do, and the shops are closing soon and…” Raven began as the woman shuffled the cards. Before the young woman could finish, the old lady pulled a card from between her index and middle fingers and laid it on the black cloth.
“Oh, we’re starting off dramatically, aren’t we? The Devil. My, my…” Raven realized the woman’s magic was strong enough to transcend her blindness, for the old woman was blind and yet clearly saw the items in her home—and the cards.
“Let me draw a few more, and we can begin…”
She proceeded, and the next cards made Raven’s eyes widen slightly: The Devil, The Hermit, and The Hanged Man.
Raven was familiar with tarot practices, though she had never drawn cards for herself or anyone else, for she already knew her future and didn’t care to try guessing or tampering with it. That’s why she didn’t read for others—she lacked the habit.
“This is your past, my dear.” Raven’s gaze sharpened on the tarot as the old woman began whispering in a sacred language—one Raven was surprised to realize she didn’t know. Then the woman drew more cards.
“Raven, Raven, something is coming…” she said, laying down four more cards. “The Wheel of Fortune has begun to turn again, my dear. You will be called to review your life once more, and something grand is about to knock on your door. There’s a very peculiar energy here, as I see fate. Yes, yes… Whatever happens to you will be by fate’s own design, Raven. But, but…” The old woman tapped her long nails on the cards thoughtfully. “You’re bound by a cursed lineage. You’ve been spreading peace, but you’re a bird of darkness, aren’t you, my child?
“You must look to the future, but still face the past, for no one can escape it. There is someone here, a very powerful energy—a man, I see. Be careful with him. Once you see him, there’ll be no running from him again.”
Raven wondered if this was her father, the man the woman mentioned. By then, the room had grown cold and Raven felt chills down her back and neck as if someone stood behind her watching. The energy in the air was volatile, and she understood this woman possessed greater power than she let on, for the spirits truly were present because of her.
“No, he’s not your father.” Raven’s eyes widened, feeling hyper-alert as the woman seemed to read her mind.
“Please, clarify who this mysterious man is,” the woman said aloud, to someone unseen. Then another card was drawn. A silver crown rested on a counter over green cloth, and a red heart beside it. “Well, well… We have someone from royalty. Someone with great wealth and deep passion. This person, just like your fate, Raven, is already approaching, and you must be careful.”
Then the old woman widened her eyes, as if seeing a wild beast behind Raven. She let out a small gasp and immediately stood, chanting again in a language Raven didn’t know. Then, in a normal tone, she approached the young woman and placed a hand on her shoulder.
“Remember, daughter, there’s no running from the past. Look to the future—that’s where you’ll find all your answers.” And before Raven could ask what was happening, the peculiar woman blew a powder from the cauldron’s scent onto Raven, making her dizzy instantly. Her body stopped responding and she collapsed to the side.
[…]
Raven woke up feeling dizzy, the delicious scent of the powder still lingering in her memory. She blinked twice before her awareness returned. The old lantern cast a soft light across the small mezzanine room. Raven’s body was covered, and she was in her home. But how? The journey from that kingdom to the mountains took two days, and the mountain climb took three weeks! And how had the woman found the portal? These were the questions racing through Raven’s mind as she sat up quickly, her head spinning. She threw off the covers and stood, chanting a protection spell for the space. She rushed downstairs, singing a prayer, running to the mountain portal, uncaring as snow and biting cold lashed her. She stomped her foot and swept her hands, casting a security lock. She retraced her steps, protecting every stretch she could with her magic, and only when she reached the cabin door again did she allow herself to breathe.
“What madness have I gotten myself into?” Raven really needed to stop following her heart and intuition—she should start using her head, because she was clearly getting into more trouble than ever. That’s when the intense scent of chocolate and mint hit her nose, and she saw the kitchen, filled with candles, with a basket full of small chocolate cakes. Beside it, on a wooden stand, steam rose from a kettle.
“What the hell?!” Beside the basket was a card, which she hurried to read:
Don’t worry, I have no interest in using the magic this place holds. However, that doesn’t mean you shouldn’t protect it. We will meet again in the future. Until then, a small gift in return for your kindness in hearing me out.
– Madame Xanadu
The card evaporated from her hands as soon as she finished reading it. Then she noticed a brown dress of fine but simple fabric hanging on the chair. Raven lifted it to her shoulders—it fit her torso perfectly. Sighing, she thought, what a night this had been… Maybe Madame Xanadu was just a crazy old woman who had the same abilities Raven did, and merely wanted to reach out because there were no other witches in that kingdom. She picked up a cake and sniffed it. But before eating, she lifted it with magic to ensure it wasn’t poisoned, then bit half of it and sat down, pouring herself a cup of mint tea. Everything was delicious.
[…]
When Raven woke up that morning, she knew something was wrong. The ringing in her ears told her danger was near. As the night before, she leapt out of bed to investigate. But she walked and walked and walked—and found nothing. Still in her nightgown, she returned to the parallel world and reentered her home. Yet the ringing kept intensifying, and her intuition screamed that something serious was happening—though she didn’t know what.
Trying to gather herself, she decided it would be wiser to get dressed and eat something—she didn’t function well without food in her system. She ran upstairs, braided her hair, and dressed. Then she came down, ate some cakes, and drank a glass of apple juice she had made days before. After eating, the sensation eased slightly, so she decided to head into the mountains to inspect. She went back upstairs, layered on several garments, and topped it with her customary animal hide cloak. That’s when the ringing returned, stronger than ever, and the hairs on her body stood at attention from the unconscious warning.
Perhaps it was an injured animal near the clearing’s edge—or maybe something truly was happening. Either way, she had to see for herself instead of cleaning and picking berries. Walking through the forest, she soon found herself crossing the gap and gazing around at the mountain’s whiteness. But nothing seemed out of place. Everything was normal, except for a fresh layer of snow covering the graves. The sky was overcast and heavy, announcing an approaching storm.
She began descending toward the trees. A distant thunderclap echoed, but the forest life didn’t mind and kept moving as usual, just like Raven, who moved cautiously along her familiar path. At that moment, the connection grew so strong that Raven raised her left hand in a black flame of power. It had been a long time since she used that inner magic, and doing so again made her even more anxious.
Breathing softly, she did what needed to be done—she chanted her mantra to locate the source of the signal. But her magic didn’t respond. No black light appeared to guide her—in fact, the opposite happened. The intense sense of anxiety and alarm faded, replaced only by the chirping of a bird somewhere far away.
“Is that it?” Raven thought, relaxing her shoulders. She stood still a few more minutes to see if anything happened—but nothing did. Only the bird kept singing. She sighed, wondering if she was losing her mind. But more time passed—and still nothing. Seeing no danger approaching or emanating, she simply decided to go home. She turned and started walking.
That’s when she heard it—her neck prickling, her heart pounding.
“Hello, witch.”
Chapter 5: V
Chapter Text
Raven froze on the spot, tense. She had no idea what to do. No living soul had stood on that third mountain for so long, and people weren’t exactly welcome there. The voice calling her was male, so it couldn’t be Madame Xanadu, since she was a woman. She turned around.
A man dressed entirely in black was staring at her through the slit of a black mask, which only revealed his eyes. He carried two katanas on his back and wore nothing but a black jumpsuit that covered his whole body.
Even from just a few trees away, Raven could tell he was taller than her. Something in the tone of his eyes, clashing with the black of his outfit and the white of the snow, unsettled her — especially the way he looked at her. When he stepped toward her, Raven finally remembered her role as the last heir to the magic of Azarath, and who those mountains belonged to.
“These mountains don’t accept visitors, I’m warning you now. Please, I ask that you leave immediately.”
The man just kept staring before replying:
“I don’t believe I’ll be leaving until I say what I came to say.”
“Then say it and go. This is a restricted area.”
“I come by order of King Ra’s Al Ghul to summon you. He wishes to meet you and offer you an opportunity to work for him.” The man tilted his head and took a step to the side. Raven did the exact opposite—he stepped left, she stepped right.
“Ra’s who? What kingdom is that? Never heard of it.” The man paused and laughed.
“That’s not for me to answer. You’ve been summoned by royal command. Come with us—you won’t need to bring your belongings. Say goodbye to your home and your family. We leave now.”
Raven had ended up on the opposite side of where she first arrived, and now the stranger was standing right between her and the trail that led home. She wanted more than anything to make this man disappear, but it was her duty to be polite and ask him not to return—because if he did, there would be consequences.
“Well, I deeply appreciate your king’s offer, even though I don’t know who he is or how he found out about me. But I’m going to have to reject it.”
The man stared at her for several seconds before saying: “There is no rejection. You’re coming with us.”
Raven’s brows furrowed. That’s when it hit her—this guy wasn’t leaving without her. He started walking toward her, then lunged. Raven didn’t even have time to think. Her powers surged instantly, and she blasted a beam of dark energy to stop him. But her aim was rusty as hell—she hadn’t trained in ages and had no reason to—and the arc of black light flew off harmlessly to the side.
The man sprinted forward and nearly grabbed her hair, but she dove to the side just in time. Fear pumped adrenaline into her veins, sharpening her reflexes.
She ducked behind a tree and stood back up, but when she scanned the area, he was gone. That’s when she felt the pressure behind her—two hands clamped down on her arms. Raven let out a sharp, terrified scream. But she wasn’t stupid—she thrashed wildly. It didn’t do much; he was bigger and stronger. But it was just enough for him to reach for the cloth he kept in a pouch on his jumpsuit—something to knock her out.
Raven managed to free one arm and stretch it toward his mask. In a split second—her life hanging by a thread—she slipped a finger under the mask’s edge and cast a spell she knew all too well.
The black light was subtle, but the energy she funneled into him was massive. The man convulsed violently and collapsed.
Panting, Raven bolted in the opposite direction without waiting to see if he’d get back up. She was almost at the crater entrance when she heard someone yell:
“Jinx!”
And before she could even process it—like some cruel cosmic joke—she felt a shock so intense it locked her body in place. Muscles spasming, she dropped to the ground like a stone. The last thing she saw, and felt, was being turned over and touched by a woman with something pink about her... and then the darkness swallowed her whole.
Chapter Text
When consciousness returned to Raven, she realized she was lying down. But something felt different—she knew it before even opening her eyes. She caught a pleasant scent and heard the sound of running water. Opening her eyes, she confirmed it: something was definitely different, and this was not her room. It took her a few seconds to figure out how she’d ended up there and where exactly "there" was, but then the memories rushed back—and she sat up suddenly, immediately feeling weak and dizzy.
The room’s appearance left her stunned. It looked like it had stepped out of a dream, it was that beautiful. A column hung from the far end of the room, draped with cat’s claw vines of various sizes and colors, glowing in the soft candlelight. To her right was a vanity made of a green stone she couldn’t identify, but it was adorned with gold detailing. Plants also grew at the back of the room, and a subtle vanilla scent mixed with the fragrance of those leaves.
She sat on the bed in a panic and quickly realized she was dressed differently from how she'd been on the mountain. Looking down, she saw a soft white silk dress clinging to her body, pulling her breasts upward and leaving most of her skin exposed. Judging by the way the silk felt against her skin, she was wearing nothing underneath. Raven blushed and pulled the thin sheet up to her shoulders. Everything felt too clean—she could smell not only her skin but the bedding too.
That’s when she finally noticed the warmth of the room as she began to sweat. But before she could do anything, the door opened, and a woman dressed in black silk—cut the same way as Raven’s dress—walked in. Her skin was albino, which contrasted with her shoulder-length pink hair. The woman looked to be around Raven’s age and was holding a red book. The moment she saw Raven awake, her eyes went wide—and then she turned on her heels and left without saying a word. That gave Raven a chance to try to collect herself.
The panic throbbed in her chest, but she knew she had to stay calm—if not, things could spiral completely out of control. First things first: she needed to figure out how to get the hell out of there. And if everything went sideways? Then she'd want to lose control to save herself. Getting out of bed cautiously, she scoped her options. The windows on the right-hand wall had no locks—but also couldn’t be opened. Taking in just how massive the room was, she noticed it sloped downward—she was at the top—and every two steps led down toward a balcony on the opposite end.
The windows there were open, sheer white curtains fluttering. Raven didn’t wait. She bolted toward it, nearly tripping on the steps. But the moment she stepped out into the open air, she saw exactly where she was. Below her stretched a vast black sea—and even farther below was a sheer cliff. The view might have been one of the most breathtaking things she’d ever seen, if it wasn’t also utterly horrifying. There was no escaping down that cliff. That left her with exactly two options: try to run out the door the pink-haired girl had just used—likely getting caught—or yeet herself off the balcony and die. The panic hit her full force as she looked around. The moon was waning, and beyond the glowing lanterns, all she could see was the massive structure surrounding her.
And that’s when it hit her: this lavish place... it was a damn castle.
And Raven knew what kings wanted with her. The voice of the man in black echoed in her mind. He hadn’t given her a choice. He made it clear: she was required to come. That cursed man and that cursed lightning strike had taken her—and she'd lost consciousness. Deep down, she knew it had something to do with that mysterious Madame Xanadu. That total stranger she’d followed…
Raven didn’t even have time to finish that thought. She heard the door open. Spinning around, she saw a man walk in. He wore rust-red pants and a deep V-cut shirt, cinched at the waist with a thick belt and brown boots. He had a beard and short hair faded at the sides. This wasn’t some crumbling old man—his posture was straight, his stance firm, and he moved with confidence. His eyes scanned her the same moment she scanned him. Then he spoke.
“There you are! I’ve heard a lot about you, though I didn’t expect you to be this young. How old are you?” he said, descending the steps.
That’s when Raven fully registered how tall he was—and how his whole energy screamed predator. She instinctively stepped back until her butt hit the balcony railing. She had nowhere to go. A drop of sweat slid from her forehead down her neck. Raven didn’t answer.
“Well, I heard you resisted my offer. People don’t usually reject a king’s command, you know that, my child?” said Ra’s al Ghul, walking toward the bed and eyeing the wrinkled sheets. He turned to face her again. “As you can tell, you’re here as the newest member of my court. I’ve needed a sorceress for some time—especially one who can heal. That’s why I was thrilled when one of my lords brought me word of you. They say you’re famous. That you’ve worked miracles. Well, starting today, you’ll work under my orders.”
Raven stood frozen, tense and terrified. But when Ra’s started circling the room again and sat in a cream-colored armchair, she remembered—she could teleport.
“Your fear is delicious, my dear. But if you keep this up, I’ll have to teach you the court’s first lesson.”
“Azarath Metrion Zinthos!” she shouted, summoning her mantra and reaching for a portal. But... nothing. The black circle of magic didn’t appear. Raven was stunned. She tried again, now drenched in sweat. Still nothing. That’s when the man started laughing. A mocking laugh that made Raven shrink into herself. With no escape route, no idea where she was, suffocating heat, and everything unfamiliar—she felt the tears starting to burn behind her eyes.
“See those bracelets on your wrists, girl?”
Raven immediately looked at her wrists. And then she noticed the subtle pressure—pearly bracelets, each three fingers wide, just below her joints. Terror wrapped around her like a vice. Her blood felt ice-cold.
“From now on, any spell you try to cast will need permission from me, from Jinx, or from my grandson. Outside of us three, there’s no way for you to summon even a wisp of magic.” Ra’s uncrossed his legs and stood, walking toward her again. For the first time—without her powers or physical strength—Raven had no idea how to defend herself. She curled in on herself.
“Welcome to my court, sorceress.”
He reached out and tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. Smiled. Then, giving her one last up-and-down, he turned and walked back toward the door.
“Your training starts tomorrow. Sleep well, little girl.”
The door shut behind him. And Raven—finally, finally—let herself break. Her body collapsed to the floor, and she began to cry.
Chapter 7: VII
Chapter Text
When Raven opened her eyes that morning, she felt terrible. She felt as if she were naked, with a splitting headache. The first thing she experienced when she sat up was a wave of dizziness, quickly followed by such intense hunger that her stomach growled. She had no idea how many hours had passed since her last meal, which had been back in her home in the alternate universe. Looking to the side, she saw sunlight streaming through the balcony. A gentle breeze was rustling the curtains.
The room was bathed in light and was just as beautiful as the night before. Raven had a chance to observe the high ceiling and its cream color, which harmonized with the green furniture. She scratched her head and, letting out a sigh, swung her legs out of bed. Trying to push past the awful sensation inside her, she fought the crushing pessimism that had weighed on her since she’d woken up in that room the day before. She decided it would be best to eat and then try to come up with a plan or some solution to her situation.
The problem was, Raven had never received any training in war or anything involving strategy. But she wasn’t stupid—she had a sharp mind. Still, she would need much more than that if she wanted to escape that old king. She couldn’t stand for long and soon sat back down on the bed. A sound announced someone entering the room, and with her heart pounding, she turned, ready to face whoever it was.
To Raven’s surprise, two young women her age entered through the door. One had long black hair with bangs and fair skin, and was tall. The other was shorter, with a slender frame, brown-tan skin, a beauty mark on her face, and shoulder-length golden brown hair that shimmered in the light. Raven didn’t understand what was happening when the two women approached and gave her a small bow.
"Hello, miss. We’ve been assigned as your handmaidens. We’re responsible for getting you anything you need. Other than you, we only answer to the king."
Raven stared at the two girls, completely lost. She wanted to cry, to ask for help, to beg them to let her go because she’d been kidnapped. But she knew they answered to the king, and anything she did might affect them directly. Lowering her gaze, she swallowed the chaos within her and spoke quietly.
"Thank you." Raven turned her head, letting her hair fall over her forehead, and looked back at the girls, who showed no emotion. "I’d really like something to eat, please. Could you get me something?"
"Yes, ma’am. Your breakfast will be with Lady Jinx. But before you meet her, we’ll give you your summer bath."
"Summer bath?"
"Yes, miss," said the girl with long straight hair. "The summer bath is a custom of the court during the hot season when there's lots of dust. To keep the castle and its residents in good health, everyone must bathe at least once a day. It was the princess who made it law."
"Oh." Raven didn’t know how to respond. She didn’t care about any of this, especially since she was planning to escape as soon as possible. But the heat swirling around her body was forming small beads of sweat on her forehead. The stifling air made her uncomfortable.
"Come now, miss." One of the maids offered her a hand and helped her down from the high, giant bed.
The touch of another human being since she’d woken up was incredibly comforting—especially since it came from girls her age. It reassured her to be in the presence of women, not men like that king from yesterday. Ignoring the dizziness, she allowed herself to be led through one of the room’s doors, and was greeted by a stunning bath chamber.
The same cream and green tones carried over from the bedroom, and everything radiated light and airiness. Two massive windows looked out over the sea. Raven was mesmerized by the beauty, feeling a pang of nostalgia that took her back to Azarath, her homeland. The richness and beauty reminded her of home. So focused on the landscape, she didn’t even notice the maid untying the knot holding up the top of her dress.
She blushed faintly but was then hit by the memory of her own caretakers in Azarath. They dressed her, combed her hair, bathed her, and taught her many things. But when the warm air brushed her nipples, she became acutely aware of her nudity and shrank in on herself slightly. The knot on her back was undone, and the rest of the dress fell to the floor. The feeling of air against her bare skin and the presence of those two strangers made Raven blush deeply.
The short maid with shimmering brown hair who had been preparing the bath called out to her.
"Come, miss. The water is ready."
Raven exhaled and stepped into the center of the room where the tub, already full and bubbling, awaited her. She accepted help to get in, and when the cold water kissed her thighs and lower body, the shock of temperature sent her senses into high alert—especially as she submerged fully.
The overwhelming despair began to fade as Raven focused on the view through the windows, the freezing water, and the pleasantly scented gardenia bubbles. She felt a hand on her head.
"Miss, we’re going to wash your hair."
Raven nodded quietly. She let the young maid touch her scalp and massage it gently. Then the girl poured a jug of water over her head, and Raven closed her eyes. The girls added a liquid and began rubbing her scalp delicately, and for a moment, Raven let herself enjoy the gentle touch.
The bath lasted longer than Raven would’ve liked, as the maids scrubbed her clean from head to toe. They trimmed her nails while she remained in the tub. When a robe was finally wrapped around her, Raven’s stomach growled again.
The maids led her through another door, and Raven was stunned by the size of the space. In the middle stood a small circular platform, three green armchairs, and multiple open wooden structures, all empty, along with paintings and a white vanity. The room was stuffy, but when the windows were opened, a pleasant scent filled the air.
Led to sit at the vanity, Raven finally got a look at her face. Thin, pale, with huge dark circles—she looked sick, like one of the people she used to treat. There was no sign of life in her eyes, and her skin had a grayish tint, like a corpse. Seeing that lifeless face was so jarring that she looked away, sadness gripping her chest.
Not just because of her situation, but because she couldn’t bear to look at her own ugliness.
Her hair was brushed dozens of times until nearly dry, then braided intricately and pinned up. In the mirror, she saw one of the girls tuck a jasmine flower into the braid. Then the maid who had left returned with a lilac silk dress, sleeveless and similar to the one Raven had worn.
"I found this color, and I believe it will bring out your eyes." Raven only nodded shyly and let them fasten the dress around her body. Once done, the tall fair-skinned girl applied a delicious perfume to Raven’s neck and wrists. Raven wanted to ask what it was but was too dizzy with hunger and exhaustion to speak. She was just glad to be guided out of the room.
The hallway they took her down was cooler, which was a huge relief to Raven. She admired the palace’s beauty, but her vision was growing blurry, and she felt worse by the second. Eventually, Raven had to stop, touching the maid beside her for support.
Despite the cold bath, she was still sweating. Drops trickled freely down her neck. Before she could react, one of the maids called for someone, and Raven felt strong, wide hands around her shoulders.
"Miss, are you alright?" Raven, now sitting on the floor with intense dizziness, focused on a pair of blue eyes. She couldn’t see clearly, but that blue blur was all her mind could process. She wanted to say she was fine, just hot and dizzy and starving, but she couldn’t move.
Then she felt the man gently lift her and hold her close.
"You’re pale—I’ll take you to Jinx so you can eat. I bet you’re starving."
Raven nodded, and they walked together in what became the most embarrassing moment of her life. Not only was she with a man, but she was sweaty and green with hunger. When they reached a pair of double doors, he opened them and, without ceremony, set her in the nearest chair. She heard whispers of a conversation, her vision spinning, and then the man said:
"Hope you feel better soon." Then a door closing. Footsteps. And a female voice:
"You just got here and you’re already causing a scene? Couldn’t you have held on a bit longer?" Huffing, Raven heard the clatter of a plate and liquid being poured. "Here’s your plate. Eat."
Raven opened her eyes, vision still fuzzy, and saw a pink blur. She recognized the girl from the night before. But she didn’t waste time—she leaned forward, grabbed the utensil, and scooped the food into her mouth. The salty, tender taste made her sigh in relief, and she scarfed it down. It didn’t take long for the plate to be empty, and Raven softly asked for more. While the pink-haired girl served her another plate, Raven downed the papaya juice in one gulp.
When the next plate was placed in front of her, she devoured it in minutes again.
"You’re pathetic. Sweating and eating like a pig."
Raven was too weak to respond, her body and brain still catching up. Her vision was clearer now. She poured herself more juice from the jug in front of her. Then she focused on the feast on the table.
There were pastries of all colors and sizes, and still-steaming dishes. She wanted to ask for another plate, but now that her body was functioning again, she became self-conscious—especially under the girl’s disgusted gaze. The pink-haired girl huffed, noticed Raven eyeing the food, and stood up. With the same scornful look, she served another plate—fluffy hot pancakes with syrup and a small pat of butter. Raven was grateful for the kindness, despite the obvious disgust.
After finishing that plate, Raven felt fully conscious. She wiped sweat from her forehead and neck with her hand and rubbed it onto the silk fabric. The room felt cooler now, she noticed. It was just her and the girl, who now had her head buried in the same red book from the night before. Raven felt a rush of relaxation. She took a deep breath, closed her eyes for a moment, soaking in the relief. When she opened them again, the pink-haired girl was staring at her. She closed the book and set it on the table.
"So, has our king told you why you’re here? We’re not even at war, so I don’t see why we need a healer. That’s what you are, right? Hahaha—pathetic. A scrawny little thing like you in a court like this? Honestly… that old man comes up with the worst ideas..."
That toxic comment hit Raven right in the core, cracking open the flood of fear and despair she’d been holding back since her abduction. She just stood there, shoulders slumped, blankly staring at the pink-haired girl.
"You don’t talk? Are you mute or something?"
Raven didn’t like to talk. In fact, she only spoke when absolutely necessary, and right now she had no idea what to say or do. All she knew was that this girl was a cruel stranger and that she, Raven, was lost, unable to use her magic to escape this hellhole. The tightness in her chest and throat snuck up on her as she remembered the last time she felt this hopeless. Alone—she was completely alone, surrounded by malicious people who wanted something from her.
Still, she held on to the cold façade she’d mastered for the past twenty years. When the girl saw she wouldn’t answer, she got up and ordered Raven to follow her. They walked for what felt like hours, Raven keeping her head down, too consumed by emotion to even look at the castle. They eventually stopped at a wooden door. Upon entering, the first thing Raven noticed was the smell of wood and herbs—just like her cabin.
The room was tall, filled with books everywhere. Three massive wooden tables stretched across the space, all covered in papers, books, quills, skulls, ink, telescopes, star maps, amulets, and every kind of magical junk Raven was used to. Several cauldrons were stacked in the back, and the towering bookcases reached the third level of the mezzanine. Two glass windows were open to the right.
"Well, this is where you’ll work. It’s my room, but the king ordered you to stay with me here. So, you’ll do as I say, got it?"
The sharp command from the pink-haired girl pissed Raven off. If she had her powers, she’d have blasted this chick into oblivion. But with the cuffs still binding her magic by royal order, she had no choice but to nod faintly. That lilac silk dress made her feel so exposed. She wanted a cloak—something to hide in, melt into the shadows. But there was nothing she could do. She wiggled her toes. Even they were exposed in the delicate sandals the maids had stuck her in. Raven wanted to disappear.
"My name is Jinx, by the way."
Raven looked at her and blinked in acknowledgment.
"And you are...?"
Raven tensed at the thought of revealing her name. But then she remembered her mother once confided that she’d had a human name before becoming Arella. Angela. Angela Roth.
"So? C’mon, mute girl—what’s your name?"
"Rachel. Rachel Roth."
"Oh. What a dull little name."
Jinx shrugged and then walked further into the room. She wore a black skirt and a small top that exposed her stomach and back. Tall and slender, she radiated a confident — yet undeniably arrogant — energy.
"Today we’re going to start with an interview about your powers. Then we’ll have lunch, and after that, I want to teach you the rules of the castle, this room, and your duties as Ra’s’ servant. Then I’ll show you around this place completely, and after that, you’ll show me your skills with herbs. Afterward, we’ll have dinner, and then you’ll be dismissed." Jinx said this while arranging the back table in the room. She looked up from her task and stared at Raven.
"Did you understand me?"
Raven blinked, feeling the girl’s rudeness affect her more than she cared to admit.
"Yes, I understand."
"Great. Because this is just the beginning. Now come here, let’s get started."
The morning passed incredibly fast, with Jinx writing and asking Raven a million questions. When lunchtime arrived, Raven ate well, not paying much attention to her surroundings. Once satisfied, the two returned to the room and followed the schedule Jinx had laid out. The day went on, and though Raven still felt shaken, time flew by. They had dinner, and grateful for the meal, Raven was dismissed straight to her quarters.
When she arrived, the maids undressed and bathed her again, and as the sweat and dust of the hot, dry day washed away her humiliation and sorrow, Raven allowed herself to enjoy the feeling of her hair being combed. She was then perfumed and dressed in a loose, white nightgown.
And it was only when the room had gone dark, and she was already lying in bed, wrapped in covers, that she let herself cry. But exhaustion pulled her under quickly, into a deep and well-earned sleep.
Chapter 8: VIII
Chapter Text
Upon waking that morning, Raven felt drained.
She allowed the maids to bathe her and was once again dressed in a garment made of rich fabric. Then she was taken to the breakfast room, where she and Jinx ate in silence. Despite her state, Raven's mind hadn't stopped racing since the moment she got out of bed. She was trying to come up with a way to escape that place.
With a plan forming, she realized she needed to figure out her current location so she could compare the distance from her home in the mountains to wherever she was now. Then she’d need an escape route — and to do that, she had to know the castle’s surroundings. But that wasn’t all: she also needed a safe form of transportation to get back, or else she’d have to destroy the bracelets herself. According to her calculations, she could escape in two — maybe three — weeks. That was enough time for her to learn and execute the plan perfectly.
So, when Jinx left the magic room and put Raven in charge of organizing the tables and shelves, Raven didn’t waste the chance — she rushed off to find any map she could get her hands on. Back when she lived her quiet life in Azarath, there was no need to learn the geography of this human continent — only that of the neighboring kingdom she visited often. So she really had no idea how to get her bearings, except by name.
As she paced back and forth, she noticed a round table near the staircase landing, positioned beside a window — and something on it caught her eye enough to make her approach.
It was a raised-relief map of the entire continent, and Raven was instantly captivated by the level of detail. Her eyes scanned for the neighboring kingdom — it took a moment, thanks to the labels and terrain details — but then she spotted the name. Her heart warmed with joy when she saw the gray-and-blue terrain, and just to the right, the three white-peaked mountains. “Mountains of the Raven,” said the legend. To Raven, that central mountain was Azarath — the last place a living Azarathian had ever been found.
Elated to have found her bearings, Raven then looked for her current location. But when her eyes landed on a crown over a massive castle and a kingdom of considerable size, she nearly collapsed in shock. “The land of Nanda Parbat,” read the map’s label, stood out from all the others — and there was no mistaking it, because the name Ra’s Al Ghul hovered just above the crown.
Raven's heart clenched in her chest as she compared the distances. Nanda Parbat was on the complete opposite side of the continent. Total polar ends. She measured the space between the two locations with her hand — and the result was far from reassuring. A single tear slid down her cheek as she braced herself against the table. The legend in the bottom-right corner said the east-to-west distance was a value that only deepened her disappointment.
Then it hit her — the reason for her weakness the previous day. She’d been transported from east to west across a massive distance. The trip had been so long, and she’d been unconscious for so much of it, she had no idea how it was done. Maybe Jinx had something to do with it — she clearly had serious skills in magic and sorcery. That was likely the cause of her fainting spell: no one had fed her during that whole time, but her body had still been preserved enough to keep functioning.
If that girl alone could do that to her, Raven was definitely facing an enemy she couldn't afford to underestimate.
She stepped away from the map and went back to organizing the table. After a while, Jinx reappeared and scolded her for being so slow with such a simple task. The two had lunch, and then Raven returned to organizing the room.
By the end of the day, the tables were set and the shelf was in order — though Raven nearly fell off the ladder twice trying to place flasks and books in the right spots. Jinx escorted her back to her room and left. The maids undressed and bathed her again, and finally Raven dined alone.
And for that, she was grateful — the silence and solitude suited her just fine.
When the third day dawned again, Raven felt better compared to the first few days. The maids went through her usual routine with her and then dressed her in a black dress, tight around her waist and chest, but flowing loosely from her hips down. Her back and shoulders were completely exposed, while the dress had a high, thin, triangular neckline.
They also slipped on a beautiful pair of black sandals, each adorned with two onyx stones. Her hair was braided the same way as in previous days, but this time the flower was replaced with a lilac gem hairpin that contrasted with the dark purple of her hair. They sprayed perfume on her and then left her in the breakfast room. When Jinx lifted her eyes from the red book to look at Raven, she was furious.
"That’s it, enough! No way that in this gigantic castle there isn’t someone else who can lend clothes to this clueless girl. That dress was my favorite two years ago!" Jinx snapped, slamming the book shut on the table. "I’m gonna talk to the princess today, this is unacceptable!" she added, stabbing her food violently with her fork before shoving it into her mouth.
Raven’s brief moment of calm was instantly ruined as she sat at the table, eating in silence. Jinx’s bad mood only seemed to get worse up until lunch, when Raven managed to finish the task the albino girl had ordered her to do just in time. They ate lunch together, but afterward, Jinx left her in the room, asking Raven to make a potion and divide it into two vials.
The afternoon was going fine, a dry wind flowing through the windows, when suddenly the door was flung open and the young woman burst in, smiling.
"Good news, flavorless little girl! You’re getting a brand new wardrobe in a few days and won’t have to wear my old dresses anymore. And… as fate would have it, you’ll have your first trial as a sorceress. His Majesty, the prince, was injured, and the king requested that you heal him."
Raven just stared at her, not even remotely happy to be at the king's service.
"Immediately, you fool! Let’s go, come on." Jinx said dramatically, turning on her heel and walking out. Raven hurried after her. If the walk from her quarters to the lab was long, it took them four times as long to get to the royal wing.
The royal wing was silent, colder than anywhere Raven had experienced so far. The hallways were wider, and the number of guards doubled— all dressed in black, unlike the gray-clad soldiers Raven had seen the past two days. And the extravagance... wow. Everything screamed luxury in green and gold tones. Raven noticed the pattern was consistent everywhere, probably the royal court's colors.
Jinx grabbed her arm and hissed in her ear just before they stopped in front of an elaborately carved double wooden door, decorated with a snake poised to strike.
"Behave."
Raven barely paid attention to the threat, fixated on the wooden insignia—especially its eyes, which seemed to stare directly at her. With the opposite hand from the one holding her case, Jinx raised her arm and the doors opened; they both entered.
If Raven’s room was big, this one was enormous. Compared to other parts of the castle, the room was wrapped in shadows, with heavy green curtains covering most of the windows, although they were open enough to let a gentle breeze in. There were several polished black armors on display, as well as swords encrusted with rubies, each more exquisite than the last. A table sat in one corner along with a sofa, rugs, and paintings. Jinx led the way until they reached an enormous table at the center of the room.
Lying on the table, face down, head turned toward the window, was a man. When they got close enough, Raven could see the terrible wound slashing across his back, bleeding all the way down. The man turned his head. Raven had never seen anyone—any man—as attractive as this one. Almond-toned skin with an olive undertone, black hair, perfect lips, and a pair of piercing eyes impossible not to get lost in. And this was the person she was supposed to heal.
First, he looked at Jinx. Then at her. Then back at Jinx.
"Let’s finally test the new help, Prince Damian," Jinx said as she set the case on the table, leaving Raven standing there. The prince kept staring at Raven, then said:
"Let’s get this over with. I don’t have time to sit here all day."
Raven instantly recognized the prince’s voice, and the memory of their fight on the mountain hit her like a punch. She had to fight hard to keep calm and not leap onto that man and slap him across his smug face. His irresistible charm just made her more furious, and she quickly looked away, but that didn’t stop the anger from bubbling up consciously within her.
"Come on, girl. Get over here and start the procedure! Or do I need to teach you how to clean a wound too?"
Grudgingly, Raven walked up to the table, analyzing the wound. Suddenly, footsteps approached, and a voice spoke:
"Miss Jinx, the queen requires your presence immediately."
The man had a strong, firm voice. Jinx just sighed, stopping her rummaging through the case. She tilted her head, looked at Damian, who was still staring at Raven, then at Raven herself.
"Girl, get over here and do what needs to be done. I won’t stay to supervise you, but when I get back, I expect to see a quality job done on the prince’s back."
Raven moved even closer to the table; now the metallic smell of blood filled her nostrils. Jinx gave her a serious look before walking away with the guard. Once the room was empty again, Raven had the sudden urge to just shout everything she wanted to say to that damn man lying there. But if she wanted to escape on schedule, she had to keep up the appearance of being harmless. So she just took out the white cloths and the proper cleaning potion, soaking one in a generous amount.
With everything ready, she set the extras aside and placed the case on the floor. The prince let out a heavy breath.
"Would’ve been much easier for you if you’d just come willingly. Then we wouldn’t have had to knock you out."
The rage boiling inside her only intensified at his words. As revenge, she pressed the cloth against his skin just a little too firmly, making the prince flinch under her touch. She knew exactly how much that would sting. After a few seconds, she lifted the cloth and began gently moving it along the open wound.
There was nothing she could say to him that wouldn’t blow her cover right now, so she stayed silent through the rest of the cleaning.
Once all three cloths were soaked in blood and the wound was clean, Raven finally had to speak.
"I need your permission to perform the healing."
She said it in a low, detached tone.
The prince shifted and then replied:
"I authorize you to perform this healing spell."
Raven wanted to pinch his arm—or electrocute him right there.
A click, so natural yet electric, surged through her entire being as she felt her gift flowing through her veins again. In a brief moment of awe, relishing what it was like to feel that power within her, she raised her hand and conjured black fire, nearly crying from the emotion. Raven's powers were part of her essence, her very being; having them taken from her, even for just these past few days, made her feel less alive.
"Azarath Metrion Zinthos."
Both her hands ignited in black fire as she extended her palms, pressing them gently to the prince’s back. Since the fire didn’t burn her, Raven could feel the warmth of his skin. Her powers quickly went to work as she moved her hands in a smooth dance, ensuring she didn’t hurt him while the magic worked on everything damaged. As an empath with inherited healing abilities, she not only knew how to heal but could also sense pain and even hidden tumors.
"You’ve got chronic back pain, huh?" she muttered.
Even though she didn’t want to help this prince at all, Raven loved the sensation of healing others. She could feel them relax under her touch, and she enjoyed knowing they were free from pain. And she knew the prince was relaxing under the black flame—everyone did.
"Yeah," he replied, his head tilted to the right.
The prince's body was beautiful, muscular, firm. And his skin was warm to the touch. She closed up the wound, then healed the lingering pain, and, noticing his skin marked with scars, she went ahead and erased those too.
Despite her anger, healing always had a calming effect on her system; it was, after all, the core of her power. So by the time she finished, the intense rage had dulled into a more manageable urge to punch him. Still, Raven couldn’t stop herself from speaking in a bitter tone:
"It’s done."
She immediately felt her magic retreat, disappearing from her body the second the task was complete, leaving her hollow again. Sighing, she bent down to collect the case and the bloody cloths. The prince sat up. Even sitting, he was tall—compared to Raven, she felt like a dwarf. That image of him all in black flashed in her mind, them fighting on the mountain. If only she had control over her powers again...
The prince was staring at her. Now that they were so close, being in his presence was unbearable. She noticed his eyes were a stunning shade of green, just like the king's. And there was something deep within them that held Raven captive, just like the snake carved into the door.
He stepped closer, and Raven didn’t appreciate being reminded of her lack of height—or her lack of powers. So she made an annoyed face and raised her right hand in a clear "back off" gesture.
He didn’t stop staring, nor did she.
Now she could smell his scent, and that was too much. If she didn’t leave the room right then, she’d restart the fight from the mountain, and with or without her powers, she wouldn’t hold back from rearranging that pretty face of his.
That’s when Jinx walked in, flushed and looking in a good mood.
"Let’s see! Good thing you’re done, ‘cause I’ve got a brand-new mission for you. And you, my prince—what did you think of her work?"
"No pain at all."
Jinx inspected the prince’s back, practically glowing with happiness, though Raven suspected it wasn’t just because of the prince’s smooth, healed skin.
Raven watched as the prince stretched out his arms, seemingly pleased with the result. Jinx came over, snatched the case from Raven’s hands, grabbed her arm, and said:
"Bow to our prince, girl, and let’s go."
Humiliation, shame, frustration—they all hit Raven at once. She had no choice but to lower her torso in submission. But when she stood up, she made sure her eyes radiated all the fury she felt, then turned indifferently and followed Jinx, who was already in a rush.
Chapter 9: IX
Chapter Text
Raven’s first week ended with her collapsing onto the bed from sheer exhaustion. The castle’s routine was hectic and challenging for her, just like the extreme heat that left her tired and dizzy for hours. She missed the cold mountain weather, as well as her belongings and quiet routine: spending entire afternoons reading while sipping as many cups as she could of her mint tea. She missed bathing in the river and felt even more nostalgic about studying at her old desk, surrounded by potions and enchantments.
The castle’s routine was the exact opposite of that mountain life for Raven. The dresses she wore were all made of the rarest and most expensive fabrics, with elaborate cuts, adorned with precious stones in her hair or on her feet, in sandals with intricate laces and delicate details. The maids did their best to make her look beautiful, but Raven was still painfully thin and undernourished, often catching herself glancing into the hand mirror left by her bedside.
It was that night, already lying in bed, when a woman entered the room wearing a white long-sleeved blouse that left her belly exposed and a matching skirt with a slit up one leg. Her eyes were green, extremely beautiful, and her strikingly attractive face made it clear she had something to do with the Al Ghul bloodline, besides having skin the same tone as the prince's, just a shade darker. Her dark brown hair cascaded down to her lower back. She was tall and slim, with full breasts and well-defined legs.
Behind her appeared an older, plump, red-haired woman with a sweet expression, lips painted cherry red that matched the freckles on her nose and the fairness of her skin. The older woman wore a beautiful dress and carried a translucent red cloth in her arms. Raven immediately sat up in bed, pulling the blanket up to her shoulders. Behind the two women, her own maids appeared, quickly lighting up the entire room, replacing the soft glow of the three lit candles with a much stronger light.
“This is our new sorceress. Isn’t she a cutie? Like a scared little mouse,” said the tall woman, then laughed brightly. She glanced around the room before looking directly at Raven.
“You probably don’t know me, child. I’m Talia Al Ghul, your princess. Stand up and show some respect.” Raven stood up and curtsied to this complete stranger, her maids doing the same behind her. “Good. I know this isn’t the best hour, but Tasha is the finest seamstress any lady could want — she makes all my clothes. Since you’re part of our close, exclusive circle, I want you dressed in the best to represent our house,” Talia said, circling Raven like a snake before stopping in front of her.
“She looks like a frightened little doll, doesn’t she, Natasha?” The small woman in red nodded while jotting something down in her little notebook. More maids entered the room carrying box after box, while others held two enormous books.
“Yes, yes. But look how pretty she is, despite looking like a skeleton. You need to do something about that, Miss Talia,” the woman said. She had a strong accent from some foreign language Raven couldn’t quite place.
“Of course, of course. We need to start now if we want to finish before the night’s over.”
“Oh yes, yes. Of course.” She then asked them to show her the dressing room, which was already open and airing out. The books were placed on the table, the boxes stacked on the couch, and Raven was led to the small elevated wooden platform in the center of the room. Talia and the other woman sat in the comfortable armchairs and then stared at Raven.
The woman snapped her fingers and one of the maids, holding one of the massive books, handed it to her. Natasha began sketching. And so they spent hours like that, Natasha asking Talia for her thoughts, then trying on various tiaras and shoes. Only at the very end of that torture — when Raven was absolutely spent from standing and being measured — did they ask her to step down and give her opinion on which ball gown designs she liked. That caught the drowsy Raven off guard, as she never imagined she’d see such beautifully illustrated designs in a book, and she became shy when answering which ones she liked best.
In the middle of the night, the two ladies left with the same vigor they’d entered, along with the rest of the servants. Her own maids stayed behind just long enough to tuck her into bed and extinguish all the lights. They had barely left the room before Raven closed her eyes and fell into a deep sleep.
Chapter 10: X
Chapter Text
Someone was gently tapping her shoulder — that was the first thing she felt as she woke up. She opened her eyes, blinking to focus, and then turned toward the touch. A young woman with straight black hair was staring at her.
“Miss, we need you to bathe immediately. Miss Jinx is summoning you.”
Raven sat up, stretching her arms and yawning. She got out of bed, and the young women led her to the bath. Dressed in a simple cream-colored outfit, the women draped a white cloak over her shoulders and pulled the hood over her head.
“You’ll be going to the municipal market. As a new member of the Al Ghul court, you must keep this hood on. Princess’s orders. You may remove it while having breakfast, but once you leave through the gates, you're not allowed to take it off.”
Raven just nodded and followed the attendants to the breakfast hall. Jinx wore the same cloak, her hair braided to match Raven’s, and wore no makeup at all. Raven ate a lot of fruit that day, and Jinx insisted she drink more than two glasses of juice — “you’ll regret it later if you don’t,” she said. As they walked toward what Raven assumed was one of the many exits of the castle, she tried her best to memorize the path they took — information she might need later.
“You must remain silent. Don’t speak to anyone, even if they greet you. Just observe. Maybe someday, you’ll be the one leading this same process... Are you listening to me?”
Raven, who was focused on memorizing the hallways, looked at Jinx.
“Yes, just sleepy,” she lied. She was tired from the short night’s sleep caused by Natasha and Talia, but she was alert, ready to memorize everything about the corridors they walked through.
“Then wake up. Today is important, and I want you sharp. But I think a walk around the kingdom will do the trick...”
Raven kept following Jinx. The farther down they went, the hotter it got — and she hated that heat. It was dry and dusty. When they reached the last step of the staircase, Raven saw sunlight pouring through the double doors, which were wide open. They stepped outside, giving Raven her first real look at a way out of the massive castle. Dozens of workers bustled about, too focused on their tasks to even notice Jinx or Raven.
The heat was unbearable — stale and scorching — but the locals didn’t seem to mind, too used to the extremes of Nanda Parbat. A man with two white horses approached and stopped in front of Jinx. They spoke briefly, but Raven didn’t catch a word — she was busy taking in every detail of the courtyard. A few steps away, a carriage was waiting, its driver already holding the reins. She wondered how she’d even begin to plan an escape when she had no idea what to expect.
She was pulled from her thoughts when Jinx nudged her and mounted her horse. The stableman helped Raven up onto her own, and as she settled her thighs and hips into the saddle, her eyes betrayed how terrified she felt.
“Don’t be scared. Animals can sense your fear. Try to relax, don’t look down or to the sides. Keep your legs loose and just look ahead. Jinx will be by your side — nothing to fear.”
“I bet that little clutz is gonna fall off...”
“You fell off when you first got here, Miss Jinx.”
Jinx shot the man a look and then tugged on her reins, getting her horse moving.
“Come on, Rachel. We’ve got a full day ahead of us.”
“Just sway gently, like Jinx did. And remember: don’t be afraid — the animals know. Her name’s Ickie, by the way.”
Raven gave a small smile, touched by the man’s kindness. She took a deep breath and relaxed her body. The idea that she might be able to escape on horseback sparked a bit of hope and helped calm her nerves.
“Now just sway... slowly.” She did, carefully, and the horse began to walk — her heart pounded wildly in her chest.
“Perfect. Just like that. To stop, just tap her sides with your feet. Ickie’s smart. Trust her, and she’ll trust you.”
Jinx was already ahead, waiting. Raven took deep breaths to calm herself as she caught up. The lords’ and baronesses’ houses impressed her, and even as she struggled with the heat, the fear of falling, and exhaustion, she kept her body relaxed. Eventually, the high-end housing gave way to bakeries, clothing stores, restaurants, brothels — all sorts of shops. Raven was overwhelmed by the sheer number of people flooding the streets.
The noise was chaotic — chatter, music, and a hundred other sounds weaving into the background hum of the city. When they entered the town square, Raven was stunned by the diversity of people, animals, and goods. The scent of cinnamon, pepper, vanilla, and more filled her senses as she took a deep breath. Jinx, at her side, waved to someone in the crowd, and Raven mirrored the motion from atop Ickie, who stopped immediately. Raven stroked her neck in gratitude.
Blue-eyed, pale-skinned, and black-haired — the man approaching looked about the same age and height as the prince. He pushed through the crowd toward them, and as he got closer, Raven had the strange feeling she knew him.
“Good morning, Jinx. How can I help?”
“Stop being a clown, Jon.”
“Only if you stop being such a pain.”
“Never.”
“Same.”
They laughed, and the soldier’s serious tone softened. He helped Jinx down from her horse and then stood beside Ickie, locking eyes with Raven.
“I’m glad you’ve recovered from your little hallway incident, miss.”
The memory of a blue blur and two strong hands gripping her shoulders clicked into place. This charming young soldier was the one who had helped her during her moment of weakness. He had a sharp jawline, summer-sky blue eyes that matched his bright smile, straight teeth, broad shoulders, and a lean build. Raven kept staring, unsure what to say or do. Small talk was not her thing.
Then he offered his hand, and she took it. When his hand settled on her waist, though, she felt a jolt of awkwardness and embarrassment. She wasn’t used to being touched by men — especially not gorgeous ones. She forced a shy smile. He smiled back. Jinx called her name and told her to stand by her side, as they would be walking. The soldier followed behind. There was so much to see, it was impossible for Raven to take it all in.
They headed into a narrow alley packed with people squeezing between tiny, tall shops, all showing off their goods in colorful, tempting displays. They passed a shop selling frogs and strange creatures in water bags, then another with animal skulls and hides. The deeper they went, the louder the vendors became, all trying to lure customers in.
They walked along the narrow path until Jinx ducked into a small shop, but not before ordering Raven to stay put. The smell of nutmeg made Raven glance inside. The shop sold fragrant herbs — some she didn’t even recognize, and that was saying something considering her extensive knowledge. As she turned her head forward again, she noticed a few people walking by were eyeing her curiously. She looked away, turning her face the other direction. Sweat now clung to her thighs, armpits, and neck.
“Nanda Parbat’s intense weather is its own trial. But don’t worry, you’ll get used to it,” said the soldier standing watch beside her. He turned and smiled again.
Raven was surprised by how much that comforted her. He’d noticed her discomfort — and tried to soothe it. It moved her enough to respond.
“Well, for a mountain girl, this definitely feels like hell.”
“Oh, I can imagine...”
She turned back to face forward and noticed another alleyway connecting to this one.
“‘The Anthill’ — that’s what it’s called.”
“What?”
“This whole area. All these alleys together. Locals call it ‘The Anthill.’”
“Oh.”
Raven was surprised. Not that she cared about this place — she planned to escape in a few days anyway — but that he was the one telling her. She found herself smiling, a silly, genuine smile. She fidgeted with her fingers.
“What’s your name?”
“Jonathan. But my friends call me Jon.”
“Nice to meet you, Jonathan.”
“And yours, miss?”
“Rachel.”
“Nice to meet you, Miss Rachel.”
Raven blushed, lowering her head. That reaction surprised her. To hide it, she fiddled with her fingers again. Jinx came out of the shop carrying a bag.
“All done here. Rachel, carry this.” She handed over a light white cloth bag. The three continued deeper into the Anthill. Every time Jinx stopped at a shop, Jon would chat with Raven. His presence was so warm, she almost forgot where she was or how she ended up there.
When the sun was high overhead and Raven felt dizzy from the heat, Jinx said she’d be going off on her own to handle some affairs.
“I’ve got some business to take care of. Jon, why don’t you show Raven the rest of the kingdom? Help her get to know her new home.”
She didn’t even glance at Raven, too busy rummaging through her black bag. Once she found what she was looking for, she smiled at Jon and walked off without further explanation.
“Well,” Jon turned to her, “do you want to see more of the kingdom or head back to the castle?”
Raven hesitated. She was sweltering... but what if he could show her potential escape routes? Hideouts? Thinking of that, she said:
“I’d like to see more of the kingdom.”
“Great. Let’s go, then.”
They walked for a long time, but the soldier was kind enough to always stay in the shade with her. He even bought an exotic pink-colored fruit juice that was served ice-cold, and also a stuffed bread they sold on the streets. And then they walked some more. When Raven noticed they were entering the forest, her heart started to pound, fearing what the soldier's intentions toward her might be.
"Where are we going?"
He looked at her, her expression hidden under the white hood.
"I want to show you the sea up close. Don’t worry, I won’t try anything against you."
She silently thanked the soldier for sensing her discomfort and offering reassurance that the disturbing scenario in her mind wouldn't come true. As they descended a slope, she soon heard the sound of waves and then saw the emerald-colored sea opening up across the yellow sand. A strong wind blew her cape back, and she quickly fixed it.
"Don’t worry, that hood and cape are all for show. You can take them off around me."
Raven hesitated for a moment. Setting her bags on the ground, she took off her hood and then the cape, feeling a delicious cold breeze kiss her shoulders. She looked around at the land stretching into sea and sand and a blue sky the color of that soldier’s eyes.
"How about a swim? I’m going in. Turn around."
Raven turned away and heard the soldier's clothes hit the ground. She only turned back when he shouted:
"You can look now, Miss Rachel!"
She turned and saw him waving from the sea, water reaching his chest. She blushed, seeing his bare skin.
"It’s amazing, Miss! If I were you, I’d enjoy it—doubt Jinx will let you have another day like this."
Raven looked one way, then the other. She thought it over seriously, and then, realizing she had nothing to lose and desperate to wash away the sweat on her body, she decided to copy Soldier Jon.
"Then turn around and don’t look until I say so!"
She saw the soldier smile from afar and then removed the cream-colored dress she wore, followed by her sandals. Covering her breasts and lower half with her hands, she ran through the sand and into the cold water. When it reached her shoulders, she called to him.
"Turn around, soldier."
He turned, and his eyes traveled over Raven's figure. She turned her head left, blushing.
"Isn’t it wonderful? The water’s perfect."
"Yeah, it is."
She dunked her head underwater, the cold jolt waking her senses and making her feel alive. When she surfaced, Jon had taken a few steps to the right and was staring out at the blue horizon. She walked toward him.
"Life in Nanda Parbat isn’t easy, Miss Rachel. The Court of Snakes is hard on everyone, and I’m sorry you were dragged from your home to live here. I was there, you know, when you were kidnapped. And I wanted to apologize."
Raven’s heart clenched in her chest. She lowered her head, overwhelmed by the sadness she’d been choking down. She’d been abducted and brought to a strange, alien place. It was a hard truth to face. The soldier turned to her and, seeing tears streaming from her misty eyes, said:
"But don’t be afraid, Miss. No evil lasts forever. You’ll see things will change in the Court—especially once Prince Damian takes over."
The mention of Damian’s name sent a shiver down Raven’s spine. She didn’t know he was about to take the throne. Did that mean she'd have to obey him instead of Ra’s al Ghul? Or was her servitude bound to Ra’s regardless of his status? One thing was certain—she needed to get out of that place as soon as possible. She stepped away from the soldier and just stood in the cold water, reflecting. He didn’t call her back, respecting her need for silence. Every now and then, she dipped her head underwater, returning to her thoughts.
When the sun began to set, the soldier called her, saying they had to return—he had to be at the castle by nightfall. She got out first and dressed, and then he did the same, each turning away while the other changed. Raven let the cold water drip down her soaked braid, neck, and back as they walked. The soldier offered to carry all the bags, and after much insistence, Raven gave in.
"Why are you so kind to me?"
He blinked, looked forward, then back at her as he answered.
"Wouldn’t you be, if you were in my shoes and someone like you showed up the way you did?"
"But everyone else in that castle has a bit of cruelty in them. Why not you? Why haven’t you treated me badly?"
"Because I still believe in the goodness in people."
"Even while working for Ra’s al Ghul, his son, and daughter?"
"Yes."
"Even though that corrupts the goodness in people?"
"I think we have to accept the things we can’t change, have the courage to change the things we can, and the wisdom to know the difference."
Raven went quiet, her mind racing. The two walked back the same way they’d come. By the time the sky had turned dark and stars glittered overhead, they reached the castle. The soldier handed the bags to a servant and escorted her to her room. When they reached the door, Raven stopped, and so did he.
"I’d like to thank you for today. I’ll be forever grateful for your kindness."
He just smiled, then took her hand and kissed it.
"Good night, Miss Rachel."
"Good night, Soldier Jon."
They shared a look, and then the soldier disappeared down the hallway. Raven opened the door to her room and was met by her handmaidens.
"Good evening, Miss Rachel," said the shorter one.
"Good evening, Miss Rachel. We must prepare you for dinner with the royal family tonight. Please, come with us immediately," said the taller one.
"Dinner? No one told me about this."
"The king requested your presence. It’s a routine event with Jinx. Since your new clothes have arrived, the princess thought it’d be a good time to initiate you into the tradition."
Still relaxed after her peaceful day and with her guard down, she rolled her eyes and followed the two women into the bath.
They pampered her with all the intensity in the world. When finished, they led her to the dressing room, now filled with gowns of every size, color, and style. There were also two vases on each side table filled with white gardenias. Her vanity was covered with perfumes and makeup.
They dressed her in a beautiful black silk gown with a simple cut and high collar, lifting her breasts and letting the pleated fabric flow down to her feet. Black sandals were placed on her feet. Her hair was braided into a single thick plait pulled over her left shoulder. Amethyst pins were placed at each section of the braid, and Raven wore makeup for the first time in her life—red lips, darkened eyes, and soft pink cheeks.
"Don’t forget the perfume," said the tall maid, adding finishing touches.
"Right."
"I haven’t even asked your names. You know mine... what are yours?"
"My name is Torcha," said the tall girl.
"My name is Sispie."
"Pleasure to meet you. Thank you so much for everything you’ve done for me."
"At your service, miss."
Raven allowed herself a small smile. In her first week at the castle, these girls—and the soldier—were the only ones she felt comfortable around. When they finished, Raven looked at herself in the mirror, stunned by the reflection. Not recognizing herself, she had to pinch her arm to make sure it was really her.
The maid reminded her it was time to go, or she’d be late. They escorted her halfway through the castle, where Soldier Jon—now bathed and dressed in new clothes—smiled at the sight of her.
"Miss Rachel, I must say you look very beautiful tonight." Raven blushed as Jon took her hand and planted a kiss, just like he had earlier. A shy smile bloomed on her lips, and she felt warmth spread through her body.
"Thank you."
The maids left her in Jon’s care and walked off. The two walked in silence, but she felt safe beside him. That’s when she noticed they were in the royal wing. Instead of turning left toward Damian Al Ghul’s room, they went down the middle corridor. The same insignia that marked the prince’s door was on the door they now stood in front of.
"Remember—don’t let anything they say or do affect you. Never show weakness around an Al Ghul. If they see it, they’ll eat you alive."
Raven took the advice and nodded. The soldier opened the door, and Raven saw the grandeur of the room. Jon placed a hand on her back and guided her toward another door, guarded by two masked men dressed in black. They made way for her, and the soldier gently tapped her hand, signaling she would be going in alone.
His blue eyes sparkled before he turned without another word. One of the guards opened the door. A table with twelve chairs dominated the room. Red carpet, red curtains, and open windows filled the air with fresh night breeze. As soon as she stepped in, all eyes turned to her.
Jinx wore a strapless black gown that contrasted sharply with her pale skin. Her eyes were painted black and her hair was slicked back. She wore pink diamond earrings and a black ornate choker. Talia wore a cream dress plunging into a V between her ample breasts, with gold jewelry layered over it. Ra’s wore dark eyeliner and a black shirt with a deep neckline, along with a gold belt. Damian, however, wore a mint green outfit that left his abs and arms exposed, only covering his nipples. Like his family, his eyes were lined in black. His high-collared outfit ended with an emerald stone in the center. He wore several gold rings on both hands.
"Look who’s arrived—we thought we’d have to wait even longer for you. You look stunning, my dear. See, Father? Didn’t I say Natasha would improve her? Now she finally looks like someone working for the Al Ghul court."
"Yes, she’s quite beautiful indeed. Rachel, please sit next to my daughter so we may begin dinner."
The king’s and princess’s politeness caught Raven so off guard, she thought she might be losing it.
"Sit next to me, child," Talia ordered, and a servant pulled out the chair for her.
"Perfect. We may begin," said Ra’s, snapping his fingers.
Within minutes, several servants entered, filling crystal goblets and serving the first course.
While they ate and chatted, Raven stayed focused on her food. No one really called her name or included her in the conversation, so she quietly enjoyed the soup, tender meat with mashed potatoes and a sweet-and-sour sauce, and warm bread. Her wine glass remained full, unlike the others’ which were constantly refilled. She had never tasted wine or beer, not even on Earth or in Azarath. She wasn’t curious; she knew what alcohol did to the senses.
After dinner, dessert was served: a cold almond mousse with creamy almond syrup and a mint sprig in a crystal cup. Raven had to stop herself from moaning—it was the best thing she’d ever tasted. The mousse had crunchy bits of nuts inside. Some syrup dripped on her chin and she wiped it off with a napkin—just as she caught Damian staring at her. She ignored his gaze and cleaned her chin politely.
"And so, Rachel, I’ve heard from Jinx and my grandson that you’re quite capable. My grandson’s back healed in record time, and Jinx said your sorcery skills are impressive. I’m pleased that my investment has paid off. But you see, my dear, I will no longer be king in a few months—my grandson will take over. And you know how important a king’s safety is. Jinx is already blood-bound to me, but I believe you should swear to my grandson as well, and serve him as the future king."
Raven felt her heart stop. She gripped her reaction so tightly that she had to raise her wineglass to her lips. The bitter liquid burned her throat.
"What do you say, my son? Would it be good to have her? I’ll give her all the training she needs, even bring in Constantine to teach her about poisons."
"Whatever you wish, Grandfather."
"Excellent. We can hold the ceremony tomorrow."
Raven took two more long sips of the cold wine. Her mind started to spin as she noticed the prince’s eyes still fixed on her. She gripped the fabric of her dress so hard she could feel her long nails through it. Time passed, and eventually all the crystal goblets were cleared. Raven’s was empty.
Tea was served—ginger, she could tell from the strong aroma, though her mind was foggy.
"Do you like your room, Rachel? Because we’ll likely need to move you closer to the prince’s quarters."
Raven’s head snapped toward the king, who was spinning. She looked around the table, ending on Damian—then she started laughing. A deep, loud, uncontrollable laugh that made her throw her head back. Her belly hurt from it, and tears streamed from her eyes.
"Isn’t all this enough already? And now I’ll have to see this worm’s face every single day?"
She felt the outrage spread across the table, but she kept her eyes closed as tears streamed down her face and she laughed uncontrollably.
"Are you crazy to speak about the future king of Nanda Parbat like that?" said Talia, who was sitting nearby.
"She’s still just a girl, Talia. She’s only drunk, probably has no experience with alcohol," said the king.
"Drunk or not, he is my son and future king, and I won’t allow some nobody to speak of him like that in front of me."
"Mother, leave it."
Raven was laughing hard, but inside she felt panic clawing at her. She was laughing at her own misfortune, and the tears confirmed the hopelessness she felt. She was so dizzy and drunk she simply slumped her head against the back of the chair and stopped laughing, feeling sleep creeping up fast. Her jaw dropped open—she couldn’t even keep it in place.
"Child, are you alright?"
"I think this mess has done enough damage—someone get her out of here."
"Yes, please, take her to her bed and make sure she’s safe. We have much to do in the morning," said Ra’s al Ghul.
Raven fought the sleep and forced her eyes open.
"I’m... fine. I can... go to the room... by myself."
She abruptly stood up from the chair and staggered toward the door. A scraping sound of a chair followed, and she quickly felt a firm grip on both arms as someone held her steady.
"Damian..." said Talia. "Someone else can take her."
"No, I’ll take her, Mother. Leave it to me. Good night, everyone."
"Good night, my son."
Raven put one foot in front of the other, stumbling, just wanting to get away from that place as fast as possible. Damian’s hands reached her again.
"Not that way—this way."
"Get your hands off me." Raven’s voice was shaky and slow, but it had zero effect on the prince. He kept guiding her, his hands never leaving her shoulders.
Raven felt like garbage. As they walked through the massive castle, she was hit with how utterly alone she was and how far from home this place really was. No mother, no father, no friends, not even a people to call her own. She was completely alone in a giant castle full of wolves and snakes. And all she wanted was to go back to her home, her safety, that little place, those empty mountains that belonged to her. But in that moment, she didn’t even have that.
She burst into tears, throwing herself against the hallway wall for support and burying her face in her hands to hide the shame.
"Rachel..."
The prince approached, but she scratched him.
"Why couldn’t you have left me in my home? You took everything I had—do you still want my dignity?!" she said, trying to hold back the sobs, but the tears came on their own.
"Rachel, come here. I’ll take you to your room, we can talk there."
Raven’s rage boiled over. She lunged at the prince, grabbing the fabric of his clothes tightly.
"I don’t want to talk to you—I want to hit you. I want you to pay for what you did to me."
"Rachel, I won’t allow you to keep acting like this."
"I want you and your entire court to burn in the fifth circle of hell!"
"That’s enough." He grabbed her wrists and then scooped her into his arms, resuming his stride.
Raven kept cursing and crying in the prince’s arms. As she sobbed into his chest, images of the map, of the soldier Jon, and of the prince blurred together until she simply passed out in his lap before even reaching the room.
Chapter 11: XI
Chapter Text
When Raven woke up that morning, she felt her head heavy. Sitting on the bed, she noticed she was wearing the same beautiful dress from yesterday, but she wasn't wearing the sandals. She yawned, stretched, and turned to the side to get out of bed. That’s when she came face-to-face with an object that caught her attention. On the nightstand, there was a small-sized book with a ruby-red cover. She reached out and grabbed the book. Its cover had an emblem of a wolf and a rose. She opened the book, its pages yellowed but still maintaining its luxurious appearance.
The door opened, and Raven immediately looked to the other side.
"Good morning, Miss." The two maids said in unison. The one with short hair and dark skin brought a cart with a tray on top.
"We brought your food for you. The princess said it would be very good if you slept a little longer to have time to prepare for your oath to the prince."
Then, reality hit Raven hard, and she remembered the night before. The embarrassment she felt was so intense that she thought about hiding under the blankets again. She then remembered Damian Al Ghul, being in his arms, and passing out in them. She hid her face in her hands, feeling extremely vulnerable and ridiculous. The maids set the table, and then Raven got up and ate. By the time she finished, she was feeling better from the dizziness, but not from the feeling of embarrassment.
Already undressed and in the bathtub full of bubbles, they let Raven relax while taking care of her nails and massaging her scalp. Her feet were also cared for once more, and after her hair was washed and detangled, they wrapped a robe around her waist and took her to the dressing room. A white silk robe, the same color as her bracelets, was all she wore, along with soft, fluffy white fabric slippers. They combed her hair thousands of times and then braided it loosely.
"We will serve your lunch here as well, and later this evening, we will dress you."
Raven nodded timidly, lost in her thoughts.
"Rest, Miss," said the maid while resting a hand on her shoulder and pointing to the bed. Raven went and sat on the soft mattress.
"Lady Talia asked us to give you this tea. She said it will do you good."
The two served tea to Raven, who brought the cup to her nose, inhaling the warm contents. She then took a small sip, feeling the intense and bitter taste of boldo. Raven couldn’t hold back a grimace, and the two maids giggled shyly.
"Drink it all, Miss. Those are the princess's orders."
Raven gathered her courage and drank the entire cup in one go, wiping her wet mouth with the back of her hands when she finished. The cup was taken from her hands, and the maids arranged her bed, pulling the thin sheet over her thighs and stomach. When the door closed, Raven turned to the side and picked up the book again.
She examined it, smelled it, and after long minutes of observing its cover, she opened it and began to read. However, as she read, she couldn’t help but feel the accumulated fatigue of the week urging her to close her eyelids for a bit. So, she gave in to the impulse and shut her eyes, intending to rest them for just a few minutes.
When she woke up, the first thing she felt was the damp pillowcase against her cheek. She knew it was from her drool, so she closed her mouth and turned, sitting up. The room was completely dark. The sun had already set, and she felt fine, though frustrated that she had slept an entire day. Sighing, she stretched and then placed both feet out of the bed, pushing herself forward and standing up.
She walked toward the balcony. Resting her hands on the concrete, she breathed in the night air. A breeze came from the left and kissed her cheek, and she placed her hand on her scalp and massaged it. The moon was full, and its light fell on her hands and the sea. Now she could see the windows on her left. Sighing, she thought about how much time she had wasted sleeping when she could have been investigating the castle or looking into transportation options. By now, she knew she would have to escape at night. She would need to wear something as inconspicuous as possible and would either have to leave on horseback or hide somewhere in the city before fleeing.
But most importantly, if only she could break those bracelets... then, it would only take seconds for her to disappear from that place. And Azarath... the mountains were still unprotected, the central point between the two worlds, vulnerable. Anyone aware of magic who passed by could use that massive stockpile, and Raven couldn’t allow that. Not when that devastated, ash-covered world still existed. Raven’s thoughts were interrupted by the sound of footsteps.
"Good evening, Miss Rachel. We’ve come to prepare you for the ceremony."
Raven felt desperate; she didn’t want to go through that ritual. She just wanted to leave that place... Raven turned to the maids with her head lowered. The two bathed her again and then washed her hair. Raven couldn’t hold back her tears as they brushed her hair while she sat in the bath. She let the tears roll down until they fell into the bubbly water. It felt good to cry, she thought. When she had her powers, she couldn’t cry or feel too sad because her powers would melt things or burn them. But now that they were sealed, emotions flowed freely, and she didn’t want to hold them back.
The ceremony, she thought, Raven didn’t know what to expect from it. What she would have to say or even what she would have to do; she didn’t want to know the consequences of having to swear her blood to that prince. Corrupted by sadness, the feeling of desolation prevented her from following what the maids were doing with her body or hair; she was trapped in the dark well of her soul.
"Miss... Miss? Can you hear me?" Torcha said, lightly shaking her. Raven then realized she was facing the mirror. A young woman with her hair styled back, her eyes painted black, and wearing a beautiful dress the same color as her hair looked back at her. Two strands of hair had been pulled back into what should have been a braid cutting through her hair, with the rest styled back. Beautiful round amethyst earrings were placed in her ears. The dress consisted of a triangular corset, which, connected by a beautiful brooch, led to a cape that covered her shoulders and fell down her back in two parts, trailing on the floor. A belt cut across her waist, with a brooch in the center that matched the corset’s color, though shaped differently. The cape was fastened to her neck, open on the shoulders, and pulled back, revealing her arms and shoulders.
They then took Raven to the middle of the castle, where a guard, dressed entirely in black with his face covered by a mask, took her the rest of the way. He moved like a ghost, and Raven wondered how he managed to make no sound when his feet touched the ground. Nothing mattered, though, when she found Jon, who looked handsome, dressed in blues and blacks that suited him perfectly. When their eyes met, she forgot everything she had been thinking and feeling for a moment, simply happy and enchanted to have the chance to see him there.
He extended his arm to her, which she timidly took. Then Jon began leading her to the place where the ceremony would take place.
"I’m glad to have the chance to see you again, Miss Rachel."
Raven smiled foolishly and at the same time gratefully.
"I’m happy to see you too, soldier. However, I need to tell you, I’m really scared. I don’t know what to expect from the ceremony."
"It’s a blood oath. You and the prince will both give a bit, then you’ll hear some words, and that’s it. Don’t worry, I’ve done it."
Raven looked at him, surprised. But then she understood Jon’s loyalty to Damian. She felt angry, as this meant part of his loyalty and hopes were blind.
"I don’t want to do this."
"Unfortunately, there’s no way to escape."
Raven lowered her head again.
"But that doesn’t mean you can’t hate him as much as you do now, or stop cursing him."
"And what’s the point of the blood oath, then?"
"Loyalty. A sworn blood servant can never betray the one they’re sworn to. If you ever want to kill him, you won’t be able to, because the spell will inhibit any malicious actions toward his life. You’ll have to protect him and show submission to his choices."
"And if he dies naturally?"
"Then the pact will be broken."
"Just like if he dies by someone else’s hand?"
"Yes, you will be freed. But as I said, the oath isn’t that much, it would be worse if it were a marriage, trust me. Jinx constantly curses Ra, and there are days when I think she might actually kill the king with her own hands."
Raven had noticed the interpersonal dynamics at the dinner table the day before. She had observed how natural Jinx was, without even pretending or hiding any unpleasant traits of her sour personality. She even seemed to belong to that family—if her white skin and pink hair didn’t give her away, Raven would have thought Jinx was an Al Ghul.
"Alright. And how do I not feel so nervous?"
"You have to remember that this is just a show ceremony and that you’re not actually swearing your heart or soul to anyone."
Raven nodded. She only noticed they had arrived when one of the guards opened the door. It was a large room, not too lit but not too dark, with many people inside, all wearing standard masks that covered their entire faces. The people stopped talking when they saw her walking arm-in-arm with soldier Jon. They made space for her to enter. The giant windows in the room opened up to a courtyard lit with guards and more people.
Raven pulled a little closer to Jon’s body, as if he were her support column. He guided her between the people, and then the two of them went out to the courtyard, heading for a corridor that stretched ahead. Jon pulled her forward, guiding her along the covered corridor, made of columns and illuminated by blue stained glass, intricately placed in the upper part of the ceiling. The only detail about it all was the fact that the corridor was suspended in mid-air. The castle structure extended below on a cliff. The moon was so close and so bright that Raven thought she could even touch it.
When they rounded the corner, Raven saw that Ra’s, Talia, Damian, and Jinx were already there. The rest of the people stayed behind in the courtyard, watching. The Al Ghuls were dressed in green, and Jinx wore a white open dress with a neckline that went down to the white belt of the fabric structure. She also wore a cape that opened in circles, revealing her shoulders. Her hair was styled, with her bangs neatly arranged on her forehead. Raven felt the solemnity of the prince, princess, and king’s clothing, as they all wore their capes and crowns.
Jon stopped at the foot of the stairs, an explicit sign that only Raven would go up. She then looked at him one more time, admiring the beauty of his blue eyes, and climbed the stairs. Raven felt like she was leaving her dignity behind with every step she took upward: for her, there was no choice. She felt everyone’s gaze on her, and, exposed, she lowered her head.
"Let’s begin this beautiful ceremony."
Ra’s Al Ghul said, and then Damian came from the side of the circular structure and went to her side, offering his hand. She had no choice but to give hers in return, and then he solemnly raised her while holding her. The prince’s hand was rough, like his back, warm.
"The blood oath is a ceremony that has been performed since the beginning of time. From lord to soldier, or from a knight to his king, it ensures that the intentions of two people working for the same good remain pure. Today, we are here to unite this powerful sorceress, whose name has spread throughout this continent, and the future king Damian."
He then nodded for Jinx to begin the ritual. Talia and Ra made a symbol in the air toward the moon and then withdrew. Damian lowered his hand and released hers.
“Kneel, please.”
She knelt down, and Damian did the same beside her. In an ancient language that Raven understood, Jinx began to speak.
“Under the watchful eye of the moon, I summon your presence, so that these two souls, in justice and in awareness, may unite, and that one may protect the other. And if ever deceit or anger falls upon either of their hearts, may both be forbidden from acting with malice against this sacred union. May this blood oath extend for as long as their lives do—no more, no less. Hecate, Nyx, and ladies of fate, please bless this ritual now!”
Jinx closed her eyes and raised her arms to the sky, lowering them again after a few minutes in silence. When she lowered them, she picked up the black dagger she had placed beneath the concrete structure and held it out to Damian, her eyes still closed. The prince took the blade and then took Raven’s left hand, lifting it up and opening her palm. He looked into her eyes and then slid the tip of the blade across her skin, cutting it open. Tears immediately welled in Raven’s eyes, and she had to bite her lower lip hard to keep from screaming.
Damian then guided her hand to the black bowl in the center of the table and curled her fingers into her palm, making the blood pour out. More tears streamed down her face as she endured the pain in silence. Once a significant amount had pooled inside, he pulled her hand back and let go, placing the dagger on the table.
“Please, ladies, now watch over this part, so that we may unite them.”
Jinx spoke in the ancient tongue and then handed the dagger to Raven, still with her eyes closed. Raven didn’t think twice when she got the chance to inflict the same pain on him—she took the dagger and cut Damian’s hand, but he showed no reaction whatsoever. She brought his hand together with hers to the bowl and made him curl his fingers into his own flesh. Returning the dagger to the structure, she released his hand.
“So be it.”
Jinx said and then lifted the bowl above her head. When she placed it back on the table, Raven saw that the mix of their blood had turned into a thick, black liquid.
“Drink.”
Damian took the bowl and, without showing any emotion, drank.
“Enough. Give it to her.”
Jinx said again in the ancient language. Damian offered the bowl to Raven, who hesitated. But Jinx’s closed eyes somehow seemed to stare straight at her, just like the prince’s, whose mouth was stained. Nervously, Raven took the bowl and, pressured, drank.
“To the last drop,” Jinx warned.
The thick black liquid slid down her throat, and she thought she was going to vomit, but when she lowered the cup, her stomach didn’t react. She didn’t gag—just felt nauseated. Jinx once again raised her hand to the skies and then opened her eyes. She blinked three times and handed them the black cloths from under the table so they could clean their hands. They did, and then Damian stood up and extended his hand to Raven, who ignored it and used her knees to get up. She wanted to push that prince off the cliff they were standing on. When she finally stood, and he grabbed her hand anyway, she looked at him, shocked.
“Be a good girl, Rachel. If you don’t behave, there will be consequences,” Damian whispered in her ear. When he pulled away, Raven made a face at him. But then, she let him guide her by his side. As much as she didn’t want to admit it, Damian’s presence radiated power. And it was impossible not to know who he was or what he represented the moment you laid eyes on him. As for Raven, she wished she could hide behind the prince’s cloak—even if she hated him—because everyone was staring at them openly. All eyes were glued to the two of them, and Raven wished she could blush or even shrink into herself. She wasn’t someone who liked being around a lot of people, nor the feeling of being scrutinized.
But the prince kept holding her hand, even a little too willingly. His palm was larger than Raven’s, and hers—always cold—found some comfort in that warmth. It was torture crossing that courtyard until they finally entered the hall. Soon, Talia and the king came to greet them.
“You now have a protector to look after your well-being and safety, my son. As promised, she will be trained so she can grow even more. Constantine has already been summoned, along with others. This girl is already raw gold, and now she can become the jewel behind your success,” said Ra, close to them. Damian was still holding her hand, though his arm had already returned to its usual spot.
“Let us celebrate this night, and may many more oaths be made!” Talia said loudly, raising her goblet into the air. “To Prince and future King Damian Al Ghul!”
Everyone present, now unmasked, raised their cups. Once again, Raven wanted to fly far, far away, because they were all smiling and staring at her and Damian. She looked at Damian, who seemed to notice her discomfort because he tugged on her arm and said:
“How about a dance to celebrate the night?”
Raven couldn’t help but widen her eyes in panic. She didn’t know how to dance. Of all the etiquette lessons she had in Azarath, dancing was never one of them—the monks believed it might make her too happy, and that happiness was too strong an emotion that could negatively affect her powers, since her magic was tied to her feelings. So panic took over as Damian slowly pulled her toward the center of the room. A beautiful symphony began to play, and the prince stared straight into her eyes.
Trying her best not to make a fool of herself, she pressed her body a bit closer to his as he extended his arm.
“I don’t know how to dance.”
She felt the prince smile, and then he lowered his head to look at her more closely.
“Just relax your body and legs, and let me guide you.”
Raven did as he said. Taking a deep breath, she allowed the prince to lead her. Her heart pounded as hard as it had the first time she rode Ickie. But the prince wasn’t thrown off—he kept her body close to his while she tried to stay relaxed. She remembered the river near the cottage where she used to bathe. The water was gentle, gliding all over her body with no pressure, yet still able to support her as she floated. So Raven tried to be like that water, letting Damian al Ghul guide her body with skill and fluidity.
The people around them stopped staring and began pairing off and dancing. Even Talia began to waltz with her father, the two exchanging pleasant conversation and laughter as they spun across the floor. Raven felt relieved—soon, no one was paying attention to her, and everyone was carried away by the music. A smile of relief crept onto her lips, and she even rested her head on the prince’s chest.
“For someone who wanted me to burn in the deepest pit of hell, you’re awfully cozy in my arms.”
Raven opened her eyes, remembering who she was with. She raised her head to look at him.
“I still want you to burn in the deepest pit of hell.”
“You were adorable saying that last night. And if I remember correctly...” Damian whispered in her ear, his mouth dangerously close to her earlobe and neck. Raven shivered involuntarily at the feeling of his breath. “It was in my arms that you fell asleep—and I was the one who carried you to bed.”
Raven stepped away from the prince, annoyed. Her body felt warmer, and her cheeks were burning—which she couldn’t explain, so she turned her back to him and walked off. She ignored Damian’s gaze on her and made her way out of the ballroom. The courtyard was crowded too, just like the hall, and some servants were carrying food on shiny trays. One servant, noticing her glance, approached.
“Would you like something, miss?”
“Yes.”
The servant lowered the tray so she could help herself, and Raven grabbed two tiny appetizers. He walked away, and she took a bite of one, savoring the delicious pâté melting in her mouth. She popped the rest into her mouth and swallowed, repeating the process with the second. Raven brushed off her hands and looked around. In a distant corner, Jon was talking to a red-haired woman.
She cut through the crowd, determined not to let the curious stares faze her. Jon locked eyes with her when she was just three steps away.
“Rachel, what a beautiful ceremony!” Jon said as he greeted her. She smiled and thanked him.
“This is Vestal. She’s Lady Natasha’s niece.”
“Oh,” Raven said, eyeing the woman. She was short, like Raven, with fair skin like her aunt, but her hair was a deeper red than Natasha’s. She was delicate and beautiful, and Raven couldn’t help feeling a bit jealous of the soldier for being near such a stunning woman. Since she was reserved by nature, Raven just smiled. The woman smiled back with what seemed like the most enchanting smile the sorceress had ever seen.
A waiter passed by with glasses of sparkling drink, and Raven called him over. He stopped by her side, and she asked for a glass. As he left, she was already sipping the alcohol. By the time she’d finished the whole glass, Vestal said she had to go find her aunt. Jon then focused entirely on Raven, who now felt more grumpy than ever.
“I’m glad your ceremony is this beautiful—mine didn’t even have a party.”
“Oh, that’s a shame,” she said, then handed him the glass. She was over the night, over feeling inferior, over everyone. So she simply turned her back to him. Unlike the night before, she felt a bit less drunk and was able to return to the ballroom.
People were still waltzing, and she wanted to head for the exit. As she walked among the dancers—trying to avoid anyone who might be calling for her—she felt a hand on her shoulder and someone pull her by the waist, turning her around.
“Leaving your own party so soon, sorceress?”
“You again...” Raven grimaced. The prince examined her face and said:
“You drank again, didn’t you?”
“And there he goes, starting with his nagging...” Raven didn’t have time to complain further because the prince slid his hand around her waist and started guiding her in a dance that followed the melody being played. “My mother’s going to behead you if you pull the same stunt you did yesterday at tonight’s party.”
Raven figured he might be telling the truth—his voice was serious.
“I want to go to my room.”
“To your room? Or mine?”
Raven looked scandalized.
“Are you an idiot or just mentally unstable?”
The prince grinned as he continued leading her.
“Why don’t you specify that you want to go to your room?”
“Because that’s not my room. My room is on the other side of the continent.”
The prince went silent.
“Talia will drag you back by your hair if you leave now. She’s watching you, sorceress, and so is my grandfather.”
“Why do you call me ‘sorceress’? My name is Rachel.”
“I suggest you behave and stay in line, Rachel. You can keep dancing with me if you don’t want to run into that soldier Jon again,” the prince said, staring at her intently.
“You were watching me?” Raven started laughing, but the prince silenced her with a look.
“So you saw that pretty girl too?”
“Yes.”
“Great. Did you see how she looked at Jon?”
“Lady Vestal already has a suitor, if that’s what you’re thinking.”
Raven, who had her face turned away, looked at him.
“Oh,” she said, trying not to show too much surprise.
“I thought you hated this place, but I see Jon caught your attention.”
He spun her slowly, and she ended up back in his arms, waltzing.
“I’m not talking about this with you. I still hate you—but I accept your offer. As long as I don’t have to talk to anyone or see Jon or Vestal, I’ll keep dancing with you.”
“Perfect.”
“Yes, perfect,” she said flatly as they danced gracefully across the ballroom, and thus, the night went on.
Chapter 12: XII
Chapter Text
Raven sighed as the maids organized the dresses and packed them into chests. Two days after the spectacle of the ritual, Ra’s Al Ghul had ordered her room to be relocated from the south wing to the north wing, where the royal quarters were. She was starting to think the whole thing was a joke—comical, even. Raven wondered if her situation could possibly get any worse, since everything so far had been a downhill slide.
And to top it off, the king himself had asked Jinx—in front of Raven—to make the tasks she gave her even more difficult. So, the day before, Raven had been assigned her first poison-making job. Jinx had laid out a hypothetical scenario: the poison was intended for a rich baron who fancied himself clever enough to plot against the king, and therefore, needed to be eliminated. Jinx specified that the death should be painful and slow, and the poison tasteless.
Contrary to what everyone assumed, Raven didn’t have much experience with poisons. She had studied on her own back at her cottage, but in Azarath, the monks had strictly forbidden her from learning any art that could be lethal or violent. She felt lost when Jinx told her she had only three days to complete the task. So there she was, lost in thought about how to concoct the poison while watching the maids come and go.
"This one’s ready. You can take it."
Torcha said, and the men carried away the second-to-last chest.
"Excited to move rooms?"
Raven turned. Jon was leaning against the doorway.
"No," she said. Raven had avoided Jon after the rest of the ball, and now she realized that just his presence alone still had a weirdly calming effect on her. "What are you doing here?"
"I’m here to take you to your new room. Afterward, you’ll have lunch with the king, the princess, and the prince. Oh, and Jinx too."
"Oh..." she said, unenthusiastically. Raven definitely didn’t want to see any of those four. Reluctantly, she followed Jon as he led her through the castle. Once they reached the now somewhat familiar halls, Jon took a left turn near Damian’s door. Then another left, and finally, they stopped in front of a door. No crest, just polished, varnished wood. He opened the door, and she was surprised.
Thick black curtains, richly embroidered with silver lines, were drawn open to reveal stained glass windows. A massive black canopy bed with purple sheets and a sea of pillows stood in the center. A dark magnolia wood desk sat in the far corner. Three doors, a plush rug covering the floor, and vases with white roses scattered everywhere. It fit Raven’s style far more than her previous room, and it was obvious someone had known that—because they had arranged it in her colors.
"Looks like the princess really wanted to please you," Jon said, revealing who had decorated the room.
"Why do you say that?"
"The tones, the colors, the style—they match you."
"Oh."
"You don’t like it?"
"It’s not that."
"Then what?"
"I’d rather be in the simplicity of my old cottage than in a room like this, having my freedom and powers restrained."
Jon turned his face away, thoughtful. Raven took the opportunity to explore the room. She caught a faint scent of vanilla lingering in the air. She ran her hand over a wooden dresser that held one of the white rose vases. The sorceress remembered her old desk in the other universe. The wood had been worn and chipped. But she loved leaning over it to study her magic books. She loved that home, actually. Everything she had built, she had done alone. She had been the one to drag that massive piece of furniture through the portal and place it there.
She thought of her bed in the loft, with just one pillow and tattered sheets, as she looked at the majestic bed in front of her. The canopy curved down beautifully and then flowed to the floor.
"I’ll have to take you to lunch now. I promise your things will be here when you return."
"Alright then."
They left, and Jon escorted her to the dining room in Ra’s quarters.
Talia and Ra were chatting, Jinx had her head buried in that red book, and only Damian looked up when she walked in. A servant pulled out the chair beside Talia again, and Raven sat. The king then seemed to notice her presence.
"Rachel, glad you’ve arrived. I’d like to know what you thought of your new room?"
Raven blinked and glanced around at the faces at the table.
"It’s pretty," Raven said dully, playing with the tomato on her plate.
"Good to hear. Talia picked out every detail."
Raven looked to the side. She just stared at Talia and then turned away again, popping a piece of mango and tomato into her mouth. She chewed slowly, trying to avoid talking.
"Well, since your mouth’s busy, I’ve got a few things to tell you. First, you’ll be receiving a monthly allowance from now on to spend however you like," Ra’s said, taking a sip from his goblet. "Second, starting today, you’ll be free to move not just around the castle but throughout the kingdom. As long as you don’t go beyond the surrounding areas, you can go anywhere. I believe that might improve your mood, since the castle doesn’t seem to be doing it."
Raven seriously considered standing up and slapping the smug king across the face. How could he say something that absurd? Did he not realize what he was doing to her? She swallowed her food and drank a sip of juice from the goblet to her left.
"Also, I want you to engage in other activities besides your duties. Soldier Jon can show you the workshops and opportunities around the castle. And last but not least, you’ll begin lessons to improve your skills in some areas. Your instructors will arrive in a month."
Raven nodded, too tired to fight against fate. That night, she went back to reading her book and fell asleep in her new room.
Chapter 13: XIII
Chapter Text
When the fourth day of the second week arrived, Raven woke up in a panic. The estimated date for her plan was running out, and she desperately needed to find a way to escape. Or at least try to break the bracelets. She got out of bed and searched the room for anything that could help her crack the mother-of-pearl bracelets. Since she found nothing, she went to the dressing room, frantically looking for something sharp enough to saw through the hard material. But she found absolutely nothing.
She went back to the main area, looked at the wall, then at the bracelets.
Since they fit snugly around her wrists, the bracelets only budged slightly when she tried to remove them.
“Damn it.” Looking at the wall again, she decided it was her only option. Turning her head to the side, she ran toward it with her right wrist pressed against her stomach, then threw herself hard against the wall. When the impact hit, she stepped back and looked at her wrist. Intact. Not a single scratch on the bracelet’s surface.
“Damn it all...” she muttered, turning her head and sighing. The door opened behind her.
“Good morning, Miss Rachel.”
Raven turned around. She hoped her posture didn’t give away her suspicion.
“Good morning, Torcha.”
The short maid walked in, smiling.
“Good morning, miss.”
“Good morning.”
She smiled politely, and Raven returned the gesture. Neither woman seemed to suspect anything off about her mood, since no one asked her anything. They washed her, dried her off, and then dressed her. A pale white dress, hair pinned up with sparkling diamond clips. When they were done, they took her to breakfast. Jinx was already there, eating, the red book at her side. She didn’t greet Raven, just kept eating.
Breakfast passed in silence, and then the two of them walked to the magic room. The morning flew by. Raven gathered the ingredients to prepare the poison and began brewing it. When lunch came, she let the potion cool and went to eat with Jinx—who, by the way, still hadn’t said a single word to her and had spent the whole morning up in the mezzanine, flipping through books and tossing them to the floor.
After lunch, Raven returned to the room. She checked the mixture: a greenish-purple with a shiny layer on top, matching the description in the book. She grabbed a wooden spoon and dipped it into the small cauldron to check the texture. Too thick and creamy—definitely not right. Checking the book again, her suspicions were confirmed. The poison was supposed to be homogeneous—not too liquid, not too pasty. But this stuff looked like some sort of gooey dessert...
Someone knocked on the door. Raven looked around for Jinx but didn’t see her anywhere. The knock came again. She set the spoon down and opened the door.
Jon was standing there with a bright smile on his face, holding a small box.
“Ready to see the castle’s activities, miss?”
Raven smiled shyly, happy to see him. But the king’s words echoed in her mind, and her expression turned serious. She needed to get out of there, not go gallivanting around looking for castle hobbies. Still, this could be a golden opportunity to scout for something to break the bracelets—or to find an escape route. She nodded. Jon stepped aside to let her out, and she closed the door.
“Does Jinx know I’m going out into the castle with you?”
“Yes, there’s nothing Jinx doesn’t know in this place. Since she’s in charge of you, she has access to everything you do.”
Surprised, Raven didn’t like that one bit.
“Look, I brought you something,” Jon said as they walked. He handed her the box. Made of plain wood with a simple latch, she opened it. Inside were six beautifully decorated chocolate truffles. Raven’s mouth dropped in surprise.
“I know how hard it’s been being here. I just wanted to give you a little something for surviving your first week in the castle.”
Warmth bloomed in her chest, and Raven felt nervous at the unfamiliar sensation.
“You’re very kind, soldier. But why go to all this trouble for me?”
“You’re holding strong. I admire that.”
“Thank you.”
Raven picked up a truffle with her fingers and brought it to her mouth. A million shades of chocolate exploded across her tongue, and she moaned softly in delight, letting the treat melt completely. Then they kept walking down the hallway, and Jon started introducing her to places. A group of people was sitting down, reading a book.
“This is the language group. They’re reading a book in another language.”
Raven watched quietly from a distance. Jon stood beside her as they observed the serene men and women studying. She wanted to absorb more details about the room and their location, but Jon quickly urged her along—they still had a thousand things to see. After covering half the castle, they went upstairs and entered a wide, rounded hall. Half the circumference opened out into an open-air patio.
The groans were the first thing she heard. Raven saw a bunch of shirtless men. In the center of the room was a training mat, where a man and a woman were sparring. The woman had her hair braided all the way down to her butt, wore only tight black pants and a black top, and was dripping with sweat. So was the man, who also wore only pants.
“Don’t let your thoughts get in the way, prince.”
Upon hearing the word prince, Raven stepped closer. Focusing on the man, she realized it really was Damian al Ghul.
“The art of combat requires your soul and mind to be fully present. Your soul is here, but your thoughts are not.”
Raven looked at the woman—straight-backed, feet planted firmly, hands behind her. She noticed by the shape of her eyes that the woman was foreign.
Damian sighed, caught his breath, and lunged at her. Raven was stunned as the woman dodged in a blur, spun in the air like a phantom, and landed while twisting the prince’s arm painfully behind his back.
“This is the price you pay when your mind is a mess, boy.”
Lady Shiva twisted Damian’s arm even further, making him grimace, and then let go.
“We’ll resume tomorrow. And you’d better focus, your majesty.”
She turned and walked toward the room’s exit.
Jon gently touched Raven’s shoulder, signaling that they should move on—he still had more to show. And so, they left through the door.
When the tour was over, Raven was dropped back off in her room. Fascinated by the woman’s moves, she had dinner in her room, still thinking about them, and then fell asleep, exhausted.
Chapter 14: XIV
Chapter Text
“So, child? Was there anything that interested you?”
Raven, Jinx, Damian, Talia, and Ra’s were all seated at the dining table in the royal chambers’ hall, having dinner. They were eating pork with gravy, mashed potatoes, warm cheese-stuffed bread, peas, and buttery creamed corn. A dry wine was being served, and Raven had already taken two sips at Talia’s insistence—Talia wanted her to get used to alcohol. The young woman was cutting her meat when the king addressed her. She looked up and stopped eating.
“Ah... well...” Raven said thoughtfully. She was thinking about the information she had overheard while passing through the kitchen during her castle exploration. Two full weeks had passed, and though her window for escape had long expired, she was happy to have finally discovered a way out. A new plan was rapidly taking shape in her mind. So, when Ra’s al Ghul asked her about the castle’s activities, she blurted out the first thing that came to mind.
“I really liked the physical training the prince participates in.”
The king smiled and tilted his glass toward Damian.
“Our League impresses everyone, indeed...” the king said, full of pride.
“But are you sure that’s what you really want to do?”
Part of Raven had mentioned the training because her mind was too busy to come up with a lie. But another part of her truly had been fascinated by the movements and art of that brief sparring match. The Azarathians were a peaceful people and had achieved a state of total harmony. Because of that, they avoided anything related to war. Physical sports involving combat were highly condemned, as were fighting and violence. Still, Raven couldn’t help but be drawn to the chaos brought on by negative emotions—the kind that gave rise to that focused form of violence.
That brief scene between the unknown woman and the prince had burned itself into Raven’s memory. Secretly, she felt jealous of the woman’s power. While Raven was forced to submit and live as a slave to the court, completely powerless, every pore of that woman exuded strength—as if she could kill the prince with a mere look. But since Raven wasn’t planning to stick around for long (she was going to escape), she answered with something that, under different circumstances, she might’ve truly wanted.
“Yes, I found it very interesting.”
“Well then… so it shall be. You may begin tomorrow; Jinx will reorganize your schedule so you can handle everything you’re supposed to do.”
Raven nodded and resumed eating.
“You must also add dance classes. The ball season is coming, and I want you waltzing perfectly, Jinx,” Talia added.
The pink-haired sorceress scoffed, dropped her utensils, and took a sip of her wine.
“Your dress will arrive in three days, girl,” Talia said, placing a hand on her shoulder. Raven was bothered by the touch.
The princess withdrew her hand. The night continued with Ra’s trying to get Raven involved in the conversation and Raven doing her best to follow Talia’s tips on drinking. Jinx alternated between giving her opinion, laughing, eating, and flipping through the red book she always carried. The princess also tried to keep Raven engaged, while Damian remained quieter than usual—though he didn’t stop watching her.
By the time dinner ended, Raven had finished a whole glass of wine, but thanks to Talia’s coaching, she didn’t feel too tipsy. Dessert was chilled mango slices with a mint syrup and some cold vanilla cream. Raven went for seconds—Ra’s had noticed how eager and happy she was while eating it. She didn’t deny his generosity and enjoyed the second crystal goblet with genuine delight—both for the taste and for the triumph of having devised her escape plan. To top it all off, they served her favorite tea that night: mint.
Raven leaned back in her chair, settling in more comfortably. She breathed deeply as she brought the warm cup to her nose and inhaled the minty aroma. Home—that was the only word that came to mind. She took a long sip, relaxing every muscle in her body. Her mind drifted freely—she imagined herself lying in bed with her hair spread out, chanting spells, or spending hours reading and drinking tea in front of a fireplace.
When her cup was empty, she asked Talia if she could have another, and the princess agreed. Raven appreciated the soft sound of the liquid pouring into her cup as the servant refilled it. A smile slipped across her lips, and when she looked up, she caught Damian watching her. There was something undeniably strange about the way the prince looked at her. If she stared back long enough, it was impossible to break away—his emerald eyes were hypnotic. But in her good mood that night, Raven allowed herself to stare back.
She wanted to see how long she could hold his gaze, so she kept her eyes up. Yes, there was definitely something off about Damian al Ghul... Raven thought, pushing through the tension for a few more seconds—until the king called his grandson, snapping Damian out of the trance.
“I think we’ll have a lot to do tomorrow, my grandson. You must start preparing—courts will be arriving next week, and I want you to eliminate at least two potential suitors per ball. Understood?”
“Yes, grandfather.”
“Good. We’re done here, then.” The king stood, and everyone began to rise, including Raven. “Escort Miss Rachel to her room. It’s important that you two develop trust and friendship—I see you’re still not getting along as you should.” Then Ra’s looked at Jinx with a smile. “You and I were like that too, my girl. And now I trust you with my life.” Jinx smiled, proud and beaming. “You’re my pink diamond, child.”
Jinx laughed out loud but looked at Ra’s with the affection of a daughter receiving praise from a father. Raven just stood there, closing herself off internally, preparing to deal with Damian al Ghul. The prince saluted the king, as did the others, and everyone left the table. Raven wished she had her cloak, just so she could pull the hood over her head when the prince joined her for the walk out.
“Have a good night, my prince,” Jinx said as she passed them. The prince nodded, and soon it was just the two of them walking down the corridor toward Damian’s room, which was right next to Raven’s. A cool breeze entered through the window as Raven yawned, the wind brushing her shoulders and neck.
“Autumn is coming.”
Raven ignored the prince and kept walking at his slow pace. She had to admit—his presence irritated her. Even in her good mood, she couldn’t ignore it. But all she wanted at that moment was to get away from him and go to bed. The day had left her completely exhausted; Jinx had made her brew not one, but five poisons in a single day since Raven had failed her previous mission. She’d also learned that Jinx was immune to poisoning. Raven discovered that when the sorceress chugged the whole vial of thick greenish-purple paste Raven had made, only to criticize it as the worst poison she’d ever tasted.
That had surprised and then horrified Raven—it just proved how insanely powerful Jinx was. And it made her wonder why Ra’s even wanted a random sorceress like her when he had Jinx. Despite Raven’s massive reputation for miracles and healing, she didn’t hold a candle to Jinx. The idea that a mighty king like Ra’s would want her just to heal the prince and his soldiers didn’t make much sense... But she was too sleepy to dwell on it. Her second yawn was proof enough. She’d think about that some other time—preferably when she was far, far away from this place.
“What are you thinking so much about?” Damian asked, dangerously close, invading her personal space.
Raven huffed and turned her head to look at him.
“Nothing.”
“You’re lying.”
“And what do you care about what I think?” she snapped in the driest, most apathetic tone she could muster. But then they reached Damian’s room, and she didn’t waste a second before continuing toward hers. That’s when she heard footsteps and saw the prince appear beside her again. Raven stared at him in disbelief.
“What do you want, Your Majesty?”
Damian just stared at her. Then they reached her door. He stepped in front of her, opened it, and Raven stood still, trying to figure out what he was doing. He scanned every inch of the room, then turned back to her.
“You seem to forget we’re just a hallway apart. And I’m still the prince. If I were you, I’d start showing some respect and kindness...” Damian said as he approached her ear, grabbing her left arm to hold her in place. “Sorceress.” The warmth of Damian’s mouth and breath hit a sensitive spot where her shoulder met her neck, and Raven’s body reacted instantly—a shiver ran down her spine, and a wave of heat spread through her limbs.
Damian wore a dangerous smile, and Raven, outraged, shoved him away and ran inside, slamming the door in his face.
“Don’t you dare do that again or I’ll find a way to get kicked out of this wing just so I don’t have to see your stupid smug face again!” she yelled.
Raven hoped he heard her through the thick wooden doors. Still leaning against it, she looked down to find a key—there wasn’t one, which shocked and enraged her. When it seemed like he wasn’t going to barge in, she stepped away and sat on the edge of the bed. She felt weirdly restless, trying to process the strange new reaction she’d just experienced when he teased her. The door opened again, and she jumped—but it was just her two maids, coming to help her get ready for bed.
That morning’s breakfast consisted of soft pancakes, bacon, eggs, orange juice, and strawberry muffins filled with cream. Raven could feel the castle’s buzz the moment she left her room that morning. People were running back and forth, everyone seeming more focused than ever, and she wanted to understand what was going on.
Jinx looked more beautiful than ever that day, wearing a pleated white dress with a plunging neckline. A simple tiara rested on her head, and her nails were painted black. She seemed deep in thought and, for once, didn’t have her usual red book in hand. When she noticed Raven staring at her, she stopped moving her cutlery and looked back, making a face.
“What do you want?”
“Nothing,” Raven replied, then looked away, focusing on eating the soft muffin in her hand. The cream melted on her tongue, and she loved the taste.
“The first guests have already started to arrive, and more are on the way—for the ball that’s going to happen.”
“Oh.” The ball, Raven thought. She remembered hearing the king mention it the night before. Talia had said something about it too... something about dancing... Raven’s eyes widened as she remembered the princess’s words.
“You’ll have your dance lessons today. Don’t worry.”
Raven turned her attention back to her food.
“You should also take a class on how to talk to people. You can’t keep a single conversation going,” Jinx said, criticizing her. Then she made a face and shrugged, going back to her breakfast.
Raven knew she was a shy girl. Though she was still adjusting to being around so many people trying to talk to her, she truly couldn’t keep up a conversation or respond properly to what others said. In Azarath, she spent most of her time in her room—isolated, studying, or meditating. The only people who spoke to her were her mother, her caretakers, and the monks—and none of them encouraged her to express herself too much, since she could get too happy or too sad from a conversation. She sighed, trying to push away those memories. What she needed now was to stay focused—the day of the escape had already been set, and she just needed to hang in there a bit longer.
Suddenly, the sound of doors opening filled the room, followed by the voice of the princess.
“There you are! You’re late. Get up—we’re going to your dance lesson.”
All of Raven’s focus went down the drain, and she got up, turning to see Talia, who was also more dressed up than usual. Against her will, she followed the princess down the hallway.
“I’m going to make sure you don’t embarrass yourself like you did on the day of the oath. Oh, and your dress arrived! I thought it would take three more days, but it looks like Natasha got really excited about making your clothes.”
“Cool,” Raven said in a flat voice, as Talia guided her through the hallways, heading to the dance lessons.
Chapter 15: XV
Chapter Text
Her first dance lesson had been miserable, and after the tenth attempt, Raven just wanted to run out of that room. The tall, elegant woman had pinched her, cursed at her, and even yelled at her to waltz according to the simple steps she had taught her and her dance partner. Either she stepped on her partner’s foot multiple times, or she acted like a stiff board locked in place, as the instructor put it.
The teacher put her hand to her temples and then declared a break, leaving the ballroom. Raven stepped away from the young man and, apologizing once again, went to the window. The sky no longer shone so brightly; in fact, dark clouds were rolling in from the south, announcing a heavy rain. Raven sighed—she was dying of embarrassment about dancing, and consequently, she tried to summon the spirit that had helped her when she danced with Damian Al Ghul on the night she pledged herself to him. But it didn’t seem to work—her palms were sweaty, and she felt humiliated and nervous.
Just the thought of having to face that harsh dance instructor made her want to bolt. However, when the door opened and the woman returned, Raven had to endure another hour, which was totally wasted. When she finally got out of there, the skin on her forearm was all bruised from the pinches she’d received as punishment every time she messed up.
When she entered the magic room, Raven was shocked. Full of open books and an unknown black powder, the three tables were a mess and filthy. Plus, the mezzanine was littered with books all over the floor.
“Clean everything up. In the last third of the afternoon, Jon will come get you to take you to the training hall. Before that, he’ll drop you off at your quarters so your maids can dress you and you can go.”
“Understood.”
Jinx walked out the door, leaving Raven alone. She huffed, looked around, and then started cleaning. The nearest table was first. Closing the books and stacking them on top of each other, Raven then grabbed the broom that was in the corner and started sweeping up the black powder. Once she finished, she put the books away. She kept at it until the third table when something caught her eye: Jinx’s red book, sitting closed at the edge of the table.
Raven stared at its cover for several intense minutes, debating whether she should succumb to the extreme curiosity she felt about snooping through the witch's possession.
Not that she cared about Jinx or what she did, but there was something about that book that seemed to call to her, and Raven was leaning towards satisfying her urge to snoop. She looked one way, then the other. The room was extremely quiet and empty, sunlight streaming through the windows, allowing her to see the dust in the air.
She got close enough and then placed her hand on the book. A shiver ran down her spine at that exact moment.
“Raven.” A whisper called her name, and she turned her head towards the voice. But there was no one in the room. When she looked back at the book, it was completely different, as if what she’d touched had transmuted into something else.
There was a black stone embedded in the cover; its color was a deep red, the spine jet-black, without a single title or word. It looked older than Ra's Al Ghul himself, yet it was still a luxurious artifact. She frowned, trying to understand what had happened to the small red book.
Another shiver ran down her spine as she felt a massive tingling in her hand, like the book was trying to pull her in.
She grabbed it and went to the armchair, closing the curtain so the sunlight couldn’t come in, and then sat down. Her body temperature began to drop, and she felt cold as she opened the cover. The first page was very thin and entirely black. She started flipping through.
“Raven.” Someone whispered in her ear, and she immediately stood up, startled, letting the book fall from her lap to the floor. Once again, there was no one around—not even behind her when she checked the room.
When she went to pick it up off the floor, she saw that it had fallen open where a bookmark had been left. Raven grabbed both sides of the book and then sat down with it in her lap. She read the text, written in an extremely ancient language, but thanks to her Azarathian education, she was able to recognize it.
The Jewel of the Destroyer is the key to both worlds. Once you pass the seven trials of hell, the Great One’s jewel will then be able to bring him back. Between the purity of the jewel and its potential, it must be destroyed, and only then can it have the power to return as a portal.
Raven kept scanning the text, in a continuous search. There was a moment when she couldn’t stop reading and began to hum softly, a song. She closed her eyes and began rocking back and forth, carried away by the tune, while the words of the book seemed to stick to every corner of her mind…
“— Rachel!... Rachel, Rachel!”
Raven opened her eyes. Jon was right in front of her, shaking her hard.
“What the hell is this, Rachel?!” Jon said, scared and worried, as he ran a finger down her cheek to wipe something wet away. He brought the now-blackened finger up to his nose.
“Sulfur? Rachel, what’s going on? Are you okay?”
Raven blinked once, twice, three times, then looked at him. It felt like she had just surfaced from the depths of a river — she was insanely calm, her mind completely blank. It took her a few minutes to answer, as she just stared at him.
“I’m fine, Jon. Why wouldn’t I be? I was just reading this book here.”
Jon pulled her up and hugged her tightly. Then he pushed her back a bit and started wiping her cheeks and neck. The soldier held her chin with his hand, eyes wide with fear.
“Rachel, you were rocking back and forth, singing, and crying black tears.”
Raven stared at him, stunned — she hadn’t done anything like that. She had barely read two pages and had only closed her eyes for a few seconds.
“I just closed my eyes for a few seconds, Jon. Don’t mess with me,” she said, pulling away from him and picking the book up from the floor, placing it on the little table.
The soldier turned her around, holding her face as he wiped off a dirty spot and then showed his finger to her.
“You were crying this black stuff! Here’s the proof. You want more? Where’s a mirror around here?”
Raven pointed to the round annex of the room, where the map table was. He gently pulled her body and led her in front of the mirror.
Raven was shocked by what she saw. Her cheeks and neck were streaked with black where the supposed tears had run down, and her beautiful dress was completely stained, as were parts of her chest, where the neckline revealed her skin.
She looked at Jon’s worried eyes through the reflection in the mirror when something caught her attention at the back of the room. She turned to confirm what her eyes were seeing… and then screamed, throwing herself at Jon, who grabbed her by the shoulders.
A man dressed all in black was smiling at her — his eyes were glowing red, menacing.
Raven was so terrified that, still screaming, she collapsed into unconsciousness.
She felt a hand on her forehead and, when she opened her eyes, she came face to face with Talia al Ghul. She blinked a few times and then regained consciousness.
“I can’t believe you managed to get every one of Madame Xista’s lessons wrong.” The princess was looking at her with a serious and scolding gaze, though there was still concern in it. Raven looked around. The room was lit entirely by candles, and heavy rain was beating against the window panes. A clap of thunder sounded.
“Jon told me you were acting strangely when he found you. He also said you were crying sulfur and reading Jinx’s book.”
Talia withdrew her hands from Raven and stood up.
“You should ask if you want something instead of snooping through other people’s things.”
Raven lowered her gaze, guilt and shame washing over her completely.
“If you want to read a book that isn’t from the magic room, then you should go to our library. Though… when Jinx found out you’d been messing with her book, she was intrigued, because it’s enchanted, and only she can read what’s written on its pages. Which also surprised us, because to read Jinx’s book you’d have had to use magic to break the enchantment—something that’s impossible, since no one commanded you to do it.”
The princess then stopped pacing the room and turned to Raven.
“We didn’t know you were capable of breaking the power of your bracelets.”
“I… I didn’t break them.”
“Then how did you manage to read it without magic?”
“I don’t know. I just… dropped it and…”
Ra’s al Ghul suddenly entered the room, his cape billowing behind him.
“Rachel, Rachel… I knew you’d be a good investment when I brought you into my court. You’ve certainly intrigued us, and you’ll definitely have to speak with me and Jinx later, but… I’m glad that, once again, you’ve shown your talents.”
The king stopped near his daughter and placed a hand on her shoulder. Talia looked at him, then rested her gaze on Raven again.
“Yes, we will talk later. Would you prefer to dine in your room, or do you feel strong enough to eat in the hall?”
“I’d rather eat in the hall.”
“Great, I’ll have your maids take you.”
“Yes, of course.”
The two left the room, and Raven wondered why, in the first place, the king and the princess themselves had been there—after all, she was just a simple sorceress. It seemed strange to her, and she definitely needed to think about the questions that were beginning to arise. But first, she had to get out of that bed—she needed to walk, because she felt full of energy, as if she’d slept for an eternity. However, as soon as her feet touched the floor, she remembered the red eyes of the man in black and was struck with fear.
A delicious hot lasagna was served, along with white wine, and for dessert, a red fruit tart. No one else was in the hall, and Raven alternated her attention between eating and watching the rain batter against the windows. When she finished, an orange and clove tea was served, and she savored the solitude of her meal.
When she was done, the soldier who had stayed in the hall escorted her back to her quarters, where her maids were waiting to bathe and dress her.
They removed her clothes and then led her into the bathtub. They passed wet, soapy cloths over her, gently scrubbing her face, hands, and feet. Raven asked to wash her intimate areas herself, and the maids didn’t protest. Afterward, she stood up, and they dried her off. Then they brushed Raven’s hair ten times and led her to the bed. All the candles were extinguished, and Raven lay in bed, listening to the storm. She kept thinking, finally falling asleep three hours later.
Chapter 16: XVI
Chapter Text
The servants came and went, all more alert than ever, and if it weren’t for soldier Jon by her side, someone surely would have bumped into Raven. The maids had dressed her in an ice-white gown and had tied her hair in a braided tiara. She wore high heels for the first time and that was why she was holding Jon’s arm, so she wouldn’t lose her balance. It was certainly a challenge for her, not only because of that but also because she had to stay calm, as it was on this night that she would escape.
That’s why she didn’t mind enjoying the warmth and company of Jon as he guided her to the dining room for her breakfast. The sky was gray outside and the temperatures weren’t as intense, but the warmth was still present. They passed by a window and Raven saw the sea. The memory of having bathed there, she would certainly keep as a positive one, since she had never bathed in the sea before. And there was Jon too, one of the best things that could have happened to her during her forced stay at the castle.
Jon had been silent that morning; he hadn’t said a word when he saw her, and compared to his behavior the previous day, Raven would say something was off. However, it wasn’t for her to ask; he seemed tense and tired, which was evident by the dark circles under his eyes. Raven turned her head and lifted it, looking at Jon. She didn’t have much time to keep her gaze, as she would lose her balance in the heels, but she wanted to understand why he was dressed up to the neck on such a hot day. They turned into another corridor and then stopped in front of a door.
Raven thought the soldier would finally exchange a few words with her, but he just walked away without even turning to look at her. When Raven entered, there was no one in the room, just a table set. She found that strange, but she was hungry and wanted to eat. A maid appeared through the door to the right side of the room and then served her. Raven ate eggs, bacon, orange juice, and a little oatmeal with blueberries. Satisfied, she stood up and went to the door. There was no soldier or maid waiting for her, and Raven realized that perhaps she could walk alone to the magic room.
It took her longer than expected to follow the path she knew, but she made it. Opening the door, she looked around, searching for Jinx, who wasn’t anywhere. The room was all organized and clean, and smelled of gardenias. It seemed someone had cleaned everything, and Raven was happy about that. Both tables were empty, except for the third, which had Jinx’s red book on it. Raven looked at it curiously but with fear, and then went over to the third table. A pink envelope was on top of the book, with her name written on it. She picked it up and opened it.
I want you to start studying this book. Be careful first, there’s an amulet in the amulet box that will help you stay on track. It’s black and shiny, keep it with you and only take it off when I arrive. We’ll still talk, okay? Take notes and get a new notebook if you need one.
Jinx.
Raven placed the envelope back on the table and then went to the shelf, heading toward the wooden box with several labeled drawers, and opened the one for black amulets. She looked for the one Jinx said was shiny. With a smooth and hard surface, the amulet was shaped like a pentagram. She picked it up and dragged one of the wooden chairs from the back of the room, near the cauldrons. The witch placed the chair near the table and then went to get a new notebook, along with a quill and ink to write. Once she had everything she needed, she sat down, opened the new notebook, and did the same with the book; she leaned a little forward and then started studying.
When her stomach started growling and she began feeling really hungry, and still neither Jinx nor the soldier showed up, she paused her studies and went out to eat. It took her three times as long, but she eventually made it back to her destination. Just like breakfast, lunch was by herself. When she finished, Raven retraced her steps, and Jinx didn’t show up for the rest of the afternoon. Raven grew more and more anxious as time passed. Torn between focusing on her reading and the desire to leave, she tried to keep her urges under control.
She thought about the training sessions she would’ve had if she weren’t leaving that night. Raven wished she knew the name of the woman who had humiliated Damian—that woman deserved her respect and admiration. The cloudy sky deepened into darker shades of gray, and then came the night. Raven kept reading and taking notes from the book until the usual hour, then stood up, closed the book and her notebook, placed the quill back in the inkwell, and rose.
She had made some productive progress through the book’s first pages, which were packed with riddles and an extremely complicated symbolic language. Raven had focused more on trying to decipher what the sentences meant than reading everything all at once. It was, however, truly fascinating for her. Still, a certain unease lingered in her chest about what had happened the day before. She had no clue what had happened to her, and that man had genuinely scared her.
The fact that she hadn’t realized how long she’d been in that trance-like state really worried her. To Raven, it felt like she’d only closed her eyes for a few minutes, but when Jon arrived, it was clear she’d been out for much longer than she thought. Shaking her head, Raven carefully walked through the hallways—she’d nearly fallen that morning, and without the soldier’s help, she had to keep herself balanced. She was nearly there when her foot twisted painfully to the side. A jolt of pain shot up her shin and she let out a cry, bracing herself against the wall and crying.
She stayed there silently for several minutes. When she’d calmed down a little, she squatted down, took off her shoe, and raised her leg to massage the area. When the pain seemed to subside, she set her foot back on the ground—only to feel another sharp stab. How was she supposed to escape that night with a foot like that? She definitely wasn’t going to give up—of that, she was sure—even in pain, because this was her one shot. Taking two deep breaths, and on the third, she started walking again. The pain was sharp, and she felt it with every step, but she kept breathing deeply and dragging her foot forward. Her shoe was left behind.
When she reached her room, she went straight to bed to rest for a few minutes. A cart was scheduled to leave with a shipment of flour in the early hours before dawn, and by then, she needed to be physically and mentally ready. Raven had to admit she was incredibly lucky to have overheard that info. She knew the cart’s final destination was the land of one of the king’s lords. Once there, she’d have to lay low and find a blacksmith to break her cuffs. And if he couldn’t do it, she’d go looking for a sorcerer. Raven had stolen a knife and, along with her small bag full of gold, she had a loaf of bread and a worn-out cloak—also stolen from the kitchen—all hidden under the bed over the past few days.
Her maids came in and helped her down from the bed, noticing her swollen shin. They brought ice, and seeing her discomfort standing up, Torcha suggested that if Raven wanted, they could ask for her to be excused from dinner with the royal family and their guests. Raven thanked her and agreed. They bathed her, dressed her in a nightgown, brushed her hair, and put her to bed. When she was alone again, she meditated—for the first time in a long while—to stay calm and alert. A few minutes after she finished meditating, the maids returned with dinner.
Raven ate as much as she could, planning to use the bread only when she was far from there and truly hungry. Then they served tea, which she drank before lying down. The maids extinguished the candles and left her alone. Raven didn’t waste any time—after a few minutes, she got up and went to the dressing room, searching for some undergarments. She removed the nightgown, put on the fabric, adjusted it to her body, then slipped the gown back on. She picked up a brown leather pouch from a lineup of fancy purses and bags she had received—but never cared for. With that, she returned to her room, put on the cloak, and stuffed everything into the roomy bag, strapping it over her shoulder.
The pain had eased, but it didn’t disappear when she slipped on boots over both feet. Next, she tied her hair into a single braid, grabbed a clip from the dresser, and pinned the end. Done with the process, she was ready. Without wasting another second, she gave her room one last look and left. For years, Raven had learned to be a true shadow—emotionless, invisible, and silent. And moments like this brought that ability right back. Pulling her hood over her head, she stepped lightly to make no sound and began her descent through the castle. If anyone saw her, she knew she’d never get another chance to escape—so she had to stay hidden.
She turned a few corridors, went down several flights of stairs, retracing the same path she and Jinx had once taken. Just as she was turning another corner, she saw two guards passing by. Raven quickly pulled back, hiding. The knights wore gray now—not black—since those were only stationed in the upper levels of the castle. When their voices faded, Raven placed a hand on her chest, feeling her heart pounding. Adrenaline rushed through her, along with fear.
She went further down, more and more anxious to reach the exit and hide among the flour sacks. When she touched the last step that led to the courtyard exit, she pulled her hood tighter and used all her stealth to creep down the corridor. The kitchen door was ajar, and a few men and women were chatting inside. Raven darted through the opening and out the door, trying to look as casual and relaxed as possible. The courtyard was empty, but the lanterns were still lit. The cart was just a few steps away, exactly as she had pictured. A wooden platform was covered and clearly loaded.
Her heart pounded with hope as she crouched and walked to the cart, pulled the tarp up, and climbed in, crawling over the sacks until she found an empty space to hide. She quickly wedged herself into it, contorting to make her form unrecognizable to anyone looking from outside. Raven lowered her head and, breathing with difficulty, allowed herself to relax—relieved and victorious. Who would've thought... she had actually managed to create and flawlessly execute an escape plan. She imagined what the Al Ghuls would say once they found their prisoner was no longer among them. That damn cursed family who thought they owned everything. With one phase done, two more remained.
The second was reaching that faraway land and breaking her cuffs. The third and final phase was returning to Azarath. That would be the easiest part since she could just teleport there and finally be home again—in the mountains—where she'd cast a protection spell so strong that no one could enter or leave without her permission. She thought of her cottage, of the chocolate cakes probably rotting by now, of her bed, her old tattered clothes, the scent of wood and herbs... and felt an overwhelming homesickness.
So there she stayed, silent—even dozed off, her head resting between her knees. When she woke, she heard the sound of two people talking. Raven stayed calm but alert, keeping her body as still as possible. She heard the men say their goodbyes, and then the cart dipped under the weight of the man climbing aboard. Joy and hope surged through her body—and then they started to move. She was going home...
She remembered the sea, the emerald waters, the sand between her fingers, she remembered the blue eyes of the soldier Jon, she remembered the delicate hands of her maids, she remembered the delicious food, but most of all, she remembered the feeling of sadness and desolation, of being lost with no one to turn to, of being far from home and unable to return, of having no one who remembered her, of feeling powerless against external adversities. She left all that behind with every meter the cart rolled, taking her farther from that castle at last. When Raven left that place, she would surely investigate the reasons behind Ra’s suspicious behavior, and why she was truly there when Jinx proved to be five hundred times better than her.
With a heart and soul triumphant and at peace, she rested her head beside a sack of flour and closed her eyes, letting the cart’s swaying lull her. She relaxed her muscles and allowed herself to enjoy the sound of the cart on the stone road. She stayed like that for long minutes until she felt the cart stop and the horse whinny. Male voices stood out and Raven’s heart stopped for a second in her chest before thudding strongly. She shrank back discreetly—maybe those voices were just friends of the man driving the cart. Maybe they were just going to chat a bit and then resume the journey. Yes, that was probably it... until she felt the fabric covering the flour bags being disturbed at the other end, and then someone inspected. Agony spread through her chest, fear haunting her, tensing every muscle in her body. The distress made her start to sweat as she saw the inspection continue.
Then Raven felt a gust of air on her nape. It was all over. She lifted her head only to be met with two familiar blue eyes. Jon. A faint flicker still echoed in her heart when she realized Jon would let her go, because Jon was a good person—he was kind and had a good heart, despite being in that wretched place. She knew in her soul that Jon would understand her, that he would pretend not to find her there, that he would let her go home. She was certain of it. But when he thrust his arm into the cart, gripped her, and lifted her in one pull, Raven felt her heart writhe in her chest. A soul-shattering, overwhelming, and cruel pain consumed her as she stared into those two blue eyes that once showed purity.
"Here she is," Jon said.
Seven men dressed in black, all on black horses, surrounded the cart. Despair consumed her, and she pushed down with all her might the urge to cry that surged from deep within.
"Jon..."
But there was no time to speak, for the soldier was already dragging her from the cart, gagging her, tying her hands, and unceremoniously placing her on his horse. He said a few words to the short, plump man who had driven the cart, then lightly pulled the reins, and the horse began to move. Raven looked back at the endless houses stretching toward the edge of that kingdom. The night was cool, and a few crickets chirped, but none of it mattered anymore—Raven’s life was over. The storm of sadness and betrayal screamed so loudly inside her that the witch could no longer hold back, and tears began to fall down her face.
The soldier Jon—the beautiful man who had taken her for a fun day at the beach, far from everyone and everything, the soldier who had given her a box of chocolates and congratulated her for holding on—was the same soldier who had not thought for a single second before destroying Raven’s only chance to escape the Court of Serpents. Who had shattered the one and only small bond of safety she had developed in that place. So the tears flowed, for she was so full inside that no emotion could be held back—her cup overflowed. There was no hope, no friendship, no chance. There was only the fact that she was a weak and foolish girl who trusted people based on what they said to her.
Deceived and devastated, they entered the castle while Raven’s tears streamed down her face and her nose ran. Through her blurred vision, she was just a puppet walking with no will of her own. Jon’s grip on her arm was so tight it hurt and bothered her. Everything passed in a blur until she found herself going down, her ears catching screams and sobs as they descended into a massive dungeon. The farther down they went, the more pungent and intense the smell of vomit, blood, and feces became. The humidity was also palpable. She descended what felt like centuries, and she knew that if the soldier hadn’t been holding her, she would have fallen down the spiral staircase.
When they finally reached the base, Raven was trembling with fear. There was only one torch lit in the corridor that seemed to stretch infinitely into darkness. When the soldier stopped in front of a black door, he opened it and threw Raven inside without giving her a chance to react. Her body hit the floor hard, her head as well. The tears fell more intensely, and she couldn’t hold back her sobs. With effort, she sat up, feeling the right side of her head throb. She couldn’t see anything—not a single light inside, not a single sliver of light from outside. She was in total darkness. With her hands tied, she struggled to pull the cloth gag from her mouth. The smell of feces and dead things overwhelmed her senses, and she lost control, vomiting all of her dinner beside her, soiling her dress.
Raven assumed she was there to die, that someone would likely behead her or torture her to death, and that she would be the final Azarathian to cease living. Part of Raven wanted to die, for it wasn’t just sadness, but fear, anguish, the feeling of betrayal, and all her demons screaming inside her in a sovereign dance of chaos. She wanted to scream, cry, wail—wanted someone to come soon. She no longer had hope of surviving. Preparing for death, she sat on her calves and lowered her head to the filthy floor. If she were to die, may the spirits and gods at least witness her final moments.
"Dear people... of Azarath..." she said between sobs. "I want to ask forgiveness for what I did, for bringing darkness to our... people... Please, wherever you are, rest in peace... Know that not a day goes by that I don’t blame myself for what happened... and... I hope... you accept my life as my sacrifice. I’m so sorry."
Even without powers, Raven sang her mantle, ritualizing her final plea for forgiveness. Then she prayed for her mother, proclaiming how much she missed her, how much she loved her. And finally, she prayed for her father. The tears no longer ran down her face; the emptiness was so great she thought she was once again in the fateful Day of Destruction. In a dry tone, Raven spoke into the void, addressing her father, saying she truly didn’t love him and cursing him in every language she knew for what he had done to her people—that he was beyond redemption. That’s when she lifted her head and heard a noise at the door.
Light invaded Raven’s senses, making her close her eyes. When she opened them, the room was lit. Ra’s al Ghul, followed closely by Jinx, were both standing in front of her.
“Well, well… What do we have here?” said the king, circling her. “I give you everything—home, food, the chance to belong to the highest rank in my court—and this is how you treat me?”
Raven’s hair was yanked back by the king, forcing her to look at Jinx’s face. She wore a black cloak and looked more deadly than ever, the flickering light making her seem especially threatening. But if that were truly Raven’s last night alive, she would choose not to feel fear.
"Your power hides behind cruelty and behind that crown. You’re nothing but an old man, Ra’s al Ghul," Raven said, deliberately pronouncing the king’s name in the ancient tongue—as if to remember it, for if she were going to hell, she would make sure to write down his name to settle scores in the afterlife.
"You still dare defy me, you insolent girl?" the king growled, pulling her hair harder and whispering in the same ancient language she had used.
"And you still think I respect you?"
“Jinx.”
Raven lifted her head, surprised that the king had involved Jinx, only to see her open her arms, slowly closing them as pink lightning crackled in her hands and became uncontrolled. When Jinx brought her fingers nearly together, her hands glowed intensely, full of pink and black lightning. Raven realized too late what was about to happen. Jinx gracefully extended her hands toward the witch, and all that energy gripped her head, then coursed like an electric eel down her spine, spreading through her entire body in seconds.
The shock’s intensity was so immense that her spine involuntarily straightened, and her whole body convulsed. Raven screamed.
“What were you saying, little witch?”
After a few seconds, Raven’s body stopped shaking, but the pain remained.
“That your ego is as massive as this castle.”
Ra’s al Ghul smiled at Jinx. Raven’s courage was paid in equal measure with the second bolt’s intensity. She trembled from head to toe, collapsing onto her arms, biting her tongue hard, worsening the immeasurable agony she felt.
“Do you still hold your words, girl?”
Raven spat blood on the king’s expensive, luxurious boots. Since she was going to die, there was nothing better than doing what she felt like.
"You know..." she said, lifting her head to face him. "I once met a king far more powerful than you. What you think you have doesn’t come close to what the Great Ones once held. You are nothing, Ra’s al Ghul."
The king crouched again, grabbed her face, and slapped her so hard on the right cheek that her body hit the floor. Raven heard the crackle of electricity as a third bolt was readied by Jinx. Her body and soul were in so much pain she knew she couldn’t take much more. Raven had never suffered torture in her life—she had always been well cared for and protected. Even when she came to Earth, no soul with ill intent had ever touched her without her defending herself with magic. Raven remembered Jon, Talia, Madame Xanadu, her futile escape plan, Damian—and for one last moment, she wished the prince wouldn’t become like his grandfather, even though he already resembled him so much. Finally, she thought of her mother, of Azarath, and her father—that’s when Jinx unleashed her power on Raven, and she thought she would die.
Her blood froze in her veins as she felt as though a thousand needles pierced her entire body. It was like someone was plunging a flaming sword into her soul and slicing it in two, mercilessly. Her vision went white, and a horrible buzzing echoed through her mind. Jinx stopped torturing her, and she collapsed onto the ground, smoke rising from her skin, her clothes burning in places. She wanted to say the pain she felt now was worse than the pain from betrayal and everything she’d endured—but it wasn’t. And though her mind was strong, her body wasn’t. She couldn’t move or even hear the muffled voices of Jinx and Ra’s al Ghul. She saw two feet walking toward her, a familiar green cloak, and then felt hands on her body—but she could no longer understand or remember the pain erupting through her soul. Someone was calling her—a familiar voice, feminine.
“Raven.”
Chapter 17: XVII
Chapter Text
“Raven, wake up.”
A voice was heard, it sounded distant. Raven couldn’t see anything, but she felt her body light against the wind, as if she were falling. The voice called her again.
“Raven, wake up.”
This time it seemed closer, but the sensation of movement still coursed through her body.
“Raven, wake up.”
This time, Raven opened her eyes, fighting against all the drowsiness that wanted to pull her back into unconsciousness. Two purple eyes were watching her, and Raven knew there were only two other pairs of purple eyes besides her own.
“Mom!” Raven sat up, ignoring the dizziness, and threw herself into her mother’s arms, feeling her slender form, exactly as she remembered.
Raven’s mother was beautiful, tall, with eyes of a liquid shade of purple, pink lips, and pale, porcelain skin. She looked like a flower, so enchanting that it was impossible not to stare into her eyes and feel hypnotized. Arella had a symmetrical, slender body, her purplish-blue hair cascading down her back. Raven thought she was seeing a mirage. When she pulled away from her mother’s embrace, she asked:
“How can you be here? — Raven looked around. “Where are we?
“We’re in the astral plane, Raven. Look, I need you to pay attention to what I’m about to tell you, we don’t have much time.”
Raven leaned in, trying to take in every detail of that massive field of lilies while also trying to focus on her mother. Arella took her hands and held them in hers.
“Raven, something is coming on the horizon, something big and horrific. You must find out what this evil force is and stop it.”
“Me? Mom, I can’t even overcome my current situation, let alone defeat a king…”
Arella let go of Raven’s hands to cradle her face instead.
“Listen, Raven. It’s your destiny to stop this evil. You’ve already felt it once, and when it comes to Earth, its destruction will mark the end of all hope and goodness. You’ll find the answers in Ra’s Al Ghul’s castle, where you are now. You must not leave it until you uncover what’s coming and stop it.”
“But mom… Ra’s Al Ghul is a cruel person, just like his court. I miss home, my home. I miss you… but I don’t know if I can do this.”
“I know, Raven. My daughter, you must stay strong; you absolutely have to follow what I’m telling you. Stand firm, Raven. Know that I never stopped watching over you, even when you thought you were alone and lost.”
“Mom…”
“I have to go, Raven. If you can’t do it for me, do it for Azarath, do it for your people. There’s no more time for you or for me. I love you.”
“I love you too, mom.”
Arella began to disintegrate, her figure fading away. Tears streamed down Raven’s face as she had to let her mother go once again. But then she felt everything shake and the ground split in two, pulling Raven into an abyss of darkness. She heard someone laughing and then calling her name, but she couldn’t see anything — her vision was dark, and she was falling into the infinite…
When her body finally hit something solid, she woke up. Raven shot her spine up quickly, scared and sweating. She looked around, immediately recognizing where she was—her room in Nanda Parbat. She brought her hand to her face, massaging it to try to ease the tension she felt.
Her mother’s words still echoed through her mind. She knew it hadn’t been a dream; her intuition was strong. And even disconnected from her spirituality by magic, she could still recognize when she was on different planes.
“You’re a very foolish girl, witch.”
Raven looked around the room and found Damian Al Ghul standing with his back to her, gazing at the landscape through the window. He took a few minutes before turning around, looking her up and down, showing no emotion whatsoever.
“And what are you doing here, heir? Did you come to finish what your grandfather started?” That courage she always summoned when dealing with the hateful, mocking prince returned in full force, along with all of Raven’s perceptions. Her body ached as if she had walked across the entire continent on foot.
The prince approached the bed, keeping his shoulders back, serious.
“If you want to survive in this court, you’ll have to leave your pride and hope behind. There’s no turning back.”
Raven sighed, a wave of exhaustion making her want to lie down again—both from her physical state and her emotional one. She didn’t answer, just stared at him, trying to find Ra’s Al Ghul’s legacy in his eyes.
“Trust what I tell you, and you’ll do well. My grandfather doesn’t tolerate betrayal—much less having his pride wounded.”
He then nodded to the side, prompting Raven to look. On her nightstand, there was a steaming cup of tea sitting atop the small, mysterious book she had once found in her room, which had reappeared again, also mysteriously.
The prince walked to the door, opened it, and then left—but not before warning her:
“I’ll come for you tonight. My mother wants to talk to you.”
Just what she needed… Raven sighed again but decided she’d first drink the tea, which her body was begging for, and then think about Talia Al Ghul.
With difficulty and a lot of pain, she stretched her body to grab the cup. Once she did, she settled her back against the headboard and started drinking. Her room was darker than usual, with the black curtains opened just slightly to let some light in.
She heard the first drops of rain hit the windowpanes, and then a thunderclap sounded, announcing the rain.
She wanted to try to process everything that had happened since her escape, but as she drank the tea, sleep came over her so heavily that, once she finished and the warm liquid had soothed her soul, she allowed her aching body to sink into a deep sleep.
Chapter 18: XVIII
Chapter Text
When she woke up, it was already night, and her maids were waiting with a tray holding her dinner. Pea soup with garlic bread and grape juice, and for dessert, chocolate pie. Raven was in so much pain she couldn’t get up on her own, so the maids helped her out of bed so they could bathe her. Inside the bathtub, while the women gently scrubbed her back, she reflected on everything that had happened. Her plan would have worked if it weren’t for Jon. And just thinking of that name—or even remembering the soldier’s eyes—made her want to cry.
And then there was the beating and humiliation that the king and Jinx had made her endure; like she was their property, a little rag doll they could toss around.
When Raven lived in the mountains and visited the neighboring kingdom, she often saw scenes of violence between lords and their servants, and it always left her outraged at the harsh reality of society—where those with nothing obeyed, and those with everything commanded. And now, here she was, living that same nightmare. Her ego and spirit were so crushed that, if it weren’t for her mother’s urgent voice echoing in her mind, she probably would’ve stayed in bed, refusing to eat or bathe. But the idea that her people were counting on her—as a way to prove she could redeem herself, like her late mother—forced her to get up and shove down every raw, sensitive part of her wounded soul.
If facing Ra’s al Ghul was the price she had to pay for her sins, then so be it—she’d do what needed to be done.
As the last living Azarathian, she would honor the memory of her people. She would become the emotionless witch she had been raised to be. Now was the time to be strong. Later—when it was all over—she would cry for Jon, for her bruised pride, for her dignity, and for her loneliness. Whether she wanted to or not, her mother’s urgency had reached her heart and soul. She had to react now, even if she didn’t want to.
When the maids finally finished and helped her out of the tub, they dried her off and dressed her, then styled her hair and applied her makeup with great care. Which was weird—since they only did her makeup like that when something important was going on. That left Raven uneasy.
The dress was white, flowing down to her feet. It had two parts: the main piece was long-sleeved, covering her wrists and part of her fingers, while the second was a detachable high-collared cape that draped down her back, leaving her shoulders and part of her chest exposed. Then, the maids tied her hair into a ponytail. Once they were done, they put white flats on her feet.
“Do you know what’s going on? Is something special happening tonight?” Raven asked while they put the final touches on her look. Neither of them answered. Raven felt bad, but she got the message—it was another punishment from the king.
She took a deep breath before leaving the room. Right outside, she ran into Damian, who looked absolutely dashing in evening attire and a green cloak that caught her attention because it seemed familiar. He looked her up and down and offered his hand. Raven didn’t take it and started walking. But she felt the prince grab her arm and intertwine it with his.
“Remember what I told you. Follow my advice.”
Raven lifted her head to look him in the eye, then looked straight ahead again. She was mentally preparing herself to keep up with his pace, but Damian kept walking slowly, unhurried, guiding her down the hall.
“We enter autumn tomorrow. Next week marks the start of the ball season, witch.”
She kept ignoring him, even though she secretly liked the comforting warmth of his touch. Still, she wouldn’t forget who he was—he was an Al Ghul.
“What’s so important tonight?”
“How do you know there’s something important tonight?”
Raven stayed silent. If he answered her question, maybe—just maybe—she’d answer one of his. But Damian didn’t reply. He just kept leading her. That’s when Raven noticed they were in a different corridor, though still in the royal wing.
They stopped in front of a door with a massive serpent engraved into the wood. Two guards dressed in black opened it. Damian didn’t let go of her arm; he just started walking, dragging her inside with him.
Talia al Ghul’s chamber was the biggest and coldest of the three. It was decked out in green and black marble from floor to ceiling, screaming opulence. Damian kept walking, and soon they were standing in front of another set of double doors. He gently released her arm and opened the doors, stepping inside, with Raven close behind.
Talia al Ghul sat at her desk, wearing a brilliant red-orange dress. A simple but elegant crown circled her head. When she saw them, she lifted her gaze, stopped writing, and placed her quill in the inkwell.
“I heard the little bird wanted to fly out of her cage, Rachel.”
She held herself firmly to avoid responding, her mother’s words echoing in her mind. If she wanted to survive a bit longer here, she would have to follow what Damian said. That’s why she remained silent, waiting for Talia’s scolding, which never came. On the contrary, Damian placed his hand on her back and gently pushed her forward, stopping only when they reached the comfortable armchairs two feet away from the princess's desk. He gestured for her to sit, just like he did. Raven sat down, adjusting her aching body in the soft green armchair.
Talia also settled, resting her face on her hands as she intensely, inquisitively stared at Raven. If her son’s gaze was bothersome, the princess’s was five hundred times worse. The witch felt as though someone was reading her soul, as if she were naked in front of her, and no clothes could cover her from Talia’s serious look. And there was certainly no escaping either her or the discomfort. No words were needed, her stare spoke volumes of how furious she was.
"You know, Rachel, I was your age once, I know how things are. However, you must understand that there is no escaping our court, unfortunately, you belong to us and there is no way out except to serve us. We can give you anything you want—clothes, men, jewels—and we can make you the most powerful witch this world has ever known. But…" Talia stood, circling the table and walking to Raven’s chair, where she sat on the armrest and lifted the young woman’s chin with a finger. "We do not tolerate the servants showing resistance." She whispered threateningly.
Her emerald eyes locked with Raven’s for a moment before she withdrew her finger.
"I won’t punish you, I believe my father already taught you a lesson. I don’t want to see you repeating this behavior, understand?"
Raven swallowed her pride hard as she lowered her head and nodded.
"Yes."
"Great." The princess stood up, her demeanor more energetic as if the scolding was over and now she had more important matters to attend to.
"In a week, we’ll enter the ball season. The prince, my son, will choose his wife from the many princesses who will attend. You, as the sworn witch of the future king, are obligated to attend and behave in the best way possible. Not only that, you’ll also receive a new teacher, who arrived yesterday—by the way—on how to defend the prince from the threats that might arise."
Talia walked back to her chair and sat, dipping her quill into the ink.
"But, Miss Rachel, to attend these balls, you must know how to dance. Something you don’t know and are failing at. Madame Xista doesn’t want to see your face, not even painted in gold, but I certainly won’t let you humiliate us in front of so many people. Despite not being perfect as expected, you and Damian danced well, and that’s why I asked my son to train you. Damian is an excellent dancer, and I know he won’t let you step on his feet like you did with your partner in practice."
Raven’s eyes widened and she looked at Damian, who was openly staring at her. She was about to protest, but Talia interrupted.
"We’re done here. There’s someone you need to meet: Constantine, your new teacher."
Talia clapped her hands twice, and then Raven felt the magic behind her. She turned her torso, while Damian remained standing, seemingly bored. A large yellow magical circle appeared in the center of the room, a portal, Raven recognized. A few seconds, which felt like an eternity, passed until a figure emerged from the blinding light. A man with blonde hair, stubble, and wearing a coat that reached his knees, a yellowish caramel color, appeared, and then the portal vanished. He was carrying a briefcase, and his hair was messy.
"Oh, by the gods, here I am again..." The man sighed, setting the briefcase on the ground and taking a small flask from his coat pocket, which he opened and drank from. The stranger had a strong accent. When he finished, he wiped his mouth with the back of his hand and put the flask back. The prince muttered an insult to the man, not even bothering to turn around.
"John, dear. Why don’t you show a little manners, you’re in front of the future king."
Talia stood up from the table, laughing friendly while walking toward the blonde-haired man, but her gaze was threatening and deadly.
"Of course, of course, my princess... Anything for you." John smiled, almost mockingly, and then bowed to the princess. When he straightened, his eyes met Raven’s, and the man smiled. "And who is this young lady? What a lovely hair color you have." Raven showed no reaction, but something in his tone suggested he was being sincere. Then he glanced at Damian, who had now turned around, still showing no interest. "And you, Damian... oops, I meant, my prince. How you’ve grown, the last time I saw you, you had the same scowl you’re making now, but you were a child."
"That was only two years ago, Constantine. I wasn’t a child anymore."
"Oh... true, but if I remember correctly, you acted like one."
Raven saw Talia’s eyes twitch in irritation, but keeping her composure, she opened her arms and placed her hands around Constantine’s shoulders.
"John, dear, I know you must have had a tiring journey here, so why don’t I introduce you to your new student so you can go to your quarters and rest?"
The blonde man agreed but soon took a cigar from his coat, lit it, and started smoking. Raven was almost certain that if the man said anything else that displeased the princess, she would fly at him.
"Oh, sure. And who would this be?" He exhaled smoke without any ceremony near Talia.
"Rachel, please, come here and greet John."
Raven stood and, curious, walked over to John. Again, even with her magic locked inside, she could feel it radiating from every pore of this man. She approached and, when she stopped in front of him, extended her hand. The man tilted his head slightly, intrigued by her, but soon took her hand in his. Raven felt a tingling inside, perhaps her magic, but she knew then that she was standing before a powerful sorcerer.
"My name is Rachel, pleasure to meet you," Raven said timidly.
"Constantine. John Constantine at your service."
Chapter 19: XIX
Chapter Text
"Where are we going?"
"I thought you were adopting the silent treatment."
"Can I at least know where we're going?"
Damian ignored her and kept dragging her through the corridors. She had walked these halls before with Jon, who once gave her a tour, but she had no clue where they were actually headed. Night was falling over the castle as they left Talia’s office and wandered through the corridors. Raven followed the prince, knowing her mother had ordered him to teach her how to dance — so she wouldn’t embarrass the Al Ghul court at the upcoming balls. The air was a little colder that night, announcing that autumn would arrive the next day. The prince walked on, but somehow made no sound at all — something that caught her attention, considering that only her footsteps echoed.
They stopped in front of a massive wooden door.
"Where are we?"
The prince looked at her and then opened the door. The scent of books filled her nostrils, and Raven wondered if it was really what she thought. Damian walked in, and she followed. A gigantic library — the biggest she’d ever seen — stood right in front of her. The floor was marble, with a huge chandelier in the center, and the ceiling was a glass dome letting moonlight pour in. The hall stretched over several floors, and Raven spun around to take it all in.
"Do you like books?"
"Yes."
And she stood there, soaking in the endless shelves filled with colors and sizes.
"I’ll show you everything here, but first, the lesson."
Damian, having shut the door, walked deeper inside, heading toward the covered section of the wide northern corridor. Raven couldn’t help but look up and notice that even the ceiling was used as shelving, the entire hallway lined with books. Lanterns lit up the length of the corridor, and the floor was covered by a red carpet. When they reached the end, Raven saw that it led to another part of the hall, darker due to the late hour. The space had a mezzanine splitting it in two, with shelves covering every inch from head to toe. Raven noticed a fireplace was lit, the crackling of the fire filling the room along with her own footsteps.
Two cozy armchairs with a small table between them faced her. The prince walked up and stopped a few steps away. He extended his hand for her to take and looked at her. She made a face at him.
"The longer you stall, the longer we’re stuck here together."
Raven sighed. She wanted to explore the library alone, clear her head and heart. The last thing she wanted was to be near Damian Al Ghul — her kidnapper and grandson of the monster who had hurt her the night before. But with no choice, she walked over to him, reluctantly getting closer. The firelight fell across his features, making him even more attractive. The prince offered his hand again, like on the night of the oath, and she gave him hers, letting him close his palm over her fingers. She stepped closer, her body brushing against his. The movement felt so wrong, too intimate. She blamed the firelight and the nighttime atmosphere for the strange feeling stirring inside her.
When Damian slowly wrapped his arm around her waist and pulled her in at the same pace, Raven felt rage bubble up inside her.
"Do you really need to be this slow?"
"I want your mind to register every movement so you can memorize what happens before, during, and at the end of a waltz."
"I already know how a waltz starts and ends."
"But you don’t know how to waltz, and on top of that, you’re still in pain, aren’t you?"
Raven grimaced but quickly looked down. She wasn’t in the mood, nor was she emotionally well, but truth be told, she was in pain. And like it or not, she had to follow Talia’s orders. That didn’t make the discomfort of feeling the prince’s body so close to hers any less intense. Nor did it ease the weight of his gaze on her — so heavy she could feel it even while facing the fireplace.
"Look at me, Rachel."
The crackling fire wanted to lull her into peace, but Raven burned inside — torn, aching, and with that weird feeling growing as she felt his touch on her hands and waist.
"Why won’t you look?"
"Because you bother me. I don’t like you."
Raven turned her face away, but the prince stayed unbothered, showing no reaction to her confession. He just kept staring at her openly, but Raven couldn’t return the gaze and turned her head again.
"Like I said — to dance, you need to loosen up. Let go of all the tension. Since you’ve never been trained, you’ve got no choreography burned into your mind. You need to clear it so you can focus on the moment."
Raven remembered the woman who told Damian something almost identical that day in the training room. And she wondered if he followed his own advice. Raven huffed and tried to relax, despite the overwhelming body awareness she had at that moment. It didn’t work, and Damian noticed.
"Try again."
Raven huffed once more. She wanted to sit down; her shin was still swollen and her body ached. She took a deep breath, trying, but the sensation didn’t go away.
"I don’t think I can relax, your highness. My body’s still recovering from the shocks your grandfather’s witch gave me. And your presence doesn’t help at all; plus, I don’t want to do this, especially with you."
"I’m not allowed to let you fully heal — orders from my grandfather. It’s a reminder of what happens when you disobey. But I can give you medication to ease some of your discomfort."
Raven looked at him, surprised.
"Well, in that case, I accept. But don’t think I’ll hate you any less for it."
"Fine, as long as you obey."
"For your information, if I had my powers back, I’d definitely send you to another dimension just so I wouldn’t have to look at your face."
"And what else would you do?" — at least the prince wasn’t hypocritical enough to expect Raven not to speak her mind.
"I’d send the hellhound too, just to torment you."
"Hellhound?"
"Don’t tell me the great prince doesn’t know?"
"Nope."
"In hell, there’s a giant three-headed dog guarding the gate."
"And how do you know that? Been there?"
"No, but I’ve studied."
"Oh, really? And what else did you learn about it?"
"I’m not sharing that info with you. Already told you I don’t like your highness."
"Oh, I don’t blame you."
"You dragged me from my home! Do you have any idea how badly I want to finish that fight we started on the mountain?"
"Nope. How badly?"
"So badly. And you know what? I don’t care if you get crowned king or whatever — the moment I get my powers back, I’m gonna smash your face into the snow and then send you to another dimension. No — better — I’ll send you straight to the deepest pit of hell, where you belong."
Raven said it, the pain mixed with frustration and that weird sensation making her more irritable and expressive than usual. That wasn’t like her reserved personality, and she definitely noticed, but at least she was glad to let all that rage out.
"I’m glad you can express yourself with me. Everyone complains that you’ve got communication issues, but looks like you enjoy opening up to me. I’m flattered." — Damian smiled, those infuriating lips curling with mockery. Raven stood there, mouth agape at the prince’s audacity and sharpness.
"That’s not what’s happening here! I’m just... I’m just..."
"...opening your heart and mind to me?"
"You're ridiculous, Damian Al Ghul."
"And you’re adorable."
"I swear, if you say one more word, I’ll forget I’m hurt."
"At least I managed to get you to waltz without stepping on my foot."
Raven stopped, directing her attention back to her body, shocked. Damian moved with such lightness, guiding her body along in a slow yet serene and graceful dance. Like when she used to float in the river, she had forgotten everything, just being purely present, forgetting the world and even her own body. But now that her awareness was returning, she started to tense up, her body becoming stiffer, less pliable. Damian seemed to notice because he slowed his steps until he stopped.
"You did very well today. I think we can stop here. Tomorrow we’ll continue."
Damian let go of her hands and stepped away from Raven.
"You can explore this area we’re in, but I’ve asked them to bring supper, and you’ll stay here to accompany me."
"And if I don’t want to?"
"You’ll stay anyway. I’ll ask them to give you some medication so you won’t be in as much pain."
"As long as you keep that filthy mouth of yours shut, I’m fine with it."
"Perfect."
Raven then turned her back to him and went to explore the room. There wasn’t a single living soul besides her and Damian in that entire place, and the silence that followed calmed her nerves a bit. Well… even if she hated Nanda Parbat, that didn’t mean she couldn’t appreciate this fascinating place she had just discovered. The sorceress wondered why Jon hadn’t shown her this spot… but if she allowed herself to think for even a second about any character from the previous night, she’d definitely break down crying right then and there.
Since the only light available was from the fireplace, the further she went, the darker it became. Heading toward the left corner, she approached, the smell of paper filling her nostrils. When she was just a step away from the shelf, she tried to read the titles, with difficulty she grabbed a book and opened it. There wasn’t a speck of dust on it, showing how well cared for it was. It had a blue cover and was thick with pages. Raven brought it up to her nose and smelled the book — a habit of hers.
That’s when she heard footsteps approaching. A maid appeared carrying a tray. She walked up to the prince and made a small bow, placing the tray on the small table right after. The woman stood still, her hands clasped over her stomach.
"The medication is here, sir."
"Great. Rachel, come here."
Raven thought the prince was going to ask for the medication when the maid arrived, but apparently, Damian had tricked her and had already requested it. Raven scoffed but went over to where the prince was sitting. Her eyes landed on the tray, which had two cups, a teapot, and a bowl full of cookies with chocolate chips. The prince gestured for her to sit, and when she did, the woman approached her, pulled a purple glass vial from her apron, and opened it.
"Open your mouth."
Raven did, and the woman poured the bitter liquid all at once into her mouth, which burned its way down her throat. The maid closed the vial and then poured a cup of tea for her. Raven enjoyed the warmth of the porcelain and blew on the liquid a bit before taking a sip. After serving Damian, the woman bowed again and left. The tea was chamomile.
"Take a cookie."
Raven looked at Damian, then at the cookies, reached out, and grabbed one, feeling its warmth. The vanilla and chocolate exploded in her mouth, a crispy yet soft combination. She leaned back in the armchair, relaxing her muscles. Damian said nothing; he was also eating, staring into the fireplace.
"I’m not going to ask about the medication, and I’m not going to ask why you’re treating me well, but just know that it doesn’t erase what you did to me."
"I don’t expect it to."
Raven then grabbed another cookie, enjoying alternating between eating it and sipping the hot tea. After drinking two cups and stuffing herself with several cookies, she opened the book she had taken earlier, now resting on her lap, and started to read. She was glad for the silence, and even more glad that the prince sitting next to her wasn’t talking. Raven could feel the medication taking effect, numbing her muscles and easing her aching head; her eyelids were starting to get heavy, but she wanted to enjoy the warmth of the fireplace and the peace that the silence brought to the chaos she felt inside. So, she closed her eyes, promising herself that she’d get up in a few minutes to go to her room…
“Miss, miss… you’re late for breakfast.”
“Leave me alone, Damian.”
“Miss, the prince isn’t here.”
Raven felt a wave of panic wash over her, unsure of where exactly she was. She rolled onto her back, realizing she had been lying on her side. Saliva had dripped down the left side of her face — she drooled in her sleep because she had the habit of losing control of her jaw. She looked around, recognizing the room with its purple and black tones.
“What? What time is it?”
“It’s already morning, miss.”
“What?”
“Miss Jinx is waiting for you for breakfast.”
Raven blinked in confusion. The last thing she remembered was sitting in an armchair in front of the library fireplace, not sleeping in her bedroom. Then the memory came — the pain medication the castle maid had brought her at Damian’s request, the chamomile tea, and her closing her eyes for “just five minutes.”
“Oh no…” Raven realized she had passed out next to Damian Al Ghul again.
“Miss, let’s go, Jinx made it clear she doesn’t want you to be late for your first lesson.”
“Oh, yes, yes. I’m sorry.” Raven stood up, not wanting to cause any trouble for the girls.
The temperature was lower that day, so the maids didn’t bathe her, just dressed her in a simple, minimalist plum-colored dress. Then they braided her hair in a low plait. Raven went to the breakfast room, where Jinx was sitting, waiting for her, with an empty plate in front of her.
“You’re late, Rachel.”
Raven just ignored her and sat at the table as a servant began to serve her.
“Aren’t you going to say anything about that?”
Nope. Raven had energy and wanted to see what Jinx would do if she didn’t respond.
“I saw your notes on the book. You’re the second person besides me who’s managed to decipher the sentences.”
Raven took a spoonful of blueberry oatmeal. She kept ignoring Jinx.
“Ra is right when he says you’ll be a good addition to our court. But don’t let that get to your head—you’re obliged to answer me.”
“And if I don’t? You gonna shock me again for that?”
Jinx fell silent, huffing as she began to serve herself. They ate in silence, and Raven took the opportunity to drink the delicious strawberry juice. When they finished, the sorceress and Raven went back to the room, and Jinx asked her to sit at the third table so they could study.
“This book is extremely ancient. By my calculations, it dates back to the beginning of time... “ Jinx paused, as if expecting Raven to react in surprise. Raven looked at her, then at the book, showing absolutely no reaction.
“I know.”
“It was buried somewhere very far from here. Ra was the one who unearthed it. I don’t know how the king discovered this book. I only found out about it through my studies in dark magic. Legends say that whoever manages to decipher it gains unimaginable power. However, I’ve never met any witch, sorcerer, or fae who could read even two complete pages of this book. First, because of its coded language; second, because it causes bad reactions in people. Like in your case… nothing happens to me anymore because I’m immune to any evil force.”
“And why do you want me to study it?”
“Because you’ve shown ease in reading and deciphering it.”
“And I’m supposed to decipher it so the book can give that so-called unimaginable power to Ra’s al Ghul…?”
Raven’s mind flooded with theories, but something told her that maybe this was what her mother had wanted to warn her about. Jinx didn’t answer; she just went to the wooden counters and opened one of the drawers, taking something out. She approached Raven again.
“I only follow the king’s orders, Rachel. That doesn’t mean I don’t regret how I treated you in that dungeon. I’m bound by blood to Ra’s, and beyond that, I owe him my life and soul. I can’t deny him anything.”
Raven wanted to scream at Jinx, to tell her she was insane if she thought a pathetic excuse like that would be enough. No. It wasn’t, and Raven was already burning with hatred and rage toward the Al Ghuls — and her. Raven said nothing. Jinx asked her to keep studying while she took care of some poisons and potions that the king and princess had requested. When it was time for lunch, they left, with Raven silent, brooding over Jinx’s words about the book. Then they had lunch.
Afterwards, the pink-haired sorceress led her to a door not far from there and handed her a bunch of keys.
“The king was going to give you this as a gift on the night you fled. A token for the future sorceress of King Damian. But he went ballistic when he couldn’t find you.”
“I want the king to die so I’ll never have to see his face again,” Raven thought. She shrugged, apathetic, mocking Ra’s and his pathetic little gift.
Jinx ignored her reaction and told her to open the room. Raven hesitated — she didn’t want anything from the king, especially now that she suspected he was plotting to gain even more power than he already had. That made her even more tense.
“Come on, girl. We don’t have all afternoon. Take that key with the snake.”
Raven scoffed; the Jinx she knew was back. She grabbed the snake-shaped key and opened the door. A smell of tobacco filled her nostrils as she looked around—almost an exact replica of Jinx's magic room stood before her. All the furniture was brand new, as were the armchairs, the books, the amulets, and all the countless vials lining the giant shelves. A blue book caught Raven's attention because it stood out among the others. She walked over and picked it up, realizing it was the same book she had taken from the library the night before.
“This is your new room, Rachel. Like I said, a gift from our glorious king.”
“Glorious and disgusting king, you mean, Jinx.”
John Constantine appeared from the mezzanine, a cigar in his right hand while he leaned on the wooden railing with his left.
“If I were you, I’d shut that mouth, John; because first and foremost, I’m sworn to Ra.”
“Biggest load of crap ever—you and him, that’s what you both are.”
“And you’re just a drunk who likes to think he’s the wizard of all wizards when in reality you’re a fraud.”
“Oh, that’s true... I’m such a fraud that your little king invited me to teach at his castle.”
Raven, whose attention had been on the book open in her hands, heard Jinx scoff and say:
“Whatever, you’re ridiculous, Constantine. Rachel, come here!”
Jinx called her with a sharp tone. Raven let out another discreet sigh and walked over to the pink-haired witch.
“I permit you to use your magic to train with John Constantine, but you are strictly forbidden from committing any malicious acts against the king, the princess, the prince, or me,” Jinx said, unlocking Raven's magic. A pleasant sensation filled her as she felt the magic flow through her body. The woman in front of her gave her one last look and then made a face at Constantine.
“Damian will come get you in your room again tonight.” And then she walked out the door.
So that was it. The king was a lunatic who not only beat Raven but also ordered his witch to electrocute her at high intensity, only to then gift her a private room. Raven felt like she was going to lose her mind any minute now. She put her hands to her temples, trying to fend off a headache.
“So, kid, how’d you end up here? Your own choice, or is it a dark story?”
Raven turned to Constantine, who was looking at her and puffing on his cigar. Despite his harmless appearance, she more than knew she couldn’t trust anyone—especially someone working for the king… or the princess… or maybe both. She didn’t know. So she just stared back at him for a few seconds.
“Well… it’s a long story.”
“Great, ‘cause I’ve got all day.”
John said, sitting down comfortably in the armchair, curiously watching her, taking another drag from his cigar.
“But weren’t we supposed to have a lesson today? Didn’t the king order you to teach me?”
“And who said listening isn’t also teaching? Besides, I need to know about you to understand the source of your magic and what you’re capable of.”
“Wouldn’t it be easier to just watch me practice?”
“Oh, come on, girl… Some chill is necessary. Want a drink? Helps to relax.”
Raven actually kinda wanted some, she thought. She wanted to be tipsy, to not feel as overwhelmed as she did right now. But she still didn’t trust John Constantine, and it was better to stay conscious and alert to deal with this weirdo. So she moved closer to the chair and sat down.
“Well, one day, I had just woken up when I felt something was wrong… So I left my house to check it out. But I didn’t find anything. I put up a protection spell to secure the area, but I still couldn’t figure out what was wrong. So I gave up looking, thought it was just an animal that had gotten too close, and decided to head back. But when I turned my back… the prince appeared. He said I was required to go with him, that I didn’t get to say no. And then… we fought. I shocked him and ran. But when I ran, Jinx hit me with a blast and I blacked out completely. When I woke up… I was already here in Nanda Parbat.”
Constantine’s eyes showed how sad he felt about her story.
“I’m sorry, Rachel. That’s a terrible situation,” he said, with his accent.
“I tried to escape by summoning a portal, but… when I realized it… I was powerless. My magic was locked inside me with these bracelets.” Raven raised her wrists to show the mother-of-pearl bracelets. John studied their surfaces carefully, then, taking another puff, he said:
“Magic collars. They work as inhibitors and are unlocked by voice commands.”
“Yeah. Jinx, the king, the princess, and the prince—they’re the only ones who can activate my magic.”
“Those bastards…”
Raven wanted to say that she didn’t feel sad enough to cry, but… she did. John put a hand on her shoulder.
“Listen, Rachel. I know what it’s like to be imprisoned. I only came to this place because Ra’s al Ghul threatened me, and I had no way out. But know this—I hate that family just as much as you do.”
Raven nodded and turned away, feeling too exposed. She crossed her arms around herself. John stood up, brushing the dust off his wrinkled coat.
“Well… but if I remember correctly, Jinx unlocked your magic, and I think it’s damn important you train—because you never know when you might need to kill a king… or a princess.” Constantine said, in a conspiratorial and casual tone, trying to break the heavy mood that Raven was drowning in.
Raven nodded. She hadn’t really thought much about the possibility of having to end the lives of Ra, Talia, and Damian herself, but that could become the final solution if the situation escalated even more, with the king gaining even more power than he already had. If Ra’s Al Ghul was already wicked with the power he held, imagine if he got even more? She couldn’t let that happen. Before, her plan was just to go home, but now… she would have to stop the king because only then could she make it back.
“Yes.”
“Great. No more bad memories, it’s bad enough just being in this castle.”
Raven gave a shy smile at the support Constantine was showing her.
“Alright, um… let’s see where I should start.” Constantine said, putting his fist to his mouth, thinking. “Ah! I know, why don’t you show me what you can do?”
“Well, I can do a bit of everything. I know how to make potions, create portals, heal diseases and tumors, I can levitate, move objects with my power, and I can also explode and destroy things just by being in a bad or good state.”
Admitting what she could do out loud felt strange—she had never spoken about or revealed her powers to anyone before. John looked at her, fascinated.
“That’s amazing. You’ve got great powers, but… I assume the king has other plans for you?”
“What do you mean?”
“Ra’s specifically asked me to train you in the arts of destruction, dark magic. He said he needed a witch who could be a warrior, since you’re sworn to the future king, and he wants you to have the maximum power of destruction and annihilation possible.”
“Dark magic? Power of destruction?”
“Yes. Since you can control it, he won’t just want you to destroy the future king’s enemies — he also wants you to become a living weapon.”
Raven sat down on the couch, too shocked to react. When she lifted her eyes to John again, the desolation in her soul made her feel even more lost.
“Please, John Constantine, I don’t want to do this. I can’t do this. You don’t understand what this would mean to me… I don’t want to take any lives, I…”
“Oh, what nonsense, why did I say that now? I’m sorry, Rachel. But know this: fate always watches over those with a good heart.” The man placed a hand on her shoulder. “And with me here, know that things will turn out differently from what was planned.”
Raven stood up. She wanted to believe that man, but she couldn’t. Now the only thing she could do was stay calm and figure out a plan later.
“I already said I don’t like being here, didn’t I? We witches and sorcerers have to help each other.”
“How can I trust you? How do I know you’re not telling me all this and being kind just to manipulate me later?”
“You can’t trust me.”
“What?”
“You can’t trust me, girl. In fact, you shouldn’t trust anyone inside this castle—not even yourself. These people are treacherous.”
“Are you treacherous too?”
“Maybe. Most of the time. I know it seems soon, since we only met yesterday, but… there are more details I can’t reveal right now, even with the sound barrier I put in this room. But know this: I’m not just here to help you, I also have my own plans. That’s why it’s important that you also master dark magic—it can help you, if you use it correctly, when you need it in the future.”
“Dark magic is never right, no matter the reason.”
“Actually, no, kid. Both light and dark magic are just energies—it’s up to whoever uses them to decide whether the intention is good or not. Mastering the art of darkness is as important as understanding the domains of light. One doesn’t exist without the other, and with both, you actually become stronger. If you already knew how to use dark magic properly, you could’ve broken those bracelets by yourself.”
Raven looked at her wrists. She thought about her dark magic books back in her cabin. It wasn’t like she hadn’t studied them thoroughly, but it seemed she really didn’t master the subject, because if she did, those things wouldn’t still be on her. She thought about the peculiar figure of John Constantine standing in front of her; he was a complete stranger—someone she had met just a day ago—and here he was breaking all the rules. She shouldn’t trust him—and she wouldn’t—but she would study and practice the lessons he had to teach. And if he was lying and manipulating her like Jon did, she’d give him a lesson… after she broke those stupid bracelets on her wrists.
“Then teach me.”
“Hmm… as your first lesson, I think we can learn something simple. How about we start with light manipulation?”
“Oh, I don’t think I know how to do that.”
“I sense a light energy in you, Rachel. Are you sure you can’t handle it?”
“Well… I can handle shadows.”
“Which is the opposite of light and also the same thing… perfect then, show me.”
Raven took a deep breath, calling her emotions closer and letting them overflow through her being as she prepared to externalize them. The anger, the frustration, the fear, the loneliness—all of it surged through her body as dark magic exuded from her fingers and she chanted her mantra, producing shadow and darkening the room. If Jinx hadn’t given a clear order not to act against the king, she definitely would’ve broken free right then.
“Oh, magnificent! Perfect.”
She held it for a few more seconds, then cut off her emotions, pushing them away and thus blocking her powers.
“Now…” Constantine said, taking a long drag from his tobacco cigar and blowing the smoke into the air. “Now I want you to darken everything and become the only source of light. Can you do that?”
“I don’t know… I’ve never tried. Like I said, I can only produce shadow, not light.”
“They’re the same thing, my dear. But if you can’t, then that will be your first lesson today.”
Raven nodded, a bit hesitant. She wasn’t happy knowing she was studying magic to benefit Ra’s or Damian Al Ghul, but at least John Constantine was proving to be a decent person. Not that it mattered much to Raven, since she didn’t trust him—but it was always good to have some kindness when you’re lost.
“Don’t be afraid. If you can’t do it now, you’ll be able to later. This is just a test to assess your knowledge,” Constantine advised.
“Alright, I’ll try.”
She took a deep breath and then focused, summoning her emotions in a controlled manner. The environment began to darken again.
“Anyone who can manipulate darkness can also manipulate light, Rachel. Try to find the trigger within you, and when you find it, let it out.”
John said, taking another drag. She could feel his eyes attentively on her, and it was as if Raven was back in Azarath again. She kept her concentration, gradually widening the crack through which her emotions were kept. Carefully, little by little, just as the monks had taught her… she proceeded…
“Stay calm, Raven. Remember, keep your emotions under control. No need to get worked up.”
Said the monk in front of her. Raven was crying; she had broken a marble pillar just because she got way too happy after managing to move her first object with her mind. Her joy didn’t last long, though—because the next second, the huge marble holding the wall a few steps away started cracking, the sound grabbing both her and the monk’s attention. After that, she burst into tears, blaming herself for breaking something just because she felt happiness. The guilt was crushing her, along with the frustration of feeling like a total failure.
“I can’t do it.”
“You can, Raven.”
“No!” Other pillars began shaking, and soon they were breaking while Raven watched horrified at the destruction she was causing, struggling to hold herself back.
“Raven, remember what I said. Calmly, little by little. Breathe in through your nose and out through your mouth.”
Crying, Raven copied the monk, who was gesturing with his hands. The girl repeated his movements, inhaling through her nose and exhaling through her mouth.
“Don’t rush, Raven. Controlling yourself takes time, and you will get there. Now repeat it again.”
Despite his words, the monk didn’t touch Raven. Contact with the girl had proven extremely dangerous, especially when she was emotional. That’s why he kept a safe distance from the little white-caped girl.
“That’s right, Raven. Keep breathing calmly. Don’t let your thoughts reach your heart, just breathe.”
The girl inhaled and exhaled, clearing her mind and following her tutor’s voice. After a long time, she calmed down.
“That’s right, Raven.”
The little girl sat on her knees, lowering her head as silent tears fell down her face, gripping her fist tightly, hurting herself.
“I never want to do this again.”
“That’s not how things work, child.”
Raven clenched her fingers, feeling angry. The monk moved closer, and then, feeling pity and compassion for the girl’s situation, ignoring safety protocols, he bent down and placed his hand on her small shoulder.
“I won’t do it again.” Raven said in a rough voice. She turned, red eyes blazing, and then, without even touching her tutor, shoved him against the wall on the other side of the room. Blood spilled from his mouth as the man slid down the wall. The immense rage the girl felt was suddenly replaced by horror and fear, and Raven ran to the monk.
“I… I didn’t mean to do that. I didn’t mean to.”
The monk looked at her, his eyes glassy as he slowly closed them.
“It’s okay, Raven...”
Raven broke down crying again, staring at the bald monk unconscious in front of her. She placed her tiny hand on his, calling to him, but the man remained out cold.
“I’m so sorry, I just didn’t want to do it, I swear...”
Sobbing, Raven. The whole room started shaking, and if it weren’t for the monks and her mother nearby, she would’ve destroyed the entire place.
“Raven, oh gods! Raven, what have you done?!”
Someone tried to get her attention, but she was already gone.
“Rachel! For heaven’s sake, this place is pitch black! Rachel, undo this immediately. Rachel!”
Raven snapped out of her trance, chest aching from the memory. Tears streamed down her cheeks, and she couldn’t see a damn thing around her. The cold, endless darkness stretched out with not a single ray of sunlight able to pierce through that dense blackness.
“I can’t do this...” Then she started shutting down her emotions, pulling her power back inside herself. After a few minutes, the light returned, and the room and John Constantine became visible again. When everything was locked back inside her, she lowered her hands.
“For the love of the gods, Rachel! What was that? Sinister but at the same time spectacular?! I’ve never seen anyone conjure darkness like you.” John said, looking around and then turning to her. “What’s going on, Rachel?
She knew he was probably reading her face because his eyes showed concern. Raven looked out the window, took a minute to gather herself, then said:
“It’s nothing.”
“Doesn’t look like nothing. Did something happen while you were conjuring?”
“No, I just don’t want to do this anymore today. I’d like to finish our lesson here for today, if you allow.”
“Already? We barely started...”
“I don’t want to do this anymore today.”
“Alright, alright. We’ll continue tomorrow then.”
Raven nodded and immediately left the room. She needed a moment alone. It was still afternoon, and she still had the dance with Damian Al Ghul.
She stayed quiet the whole time they walked down the corridors. The prince looked handsome and neat as always, but Raven noticed something different about him that day—though she said nothing because, honestly, he didn’t care about her. Autumn had arrived, and it was time for a change in attitude, even with all the chaos inside and outside, she thought. When she was in her cabin, she always lit a candle and sang a song to honor nature’s changing form. Then she’d cook carrots, bake carrot cake, and make pumpkin soup. Maybe she could wear autumn colors if Talia allowed it, or even do a little ritual in her room or living area. After honoring nature, she could organize her thoughts to make a plan.
Days and life in the castle were getting more hectic and demanding, and Raven had to spend a lot of energy just to keep going. She had to stay strong to face Talia, Jinx, and Damian, wake up early, do magic all day, study a book that felt more like a puzzle, and now she had to deal with a teacher who, in the very first class, unlocked memories in Raven. The witch just wanted to scream from mental and physical exhaustion, but now she stayed triple vigilant and alert, searching for how to handle Ra’s Al Ghul and the looming evil.
When they reached the library and the prince led her to the same room, she thought the whole thing was ridiculous. Talia must have nothing better to do than think her son needed to teach the servants how to dance. The princess and the king, as well as Damian and Jinx, no longer ate with Raven as more guests arrived and the balls knocked at the door. Also, the king had punished her by making her eat alone, which, honestly, wasn’t even that bad.
“Want a glass of wine?”
“No.”
“You drank alcohol the night you danced for the first time; this will help relax your muscles.”
“No.”
Damian looked at her and poured himself a glass, taking a long sip. Then he set the cup down and held out his hands to her.
“This is the dumbest thing I’ve ever seen, you trying to teach me, a prince trying to teach the servants.”
“Still questioning?”
“Yeah.”
“It’s me or no one. My mom won’t train you. You should be grateful to even get a chance to be in my presence, Rachel.”
“Excuse me?”
“You don’t think we have time to teach you, do you?”
“Oh, oh! What happened to ‘Prince Cookies and Tea’ from yesterday? Tired of being nice?”
The prince gave her that pathetic look he usually gave her and then stepped closer.
“If you don’t want to, fine, but you’re not allowed to be tense.”
“What? Tension is natural. I don’t even like dancing, and I don’t want to be here with you today.”
She felt Damian was as tense as she was, but their tensions came from different reasons. If only she could slap that arrogant prince face.
“You know what? The sooner I finish this nonsense, the sooner I can get rid of you.”
“Then let’s go.”
Raven took the prince’s hand, remembering the previous day’s instructions to relax her muscles. She knew if her powers were loose inside her again, she wouldn’t be able to stay so close to Damian Al Ghul like that. The prince radiated tension from every pore, like he was always thinking about some problem or something bothering him. If she could already see his internal agony in that state, what would happen to her with her powers fully functioning? She thought, as they danced, with Damian guiding her forward and backward while she stepped opposite his moves.
“I’m going to spin you, keep the same rhythm.”
“It’s not like you haven’t done this before…”
Damian raised his arms to the sound of an imaginary waltz, then spun his body. He didn’t face her; instead, he turned his back, holding her two hands raised in the air.
“What’s this? What kind of move is that? I’ve never seen it.”
“Because you weren’t paying attention to the ballroom the night of our oath.”
“Oh, right, I was too busy thinking about the dagger you stabbed through my hand without my permission.”
“You never cast a spell or made a blood oath before?”
“No, I don’t use blood for my spells, and I’ve never sworn a blood oath in my life. That’s dark magic, and I don’t do dark magic.”
“Oh, really? Then what do you think you’re doing here, witch? Lighting candles and singing spells?” Damian whispered in her right ear, his lips brushing her neck. A shiver ran through Raven’s body as anger flared up, and she turned to face him.
“Are you crazy?!”
Raven slapped him across the face, the sound of her hand against his skin echoing in the room. She stared at him, furious, feelings boiling inside her.
“I can’t stand you, Damian Al Ghul! I swear if you touch me again without my permission, I’ll forget I’m in your castle, and you’ll regret taking me from my home!”
Raven didn’t give the prince time to react; she turned her back and walked away. Damian didn’t follow her, and she left the library heading to her room.
Chapter 20: XX
Chapter Text
When the week of the ball finally arrived, Raven had already learned how to waltz, even though she hadn't managed to memorize a single choreography. The day before the first ball, Talia had excused her from classes and duties, but warned her that she expected her best behavior and that she would be officially introduced to the court that evening. That didn’t make Raven even a little bit happy or excited—her mind was racing, trying to piece together a plan that, each time, failed to come together.
Raven had successfully built and executed an escape plan before, flawlessly even. But she had overlooked one small detail—one she hadn't anticipated or even thought about—and that tiny flaw had brought the whole plan crashing down. That’s why she was hesitant to attempt another, especially considering how high the stakes were.
Raven wasn’t much of a planner anyway. She had never really aspired to much, and there was never a need for scheming when her life revolved around studying magic and meditating to stay in control. That morning, she was thinking about all this as she rested in bed, the blanket pulled up to her chin while rain poured outside. The rain seemed to get heavier each day, just as the temperature slowly began to drop.
She wore only a silk robe with nothing underneath, after her maids had bathed her and brushed her hair three times more than usual.
She planned to read later, after working on her plan. Reading always helped calm her nerves, and these days, Raven was on edge. She hadn’t seen the king again, and Talia was the only older person giving her orders. Jinx was acting normal, her usual self, but Damian had been acting weirder and weirder around her. Raven tried hard not to think about him during her downtime, otherwise, she’d just end up irritated.
She turned slightly to the side, listening to the rain. How could she stop Ra’s from using that book? If she burned it, he’d kill her. If she refused to interpret it, he might get even angrier and beat her to death too. But maybe—just maybe—if she made the book disappear, he wouldn’t be able to find it again. Still, she needed to make absolutely sure the book was actually tied to the evil that was approaching.
The man in black popped into her mind. Jinx had explained that the book provoked bad reactions in those who read it. What if she’d hallucinated that man? But... what if he was tied to everything?
Raven sighed, mentally exhausted. She needed to calm down if she was going to face a crowd of people that night. She pulled down the thin blanket and leaned over to the nightstand, grabbing the blue book that was underneath the red one she had started but never finished. She considered picking the red one back up, but she was already halfway through the blue one—it was an interesting fairy tale. She began reading, snuggling deeper into the soft mattress, taking some time to rest before returning to the architecture of a new plan.
After lunch—which was sweet-sauced chicken and warm little breads with grape juice—she went back to her planning. Mental work proved exhausting again, and by late afternoon, she was stressed out all over again. Especially when her maids entered the room carrying a shiny fabric and a small box.
Now that Raven thought about it, she really didn't want to go to that ball. She always got anxious around large groups of people, especially ones she didn’t know. The maids took her to the dressing room, undressed her, and put on fine lingerie. Then they strapped a corset to her torso and finally brought the shiny fabric over her head, passing it over her arms and dressing her. The gown had no sleeves, leaving her entire neckline and arms exposed. It had a gradient, starting as purple at the bust and fading into lighter shades until it reached white, all made of tulle with golden details. The neckline stood out with two flaps larger than a standard cut.
The women sat her at the vanity and started fixing her hair. They braided it into a crown braid and tucked the rest of the hair into the style, leaving her shoulders and back exposed. They added tiny sparkling accessories to the back of her hair and began doing her makeup. Then they asked her to choose between two perfumes: one with a vanilla tone and another with a woody scent. Raven loved both and couldn’t decide, so in the end, they dabbed a little of each on her neck and ears.
When they finished, one of the young women picked up the mysterious little box she had brought in. Raven noticed the beautifully carved wooden details—on top was a snake poised to strike, etched right in the center.
“It’s a gift from the prince for you.”
“The prince? Damian?”
“Yes. He gave specific instructions that you wear it tonight.”
Raven looked at the box in front of her, then looked back at Torcha. She sighed, but gathered enough courage to open it. Nestled delicately in green velvet was a beautiful amethyst, a shade of purple so stunning it left Raven speechless. It was set in gold, as was its chain, and on both ends were tiny lotus flower details. She picked it up with one hand, carefully inspecting it.
After Ra’s, now Damian al Ghul wanted to give her gifts... Either they were trying to bribe her blatantly, or something was seriously wrong here.
“May I put it on you? We don’t want to be late—you’ll be entering with the royal family.”
Raven closed her eyes for a second, tearing herself away from the fascination with the jewel and remembering the world around her.
“Sure, go ahead.”
She felt the cold jewel against her skin. Looking at herself in the mirror, the color of the stone matched her hair and eyes—but no way in hell was she going to tell Damian she loved it. Feeling nervous, she stood up when the maids told her it was time to go. They slipped low, square heels on her feet—less painful than the first ones she had worn, which had bruised her ankles. As she walked toward the central wing of the castle, she noticed the hallways smelled sweeter, and there were three times as many servants and flowers as usual. Raven wanted to hide behind her maids—she couldn’t stand everyone staring at her.
When they reached a massive door that was slightly ajar, she saw Jinx, who looked glamorous in a puff-sleeved dress. The gown plunged in a deep neckline down to her small breasts. It was shiny beige and had a high slit on her left leg that rose daringly up to her thigh. She wore gold leaf-decorated sandals that climbed up to her knees, and similar golden accessories on her neck and hands. Her hair had been curled, parted to the side, and cascaded gracefully down her back.
Jinx, peeking through the crack in the door, turned when she saw her.
“You’re late, as always! The king, the princess, and Damian already went in. I’ve been waiting for you so we can enter together. Do you know how to make an entrance on your own? Ever been to a ball?”
“No,” Raven said, nervous at the mere thought of showing herself off in front of so many strangers.
“As if it weren’t enough that you can’t speak properly, now you can’t walk either... That’s just great... Come here.”
Raven walked over to Jinx, who gave her a critical once-over.
“You look good enough. Great. Remember, the princess will be evaluating you. Keep your eyes on her—that’ll help you get down the stairs. Walk straight to where she, the prince, and Ra’s are. Got it?”
Raven nodded, feeling sweat form on her hands and a chill stir in her stomach. Jinx then turned and opened the door. Raven took a deep breath and did the same. They were on the upper floor, which extended a few more meters before opening into a giant staircase. The sound of an orchestra playing, along with people chatting, reached Raven’s ears. Jinx walked confidently to the end of the stairs, where a well-dressed servant stood.
"I present Miss Jinx, first-rank sorceress of our king, Ra’s al Ghul."
She watched as the slender girl with pink hair lifted her head proudly, full of joy, and began to descend after being announced by a servant dressed in golden colors. Raven stepped onto the top of the stairs and watched as the gigantic hall opened before her. People were like colorful dots—there were men and women of all ages, heights, and ethnicities. The hall had several chandeliers, but the one in the center stood out for its grandeur. Decorated with massive green and gold banners and with the house’s emblems spread across nearly all the standards hanging from the walls, it was a clear sign of the importance of the Al Ghul name.
Raven cast a nervous glance at the man, who nodded slightly and then spoke:
"I present Rachel Roth, first-rank sorceress of the future king Damian al Ghul."
The stomachache Raven felt from fear and embarrassment was so intense that she clenched her fists to shake the sensation. She was sure she was going to fall… Raven froze on the step as the crowd stared at her. Most eyes were on her. She looked at the man again and then down at the green marble of the staircase. Raven desperately wished she could move, at least put one foot forward, but all she could think about was how pathetic she looked, how she wished her bare shoulders and arms were covered, and how everyone was judging her. She thought of Talia al Ghul, who must have been dying of shame from the humiliation Raven was causing with every second she stayed frozen at the top of those stairs.
Feeling anxious enough, she placed her right hand on her left elbow, shielding her torso. Just as she considered turning back, she saw a man moving through the crowd, which parted for him as he walked. When he reached the base and began to climb the stairs, Raven instantly recognized him. Damian wore a heavy crown adorned with gold and jewels, and his cape billowed behind him as he moved. The prince was dressed in elegant, dark-colored clothes. When his eyes met hers, she felt relieved—there was someone she knew, even if it was someone she didn’t like. He extended his hand, and Raven didn’t think twice before taking it.
“There’s nothing to fear now. No one’s judging you.”
“How do you know that?”
“Trust me. You’re safe with me.”
And Raven did feel safe, as he guided her down the stairs, his hand gripping hers more firmly. She knew he wouldn’t let her fall, and just having him nearby was a comfort. Wherever Damian walked, people watched him, and now with the crown, she knew they were probably looking more at the future king than at the new sorceress. But when they reached the last step, Raven realized that wasn’t quite true. People were looking at both of them—not as individuals, but as a unit.
Damian didn’t smile. He just maintained his usual stoic posture, while she tried her best to keep her head high and not look down. She couldn’t help it, though, and squeezed the prince’s gloved hand. He turned his head, his eyes full of the confidence she so desperately wanted. They kept walking, and when they reached the throne’s platform, Raven felt her cheeks burn under the gaze of Talia al Ghul.
The princess wore a tight, shiny black dress with a high collar that wrapped around her neck but left her shoulders and arms exposed. Both she and Ra’s al Ghul wore grand, heavy crowns studded with gems. The prince didn’t let go of her hand as he led her up to the throne platform. He stopped facing the crowd, and she had no choice but to do the same. The king stood, the musicians stopped, and the entire crowd fell silent.
"It is with great joy that I have ruled for these many millennia. But new times have come, and the Al Ghul court can no longer be led by me: age has finally caught up with me. The gods blessed me with my grandson Damian, and since his birth, I knew he would be an exceptional heir. In three months, the crown shall rest upon his head, and thus, I believe it is time for him to find a wife. As tradition holds, a father chooses his son's bride. However, as a gift to my grandson, I give him the freedom to choose from the many princesses present here today to become his wife. A crown is not made by a man alone, and I say this in memory of my departed wives..." said Ra’s al Ghul with a more solemn tone. "And a kingdom isn’t built by war alone—it needs a bit of magic, as you all know. That’s why I searched far and wide for a sorcerer or witch worthy of my grandson’s name, and I found, in distant lands, the most precious jewel. That is why I am happy to announce to you the first-rank sorceress of my grandson: Rachel Roth."
The crowd applauded Raven. She looked out over the sea of people and gripped the prince’s hand even tighter, which he still held raised ceremoniously. When the clapping ended, Ra’s continued:
"Let the ball season begin!"
The crowd cheered again, the musicians picked up a lively tune, and people began to waltz and mingle. Raven sighed in relief, yanked her hand free from Damian’s grip, and shot him a look. She did want to thank him—she just didn’t want him holding her hand anymore. As she opened her mouth to speak, the princess placed a hand on Damian’s shoulder.
"Damian, my dear, you look so handsome tonight! But I don’t want to see you standing still another second—go chase the ladies!"
Talia smiled, patting her son’s shoulder. Damian gave Raven a look that said “Get ready for the scolding,” bowed to his mother, and cast one last glance at Raven before vanishing into the colorful crowd. The sorceress held her breath, ready for a slap or even a snide remark.
"It’s normal to feel ashamed, Rachel. Though our family isn’t accustomed to such feelings, we expect you to avoid breaking protocol. But shame is normal."
Raven thought she must have gone crazy right then. That was Talia al Ghul?
"Ball nights are to be celebrated, and tonight is a very special night, girl. You’ll adapt to our ways soon, you’ll see… before you know it, you’ll be used to balls like this."
That was the last thing Raven wanted. Talia sighed, almost nostalgically, while watching the women in puffy dresses and the men in coats and hats. She seemed lost in thought for a moment, then turned to Raven.
"Come with me. I’ll introduce you to the people. It’s important that you know them, because the art of knowing your enemies is a skill worth mastering."
Raven kept staring at the queen, who offered her arm, and she had no choice but to take it.
"I want you to try to talk more—it’s important that you communicate, even if you don’t want to. I don’t want anyone thinking you’re a silly little shy girl."
Which, honestly, was exactly what Raven was—a shy little girl, and a fool for still being in that damn castle.
Talia’s arm was thin and bony, and she smelled of vanilla and sweetened pepper. Just like Damian, the princess carried herself with a confidence that somehow made Raven feel safe and protected—even if that confidence came from someone who might very well be her enemy.
Raven really wanted to get a closer look at the waterfall of unfamiliar faces and information flooding the room, but she was still too nervous and embarrassed. At least she wasn’t going to trip—not with the princess holding onto her arm. They walked for a while, making their way deeper into the center of the ballroom.
The princess stopped in front of a tall, orange-skinned woman with long, loose, curly red hair. She wore a large but minimalist shimmering crown that looked like silver and covered nearly her whole head. The woman had green eyes, a strong jawline, and high cheekbones. Two large purple teardrop-shaped earrings hung from her ears, and a matching purple cape draped down her back. A red brooch with a large, gleaming gemstone set in gold, shaped like a sun, fastened the purple fabric to her chest.
“Koriand’r, I see you haven’t changed since the last time I saw you.”
The woman, who had been talking to a young girl about Raven’s age, turned to Talia.
“Princess Talia, it’s been some time since we last saw each other, hasn’t it?” Koriand’r spoke with a strong accent.
“Yes, and look how much Mar’i has grown...”
“Yes, she’s turning 20 next week. These kids grow up so fast... feels like just yesterday I was changing her diapers, and now she’s almost ready to take over my crown.”
“Mom! You can’t say that in front of others!”
The young woman with curly black hair smiled, blushing. She was nearly an identical copy of Kori, her skin just two shades lighter in orange compared to her mother’s, and her hair was black. Other than that, she looked like a younger version of Koriand’r. Talia smiled and introduced Raven.
“This is Rachel Roth. As you may have heard, she’s Damian’s sorceress. Rachel, this is Koriand’r, queen of the distant lands of Tamaran.”
Rachel had never heard of Tamaran. She had studied the map of her continent, but had never come across that name. Raven gave a respectful bow.
“And this is her daughter, Mar’i.” Raven smiled shyly and bowed to the princess.
“Nice to meet you, Rachel. Congrats on the position.”
“Thank you.” Raven wished she could talk more—she wanted to ask the princess about her homeland, what she thought of the Al Ghul court, and how many other kings and queens were out there. But her shyness wouldn’t let her.
“Why don’t you find the prince and talk about your last trip, Mar’i?”
The young woman smiled, and her mother looked at her.
“Go ahead, my daughter. I’ll be with your grandfather when you return.”
“Yes, Mom.”
The young woman in purple gowns walked off, leaving the three women alone.
“Damian told me you didn’t let your daughter continue the second part of their journey.”
“I wanted her home. We had an urgent matter to address.”
“That’s a shame.”
“Yes, maybe in the future we can resume it.”
“Of course. I have to take Rachel to meet the others. It was good seeing you, Koriand’r.”
“Likewise, Princess.”
If not for the queen’s heavy accent, Raven would have sworn there was some bitterness in her tone. Talia pulled her away again, and they began walking.
“Tamaran’s court was enslaved fifty years ago. Koriand’r is the reigning queen, but her sister rules with her and holds nearly ninety percent of the kingdom’s decisions.”
“That’s horrible...”
Talia glanced sideways at her but continued leading her through the grand hall. Whenever people saw her, they stopped to bow, many calling out to her, but the princess was too focused on introducing Raven to the other kings and queens.
Eventually, Talia approached a tall man dressed in a dark blue cloak. He wore a black crown studded with blue gems and black garments. The man seemed to instantly recognize the princess’s presence and stopped talking, leaving the man beside him speaking to no one.
Talia gripped Raven’s arm—but she was so focused on the man in the dark blue cloak that the grip seemed more unconscious than intentional. Raven turned her head slightly, watching Talia, who looked entranced.
By the time they stopped in front of the two men, it felt like a lifetime had passed. There was a strange energy in the air.
“Rachel, this is Bruce Wayne, king of Gotham,” said Talia in a cold and indifferent tone.
Gotham—she had studied it. It was the neighboring kingdom to the one where her mountains were located. The man was as tall as Koriand’r, with a large muscular build, much like the man beside him. His eyes were ice-blue, and his black hair was streaked with white, as was his scruffy beard.
“Rachel, it’s a pleasure to meet you.” The man had a deep and sharp voice, but his eyes conveyed warmth.
“Hello, thank you,” Raven blushed, embarrassed.
“Congratulations on your position, Rachel,” said the man beside Bruce Wayne. His eyes were also blue, but like the summer skies over Nanda Parbat. His hair was black too, threaded with white, suggesting he was aging, though he still carried a youthful spark in his gaze. He wore a red cape, and a crown encircled his head.
“Thank you.”
Talia and Bruce Wayne were staring at each other so intensely now that Raven had to break out of her shell of shyness and ask the second man his name.
“Clark Kent.”
Raven nodded, once again feeling the urge to start a conversation but failing to do so. She pressed her lips together and rested her hands on her stomach. The silence and stares between the princess and the king were so palpable that she unlinked her arm from Talia’s, who didn’t seem to notice. King Clark appeared to sense her discomfort, as he cleared his throat loudly once—but the pair didn’t seem present in that moment or place. Then he cleared his throat even louder a second time, and finally they seemed to snap out of it.
“Sometimes we just have to tolerate this old man. If you couldn’t still beat me in combat, Bruce, I’d swear you’re going deaf…”
“Oh, what was that?”
“He’s losing his senses, Miss Rachel,” Clark said with a playful wink at Raven, nudging the king like they had known each other for years.
Talia blinked a few times and then said, almost absentmindedly:
“Rachel, the kingdom of Gotham is close to where you used to live. It’s the dirtiest city I’ve ever been to…”
“Gotham has changed a lot since you last visited, Talia.”
“Oh, don’t tell me you managed to clean all the rats out of that sewer, Bruce.”
Bruce grunted, still not taking his eyes off Talia. Raven thought she was having a déjà vu, like she’d seen that same glimmer in someone’s eyes before, though she couldn’t remember where. A pregnant woman—seemingly in her third trimester, with short hair, green eyes, fair skin, and a black dress that accentuated her ample breasts—approached, carrying a small plate of cake in her hands. She was stunning, and Raven wanted to say so.
“You’re going to let the woman carrying your child walk alone through this massive hall, Bruce Wayne?” said the woman as she linked her arm with her husband’s. Unlike the king, Selina wore a small black hat with a sheer black veil that covered half her face. She leaned her silky black-haired head on her husband’s muscular shoulder.
“Selina, my love, I was coming to find you when Princess Talia insisted on introducing Rachel to us personally.”
The pregnant woman looked directly at Talia al Ghul instead of Raven.
“Talia.”
“Selina.”
And just like that, Raven and Clark Kent were once again caught in a spectacle of heavy stares and unspoken words. The light-eyed king clearly seemed uncomfortable too.
“So she’s pregnant, Bruce?”
“Yes, Talia, I am. And I’m right here.”
“Oh, isn’t that something, Selina? I thought you were just Bruce’s concubine, but I see you used your body to rise in rank.”
Selina let out a growl and nearly lunged at Talia, giant belly and all, but Bruce held her back by the arms. She made a face but then ran a finger across her pale skin and caressed her belly, still holding the cake plate with the other hand.
“Helena if it’s a girl, and Aion if it’s a boy.”
“Oh, such simple names…”
Selina growled again, and this time Bruce intervened and addressed Talia directly.
“Clark, Selina and I are going to dance a bit—mind holding this plate while we do?”
The already tense atmosphere grew even heavier, and Raven could feel Talia stiffen beside her. She seemed deeply affected when the couple took each other’s hands.
“Talia, if the princess permits, Selina and I will enjoy this symphony.”
Bruce bowed and took his wife’s hand, leading her away. He didn’t look back.
“I also need to meet with a few gentlemen, Princess. If you’ll excuse me,” said Clark Kent, looking at the plate in his hands before bowing and stepping away.
“Why don’t you go find Jinx, Rachel? Ask her to introduce you to the rest of the guests.”
Talia spoke, still standing like a statue in the same spot. She didn’t look at Raven even once before she began walking westward. Raven remained still too, trying to process the information that had just been thrown at her. She started walking, afraid that if she stood there too long, people would start staring. She stuck to the edges, avoiding the center, but tried to retrace her steps. That’s when she saw it—Jon, holding a short girl in his arms. Her beautiful red hair and unmistakable smile were hard not to recognize.
Vestal.
The soldier, who seemed to be smiling like never before—and even laughing—was dancing gracefully, the two of them waltzing in sync with the other spinning couples.
Then people began to stop dancing, and Raven felt confused, but she quickly saw why: as they pushed through the retreating crowd that almost trampled her, Damian al Ghul held Mar’i’s hand high in the air as the two stepped forward gracefully into the center. Silence fell across the hall as they stood face to face. The princess, with long silky hair, bowed. Her silver crown, full of glowing purple stars, was perched gracefully around her head, highlighting the color of her puffy-sleeved purple gown. She smiled, clearly excited for this. Damian bowed in return, then took her hand and planted a lingering kiss as he rose. The Princess of Tamaran smiled again and turned her face to the side—possibly blushing.
A delicate symphony began to play, and the two joined hands and began to waltz. Raven watched the reactions of the women and men around the circle that had formed in the ballroom, all eyes on the young couple.
The princess arched her torso backward in a bold but controlled move as the prince held her waist and spun her. They looked made for each other—grace radiated from the lovely Mar’i while Damian guided her with perfect timing and passion. They even looked like they were truly in love. Which was likely, since Raven had heard—straight from Talia herself—that Mar’i and Damian had traveled together. The young sorceress felt happy to see such joy on the girl’s face. Women around the hall sighed with envy or jealousy, but the genuine emotion in the prince and princess’s eyes seemed to make everyone else vanish.
Raven took it in, wondering if she’d ever be able to look at anyone the way those two looked at each other—or if she was doomed to live the rest of her life like a hermit, locked away inside herself, too scared to love.
The image of Jon with Vestal flashed in her mind, and a pang of sadness hit her. Jon, the terrible traitor… though her heart didn’t seem to agree. Annoyed and hungry, Raven began walking again, just as more couples started forming and joining Damian and Mar’i. With a thousand questions and a heart weighed down by a pair of blue eyes, Raven moved with her head low. She didn’t notice when she bumped into someone.
“Oh, I’m so sorry!”
“Oh, but of course you’re not!”
Dressed in black, feathery clothes, the person turned. A tall young man, with bluish skin and black-lined eyes, looked at her. He had a grimace on his lips, but once their eyes met, he seemed to forget the irritation Raven had caused by crashing into him.
“Hello to you, stranger. It’s not every day you find a cute little girl with purple hair walking around, is it? What’s your name?”
“My name is Rachel. Rachel Roth. Sorry for bumping into you, I wasn’t looking.”
“Oh, it’s fine, don’t worry about it. Nice to meet you, Rachel Roth. My name’s Klarion.”
Chapter 21: XXI
Chapter Text
The young man with black hair took Rachel’s hand and planted a kiss on it. Raven just stood there watching him.
“I need to get to the other side—could you let me through?” she said in a polite tone.
“Oh, leaving so soon?”
Raven didn’t want to be rude to the young man, but she’d already apologized and just wanted to get to the other side, where the king and the rest of the royal family had initially been—except for Talia, of course.
“I really need to.”
“Then by all means, allow me to accompany you.”
Raven definitely didn’t want that.
“Oh, thank you, but no.”
“Don’t be shy, little lady.”
Raven was a shy person, but she just wanted to keep walking. Alone.
“I don’t think that’s necessary, sorry.”
She started walking to the left of where Klarion was standing, but he grabbed her wrist tightly.
“Rachel, don’t be difficult. I’m going with you.”
Raven was about to protest when a hand landed on Klarion’s shoulder.
“She said she doesn’t want that, Klarion. Now back off.”
Klarion made a mocking face like a spoiled kid and, after one last look at Raven, he walked away.
“We sorcerers have to stick together, Rachel.” Constantine smiled warmly.
“Thank you.”
“If you ever need help, just scream for it.” He offered his right arm to Raven, who shyly looped hers through his.
“Where to, kid?”
“I’d like to go back to the throne altar—but first, I want something to eat. Can you take me?”
“Oh, absolutely. You have to try the cakes.”
Raven thought of the plate that Selina, Bruce’s wife, had been holding. The image of the two women looking at each other, their tone of voice—it had intrigued her. But that had nothing to do with her. Raven needed to come up with a plan and deal with her own mess. She looked at John Constantine, who was definitely among the people she couldn’t trust. He didn’t seem all that sociable either, not greeting anyone, and in that way, he was kind of like her.
When they got to the food, Raven’s stomach growled. The tables stretched along the entire wall, covered in cakes of all shapes and colors, towers of goblets filled with drinks, savory meat dishes, warm breads, as well as typical fruits, nuts, cheeses, and soups.
“Oh, hell yeah, this looks amazing.”
John untangled their arms and grabbed a plate, serving himself. Raven followed his lead.
“Bon appétit,” he said once they’d both filled their plates.
“Thanks.”
They ate standing, in silence, watching people dance and chat around them. Raven was grateful for a minute of peace—and for finally filling her empty stomach. She drank a sparkling apple drink, then went back for another plate, slicing a piece of cake with a golden pastel frosting.
“Delicious, right? The Al Ghuls have the best bakers I’ve ever seen.”
John said this with his mouth full and white filling all over his face. Raven couldn’t help but laugh.
A tall woman with foreign features approached.
“Don’t tell me that after all these two years you’re still the same idiot, John.”
“Lady Shiva…”
The woman smiled. Her dress was simple in cut but made of luxurious black fabric. A massive sword was strapped to her back and she wore high-heeled boots. Her hair was adorned with elegant black pins that made her eyes pop.
“And you, girl? Still thinking of joining the League’s training?”
Raven recognized her then. It was the same woman who had humiliated Damian in the training hall a few days ago. She thought about how even now, the woman radiated that nameless but undeniable power.
“Yes.”
“Good. Just know I’m not going to go easy on you, got it?”
Raven nodded. John, who was finishing his cake, wiped his mouth with the back of his hand.
“Alright, let’s not talk about training today… This girl needs a bit of fun. And so do I.”
Lady Shiva rolled her eyes and then joined them, looking out at the crowd.
“I hate balls. Total waste of time. Damian should just line them all up and pick who he wants.”
“And miss the chance to show the whole world how powerful and rich they are, Shiva? You think Talia would go for that?”
The two of them locked eyes seriously for a moment, but then John laughed at his own comment, and Lady Shiva smiled, clearly holding back a laugh too.
"Certainly our queen has a thing for ostentation."
Raven, who was listening to the conversation, couldn’t help but wonder why Lady Shiva referred to Talia al Ghul as queen instead of princess. That was yet another mystery hanging in the air. John didn’t seem to care.
“For your information, Zatanna has arrived.”
Raven saw the surprise flash across John’s face.
“Where is she?”
“I saw her talking near where the king is.”
“And why didn’t you tell me sooner?”
“How was I supposed to know you were dying to see her? She’s here because of this one,” she said, nodding toward Raven. “She’s one of your new teachers, girl.”
“Oh, I figured as much.” John fixed his hair and coat, then handed his plate to Raven. “Just leave that at the corner of the table—someone’ll come take it.” The witch nodded. He looked at Shiva, then back at Raven.
“Catch you later.”
She nodded again, and he was off.
“That John…” Lady Shiva began, but her gaze locked onto someone in the crowd, which had gotten even denser. Much like Talia earlier, she seemed to zone out completely, eyes fixed on some distant point.
“We’ll see each other tomorrow, girl.”
Shiva spoke without breaking her stare and drifted away. Raven let out a breath—alone again. If she didn’t return to where the king was, someone was bound to come looking. So she started walking and eventually made it back to where she’d started. The king was there, smiling.
“This is your home now, Rachel. Don’t try running again. Now smile—I want them to see you.”
Against her will, Raven forced a smile. People were watching her.
“Perfect.”
She stood for another two hours, silently watching people dance and chat with the same enthusiasm they’d had upon arrival. When midnight came and went, Ra’s finally rose from his throne and began walking among the guests, who parted like the sea to let him through. She saw Jinx dancing with a red-haired young man. They looked lost in their own universe, moving closely together, laughing now and then.
Fatigue started to seep into Raven’s bones. She found herself wanting to close her eyes and sit down.
She figured no one would notice if she returned to her room. She’d shown her face, humiliated herself enough for one night. But if she tried to leave, someone would definitely notice—the staircase was in plain view.
Maybe a walk would clear her mind. Might even take the edge off her sleepiness.
Raven stepped down from the raised platform of the throne and began weaving through the crowd. The alcohol had clearly kicked in for many; the laughter was louder, the jokes bolder. People were dancing closer together now, pulled into the glittering web of the Al Ghul family’s promise of power and wealth. Enchanted by the celebration, few seemed to question who was actually providing the sweet music or the bubbly drinks.
Raven could feel the atmosphere shifting with every passing minute of the night. A servant passed with a tray of drinks. Her throat was dry—she accepted. The sweet, alcoholic apple flavor burned down her throat, but she drank it all in one go. After all those forced wine glasses Talia had made her drink earlier, the alcohol was finally syncing with her system—the dizziness had nearly vanished.
She kept walking, making her way into the middle of the hall, nearly reaching the dance circle. Another servant offered her a drink, and she accepted again, knocking it back in one gulp and handing the empty glass back.
And to think, all this golden splendor—this kingdom—was built on violence, probably blood. Behind those three serpents, something evil was hiding. A dark force that might one day rise and spill out onto Earth.
Raven had to stop it. She needed to be strong enough to end whatever was coming. For her mother. For Azarath. For her people.
In a heady mix of flowers and sweets, the room spun in beautiful, colorful tones of gold, green, red, purple, and blue. The women smiled with flushed cheeks, and the men seemed entertained either by the skirts or the tails of their coats, chatting about politics, wars, and of course, the ladies. Two blue eyes appeared in front of her, and for a long minute, Raven saw a face full of regret. It was Jon, standing just a few steps away, and he looked like he wanted to say something. That’s when she felt someone pull her by the waist, while another hand slid across the bare skin of her right arm.
“Where do you think you’re going, witch?”
Somewhere in the room, the musicians began to change the melody, and an accordion started to play. Raven kept her eyes locked on Jon’s face, which looked like he was on the verge of tears. What was that? And why did he look like he was about to cry? Wasn’t he the one who betrayed her? Wasn’t he the one who threw her in that dungeon? With a sigh, Raven turned her head and lifted it—to meet Damian’s gaze. He didn’t release her waist or hand and just stood there. The prince was staring at Jon. There was something in his eyes that she couldn’t quite place—there was definitely a threat there, but also something else. Something she wouldn’t be able to name even if she tried.
The soldier seemed to hold Damian’s stare for a few more seconds, but he had no choice when the Al Ghul spun Raven into his arms. Maybe that champagne had been a little too strong, and maybe she was slightly drunk, but Raven couldn’t react. All she could do was watch the world swirl around her. She kept her head up, looking at Damian, who was staring right back.
“Come with me.”
That was an order, not a request, and Raven really wanted to know why she let the prince guide her body like that. But the only thing she could think about was Jon and that pained, remorseful face. She looked back once more, seeing the soldier rooted to the same spot as Damian pulled her forward. When she turned her head again, she saw people parting to let them pass, just like they had done earlier.
Damian led her to the center of the ballroom. The lights weren’t as intense now as they had been earlier in the evening, and when Raven looked at the prince, it felt like they were the only two people there.
“I don’t want to dance, but if you promise I can leave afterward, I’ll accept this dance.”
“You don’t have to want to.”
Raven gave Damian a face. She didn’t feel nervous or stressed; her mind was stuck on one thing—and that thing was named Jon. Besides, being in the arms of her enemy didn’t intimidate her. She’d been there before, if not fighting, then dancing. The melody sounded like something out of a beautiful love story, and Raven wondered if it was messing with her head, because she felt something strange growing inside her the more the prince moved her body across the ballroom. Damian lowered his eyes to her exposed collarbone.
“The necklace looks good on you. What did you think of it?”
Raven blushed, reminding herself of her vow not to stroke Damian’s ego by saying how cute the gift was.
“It’s… nice.”
Damian twirled her and then pulled her close again.
“You’re forbidden from taking it off.”
“Excuse me?”
“I don’t want to see you without that necklace. Not during the day, not at night.”
“You’re insane if you think I’m sleeping with this giant rock on my chest. The bracelets are already annoying enough.”
“I can transfer the magic from the bracelets to the necklace. Then you won’t have to wear them anymore. But the necklace will be locked around your neck.”
Raven sighed. She hated wearing any kind of accessory. It bothered her, and she didn’t like the feeling of having something clinging to her body. The necklace was sort of an exception—but those mother-of-pearl bracelets? Absolutely not.
“Fine.”
Raven studied Damian’s face—the sharp lines of his jaw, the green in his eyes, his thick eyebrows, his dark hair. She could see the resemblance to Talia. Did Damian look like his father too? What did the prince’s father even look like? Why hadn’t she seen him once? She kept thinking about it while a storm of emotions swirled inside her. The longer she was near Damian, the stronger and weirder that storm felt—and she had no idea how to name it. Trying to shake it off, she started talking to distract herself.
“You’re not in love with Mar’i?”
“What makes you think that?”
“The way you two were looking at each other earlier.”
“And does that bother you?”
“Of course not. It’s just... you dancing with me? Shouldn’t you be dancing with some other princess?”
“That’s what I was doing the whole time—but you weren’t paying attention, were you?”
Raven looked down. She really only noticed Damian when he was standing right in front of her.
“I was sleepy and trying to keep my act together in front of the king.”
“The throne has a clear view of the whole ballroom, Rachel.”
“Oh.”
“You don’t care, do you?”
Damian said and spun her. As her body completed a full turn, he pulled her close and kept her back to him, guiding her from behind. Raven let herself go—her back and hips pressed against Damian, while he held her hands and moved her legs in a flowing rhythm.
“I don’t like you, prince. But I’ll give you this—you’re a damn good dance partner.”
“You forget all your shyness when you’re with me. If Jon had asked you to dance, I would’ve loved to see the mess you’d make.”
“And who said Jon would ask me to dance? He’s a traitor and he doesn’t care about me.”
Damian spun her again, and Raven wanted to deny the feeling she had when her skirt twirled with her — that giddy sense of being a young girl enchanted by simple sensations. But that was exactly how she felt: like she was experiencing life for the first time. Like the sweet taste of apples, everything seemed bright and sublime. And even if the one dancing with her was her enemy, she wanted to indulge in the warm, charming sensation of not feeling insecure while moving her feet and body like that.
“Have you ever loved someone, Rachel?”
Damian’s voice contradicted his eyes, which gleamed with something a few notes higher — a mix Raven couldn’t understand, but also couldn’t look away from.
“Yes. His name was Jericho.”
“And what happened?”
“I don’t know. I never saw him again after...”
“After...?”
Raven froze mid-step, the painful memories slamming back as she remembered Jericho — the only man she’d ever loved, the only one she'd had in her life, banished from Azarath for returning her feelings. Damian didn’t let her stay frozen; he pulled her in by the waist again and, with slow steps, continued to waltz with her.
“If I ever get to leave... would I really be able to?”
“I don’t think you’ll ever be able to leave.”
Sadness returned to Raven’s heart and soul, and she could feel her thoughts drifting back into worry. The prince seemed to notice and leaned in, whispering into her ear:
“I’m going to teach you a step — keep your body light.”
“What?”
Damian didn’t wait to explain. He spun her once, twice, three, four times, and then — when all the colors seemed to blend into gold — he held her by the hips and dipped her backward. Raven felt the blood rush to her cheeks as the world flipped upside down, and she caught sight of a couple watching them closely. Damian pulled her back up, his steps picking up pace as they resumed the dance. Raven’s feet followed automatically, but her head was spinning — so she rested it against the prince’s chest.
“Looks like you’re getting the hang of it, sorceress.”
“I guess I can’t argue with you.” Raven kept her head rested there, a thousand thoughts racing through her mind. But maybe, just for one night, she could let them go and just live a little. And that’s exactly what she did, feeling the world spin beneath her feet and diving into Damian’s gaze.
She and the prince waltzed until Raven let out her first yawn, which Damian took as the cue for them to leave. She accepted his offer to walk her to her room, just a hallway away from his. But before they could leave, Talia stopped Damian. She was dancing with a tall, muscular man with cropped white hair, who was glued to her side.
“Wait, Damian!”
Damian paused and half-turned.
“Yes?”
Talia no longer looked like the resentful woman from earlier — her eyes now sparkled, and she looked alive and genuinely happy. She looked from Damian to Raven, then back to her son. Lowering the hand she’d raised, she smiled maternally.
“If you two are going to get involved, at least use protection.”
Raven’s blood fled from her cheeks at the sheer insanity of what Talia had just suggested. The witch would never, ever, under any circumstances sleep with Damian Al Ghul. She hated that man and only tolerated him to keep the peace with the rest of the family. Well... except for the whole dance thing tonight, obviously...
The prince was stunned into silence. Then he turned his body forward again. He took Raven’s arm and the two started walking off calmly, like two old friends who had just overheard a drunk person say something ridiculous.
“Damian!”
Talia called again, and the prince turned his head.
“You two looked beautiful tonight.”
Then the princess returned to dancing in her companion’s arms, while Raven and Damian left the ballroom.
Chapter 22: XXII
Chapter Text
"Come on! Weren’t you the one who signed up for training?"
Lady Shiva asked rhetorically while Raven threw awkward punches in the air. They were training for the sorceress’s newest time-consuming occupation. That morning, she’d been brushed and dressed, then studied the old magic book after breakfast. Now the afternoon dragged on slowly as she trained with Lady Shiva. Raven wished she could at least take a nap or ease the dizziness she felt. The ball last night had drained her energy, and she had so many things swirling in her mind that even the silence of lunch hadn’t been enough to untangle the mental mess.
"Faster. I told you I wouldn’t go easy on you."
Lady Shiva stood still in a flawless stance, hands behind her back. Despite the cold weather, she wore only a white linen shirt with black pants and boots. Raven’s body was drenched in sweat, her cheeks flushed pink as she threw her fists at the massive sandbag suspended in the air. She was doing her best to keep up her strength while her limbs trembled. And the worst part? She’d have to do this every single day.
"Please, can I just take a quick break?"
"No. You’re almost at your time limit. One last round with full force, Miss Rachel! Let’s go!"
Raven took a deep breath before summoning her last reserves of energy and unleashing it on the sandbag. Her fingers ached deeply, and she felt like she was going to pass out any second. She punched it repeatedly before letting out a grunt.
"There, perfect. That’s it for today."
Raven let her body collapse to the ground, sweaty head falling into her arms as she struggled to breathe, her chest heaving.
"You’ll get used to it soon. This isn’t even the League’s warm-up."
Raven didn’t pay much attention to what she said—air still fought to fill her lungs. She had to admit, that first day of training felt like hell, and she was beyond relieved it was over. Lady Shiva left her there without another word, and Raven followed suit after a few minutes. She walked the halls toward her room, realizing she’d already memorized the path by heart and didn’t need to stop or glance at the walls anymore to figure out where she was.
As she moved, memories of the previous night surfaced. Dancing in the prince’s arms had been a bad idea. She hadn’t wanted to give him the wrong idea, but at least it had kept her from thinking about Jon’s eyes. Ah, Jon… where was he now? Why had he been so shaken and teary yesterday? What would’ve happened if the prince hadn’t pulled her away? Those were the questions circling her mind as she reached her room. Her maids were already waiting, undressing her and giving her a warm bath right away. Then they dressed Raven in a black gown and brushed her hair, leaving it loose.
Her next appointment was in her new study, where John Constantine would be waiting to teach her. But when she entered the room, she was surprised to find a woman whispering with John. They both stopped, and the woman turned around. It took her two seconds to snap out of it, and then, full of energy, she approached Raven.
"Hello! You must be Rachel, right? Lovely to meet you, I’m Zatanna—your new instructor."
Zatanna had blue eyes and a reassuring smile, about the same height as Constantine. Her skin leaned pale, contrasting with her long, wavy black hair. She was dressed entirely in black, like Raven, and wore a small, stylish hat on her head.
"Hello, nice to meet you."
The woman extended a gloved hand. Raven shyly took it, and Zatanna shook it enthusiastically with a smile. After the greeting, Zatanna glanced around the room and took off her gloves, placing them on the table.
"Alright then, let’s get started. No time to waste. I already had a chat with John about what he knows of your abilities, and he told me you’ve got a lot of potential. Our first lesson today will be on telepathy. So, I want to know if you’ve practiced it before, how much, and—I’d like you to show me."
"Well..." Raven felt a little intimidated and embarrassed talking about her powers. Her hands started to sweat, and she hid them behind her back.
"Don’t feel threatened, sweetheart. I’m here to help."
"Well… I… I tried telepathy once, but it was years ago. I haven’t been able to access it again since."
"And why’s that?"
The tragic event from her childhood flashed in her mind, and guilt followed right behind it. Zatanna seemed to notice her discomfort, because she said:
"Oh, I think we can save the interrogation for another time. Let’s focus on the practice instead. John, go get tea and cookies. Now." Constantine nodded dramatically and started walking off clumsily.
"I want cinnamon butter ones and chocolate, too, John."
"Yes, of course. Tea and cookies for Miss Zatara, coming right up."
John left the room, closing the door behind him. Raven was fascinated by the level of intimacy in Zatanna and John’s tone—it felt like they’d known each other forever.
"Come, sit with me here."
Zatanna patted the armchair next to her, and Raven moved over to sit down.
“Well, look… the art of telepathy requires a lot of skill from your instructor. Once that part is mastered, it becomes the easiest thing in the world, and you won’t feel any strain when doing it,” Zatanna said in a calm, encouraging voice. “Telepathy is nothing more than being fully present and dissolved within the magical layers of the universe. You see, for a normal being, it’s nearly impossible to let their aura and soul flow through the universe’s spectrum. But for us, those born with a spark of magic, the universe’s key is unlocked—we just have to tune into it.”
Raven nodded.
“Of course, there’s a whole ethical side to it too, regarding what can or can’t be done, and when it should or shouldn’t be used. But we’ll dive into all those moral codes later. For now, we’ll just train the practical side and raise the difficulty level as we go. But back to telepathy. Jinx told me you have empathic abilities, right?”
“Yes.”
“Perfect. Telepathy is basically empathy at a rawer level. We go straight into the person’s mind and can access everything. So, I want to do a little exercise while we wait for John to show up.”
“Sure.”
“I want you to take three deep breaths, with five seconds between each inhale and exhale. Then, I want you to touch my hand and look into my eyes.”
Raven nodded and closed her eyes. By the third breath, she thought she might fall asleep, she was that tired. When she opened her eyes again, she looked into the deep blue of her new instructor’s gaze.
“Perfect. Now, touch my hand.”
Raven did as instructed.
“Now I want you to tell yourself that you want to read my mind. Say it in your head, clearly.”
She mentally wished to read her new teacher’s mind, though she felt it was totally wrong. As she stared into Zatanna’s vivid blue eyes, the claws of memory dragged her into her own mind…
Raven tiptoed into the kitchen. The smell of vanilla, cinnamon, and butter filled her nose, and all she could think about was getting one of those warm cookies the temple cooks made. Just thinking about how delicious they were... She crouched and crawled up to the counter where a plate full of cookies sat. She stuffed her fingers and ate them one by one until there were none left. Before she could eat the last two, someone grabbed her arm.
“What do you think you’re doing, girl?!” said the cook, yanking Raven’s little arm harshly.
“I wanted cookies.”
“You ate almost all of them!” the woman shouted, staring at the empty plate in shock and anger.
“I just really wanted some,” Raven said, squirming to escape the tight grip on her arm.
“You’re not going anywhere, you little brat.”
Raven stopped moving. Being a skinny child, the woman’s firm grip hurt her wrist.
“I’m going to report this to your mother right now, and you’re not getting another cookie while I’m around.”
“But I like cookies.”
“No one told you to eat them.”
The woman dragged Raven toward the door, pulling her out of the kitchen. Panic set in. If her mom or the monks found out, they wouldn’t let her roam around anymore. She already had to spend most of her time in her room, and she had the feeling her punishment would be being locked there forever.
“Let’s go…”
Raven was desperate—she had to change the woman’s mind, or she was toast.
“You’re going to let me go, and you’re going to forget I ate most of the cookies.”
“You’ve lost your mind, chil— Yes, I’m going to let you go and forget that you ate most of the cookies.”
Raven froze, stunned by herself and the situation. Taking another risk, she added:
“You’re not going to tell anyone, and you’re going to bring a full plate of cookies to my room without anyone noticing.”
“I’m not going to tell anyone, and I’ll bring a plate of cookies to your room without anyone noticing.”
Raven stared wide-eyed at the woman, who now looked like an empty statue. Noticing her wrist was free, she bolted forward, breaking away from the woman’s grasp. She glanced back once before sprinting away, giggling at her own trickery. She threw her arms behind her like wings, lifting her white cape, trying to pretend she was flying like a little bird in the sky.
“Rachel?”
“Hi, sorry—my mind drifted for a second.”
“Did you remember something? You weren’t present during the connection. Did you know our powers are linked to our emotions? That can cause trauma if a bad and intense emotion gets tied to them. Has that ever happened to you?”
“Cinnamon and chocolate muffins coming in hot for the newest magic crew in this snake pit we call a castle!” said John, balancing a giant tray in his hands while kicking the door open and entering the room. Raven blinked twice, her senses snapping back into place. She was actually thankful for Constantine’s interruption—dealing with her emotions at that moment wasn’t something she wanted to do in front of a stranger, even if said stranger seemed kind and understanding.
“Oh, John, your dramatic entrance ruined everything!”
“Don’t blame me if your loyal servant can’t mask his utter misery at being in this place.”
“You just didn’t have to barge in yelling, Constantine.”
“Oh, Zatanna, have you still not figured out how charming I am?”
“John, John…”
Zatanna rolled her eyes, stood up, and pulled a small table closer to the armchairs, adjusting it so the tray sat in the middle with the three chairs around it. John quickly placed the giant tray down and flopped into the seat across from Raven. Her instructor lifted her hands—instantly, the door locked with a click, the curtains pulled in tighter, and finally, with glowing eyes, Zatanna sealed the sound in the room so no one outside could hear a thing.
Sitting down without a drop of sweat on her face, Zatanna Zatara gracefully settled into her seat, smiled at the two of them, and grabbed a chocolate cookie.
“I don’t know if John told you, Miss Rachel, but we magic folk—we stick together.”
Chapter 23: XXIII
Chapter Text
It was ball night once again. Two weeks had passed since the last ball, and now there she was again—standing, arms raised, while the maids helped her. The fabric slipped over her head as Raven reflected on the events of the past and present. She and Lady Shiva had started training together, and not a single day had passed without the woman putting her through rigorous sessions. It had been so grueling and exhausting that, at her breaking point, Raven had fainted from stress at the start of the second week—an incident that reached the ears of both the princess and the king, who scolded her for being too weak. She needed to be strong, they said. She needed to prepare for the upcoming coronation that loomed closer with each passing week.
Raven’s stress and anger only grew, and she was now suffering from hair loss. Still, she had begged her maids not to tell anyone, knowing it would only cause more trouble. She had resumed meditating—more frequently this time—whenever she had even a scrap of time to rest, usually after finishing all her duties and already dressed for sleep.
It was a challenge, of course. Her ability to concentrate was slipping as sleep became heavier and more necessary. That’s why Raven took a spoonful of a potion—one she had crafted herself back when she worked with the People Around the Mountains—to help with her health. Things had improved a little, but she still needed to keep her mind and spirit intact if she hoped to get out of this place alive.
To her dismay, Raven had discovered that her new magic instructor was a rebel against the Al Ghul reign—and that war was looming on the horizon. She had to prepare to fight. That changed everything. It was a total game-changer for her trajectory, and now she was desperately trying to contact her mother or the guiding spirits of Azarath, hoping they could grant her the wisdom to choose the right path. She needed to think fast and be ready for the consequences, the ripple effects this could unleash. These were high-energy times—but ones that required calm and clarity, because she knew that a conflict with the Al Ghuls, if not impossible to win, would certainly be violent and, inevitably, bloody.
Even if Raven hadn’t seen blood spilled in these halls—yet—she remained hyper-aware of the viper’s nest she lived in and the serpents that slithered through it. And well, serpents were known to be clever and silent... until they struck when you least expected it.
A heavy, weary breath escaped Raven’s lips. Her aching muscles twitched as the massive dress finally slid down her torso.
“Oh, what a beautiful dress, miss!”
“Yes.”
“But we won’t be able to put the necklace on you, miss. This dress has a golden extension that covers your bust and chest. What should we do?”
“The necklace…” Raven turned her head toward where the lovely necklace rested on the vanity. The prince had ordered her to wear it at all times. But Raven always took it off—to train, to bathe, to sleep. Something she was more than happy for Damian not to know. He had also promised to replace the wrist cuffs she wore with the necklace, but she hadn’t heard anything about it since. No updates. No action. She hadn’t seen him, or Ra’s, or Talia in days. Only occasionally she caught sight of Jinx—who was in her usual snarky mood.
Jinx had been dressing up more than usual lately—gorgeous and striking. She walked around draped in feathers and gowns that accentuated her tall, slender frame. Her face was painted, lips often red, and no one could ignore her—she looked like a princess from some cold, far-off kingdom. Raven didn’t care why she was investing so much in her looks. She had bigger things to worry about. Still, she silently hoped Jinx would come to her senses because if a war broke out within the castle walls, Raven wanted Jinx on her side—not against her. The fallout would be disastrous for everyone involved.
“All done, miss. You look magnificent!”
“Look how lovely it is!”
Raven studied her reflection in the mirror. The dress was even more flowing than the first one, layered with soft, asymmetrical fabric that created a sense of airiness. It was painted in shades that ranged from deep plum to a sublime violet. It swept the floor and climbed up to her chest, where it was joined by a finely woven bustier. Her bare chest and collar were adorned by the final piece of the dress: golden leaf-like adornments linked together.
“This necklace suits the dress, miss.”
Raven touched her neck and decided not to wear the prince’s heavy piece. The golden choker was light and cool against her skin, with a polished amethyst gem suspended at the center. If the prince complained, she’d call him out on his promise—after all, it was about time she got something out of this arrangement. Tense times required new tactics, and she needed to stop being the weak, timid version of herself.
“Leave it like this. Thank you.”
“Of course, miss.”
The two women nodded and then asked Raven to sit at the vanity so they could do her hair and final touches. The hairstyle was simple yet elegant: two strands pulled back and tied into a braid that trailed down her back. The rest of her hair was brushed and scented, flowing freely. They finished the look with gloves that reached her elbows, meeting the billowy, draped sleeves of the dress.
Someone knocked on the door. One of the maids rose to answer it—it was Jinx.
As usual, she looked stunning. Her gown had a “V” slit on one thigh, revealing a leather boot with swirling designs at the tip. The dress, in shades of white, pink, and black with touches of cream and gold, perfectly suited Jinx’s image. It had long sleeves and was cinched with an extravagant belt. She also wore a golden choker—though hers featured a single gem with pointed, geometric details. Her hair was styled in soft waves that cascaded down her back gracefully.
A true lady of milk and roses. With thorns.
“Today you’re going to talk to as many important people as you can. You’ll also have a lesson I hope you’ll do well in. You’ll stay by my side most of the time, at least until midnight, then you can do whatever you want. Got it?”
“Yes.”
“Great, now let’s go, it’s time.”
The two left the room and headed toward the exit. On the way, they passed Damian’s room, dangerously close to theirs. The snake ready to strike seemed to look at Raven every time she passed by; there was something about that image that reminded her of Damian’s gaze. She couldn’t quite say what it was, but it bothered her.
“Hurry up, Rachel!”
Raven followed Jinx, and soon they were strutting dazzlingly down the castle’s beautiful hallways. Today everything smelled of cinnamon and pepper, immediately reminding her of the princess. It was funny that a whole month had already passed, and Raven had memorized the castle’s scent, her room’s scent, and Talia Al Ghul’s scent. Why exactly the princess’s scent stuck in her mind, she couldn’t explain—she just knew the entire hallways were soaked in the perfume of the Al Ghul court woman.
“We’ll go down together. Keep your head up and stay by my side, but don’t touch me.
Jinx ordered, lifting her head as she stepped out the door and faced the giant staircase of the ballroom.”
“Come.”
Raven discreetly grabbed the sides of her dress and descended as calmly as possible. When she reached the last step, she almost smiled in relief if Jinx hadn’t gently grabbed her arm and linked it with hers while guiding her into the crowd. Raven met more people than she wanted—too much info to process, with many names and faces to remember. Then Jinx lightly pulled her arm and leaned close to whisper in her ear, smiling:
“You’re going to use your powers to detect if Queen Koriand’r is lying or not.”
Her heart pounded in her chest, and she wanted to scream right then as Jinx dragged her along. Not Koriand’r, not that solemn and kind person who had treated her so well. Whatever the Al Ghuls had planned was definitely not to help the queen but to harm her. Raven had learned from Zatanna that Kori was just the figurehead ruling her throne, and her sister Komand’r ruled Tamaran behind closed doors. And Komand’r, or Blackfire as her prisoners called her, obeyed the Al Ghuls, the ones who put her there.
“Queen Koriand’r”Jinx said, calling the orange-skinned woman wearing a crown.
“Yes? Oh, Jinx. Hello, good evening.”
The queen had a solid air of confidence and security radiating from her, and Raven wanted to warn her about what was about to happen—but she knew the punishment would be harsh if she broke any rules. She knew the consequences...
“I heard you plan to leave before the ball ends. Is that true?”
Jinx smiled pleasantly and glanced discreetly at Raven as a friend would, including her in the conversation. Kori looked from Raven to Jinx and back again, as if sensing something was wrong.
“Well, rumors are normal in any large gathering, Miss Jinx. But it’s necessary to separate rumors from truth.”
Kori smiled while turning to Jinx with a pleasant smile. Raven knew the Queen of Tamaran understood Jinx’s question was a test, and she answered it perfectly. Jinx smiled slyly as she took a sip of her bubbly drink. When she finished, she said:
“You’re certainly a great queen, Koriand’r. But if there’s even a trace of truth in those rumors, know that our royalty will not accept your leaving the season early. Especially with Mar’i being one of the prince’s favorites.”
“My husband and I take care of my daughter’s matters, Miss. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’ll go talk to some acquaintances.”
Kori said and, without waiting any longer, ended the brief conversation and went straight to Bruce Wayne, who was talking with Mar’i and a tall man with black hair and fair skin.
“You. I hope you analyzed her reactions, because you’ll have to report to Talia later.”
Jinx said, annoyed, and walked away, leaving Raven completely alone. That had been a direct, brusque conversation—typical Jinx style—and Raven thought it was a total disaster. Still, it was clear Koriand’r was hiding something. Raven’s empathy never failed, especially with her powers flowing freely inside her. But now that her mission was done, Raven no longer felt any magic within her. Frustrated, she looked around. Maybe eating something would help, since they hadn’t fed her before the ball started. Heading toward the tables, before she could reach her destination, someone grabbed her wrist and spun her around.
“So good to see you again, dear.”
A bluish-gray skin, exactly like a corpse’s color, and two onyx eyes looked back at her.
“I confess I couldn’t stop thinking about you and really wanted to invite you to dance.”
“No, thank you. Klarion, right?”
Klarion’s eyes showed how offended he was that she didn’t remember his name.
“Oh, don’t be shy like last time. A little dance won’t hurt.”
He said, and Raven’s body seemed to respond to Klarion’s voice because, against her will, she straightened up and let Klarion start leading her body.
“Hey? What’s hap...”
It took a few minutes for Raven to understand what was really happening. Klarion had bewitched her; either because she was without her magic to use as a shield, or because she didn’t have any amulet to protect herself. Klarion had cast a spell on her, and now Raven’s body was locked in place by magic, obeying the bluish-skinned young man.
“Stay still, Miss Rachel. Let’s just enjoy this dance.”
Raven’s lips clamped shut, and she felt desperation rush through her entire body and soul. The sensation of having no control over her own body and mind was horrifying. She urgently wanted to break free from Klarion’s arms and run away. That crazy boy had her trapped in his arms and was spinning her around from side to side.
“Don’t make that face, Rachel… Oh no, I want you to change it by your own will… You’re such a cutie, you know that?”
Raven could feel the panic start to bubble inside her the more she saw Klarion pulling her across the ballroom, toward the gardens. She wanted to stop moving, wanted to shove away the wizard’s bold touch from her waist, but she couldn’t. The humiliation and fear made her start to lose focus and rationality, and she felt her emotions stuck in her throat as she desperately tried to say something. Klarion kept pulling her further until they were walking through one of the giant doors and were almost completely alone in the garden — except for a pair of gentlemen chatting a few feet away.
“See, Rachel, when I find something beautiful and interesting, I usually shrink it and keep it inside a jar. That goes for anything.”
That guy had to be insane, seriously. There was no other way to explain the madness of what he was saying — there was no way to call that rational. And the worst part of all of it was that even without her powers, Raven could feel the evil radiating off Klarion.
“But since you’re the sorceress of our future king, I’ll settle for just tasting you a little bit, since I can’t keep you in a jar like my other interests.”
Klarion was completely unhinged. Now she understood what was hiding in those dark, lifeless eyes of his: darkness itself. Klarion wasn’t just some random sorcerer — he was a true warlock of darkness. And Raven knew how to recognize when someone was dealing with the dark: darkness left marks on people. It could be in their eyes, their aura, their appearance, or even in the way they expressed themselves. But if you looked closely, you’d see the evil there — quiet, lurking, like it had possessed the person and was sitting there as a warning to everyone.
Klarion stared straight into her eyes, and then Raven felt his magic coursing through her mind and body, acting externally on her. Raven’s feet moved closer to Klarion’s, and he smiled wickedly, full of malice.
“You’re such a pretty girl,” Klarion said as he stroked Raven’s left cheek with his thumb and held her face with the other hand, keeping her in place. A solitary tear slid down Raven’s face as she tried with all her strength to move and speak. Nothing. The magic had her completely under control.
“Why are you crying, gorgeous? It’s just a kiss — it won’t kill you.” It wasn’t just a kiss, Raven wanted to scream. It was her mouth, her body, her dignity — and that man was stealing it from her. She didn’t even have the right or the freedom to move, to express herself. And now she’d also be used as some object of pleasure just because an unhinged young man wanted her that way. Raven didn’t want that — she was drowning in panic, choked with rage and horror, and she wanted more than anything to be safe and get out of there. This was too much.
“Oh, I almost forgot to tell you… your father sends his regards.”
Klarion said this, then pressed his lips to Raven’s. Raven’s body obeyed the commands of Klarion’s magic and even parted her lips. This was too much. No, this couldn’t be happening — not to her. Not to her, not to her. This was her body, and because it was hers, she should be the one to decide what to do with it. And Raven didn’t want to be there — this was abuse.
Klarion pulled her waist closer as thick tears streamed down Raven’s face. Weak and stupid for not being able to defend herself — that’s what she was. She couldn’t use her powers, didn’t know how to break two simple bracelets, she didn’t know how to do anything, and now she was suffering for being exposed and vulnerable. For not going after what she was really capable of. Because Klarion didn’t know who he was dealing with — or maybe he did, since he worked for the forces of the underworld — but this was Raven. And if she had her powers, that sorry excuse for a human standing in front of her would already be burning in the flames of hell.
Swallowing hate and salty tears, Raven was trembling.
“Excuse me, what’s going on here? Rachel?”
Zatanna’s voice rang in Raven’s ears, and Klarion stopped working her lips. He smiled with distaste and pulled his hands and mouth away from the young woman. Raven stood planted like a petrified statue, still unable to move or speak.
“What do you want, Zatanna? Can’t you see I’m in the middle of a private conversation with Miss Rachel?”
“Rachel, are you okay?”
Her teacher asked, totally ignoring Klarion. Raven wanted to say no, that she wasn’t okay, and that she desperately needed her help. She wanted to beg Zatanna to help her because she was frozen by magic and couldn’t even move. But she couldn’t — she couldn’t because she couldn’t speak. And if Zatanna left without helping her, who knows what Klarion would want next? The terror agonized her soul even more, and the tears kept falling, faster and faster down her face.
“Rachel, look at me, please.”
“Go away, she doesn’t want to be disturbed. Rachel and I want to be alone.”
“Shut up, boy! You insolent brat! Rachel, are you alright?”
Zatanna said as she began to approach, and when she got close enough, she saw Rachel’s red eyes and tear-streaked face.
“What did you do?!”
Zatanna turned just in time to see Klarion raising his fist, glowing with black flame. Her hands moved quickly, and before the flame flying through the air could reach her, a brilliant yellow light from her magic projected itself into a complex pentagram that spun through the air and slammed Klarion to the ground. Raven’s despair was so overwhelming that she began to cry freely, her body frozen and stiff like a statue.
“Someone help us, we’re under attack!” Zatanna shouted as she moved to Raven’s side. She placed a hand on her face, assessing her in seconds. “You used magic on her, you bastard!”
Klarion stood up, spitting blood, and began to laugh.
“We're watching you, Zatanna Zatara. And we're dying to eat your flesh while you’re still alive.”
Said the bluish-skinned boy, both hands burning with dark magic. But the voice wasn’t his. A chill ran down Raven’s spine.
“I’m going to wipe out your kind, you underworld vermin! That’s what I’m going to do!”
Zatanna moved her fingers even faster and finally managed to break Klarion’s spell on Raven. She collapsed to the ground, sobbing as she buried her face in her hands. A crowd had already gathered inside the hall, watching in shock what was happening outside.
“What is going on here?”
Talia al Ghul asked in a loud, severe voice. Damian and Ra’s arrived shortly after. The crowd watched, mesmerized by the unfiltered magic spectacle. That was strictly forbidden—no sorcerer, witch, warlock, or mage could use magic without Ra’s al Ghul’s explicit permission. Raven heard the sound of Damian drawing his sword.
“Klarion was using magic on Raven, ma’am. He was abusing her and using magic to do it.”
Klarion laughed loudly and turned to the crowd, fire dancing in his hands.
“Listen, all of you: a war is coming. And there isn’t a single being on this Earth ready for what’s about to happen.” Klarion laughed again and then turned to the gathered onlookers.
“No one can hide from the truth for long, Raven.”
The voice was deep, malevolent, like it had crawled up from the depths of hell. That was the voice that came out of Klarion’s mouth as he looked at Raven, her eyes red and bulging.
“You don’t have much time.”
Then Klarion hurled his magic into the air, striking Zatanna and throwing her across the garden. He laughed loudly once more and rushed toward Raven. The crowd watched in horror as the deranged boy moved—but before he could get any closer to her, Damian was already charging with his sword aimed at Klarion’s head. But it was too late. The young man laughed again and vanished into a dark portal. The katana sliced through empty air, and everyone gasped in shock.
Damian scanned the area, still on high alert, looking for any sign that the suspect might return. The al Ghuls were already gathered around Raven.
“There’s nothing more to see here. Everyone inside, now!”
Said the Demon’s Head, and the black guard surrounded the entire garden. They raised their swords to drive the people back inside. Talia was already barking orders, while John Constantine and Jinx were rushing toward Zatanna, who had hit her head hard on the marble and lay unconscious on the ground. Damian al Ghul surveyed the crowd for a few moments longer, his sword still raised, then turned and knelt beside Raven. He looked at her and removed his cloak, wrapping it around her shoulders. Raven wasn’t cold—she wanted to say that. Her body was burning with rage and humiliation and terror. But she couldn’t stop crying, too exhausted to hold back her emotions or reactions. The tears came freely.
Damian leaned in closer as he took her hand.
“You’re safe now, Rachel. There’s nothing to fear anymore, I’m here to protect you.”
Raven gritted her teeth, trying to hold back her sobs as she processed Damian al Ghul’s words and the feel of his gloved hand on her freezing one. Then someone touched her shoulder, and Raven’s entire body tensed. She turned around and saw the pale face of her mother.
“Raven, he’s coming.”
The terror of seeing Arella in the moonlight, flesh and bone, was enough to make Raven scream in horror. Suddenly, her nose began to bleed, a wave of vertigo swept over her, and she collapsed on the spot. As chaos erupted around her, she could only see the faces of her mother and Damian while the phrase echoed endlessly in her mind:
“He’s coming.”
Chapter 24: XXIV
Chapter Text
“Raven...”
“You can't do this...”
“Control, Raven. Control is the key...”
“You must not let yourself be guided by emotions; keep them under control.”
“Bird of darkness...”
“You can't run from the truth, Raven... Don’t try to escape the truth.”
The world felt like a mixture of cawing crows, voices, and buzzing sounds. Darkness and dampness surrounded her as she plummeted endlessly. The voices still echoed in her head when she blinked her eyes open. The wide stone walls appeared as black and gray shadows, covered in moss, while above her, light radiated down. When Raven finally regained her senses, she realized she was falling. The dizzy sensation and the chill in her stomach made her move her body anxiously and energetically, trying in vain to grab onto something—but there was nothing, as the walls were far too distant. In desperation, she looked up, seeing a cylindrical opening above her head through which the gray light shone.
She wanted to understand how she was falling there, how she’d gotten to that opening. Had someone pushed her? Had she thrown herself to die? In terror, she realized the answers didn’t matter—she was going to fall to her death in the dark abyss below. Raven’s body sank against the air as the fall brought her closer to the ground with each passing second, and she prayed to the monks and gods to look after her soul. Her heart pounded, and tears streamed down her face. She looked up again, the air rushing through her hair, sending water droplets upward as she descended. This was the end; at least she would die and rid herself of her filthy destiny. At least she and her sins would finally be paid for—all the lives she had once taken would finally see justice. Just like her fate and her past, for it was a rule: death takes everything.
There was no escape now, as Raven felt death’s arms opening for her, the bottom of the pit drawing near. She swallowed her despair and terror hard, closing her eyes and curling her body in a final gesture of comfort to herself. What a blessing death was. For Azarath, for her people.
Raven’s body hit the ground hard, her skull and bones vibrating as if she were resounding metal, like a heavy bell struck by a strong enough rod. The pain shredded her senses, which were too damaged and numbed to process the sheer size and intensity of it all at once. Her lungs ached, and for a moment, Raven held her breath... She opened her eyes, her body sprawled in a cruciform shape, unable to move. Everything was so silent; even her thoughts were muted. Raven blinked again; the opening above was now so distant, so small, yet the light still managed to reach her.
She heard voices—she couldn’t tell whose, or even if they belonged to a man or a woman. She blinked one last time and then moved her fingers, flexing the joints. The pain was horrendous and worsened when she bravely shifted her right side to the left and propped herself up on her right hand. Raven’s body screamed in agony, and she shut her eyes against the dizziness. Again, the voices—not just one now. As if there were actually people talking there, at the end of the world.
Raven lifted her head, her hair falling like curtains around her face. What she saw surprised her. An elegant door stood ajar, and the floor around it was made of white marble, extending irregularly until it connected with the stone floor where she lay. Raven took a deep breath and moved her body.
“I don’t believe this.”
A familiar voice sounded from the half-open darkness. Raven recognized that voice, she realized. She just didn’t know from where, but she knew it. Someone laughed.
“What is this?” Raven whispered to herself as she shifted and pushed herself off the ground. The dizziness hit her again, and she steadied herself on both knees. Raven noticed she was wearing pants and boots when she touched the fabric. She didn’t remember those clothes, but the protective feel of the pants and being covered from neck to toe felt good. Another laugh. Raven looked at the alluring darkness stretching through the folds of the wooden door.
Her legs moved, and she headed toward the door. With slow, cautious steps, she approached it. The conversations stopped; there was no sound, only the silence of the wind. Taking one last step, she reached out her hand, lifting it into the air. Without even touching the wood, the doors opened. Raven might have hesitated, but all her instincts led her there—to enter, to step into the mysterious darkness. The pain vanished from her body as she crossed the threshold.
A beautiful corridor, illuminated by green and blue flames. The walls and floor were made of black marble, gleaming with the light’s reflection. There were beautifully sculpted white columns, supporting the vaulted ceiling of a small chamber to the right, where a chandelier hung from the ceiling. There was no smell there, and the temperature was slightly cold. A small black table with two black velvet armchairs sat in one corner, with a vase of red roses atop it. That corner was a bit darker, as the fire wasn’t lit on the slope of the back wall.
Raven heard the rustle of fabric and turned her head in that direction.
She was surprised to find a woman looking at herself in a giant mirror on the other side of the room. The mirror was tall and wide, adorned with gleaming black details. Raven then focused on the figure dressed in black. The woman wore a long train dress with a low back that stopped at the top of her hips. Her hair was fully styled and loose, shining in a gorgeous shade of radiant purple. Raven saw the woman adjusting the crown on her head, setting it over the smooth surface of her hair. Raven then heard a distant door open and the sound of footsteps. She turned around, startled, ready to get the hell out of there. But the door had disappeared, and now she only saw beautiful plaster designs on the wall.
Spotting a chance to hide in the dark corner near the armchairs, she nestled deeper into the shadows as the footsteps grew louder. A man entered the room. Tall, broad-shouldered, with skin as pale as death itself, just like the woman’s. Raven was relieved not to be noticed, so she just held her breath as the man stopped a few inches from the woman and placed a hand on her shoulder.
“You look divine, my daughter. As always.”
“Thank you, father.”
Raven wanted to see the woman’s reaction, but she could only make out her back.
“We mustn’t keep the guests waiting.”
The woman let out a mocking chuckle, then turned around. The girl smiled, and then the father turned and offered his hand elegantly. What Raven saw froze her in place. Now that she could see them from the front, their features were crystal clear. That face, those red lips, her hair, her shoulders. That was her. That was Raven—and she was seeing herself.
And the man beside her was the same man Raven had once seen in the spell room. The one with red eyes and a macabre smile.
Raven brought her hand to her mouth, her fingers cold, her heart racing in her chest. The long-haired man wore a crown on his head, just like the daughter. Neither of them seemed to notice as they walked in her direction and turned right, disappearing down the hallway. Both looked like deities, so beautiful and immaculate. The very image of perfection.
Raven's heart pounded, but her legs didn’t get the memo—they kept moving on their own as she walked down the hallway and followed through the door. She stepped into a grand ballroom where a crowd stood in a circle around the father and daughter, who were dancing. Like angels, the two moved with grace and lightness. When the woman spun away from her father, she gazed around gracefully and majestically. Her eyes radiated power, confident in who they were.
A blond man approached the woman, dressed in purple pants and a matching coat that shimmered with the sheer quality of the fabric. His light blond hair and tall frame left no doubt as to who he was. Jericho. The man gave a deep bow and then took the woman's hand. The two began to dance, moving across the ballroom like they were the only ones that existed. They looked like gods—so serene and beautiful. Raven blinked—and suddenly, she was looking at the man. Now she was that royal woman. Jericho was gazing at her, his soft green eyes filled with admiration and love. Raven couldn't stop her legs from moving as she danced and waltzed gracefully across the black marble floor. But her body didn’t feel embarrassed.
“You must protect yourself, Raven.”
“What?”
Jericho stopped, and Raven followed his lead. She blinked and then felt a hand on her shoulder. She turned around. Arella, her mother, was there.
“You’re in danger, Raven. He’s closer than you think. You must protect yourself.”
Arella wore a cream-white dress and had a serene face, though her eyes betrayed fear and urgency.
“I won’t be able to stay here... much longer... you must protect yourself. Protect yourself.”
“Protect myself how? Mom, please. What’s happening?”
“He’s coming. Protect yourself.”
Another hand touched her shoulder, but when she turned—there was no one there. And the ballroom vanished. It was just her now, with a small light above her head, illuminating a perfect circle around her.
“You can have everything you want, my dear. Power, money, men, knowledge, wisdom—everything. Anything you desire and deserve.”
Raven, stunned, only realized she was walking when she saw the man holding her arms and gently guiding her. A gigantic room full of books, floor to ceiling, adorned in gold and marble. A massive canopy bed with black drapes, where Raven saw her own mirage reading calmly and serenely atop the bed. Then, she was among people who were all chanting her name as she stood on a balcony, a figure radiating power. Raven looked like a queen. People knelt around her and again she saw herself walking. Now she was tangled up, on a low bed, among bodies entwined with hers, giving her pleasure. She saw her own nakedness, but felt no shame—numb in a trance-like state, as if under a spell. Her face twisted in pleasure as people touched her, and Raven moved her body, tired of witnessing that intimate spectacle.
“Don’t be afraid of pleasure and the good things in life, Raven. You were born from pleasure itself.”
With every ounce of strength she had, she bolted. The scene changed again—now an endless void. She ran as fast as she could. This had to be temptation itself. The Devil calling out to her, asking her not to deny her true nature. Telling her not to hide from the truth of what... of what she could be... of what she was. Desperate, she ran even faster, a loud, terrifying laugh echoing through the darkness—from everywhere at once.
Unconsciously, she turned around—only to discover she was being chased by a man dressed in black from head to toe. The image of his height and speed sent her heart into pure horror. She lunged forward faster, wishing she could rip off the heavy dress that held her back. She needed to escape. To protect herself. Someone was coming.
A desperate scream reached her throat as she felt a hand touch her waist. Losing her balance, she tumbled to the ground, and the man was immediately on top of her, pinning her down, stopping her from getting up. Raven thrashed wildly, full of rage and horror and a desperate need to break free.
“ Let me go! Help! Let me go, I want to go home! ”
She screamed at the top of her lungs. Then she saw him remove his mask. Damian Al Ghul. The prince smiled with a horrid gleam of sadistic pleasure and leaned over her, gripping both her arms.
“ Let me go!!! Let me go!!! I want to go home!!! Home, let me go!!! ”
She kept screaming, but Damian Al Ghul didn’t seem to hear or care. He kept leaning closer until she could smell him, feel the heat of his body pressing against hers. When his breath was just inches from her lips, she shut her eyes, boiling with hatred, screaming—
—and he kissed her.
Raven woke up screaming. Wailing.
Her heart still pounded in desperation and the horror still coursed through her veins. She felt the bed jolt, and the wall behind her cracked with a loud bang. She was still yelling when her awareness returned and she realized where she was—and who was across the room.
Damian Al Ghul ran to her.
Raven’s eyes widened in terror and she flung herself backward, screaming at him to stay away. Thunder roared as a lightning bolt flashed, lighting up the darkness of the room.
The prince froze, hands up, cautious. Raven now felt the weight of exhaustion, the blinding headache that dulled her senses. She still didn’t understand how she got there, what was going on, why she was in that dark room—or why Damian Al Ghul was there. All she could remember was what had just happened in that other place, and it felt way too real to be just a dream.
He took another step closer and spoke, as rain began pelting the closed windows.
“Rachel, calm down. You’re delirious. You’re burning up with fever and I need you to calm down now or I’ll have to take drastic measures.”
Raven blinked, struggling to breathe. Now that she could smell things and feel everything more vividly than in that other world, the crushing fatigue hit her hard. Weeks of stress and trauma had caught up with her. But all she could feel was rage, hate, sorrow, horror, and despair—like her insides were boiling and the fever was just her body externalizing it all.
Tears streamed down her face. She couldn’t hold them back. She hugged her legs and buried her face between her arms. Another clap of thunder echoed through the room, longer, louder, shaking everything.
Then she felt the prince’s hand on her arm.
And that’s when her body snapped.
Like an electric jolt shot through her spine.
A burning flame of darkness and hatred ignited in her chest. Raven raised her left hand—and the prince was hurled diagonally into the left wall.
Raven floated off the bed, levitating toward him.
Even though he was still reeling from the blow, Damian instinctively went for his katana. But before he could draw it, her right hand lifted—and the prince was pinned to the wall, choking, held by invisible hands at his throat.
A guttural growl rumbled from Raven’s throat as she floated closer. Her eyes burned red. Her bare body bathed in darkness, her skin glowing with heat.
She laughed. Then growled. Hovering, watching the face of the human prince. His eyes wide, his mouth gasping for air.
“Stay away from my daughter, you pathetic human.
You think I don’t know what you feel when you're near her?!”
Raven snarled louder, her hair floating wildly around her.
The door burst open—Zatanna Zatara and John Constantine came crashing in.
Both panting, flushed from running all the way from the magic chamber to Raven’s quarters. The magical energy radiating from the room was so intense there was no doubt something real was happening—especially after that second, massive thunderclap.
Zatanna’s hunch had been right. And when she saw the demonic figure floating before the prince, the sorceress knew she had to act fast.
“John, shield us. Now!”
Rachel turned her face toward them. Her red eyes gleamed.
“Damian, hold on—and try not to die.”
Zatara spoke, then quickly moved her hands, the spell already forming in her mind and projecting onto her lips as she gathered enough strength inside herself and chanted it. An intricate yellow key shimmered and, when it grew to the size of the room, Zatanna threw it over Rachel. Rachel had already tried to attack but was stopped only because John protected them. Damian was still trapped in Rachel’s right hand grip, and she knew he wouldn’t last long given his purplish skin tone. Whatever was inside Rachel wasn’t weak or simple.
“It’s a demon, Zatanna! We need to get it out of there now or it’s going to kill Damian!”
The windows flew open and rain started pouring in. The demon whispered something into Damian’s ear, but the prince only shook violently. Damian’s size and muscle had been no match for Raven’s small hand and her thin, exhausted form, which had ten thousand times more strength than him.
“You are not welcome in this body or this room. Get out right now, you evil creature!” — Touching Raven on her burning skin and burning herself in the process. The direct touch would ensure the spell worked inside Raven immediately, breaking the demon from within and destroying it. So, while her palm burned as if she were touching a boiling cauldron, Zatanna forced herself to hold on tight.
Rachel’s body collapsed to the floor along with the prince; they both hit the ground hard. John moved closer and ran over to her, grabbing her injured hand and pouring a vial of potion he had in his pocket onto Zatanna’s wound. Relief came instantly.
Rachel began sobbing on the floor; the prince, still gasping for breath, took off his jacket and laid it over the young woman’s bare body as he lifted her up from the ground. Through tears, she threw her head forward, vomiting black slime. After two minutes, when it looked like she was about to throw up her guts, Rachel stopped vomiting. The foul smell of sulfur hit everyone’s noses; Zatanna and John exchanged a look. Damian was panting but still holding Rachel’s arms. With a pale, deathly face and horrendous dark circles under his eyes, as if two days of sleep weren’t enough to heal his mind and body, and red eyes from crying so much, Raven looked at Zatanna, who crouched next to her the next second, filled with pity and worry for that gaunt young woman. The sorceress took her by the arms, holding her and comforting her like a mother would a crying child.
“It’s okay, Rachel. It’s over now, we’re here, and that thing won’t come back to your body anymore.”
“I want to go home, Zatanna. Please.”
Zatanna looked at Constantine, who looked back. Both were full of pain, unable to give Rachel freedom since they were also servants of Ra’s Al Ghul, and like the shackles on the young woman’s wrists, they were also trapped—each by something they loved.
The prince knelt near Rachel again.
“What the seven hells is going on here?!”
Talia Al Ghul appeared, wearing black boots, pants, and a blouse. Her hair was braided on the side. A sword was in her hands. John, Zatanna, and Damian exchanged glances, all more confused than the princess herself.
Chapter 25: XXV
Chapter Text
“Eat another plate.”
Talia watched Rachel. This was the second plate of food she was forcing her to eat.
“I don’t know how you think you’re going to defend my son looking like some underfed beggar. I already told you, you need to get strong, girl.”
The princess sighed, impatient.
“This certainly isn’t my job, and I’m not your maid.”
Raven finished eating and wiped her dirty mouth with a napkin. Talia Al Ghul was visibly irritated.
“The king said if you want to kill yourself with weakness, you should ask him to do it with his own hands. Both of you!”The princess called the two servants. “Two spoonful of iron tonic down her throat right now.”
“I don’t want to.”
“You don’t have to want to. Now shut up and swallow.”
The girls stepped forward in front of Raven, and the young woman had no choice but to open her mouth so they could pour the tonic. The liquid went down her throat.
“Great, now leave. I want to be alone with Miss Rachel.”
The two servants bowed and left, leaving the princess and the sorceress alone, in privacy.
“Sit here.”
Talia tapped her fingers on the dressing table. Her face was an expressionless mask; all her irritation had disappeared. Raven put the tray aside, got up from the bed, and went to the indicated spot. When she sat down, the princess took a silver brush and began to comb her hair.
“You know, Rachel... or should I call you Raven?”
Raven’s eyes widened, and she watched Talia’s face in the mirror.
“In my castle and kingdom, nothing happens without me knowing. The people who work here... I know everything about their lives, where they live, their families’ names, who has children or not, and their real names.”
Talia’s face was a real mask, and her voice sounded like a serpent’s. Despite that, her hands were soft on Raven’s scalp.
“Now tell me, if you don’t want to be punished immediately, why did you lie about your name?”
Raven held her breath, eyes wide. Memories of that shameful, terrible night at the ball popped into her mind, when Klarion revealed her real name and her true identity.
“I didn’t want... them to know what my real name was.”
Talia stopped combing and stood beside her, taking her face in one hand.
“Now tell me, Raven. How did you manage to cast magic with the bracelets still on your wrists?”
“I don’t know, I just know I lost control of my body.”
“And you tried to assassinate my son.”
Talia shot her a threatening look.
“I didn’t have control of my body, I couldn’t control it. I think it was possession, like Zatanna said. They found a possession artifact among my vomit.”
“It’s not just that, is it?”
Talia’s gaze was so powerful and intense that Raven couldn’t help but reveal her feelings through her eyes.
“You’re going to tell me everything.”
It wasn’t a request—it was a command and a threat. And Raven couldn’t lie. As she explained her past to Princess al Ghul, she came to the conclusion that the princess's intentions had been genuine from the start. She only wanted Raven to work in the protection of her son and believed Raven's abilities were limited to what she’d seen. This led Raven to realize that some game was indeed being played among the al Ghuls, and someone didn’t have good intentions—someone was hiding something.
Arella had warned her that Ra’s al Ghul had something in mind involving the ancient magic book, and now Raven was beginning to piece together the puzzle she had found herself in. When she finished, and Talia asked her to remain silent about what had transpired between them—promising a future reward—Raven just nodded in agreement.
That afternoon, Raven was dismissed from training with Lady Shiva, which came as a surprise since the princess still wanted her to work on her physical conditioning. So when her trainer let her go, the girl figured she’d clear her mind a bit and wander around the castle. Exiting the training room through the far side, Raven was greeted by a vast sky painted in shades of grey. The storm from the previous night had cooled the entire kingdom, and now the cold had finally arrived. A gust of wind swept through her hair, and she decided to go for a walk, since the sleeveless outfit she wore offered no warmth.
She took the path to the right and walked until she came upon an open room and stepped inside. Unlike the others, the interior of this room was made of stone. In one corner, there was a massive pile of hay, in another, two enormous wooden buckets, and in the center, a giant bone. Raven tried to understand the purpose of all these things—why they were there—but all she found was an empty room with no answers. That’s when she heard a noise, and a massive shadow stretched across the stone floor in the light. Raven turned, sensing something deeply wrong. In front of her stood a massive red beast with a demonic appearance, staring at her with sharp, focused eyes.
Raven wondered if Death itself had come chasing her in a desperate attempt to reap her soul—because there was no possible ending here except being devoured by that monstrous mouth. The creature kept staring, its face unmoving, its eyes as intense as the princess’s, as if they could read her soul. Raven trembled with fear and looked around for an exit, but the doorway was blocked by the beast. The massive red thing growled at her as she raised her hands—a clear sign she didn’t want to fight—but the creature seemed to interpret it the opposite way and took a step closer.
Raven didn’t wait. She bolted to the side, trying to flee. She barely took three steps before the beast’s massive paw knocked her down hard. Raven hit the ground with a thud. Twisting quickly, she turned to face the death coming toward her—only for the creature, with those intense eyes, to suddenly lick her with a giant tongue.
The stench of its breath wasn’t enough to snap her out of shock. The creature wagged its massive tail and lowered its head to the floor, resting its head on its paws. Its playful eyes shone with genuine joy, as if Raven were a friend—not a complete stranger who had just trespassed into its home.
The beast growled again and let out a roar, as if asking Raven to do something. It wagged its tail again and didn’t stop until Raven blinked in disbelief and stood up.
“I thought I was going to die.”
The horrid creature began to hop around—gleefully.
“I almost died yesterday, and I thought I was going to die today. Don’t think I’m in the mood to play.”
The creature ran toward Raven again, chasing her. Raven took off running, a little scared, but grateful that her life wasn’t in danger.
“I want to leave. I’m not going to play.”
Raven said as she ran, then stopped after circling the room enough times. Panting, she leaned against the wall, and the creature licked her hair. Raven felt the drool soak her neck and shoulders.
“No.” — With no way to resist, she turned to the beast. — “I don’t know you, but I’m glad you didn’t kill me. Then again, dying wouldn’t be the worst option.” Raven was a coward when it came to the unknown, but hey — what did it cost to be nice to a creature that just wanted to play?
“My name’s Raven. Nice to meet you. I’ll only play with you if you promise not to eat me alive.”
The creature let out a playful growl and licked Raven’s outstretched arm. When the beast finally went still, she reached out and touched its skin. Hot like summer days, its skin was a deep red, rough to the touch. Raven stroked the creature, which gave a happy snort.
“Does no one play with you around here, or are you just bored out of your mind?”
The creature looked at her, then pulled away from her touch and threw itself belly-up on the floor. Raven laughed, fascinated.
“Huh, you want belly rubs at that size?”
The creature gave another growl as if to say yes. Raven figured there was no harm in pleasing this giant, friendly beast, so she walked over and placed her hand on its belly, starting to pet it. The creature wiggled its hips on the floor slightly, clearly delighted. Raven smiled, amazed.
“You’re such a gentle creature, I think you deserve a bit more love.” — Raven intensified her affection, and the creature wagged its tail in pleasure.
“You are just the cutest thing.” — Raven laughed, entertained by the fascinating creature. — “I think we can be friends. What’s your name?” — she asked, full of energy, matching the beast’s chaotic vibe and doubling down on the belly rubs.
“Goliath.”
Raven turned to the familiar voice, stunned. Damian stood in his training outfit — black, lightweight clothing. His body was sweaty, but his eyes held a shocking calm and unreadable expression. As if last night’s events hadn’t happened at all. As if Raven wasn’t just there, playing with a giant beast.
“What are you doing here, Miss Rachel? This is a restricted wing of the castle.”
“I didn’t know. No one told me.”
“Goliath is mine. Step away from him.”
Raven backed away from the creature immediately. Damian’s voice was harsh and firm.
“I don’t want to see you near my creature again. Understood?”
Raven nodded, shame washing over her. She liked having her personal space and boundaries respected — which is why she respected others’ too, even if Damian hadn’t shown her the same courtesy in the past. His stern face and closed-off body language made it clear: the prince didn’t appreciate Raven messing with what was his. The creature snorted and let out a soft whimper, calling out for Raven’s touch again.
“Waiting to be dragged out of here? Go on, leave.” — Damian said as he approached and placed a hand on the beast’s head.
Raven walked out, but not before looking back at Goliath, who now had his eyes downcast, saddened by the loss of a rare, kind companion.
A storm had started again, and the cold was so much more intense now that night had fallen. Raven had spent the entire afternoon meditating and reflecting on everything that had happened to her since the night of the ball. If it hadn’t been for four straight hours of deep, uninterrupted meditation, her nerves would be on the verge of another breakdown. By late afternoon, Talia’s attendants had given her more spoonfuls of iron tonic and other things. They also checked under her eyes and took her pulse.
With a blank expression, Jinx had knocked on her door shortly after sunset. She was more serious and quiet than usual, her face like a stone mask. She wore a pink velvet dress. Her hair was gracefully styled over her shoulders, but her face was bare of any makeup—sober. She didn’t say a single word as she moved through the room and sat down on the bed beside Raven. She stared at her hands for several long seconds. She opened and closed her fingers, and her lips formed a thin, conflicted line. When she finally looked up at Raven, Jinx didn’t show empathy—but she didn’t show apathy either. She was like a blank page.
“You’re not going back home, Rachel.”
Jinx’s eyes were like two distant pink diamonds.
“But you won’t be violated either… Not like Klarion did.”
Raven’s eyes widened at the statement. Jinx’s voice was mechanical, completely devoid of empathy.
“You’re a true sorceress, and your body belongs to you. It must not be violated. Klarion or any other man will not do again what happened at the ball that night—or anything else you don’t want.” Jinx looked up at the ceiling, like everything she wasn’t showing on the outside was boiling inside her.
She stood up abruptly, her face distant, her posture upright like some cruel, indifferent princess. But then she looked back at Raven, and as if she were in immense pain and agony—like it was costing her the world—Jinx hesitantly extended her arm and placed a hand on Raven’s right shoulder. It was a brief touch, just a few seconds, and then Jinx pulled her hand back and said, reverting to her usual mischievous, irreverent smirk:
“I think a little fun would do you good, little girl.”
“Where exactly is this fun supposed to be?”
Raven was cold. She only wore one layer under the dress, and the chill crept up her legs. Not that Raven didn’t like the cold—of course not, she lived in the Mountains, where it was freezing. But most of the time, Raven lived inside her own parallel universe, one she had created herself, and in there the temperature was always mild, never changed. She only left it when she had to visit the neighboring kingdom or when she had to go clear snow from the cemetery.
That’s why the heavy rain falling outside, along with the steady drop in temperature, made her want to curl up under some blankets and sleep. Raven was grateful for the effects of her meditation—her mind felt clearer, though her spirit was still shaken. But if she could keep meditating and organizing her thoughts, she could definitely start piecing things together.
“We’re here.”
Jinx pushed open a door and steam hit Raven’s face, along with a wave of warmth. They stepped inside. The place had wide stone walls and a concrete floor, and several hot steam pools stretched out ahead of them.
“Welcome to the royal sauna.”
Raven watched the hot steam rise from the water, concealing the true size of the room.
“Come on, it’s cold. Don’t just stand there.”
Jinx started undressing and walked toward the left corner, where long wooden hooks were waiting to hold their clothes. She stripped the dress off quickly and, while Raven was still surveying the place, Jinx was already stepping into one of the hot pools. She let out a loud moan of pleasure.
“So damn good.” With her eyes closed, Jinx sunk her body down to her shoulders and turned to Raven, resting her weight on what seemed to be an inner step in the pool. “You gonna stand there like an idiot? Move it, Rachel.”
Despite not wanting to be naked in front of Jinx, Raven was dying to feel that warmth on her skin—especially with her fingers and legs practically frozen. She walked over to the hooks and turned her back, starting to undress. It took her several minutes, but in the end, she managed to get out of the corset and dress all by herself.
“Turn around, Jinx.”
Jinx let out a sigh, but then there was the sound of water moving, and Raven knew she had done it.
"Just don’t run or you’ll slip. Walk slowly and hold onto something while going down the steps, it’s slippery."
Raven followed her advice and couldn’t hold back a sigh of pleasure as she entered the hot water. She went over to Jinx, who turned around. Even with the heat, Jinx had no color in her face—her skin remained white as snow. Her eyes were closed, and her face was calm. Raven settled near her and closed her eyes too, her whole body melting. The tension, the cold, the anxiety—all of it fading. They stayed like that in silence for a long while.
"I built it."
"What?"
"This sauna. I built it."
Raven opened her eyes, surprised. Jinx did the same, her features relaxed and beautiful.
"When I got here, this place didn’t exist. Over time, after I mastered my powers and learned everything I could about magic, I engineered this place. I already knew this castle was my home, so why not improve it? I’ve always liked the heat, you know, and that gave me an affection for fire. So I set up the furnaces that keep this place running."
"This place heats up without using wood?"
"Yeah. With my magic, I keep all the furnaces working during the cold seasons without needing wood."
"And it doesn’t stop burning?"
"No, only when I want it to. Or when the princess or the king ask me to."
Raven was stunned. That kind of ability was one of the most ingenious and brilliant things she’d ever heard.
"I also designed the room. The whole blueprint."
"You’re joking."
"Nope. Not joking."
Raven couldn’t hide her astonishment and admiration.
"You could develop something too, Rachel. You just have to stop being afraid of your potential."
Raven looked at her and started moving through the pool. Jinx remained with her forehead resting on the stone.
"Did you love this castle from the moment you stepped in?"
"No."
That answer—no hesitation, no fear, just the raw truth.
"So why did you stay?"
"I found my home in this place."
"Did it take long?"
"More or less."
"Where did you live before coming here?"
Jinx opened her eyes but didn’t answer. Her face was expressionless.
"Next question."
"Do you plan to live here for the rest of your life?"
Jinx let out a heavy sigh, holding in whatever had just passed through her mind.
"When the wheel of fate turns, Rachel, there’s nothing we can do but follow. Whatever the Fates choose for me is theirs to decide. My destiny is already set. I’ll accept it, whatever it is."
Said Jinx, then she fully submerged her head in the water. Raven heard footsteps approaching and turned around—a servant was looking at her.
"Miss Jinx!"
Jinx surfaced, taking a deep breath. Water dripped from her lashes and cheeks.
"What do you want, you idiot lackey?"
"The princess requests your presence in her chambers immediately."
Jinx scoffed and threw her head back in irritation. When her head came back down, she ran her hands over her face and hair, wiping away the water.
"I’ll go now. Let her know. Now leave."
"Yes, ma’am."
The lackey gave a brief bow and left. Jinx turned to Raven.
"Rachel, from today on, you can use your magic freely to defend yourself from any man who tries to engage in sexual activity you don’t want. You’re allowed to hurt them too."
Jinx said, and left. Raven smiled and dunked her head into the hot water.
Chapter 26: XXVI
Chapter Text
Raven was enjoying the warmth of the water; it had been a while since Jinx had left, giving her a rare opportunity for contemplation and meditation. The forced kiss with Klarion resurfaced in her mind, along with the feelings of humiliation and anger. That episode, along with what happened with Jon, were clearly traumatic events that disturbed her soul and heart. And even though she wanted answers from the latter and a reckoning with the former, Raven knew something was deeply wrong around her—and that whatever it was, it would surface soon. So she needed to have a clear mind to deal with the tribulations to come.
With that intention, Raven sighed and shifted her body. That’s when she heard the door open. Thinking it was Jinx or a servant, she lifted her head—only to see Damian al Ghul entering, dressed in his black training tunics. The prince’s gaze locked onto Raven the moment he sensed her presence. She immediately sank deeper into the water, leaving only her neck and head exposed.
“I’m glad I’ll have company today, Miss Rachel.”
“Don’t tell me you’ve already forgotten how you treated me earlier today?”
The prince walked over to the wooden hooks and began undressing without replying.
“You’re really going to undress in front of me?”
“Yes. Does that bother you?”
“Yes, it does.”
Raven sighed and turned her back to him, annoyed. She had planned to get out just then, but now that Damian was there, she’d have to figure out another way to leave without being noticed. It didn’t take long before she heard his footsteps echoing against the stone floor. There were no other sounds in that massive dimension of hot pools—just the footsteps of his royal nosiness. Then she heard the splash of water and the gentle ripple around her. Raven immediately turned.
“What are you doing?!”
Just the sight of his torso made every nerve in her body scream with embarrassment. Aside from Jon and Jericho, Damian was now the third guy she’d seen naked. And Raven didn’t want to admire him for even one second longer—she couldn’t take it. She felt weirdly… strange inside.
“I’m getting in.”
“Does it have to be here? Look how many pools there are in this place, Damian.”
The prince completely ignored her and hit her with that damned snake-like stare. Of all the things Raven hated about him since they met, that was at the top of the list—that damned look. At first she’d found it just odd, but second by second, encounter after encounter, it was becoming harder and harder to look away. And it made her extremely uncomfortable. That discomfort—she didn’t know how to describe it, define it, or fight it off. And it was getting to be too much. Her body felt hot and weak. She was done with Damian al Ghul’s snake stares. This place was way too small for both of them—let alone this pool. Too hot, too cramped—she needed to get away.
As Damian slowly walked toward her, Raven started moving in the opposite direction.
"I’d prefer if you ignored my presence like you did at the ball and in the library, Rachel."
"You're the one walking toward me!"
"Just ignore me, no need to run away. Do I really repulse you that much?"
Raven glanced to the side, toward the door, toward the wooden hooks where her clothes were hanging—with Damian’s next to them. She didn’t want to look into the prince’s eyes, or at his skin, or at the water rolling off his chest as he walked. Raven was pissed.
"My opinion of you hasn’t changed since the day I met you. Nothing’s changed. So let’s do this—I'll stay on one side and you stay on the other."
Saying that, she stopped in her tracks at the opposite end, near the stairs leading out of the pool.
"You can’t even be in the same place as me? What are you afraid of? That I’ll touch you without permission? I won’t touch you unless you ask."
"You've already done that without me asking, Damian."
"That’s not the kind of touch I meant."
Raven looked away again. She understood exactly what Damian meant. She dunked her head underwater, trying to wash away the thoughts clouding her brain, and deliberately came up with her back to him. But when she turned around, Damian was gone. When he resurfaced, Raven couldn’t help but follow his movements. Water streamed from every part of him—droplets gliding down his chest, his shoulders, neck, mouth, and eyes. The prince ran his hands through his hair, over his face, clearing away the excess water. Then he locked eyes with her. Raven sank into the water until only her nose and eyes remained above the surface.
That strange sensation hit her again like a truck—overwhelming, suffocating. She had to breathe deep, had to sigh. With lethal precision and calm, Damian began moving toward her again; those two green sapphires that belonged to the Devil himself locked onto her and froze her in place. Raven couldn’t look away. She rose again until her shoulders broke the surface, then drew a deep breath. A dizzy warmth, like a low-grade fever, swept over her body and she couldn’t think of anything except the sheer intensity of Damian Al Ghul’s gaze.
Every second her body felt hotter, like she was melting from the inside out. She felt hypnotized. Hooked. Trapped. Deliciously trapped. Raven gasped. When Damian stopped two feet away from her, she felt crushed… like four walls were closing in on her and the only way out was through him. And then came the undeniable heat between her legs—strange, burning, and real. Her nipples were hard, her neck was hot and sensitive, and even the cold air made her shiver.
"You’re so flushed right now, sweetheart. You look adorable like this, Rachel."
Where was the twisted prince who’d kidnapped her from the mountains? Where was that arrogant, threatening figure? Where was the self-important tyrant who thought he ruled the world? Where? All Raven could see in front of her were two green eyes—two silk ribbons wrapping tightly around her, leaving no room to breathe. As if she were a body without a soul, or a soul unlinked from a body, she watched as Damian raised his hand and placed it gently on her neck. Raven’s body lit up with pleasure and melted as his thumb traced slow circles over her skin. Every rotation sent shivers down her spine, and the heat dancing in her core made her dizzy with how fiercely it burned.
"You’re a very special girl, Rachel."
Damian’s hand moved from her neck to her arm, caressing the bare length of it. Her skin instantly missed the warmth of his touch on her throat.
"Your body’s asking for it, isn’t it?" Damian pulled his hand away and moved around her left side, circling her like a predator. And she stood there like a statue—like the victim of some venomous strike, paralyzed down to her soul. She couldn’t think of anything but the fire between her thighs and how her body betrayed her by craving her enemy’s touch. The venomous snake whispered near her left ear, the heat in Raven’s chest pounding with every word.
"From the moment I laid eyes on you, Raven, I haven’t been able to stop thinking about you—even when you made it clear you didn’t want me to. You feel it too, don’t you? When we look at each other..." Damian leaned in closer, just millimeters from her skin, and breathed against the sensitive flesh of her neck. Then, he placed a small kiss right there—on that vulnerable, bare spot—shattering any last illusion Raven had of keeping Damian Al Ghul at bay when it came to her personal space.
The moan that escaped from deep within her soul shocked her so much that, if Damian hadn’t already started planting more kisses in the same place, Raven would’ve been completely stunned by her own reaction.
But there were no more enemies there—only Damian and Raven, two opposite creatures, yet incredibly alike. Two souls entangling with each other for the first time and discovering the paradise of non-resistance, of acceptance, of true truth. Raven couldn't keep her head up, and when Damian took her by the waist, pressing his right hand over her abdomen, Raven let her head rest on his chest.
The small kisses, which felt more like a sweet poison killing her by the second, stopped, and Damian resumed speaking.
“Don’t think you can run from the truth, Raven. I can’t run anymore—not when I have to look at you, not when I have to hold you while we dance. I’m not used to not getting what I want, but it seems you don’t want me.” Damian paused, watching Raven’s body react and delighting in seeing her soft and flushed with pleasure. “I’m not a cruel man to my subjects. You see, my dear... If they don’t want something, there’s no reason to insist on giving what they don’t wish to receive, is there?” Damian finished, his voice a hypnotic, lethal whisper. The hand that held her in place—the one on her abdomen—began to move, a subtle, provocative touch, sliding up her waist and resting there. Damian caressed the spot with his thumb, the touch controlled so as not to hurt her, not to apply the pressure he so badly wanted to. From there, the touch traveled from her elbow to her neck, where it faded.
“There’s no denying it now, Raven. You’re attracted to me, just as I am to you.”
And, saying that, Damian pressed their bodies together. The pressure of his hard member against her hip was enough to throw Raven back into the real world. A world where that man and she were naked—both of them—enemies clinging like lovers. Ridiculous. Terrible. And Damian desired her... The image of Jericho, her former and only lover, flashed into Raven’s mind. The image of him being banished from Azarath for lying with her, for inciting lust in her being... Raven couldn’t bear the weight of those memories and all their consequences. She immediately pulled away and turned abruptly to face him.
“This! This is... wrong. Get away from me, Damian al Ghul. You kidnapped me, humiliated me, stripped me of my freedom, and you think I—I’m attracted to you? Your little serpent games—” Raven took a deep breath, as if air still eluded her lungs. “You are my enemy, and beyond that pathetic blood code, you and I have nothing—nothing but the knowledge that we’ll never truly get along. Get out of my sight.”
Raven shoved Damian’s body away and, raising all her walls once more, ran from the pool, threw her dress over her body, and slammed the sauna door behind her.
Chapter 27: XXVII
Chapter Text
Raven stormed into her room, cheeks flushed, body on fire. Her mind was a whirlwind of information and thoughts, all at once. It couldn’t be possible that Damian Al Ghul had managed to provoke so many wrong reactions from Raven... it just couldn’t be. How did he have that kind of power over her? She couldn’t go on like that—she needed to calm down. But the infernal heat she felt in her belly, in her cheeks, was overwhelming, and that feeling, that pounding in her chest—she couldn’t understand it. Not understanding what was happening inside her own head was something Raven hated.
Through years of studying the mind and her own behavior, the young Azarathian had learned to tame her thoughts and emotions, and over time, she had learned to classify everything, put it all in its proper place to avoid any chaos or inner turmoil.
So, the mere touch of a little prince—especially a little prince she hated—shouldn’t have stirred her feelings like that. On top of that, how had she let Damian touch her? Where had her mind gone to allow such a thing? The audacity! That man was a... he was a... how had he done that? And that horrid heat she felt—what the hell was that feeling? She had to stop it. With that thought, Raven threw herself on the bed, her hair still dripping wet. She wasn’t a fan of lying down with wet hair, but she needed to calm down, and stretching her body always soothed her immediately. Lying on her back, she stared at the canopy above her, admiring the golden flowers drawn in beautiful patterns across the fabric.
Raven took a deep breath, but when she opened her eyes again, Damian was back in her mind. The droplets of water, the infernal heat of his gaze, his large, skilled hands. Those fingers that had so skillfully stirred up a thousand sensations on her neck, those little kisses that felt like tiny wildfires. Raven sighed and sat up, her body weak, overly sensitive. What the hell was happening to her? Unfortunately, much to her dismay, the frustration she felt was so massive and overwhelming that, annoyed, she didn’t sleep at all that night. Her enemy haunted every one of her thoughts.
The result of not sleeping made itself known the next morning when she got up and had to get dressed for another day. At least the euphoria from the night before had faded, but her body was frustrated, like it wanted something—though she had no idea what. So, when she had her breakfast and headed to the magic hall, she had a clear goal: to research what was happening with her body, to study exactly what it was and how to make it stop. Her plans, however, were interrupted by Jinx, who was already waiting in her room. When she saw Raven, she let out a surprised exclamation.
“By the Gods, Rachel! What’s with that disgusting face?”
Jinx was wearing a soft yellow dress and had pearls around her neck. On her head rested a pink-and-yellow hat that matched the long-sleeved dress perfectly.
“I didn’t have a good night’s sleep.”
“Wow, you look like an old frog.”
“Thanks so much for the compliment, Jinx.”
Raven didn’t have the energy or patience to put up with Jinx’s usual words or behavior—today, she just wanted silence and an end to whatever this was.
“Well, old frog, since you’re not gonna ask why I’m here... I came to tell you that in four days we’ll be having King Ra’s’ birthday. And as usual, there’ll be two ceremonies: the bath and the party.”
“Bath? What bath?”
“So…” Jinx turned to her, her posture straightening, becoming more serious. “At every total lunar eclipse, the king takes a bath in the Lazarus Pit. It’s his—he got it through a pact with a powerful, ancient demon. That pit gives a few extra good years of life to those who use it, plus, obviously, it rejuvenates and prevents aging. Seriously, you never wondered how the king has managed to stay alive for centuries?”
“I didn’t even know about the Al Ghul court before coming here, let alone the king’s age, Jinx.”
“Well, let’s just say he’s old as hell.”
“Okay, and what does that have to do with me?”
“You need to take part in the event with me, protect the ritual from any interference. Damian and Talia will be present, so it’s important that you’re guarding them while I help Ra’s.”
Raven rolled her eyes and huffed, throwing herself onto the armchair.
“Can I choose not to do this?”
“Of course not, silly. Where do you think you are?”
Raven knew exactly where she was.
“Right after that, we’ll have the masquerade ball in honor of the king.”
“Got it.”
“Great. Now… well, that’s it. For now.”
Jinx turned to leave, but when she was already halfway out of the room, Raven called out to her.
“Jinx, wait, please.” The girl turned, her face twisted in a questioning expression.
“Yeah? What is it?”
“I wanted to ask you about something. It’s something I don’t really know much about.”
“Then ask.”
Jinx crossed her arms and extended her right arm in front of her, eyeing her sharp nails.
“It’s... well... I don’t really know what to call it. It’s more like a symptom…”
“A symptom?”
“Yes, a symptom.”
“I thought you were the little witch doctor, Rachel.”
“Well, this is new to me. I don’t know what it’s called or what it is.”
“Then spit it out already.”
Jinx shifted her weight onto one foot, her expression now bored.
“It’s like this intense heat, super weird—it runs through the whole body but it’s mostly centered in the lower belly. It’s very, very strong. It causes irritation, shortness of breath, anxiety, restlessness, and mostly... weakness.”
Jinx straightened up, suddenly interested. She took two steps toward Raven.
“That sounds like a fever from an infection.”
“No, it’s not. I know that because the symptoms only happen in very specific situations. It’s weird, I know. That’s why I wanted to know if there’s a name for it or if you’ve heard of it.”
“I still think it’s an infection, especially since the heat is centered in the belly. But it hurts, doesn’t it? So I’d guess it’s an infection down there.”
“No, it doesn’t hurt. It’s... well, the heat feels intense, but it’s not painful. It’s… pleasant.”
Jinx stared at her, blinking three times in disbelief before bursting out into loud, contagious laughter.
“Rachel… you dummy… I can’t believe… this… you silly girl!” she said between laughs. She kept laughing like she’d just heard the funniest joke in the universe. Then she wiped the tears from her eyes and walked over to Raven, giving her a look that was a mix of pity and amusement.
“By the gods, Rachel! That’s called horniness.”
“Sorry? What?”
“Horniness, you idiot. Don’t tell me you’ve never felt that before?”
“What exactly is this… horniness?”
“All the stuff you just described to me, you goof. Duh…”
“And how do you stop it?”
“By giving in to it, duh. Going for a ride, jumping the bones, doing the horizontal tango. How else do you think it stops?” Jinx said, dripping sarcasm. “Having sex, obviously.”
Raven’s face morphed into shock. How the hell was she feeling that? She hadn’t felt anything like it with Jericho, and she thought what they’d done was pretty damn nice.
“And why exactly does horniness happen?”
Jinx made a face, mocking Raven. She sighed.
“For Nyx’s sake, Rachel… You’ve never slept with anyone?”
“Yes, I have. Of course… I already… yes.” Raven replied, blushing.
“So then…” Jinx paused to examine Raven’s face. “Don’t tell me you didn’t feel this the last time you slept with your man?”
Raven looked one way, then the other… she definitely should not have dragged Jinx into this kind of convo. But now that she had, there was no point in lying.
“No.”
Jinx shifted her weight to her other leg again, her eyes glinting with mischievous curiosity.
“And now you’re feeling it?”
“Yes.”
“With who?”
No, Raven had just gotten herself stuck in a dead-end hole.
“Nobody, Jinx. I just wanted to know how to end this and what it was. Now that I know, well, thanks a lot.”
Jinx let out a mischievous little laugh and sat down in the chair next to Raven.
“Come on, you silly girl, tell me who it is—maybe I can help.”
Jinx leaned in curious, acting totally casual. Like they were just two girls chatting about guys and dresses.
“No, I’m not telling. It doesn’t matter. I just wanted to know one more thing: is sex the only way to stop this… this ‘state’?”
“You can touch yourself, sure. But the good thing about desire is that when you relieve it with the one who caused it, you get rid of it for good. Believe me, that’s a rule, everyone knows it.”
“I didn’t know that.”
“That’s because you’re dumb.”
“Thanks for being so natural with your compliments, Jinx.”
Jinx rolled her eyes but chuckled softly. Standing up, she fixed her skirt.
“I’ve got plans now and a day full of errands, but know this—I won’t give up finding out who the guard or the captain was that woke those feelings in you, okay Rachel? If there’s one thing I love, it’s good gossip…”
Jinx walked to the door, but before leaving she turned back around.
“And Rachel…”
“Yes?”
“The more you’re horny, the more pissed off and moody you’ll get.” — Raven’s mouth dropped open, shocked. — “So I suggest you settle this quickly, or get ready for hellish days…” — Jinx said, laughing with mischief and amusement.
“Oh man, those are the kinds of things I need every once in a while…” she said, buttoning up before leaving.
Raven exhaled the breath she’d been holding. Yeah, things weren’t as straightforward as she thought. Damn body…
The rest of the morning went by fast. Raven looked up some more books about the human body and then studied a page from Ra’s old book. The progress she’d made the previous days was now old news since she couldn’t get past the extremely coded language anymore. So when lunchtime rolled around, Raven was more than happy to take a break from that tough work.
The morning’s productivity vanished quickly after she left the dining quarters and returned to the room. Between the fireplace crackling and two chocolate muffins with tea, she closed her eyes for a second and ended up falling asleep.
Chapter 28: XXVIII
Chapter Text
Lifting her face from the book, she noticed she had drooled on the page. Sighing in frustration at herself, she raised her head and looked around. Through the windows, she saw it was already night, which made her wonder how long she’d slept. She stretched her arms above her head, yawning; her butt hurt from sitting on the hard seat for hours. The fireplace had stopped crackling, and the tea in the pot was already cold. Walking to the other side of the room, Raven closed the curtains and added another log to the fire, poking at it.
When she finished, she stretched her neck and stood still, staring into space. She hadn’t meditated that day, but she also hadn’t studied the magic book enough. There was still so much to think about, study, and meditate on regarding all that old stuff. Sighing again, a slight hunger crept up on her. She needed to eat. With that thought, she wandered the corridors. Since she didn’t know the exact time, she had to find a servant to ask if she could be served a meal. It didn’t take long to find an older woman walking through the halls. Asking what time of night it was, the servant told her they were already in the second shift. Raven nodded and then asked if she could have her dinner. The woman, neutral and obedient, said yes and led her to the dining room.
Raven sat down and checked out the place. The Al Ghuls hadn’t eaten yet—they usually ate later. This time, she didn’t care. She was going to eat without them. Mainly because she wasn’t in the mood to deal with Damian, that spoiled brat who had made her lose a night’s sleep, nor Talia, the nosiest, most controlling person possible, and of course, not Ra’s Al Ghul either, that hateful figure. Good thing she could eat in peace. The main dish tonight was creamy pumpkin with anchovies and oven-baked pork with garlic sauce. For dessert, Raven ate several breadsticks stuffed with nut cream and drank two cups of lemon honey tea.
Her general mood improved after eating, though she still avoided thinking too much about what was on her mind. Sighing, she returned to her magic room where, after reflecting through dinner, she thought it would be productive to keep her mind busy a bit longer, especially since she knew that going straight to bed after eating wouldn’t let her sleep. She’d just lie awake tossing and turning, which would only increase her troubled state of mind. Raven sat back down, this time stretching her neck and wrists, leaning over the table, ready to continue studying.
The smell of wood and paper was always pleasant—she loved it. That was the last thing she thought before starting to read. She had studied half the page earlier that morning, and now she was back at it. She dipped her quill and grabbed another sheet of paper, writing down what she understood. So far, she had advanced through the first part of the book. This was honestly impressive even for her, since she had no idea where she got the skill to translate so many symbols and codes from the ancient language. Whoever wrote the book definitely didn’t make it easy to read.
After some time, she lifted her head again, resting her mind for a few seconds. She blinked twice, then looked back at the pages in front of her, blinking a few more times—and then realized what she was seeing was real. A pattern was starting to form; one particular symbol repeated several times. She stared for another minute, fascinated by the new discovery. The symbol in front of her looked like a round ball, flattened on the sides. It meant darkness, death, destruction, fear, among many other things. Raven read every phrase where the symbol appeared.
“The cycle of fear no longer exists. Cast into oblivion by other worlds, darkness will always return until the day it no longer does. However, it is known to the great ones the date of its return; they had with them a powerful sorceress who could predict its exactness. Known for her knowledge, it was lost after she died.”
That was one of the sentences on one of the pages. Deep down, she felt very uneasy. A buzzing in her ear and a feeling of despair took over her; she was certain it had something to do with what her mother had warned her in her dream. Ra’s Al Ghul would probably use that so-called “darkness” whatever it was—and Raven now knew it was coming. She looked again at the writing about the sorceress, reading and rereading a thousand times the parts mentioning her—and all said the same thing: she was dead. That woman probably had the exact day when it would rise again. By the Gods, Raven was lost.
She was literally lost and... she wouldn’t be able to handle it! If that darkness emerged again because of Ra’s Al Ghul, she knew she didn’t have enough power, strength, or anything enough to deal with it or stop whatever it was. And what was coming was probably an “apocalypse,” given the brief descriptions about the darkness. “Apocalypse,” because she knew whatever this darkness was would bring total chaos and death... Raven wouldn’t be able to stop anything or anyone. She would fail before even starting. Gasping at the discovery, she violently got up from the table. She needed fresh air. She was running out of breath, the anxiety of the emotional storm suffocating her.
She ran down the corridors looking for an outdoor space. Gasping, words full of darkness and chaos spun in her mind. Her weakness too. She wouldn’t be able to stop... whatever it was... it would kill thousands... bring pain... And she, appointed to stop it by means of her mother who was on the other side, would let innocent lives be taken. Raven was screwed. Turning a wide hallway, she saw a double glass-and-wood door covered with heavy curtains and threw herself toward it. She pulled the handle down and plunged into the cold autumn air.
The chilly night air greeted her. Raven ran to the balcony and leaned on the railing. Why the hell did Arella have to tell Raven—specifically Raven—to take on such a difficult task!? Why her? She barely had the strength to get out of a castle and the chains of a cruel king, much less deal with something five times stronger. Her power was not and would not be enough. And there was nothing she could do. A warm breath brushed her neck, and Raven smelled something awful. Raising her head, she saw two giant eyes staring at her.
“Goliath!” – She placed her hand over her heart, startled and scared. The giant beast stared at her. Its eyes were filled with a melancholic and sorrowful hue. Letting out a low sound, as if trying to speak, the creature seemed to be asking her for something.
“Your master doesn’t want me near you, Goliath.” – Raven noted, still in her place. Goliath snorted and let out another low noise. Feeling sorry, Raven raised her hand to stroke the beast’s red fur. The creature, sensing her affection, leaned in closer, nearly cracking the polished stone beneath it. “What is it you want, huh? Those eyes of yours look so sad...”
The creature nestled further into Raven’s touch, its mood lifting slightly.
“That’s it, no need to be sad. Did he hurt you? I bet that’s it, that damn prince—I wish I could kill him with my bare hands. Doesn’t even spare a creature like you...” – Raven opened her arms and hugged the massive beast. The creature snorted happily. “Just one hug, then you go back to your spot. I don’t want to get into more trouble with that prince.”
The creature let out a joyful roar and spread its wings, covering Raven.
“Goliath!” – Raven laughed beneath the beast’s warm body. The creature stirred and gave another roar. “Shhh, quiet! You’ll draw attention to us.”
Raven smiled, forgetting for a moment the worries weighing on her mind. And when she remembered them again, the creature’s warmth still helped soothe the desolation she felt.
“Goliath really is a traitorous creature, isn’t he, Goliath?” – said Damian Al Ghul, stepping out of the shadows. Raven turned just as the creature lifted the wings it had kept around her. All the feelings and events tied to the prince surged back inside her, and Raven felt nauseous from the emotional overload. Damian approached slowly. He was dressed entirely in black, in elegant, sober clothes that matched and highlighted his striking figure.
“Forgive me for being near Goliath, Prince. He was sad, and I had to comfort him.” – Raven spoke, her voice tinged with an apathetic, distant chill. Still, she didn’t move away from the beast. She hoped Damian wouldn’t linger long; she wanted to be alone. She knew all those emotions running wild inside her were dying to burst out, and she didn’t want that to happen with someone so detestable nearby.
Damian looked from Raven to Goliath, still drawing closer. When he was only a few steps away, Goliath began growling at his master. It surprised both Damian and Raven. For the prince, it only deepened the sting of betrayal and surprise—but for Raven, it had the opposite effect. She found it hilarious. Apparently, Goliath’s loyalty was truly up for debate.
Raven couldn’t hold back the laugh that burst from her lips.
“Looks like Goliath doesn’t like you all that much, Prince.” – The humor appeared and vanished in a flash. Silence fell between them. Neither Raven nor Goliath moved away from each other.
“I hope that’s just with the lady here, Goliath. I hope you remain loyal to me.”
The creature stopped growling, then licked Raven’s head, nudging her forward with the force of its tongue. She gave a shy smile, not wanting to show any further reaction around Damian. But her distant response didn’t go unnoticed by the prince’s sharp gaze.
“What do you want, Prince?”
“I was looking for you.”
“Why?”
“I wanted to see you, Rachel. I won’t have time these next few days leading up to my grandfather’s birthday.”
“And what does that have to do with me?”
Raven’s snark seemed to hit a nerve, as Damian stepped closer—until only three steps separated them. Goliath watched with alert eyes. Raven turned her face away, feeling all the ugly emotions boil up inside her. If only she could take one deep breath without him noticing. Damian irritated her to her very soul...
“Rachel.”
“Please, I don’t want to talk anymore.”
“Then just look at me.”
This would definitely not end well. She was nervous and restless with him near, and the emotional void inside her was so vast she couldn’t even understand herself. She wanted to face Damian. Ask if he knew about his grandfather’s plans. Ask if he agreed. But more than that, she wanted to ask herself why his presence affected her so deeply—not with hatred anymore, but with feelings so intense and tangled.
And why did part of her want him to come closer and hold her, while another part just wanted him to leave and never return?
But she couldn’t. She didn’t have the courage, and the answers felt way too terrifying.
“Look at me, Rachel.”
Mustered all the courage she had, she turned to face Damian Al Ghul. His striking features, the sharp jawline, the olive skin, the ebony hair, and those damned eyes.
Eyes that were filled with intensity and seemed to lock onto her like she was the only person in the world. Eyes that, whenever she looked at them, bubbled with concern and never strayed from hers. She hated those eyes—because with every passing day, she could read more and more of what was in them. And in them, she saw worry, saw good things, saw a heart, saw desire... saw all of it.
And she didn’t understand. Didn’t understand anything anymore. And maybe she never could.
How could someone who had kidnapped her, who had stolen her freedom, also show this kind of attention—unwanted as it was?
How could he feel all of this, when it made no damn sense?
Raven had already gone past the edge of madness trying to understand the gears behind this castle and the Al Ghuls’ games. But with Damian, she had crossed even more dangerous lines.
She couldn’t look away. Just like that day in the sauna. Like so many other moments.
The danger between her and Damian was that the lines had blurred—what was right and wrong had long since been trampled and left behind.
The prince stepped even closer, their bodies touching.
Just like at the ball, she felt the urge to rest her head on his chest and cry—something she knew Damian wouldn’t judge her for.
She knew he’d hold her, protect her, make her feel safe.
Even though one of the reasons she wanted to cry was him, she still wanted to give in to the fantasy.
His right hand caressed her cheek, while the other circled her waist.
“Do you know about your grandfather’s plans?” – Her voice was a whisper.
The things she felt inside were now stirring violently, and she wouldn't be able to contain the chaos within her much longer. Not without her powers. Her body no longer responded properly to her commands. Damian stared deeply at her.
“What plans?”
Raven laughed bitterly, tears forming at the corners of her eyes.
“Why did you kidnap me? I’m part of this scheme, aren’t I?” All the gears and ideas had been aligning for weeks, and now that she was close to the truth, she couldn't hold herself back any longer. Damian grabbed her wrists, but his grip was gentle—his eyes were not. He didn’t answer her. Raven let out a sharp, bitter laugh full of pain and anger. She pulled away from his warm hands and shoved his chest hard, making the prince take two steps back. He didn’t resist.
“If you think I’m going to take part in any evil or cruelty involving your grandfather or you, you’re dead wrong!” Filled with rage, standing at the peak of her misery and sorrow, she walked toward Damian again, pushing him with even more force. The prince was like stone. His eyes never left her, but they showed no reaction. Tears streamed down her face as she cried, “I refuse to hurt a single human being on this Earth, Prince! And if you think you can force me, you're terribly mistaken. I’ll kill myself before I harm anyone or take a life in your name, even if I’m in danger.” Raven grabbed the fabric of his vest and coat roughly. “Come on, Damian Al Ghul. Tell me—say it! You got the wrong person from the start if you thought I could protect you or serve a damn monster like your grandfather and you! You and your family disgust me! I may not have heard all the atrocities you’ve committed, but I know this castle, this whole damned kingdom is built on pure violence and death. I’m not blind, and I’m not deaf.”
She slapped the prince hard across his beautiful face, and Raven started crying. She wondered where her strong, unshakable walls had gone when she needed them most. Her control didn’t rely solely on her powers, but without them, she felt she couldn’t hold it together. But what good was control when the whole world was collapsing on her shoulders? First Azarath, then life in the mountains, and now this kingdom! She just wanted to disappear. To vanish from existence and silence the pulsating pain of all those wounds. But an open heart, a raw wound—if you don’t heal them, they won’t heal themselves. And in the end, she was just dragging herself through life, because healing that pain, that constant misery, that endless weight—it was too much to process. And she didn’t have the courage to face it, to digest all that sorrow, all that death, all that darkness. No, she didn’t even have the strength to save herself, her pain, or her hopes—let alone save the chaos happening around her.
“Raven.” She heard the prince’s voice, but she couldn’t really see his face; she was too busy losing all her dignity and strength. The prince’s muscular arms—those of that miserable creature—wrapped around her.
“Raven,” Damian said again, gently stroking her hair and pulling her softly to his chest. And with no strength left to remain firm and unshakable, Raven surrendered to the affection and attention of her greatest enemy. Resting her head against his chest, just as she had imagined earlier.
“I can’t, Damian. I can’t even help myself, let alone protect a future king. Let me go—I’m useless to you. But please, don’t let your grandfather unleash the chaos he’s planning. I know what Ra’s al Ghul intends to do—don’t let him.” Her voice was muffled against the soft fabric of his vest, but she knew he heard her. For one more moment, in that fragile battle between good and evil, she allowed herself to just be the girl she was—not the last Azarathian, not a sorceress or witch, not a curse, not a hermit. Just herself, the most delicate and fragile being inside her, the one she had to kill every day while living in Azarath under the monks’ care. That human side, deeply human, the one she knew existed in Damian too. The messy, chaotic side that was so essential in the acidic, heavy life she led.
And just like that, Raven stayed there for a few minutes. The large, old book on the table flipping through images as the faces of Ra’s al Ghul, Arella, and Jinx spun through her mind. A certain regret circled her, but she pushed it aside, knowing that the moment she stepped out of her enemy’s arms, nothing would ever be the same again. In that embrace, she had finally collided with her own feelings, and now the end—whether good or bad—was approaching. She would have to make a decision. About Damian, and about the enormous threat looming on the horizon. She only hoped to have her powers and strength back—she wouldn’t be able to solve anything while crying. When Raven’s soul finally seemed to dry out and she managed to pull herself together, she stepped away from Damian. He didn’t let go. Instead, he brought his hand to her face and lifted it. That invisible connection they shared—that unbreakable gaze—returned.
“Raven, I can’t let you go. Not now, not ever. I’m sorry,” he said, gently caressing her cheek. “But know that neither my grandfather nor anyone else will lay a finger on you. You’re safe. I don’t need you to protect me—I’m good at that. Despite Ra’s, when I’m king, you’ll have not just one, but as many guards as I deem necessary to protect you.” The warmth of his hand on her skin, along with the confident tone in his voice, was a comforting balm. “Whatever you want, Raven. Everything you desire, you can have. I just can’t give you your freedom. As for my grandfather, don’t worry—nothing he does will touch you.”
Confirming her worst fears, Raven sighed, pulling away from Damian’s touch and taking a step back.
“I don’t care about me—what he’ll do will affect millions of people, Damian.” Sighing, Raven gave her final word. “And in that case, I won’t stop until Ra’s al Ghul gives up—even if the price is his life… or mine. And once that’s done, if I’m still alive, I’ll go after my freedom, and neither you nor anyone else will stop me,” Raven said, her eyes steady and determined. She looked at the nearly full moon, witness to her life, then back at Damian. “I won’t forget what you’ve done for me. Good night, prince.”
Goliath had left long ago, and when Raven finally walked away from that balcony that night, she looked over her shoulder one last time at Damian al Ghul. And the person staring back wasn’t her enemy anymore—it wasn’t quite a friend either, but an acquaintance. And that was already a lot better.
Chapter 29: XXIX
Chapter Text
Raven ran through the corridors—she needed to speak with Zatanna and John Constantine urgently. Now that she had confirmed the book, she, and Ra’s al Ghul were interconnected, she had to tell her teachers everything. They could probably help her. She knew both of them were against the king and his family; that much was clear from John’s constant cursing and Zee’s act of betrayal. Her teacher had involved her in the battle plans of a secret society opposing the king. They operated in and out of the castle with stealth and mystery; who else was part of the group, she didn’t know. Zatanna Zatara had said it was better if the members remained anonymous—if Jinx discovered the truth through her powers, only a few would be at risk.
So far, Raven had kept quiet, waiting for an order or command from the rebel group. But none came. For all those weeks, she had been left to think and meditate on her own about the problem in her hands.
But now that she thought about it, that had been a terrible idea. Maybe if she had told them earlier about the looming threat, it could’ve been resolved already. But no—like always, Raven had been too caught up in her own little world to even consider asking for help. Then again, she had always been alone. No friends, no companions back in Azarath. Still, now wasn’t the time to dwell on that. The moment was too critical. What mattered now was spilling the truth, so something could finally be done about it.
Raven climbed a few more staircases and turned right several times until she found Zatanna’s corridor. Her teacher had brought her there once before, so they could drink tea in peace, talk about the stars, and learn more about Raven’s mental and emotional limits—and how those affected her magic. She still remembered the huge room and the many magical amulets scattered around.
Raven had recognized most of them. The protective charms came in different colors and shapes, and she’d been surprised Zatanna could use so many magical items in her room without receiving a formal warning. Which raised a much bigger question—why were all magic users forced to obey Ra’s al Ghul? No sorcerer, mage, or healer within the borders of great Nanda Parbat had full access to their powers without the King’s permission. It was all shady as hell. Raven now understood that had to be part of some larger, invisible game.
She knocked twice, firmly—hard enough to hurt her fingers. Darkness and the cold night were all that filled the corridor. Only five torches were lit across the entire vast hallway, and the moonlight spilled a morbid fabric across the scene.
Zatanna answered on the third knock. Her face was full of worry, and her eyes widened when she saw her.
“Raven, what happened? What are you doing here?”
“Professor, I have something to tell you. Something I haven’t told anyone since the beginning.”
Zatanna opened the door wider and stuck her head out, looking both ways to check for any guards or passersby.
“Come in,” she said, stepping aside.
Raven entered the room. The air smelled of wood and leaves, and the cauldron at the back of the room was lit. Zatanna turned to face her and muttered a spell, sealing the room off from outside eyes and ears. She walked over to the polished wooden table, now in total chaos, grabbed a few sticks and amulets, tossed them into the cauldron, and wiped her hands on her dress. She gestured for Raven to sit on the nearby chairs.
“Tell me, Rachel. What happened?”
Raven looked deeply into Zatanna’s eyes. It was time to lay it all bare.
“My name is Raven. I come from a world very far from here, called Azarath. I was born with a curse in my blood—on my father’s side. On the day I came of age, that curse was supposed to activate. But the people who raised me read the stars and believed the chaos I’d bring could be contained… if I could contain my emotions. My emotions were the source of my power. I came into this world filled with magic—and they predicted that from that magic, darkness would rise. So, for my entire life, I was trained to be numb to everything around me… and to everything inside me too.
But still, when I came of age, the curse activated anyway. The entire population of Azarath was wiped out—because of me. I was the only survivor.
After that, I think I teleported myself out of that world, crying in pure terror over what I had done. But I remember nothing. The only thing I remember is waking up nearly frozen to death, near the top of a mountain.
Desperate and freezing, I stayed there. I opened a portal and created a little world of my own, a safe place just for me. I never managed to go back to what was left of Azarath… So Earth became my new home.”**
Raven paused, taking a long breath.
“I used to go down to the nearby village whenever I needed something—or when the sadness became too much. That’s where I first saw what real human misery looked like. The pain. The lives of the people on Earth. I couldn’t stand watching it, so I helped them however I could for three years. I didn’t know people would start spreading so many rumors. I guess my appearance scared them. I almost never took off my cloak, and my advice and healing worked instantly. No one there practiced magic, so I guess that added to the mystique. But I knew that every time I healed someone, the whispers and rumors spread even more—and that could be dangerous in the long run. I wasn’t from Earth. I didn’t know how they’d treat me if they found out. But I just… couldn’t stop helping. The misery never stopped growing. And I had to help. Then, in the third year, I was kidnapped by a cruel prince and the king’s sorceress. And now I’m trapped in this kingdom, serving a forced, fake title to the future heir. But now… I know the truth behind the madness. I had contact with my mother’s spirit—and she warned me something terrible was coming. That thing… that something… it’s tied to me, to Ra’s al Ghul, and to an ancient book that neither Jinx nor anyone else has been able to decipher—except me. You have to believe me, Zatanna. I need your help to figure out what links me, the book, and Ra’s al Ghul—so I can stop whatever’s coming. Because if I don’t… what’s coming could be worse than what happened to Azarath. It could be bigger than anything we’ve ever seen.”
The Azarathian’s voice broke. Thick tears rolled down her face.
"Raven..." Zatanna said, standing up. She ran her hands over her face, her back turned to Rachel. When she turned around, her face was pale.
"Raven, this changes everything. I was just about to call you to say we’re making our move at Ra’s’ birthday ball; but the information you gave us changes everything. We need to tell John immediately. If the king wants to use you and the book, then we need to disappear with both — your escape is now more of a priority than ever. I think whatever’s going on is connected to the magical barrier Ra’s has in place..." Zatanna began pacing, her right hand resting on her chin.
"Yes. That’s probably it, but I need to investigate… maybe all of this is actually connected..." The gears started turning in Zatanna’s mind, the pieces of information clicking into place in ways that previously made no sense.
"I need to call John immediately, the Resistance has to know." She didn’t give her student time to process — this was valuable intel and they had to act fast. Her hands glowed yellow as she located John Constantine.
Raven watched her teacher, exasperated. But she was trying to shove the pain back into the depths of her soul. Now was the time to stay strong — for the promise she’d made, for the memory of her people, for the suffering she endured. If they had to run, so be it. If they had to stay and fight, great — bring it on. A big part of Raven felt relief at finally sharing that dark burden on her shoulders.
Still, part of her felt guilty for having kept it secret for so many days after learning about the Resistance from John, Zatanna, and the rest of the unnamed group. She pushed away the flood of thoughts as she saw Zatanna’s portal stretch from the ceiling to the floor. A dark place appeared on the other side. Raven wondered if the sorceress’s location spell had actually worked. Zatanna seemed to wonder the same, calling out for John.
Raven stepped closer, and her teacher did too — sticking her head into the dark space when John didn’t answer or show up.
When things still didn’t look right, Zatanna stepped fully into the black sphere. Raven, overcome by nostalgia for crossing portals, followed right behind her. Magic tingled through her body — faint, but still enough to feel a subtle buzzing sensation as she passed through.
It was a dark place, with no torches — lit only by moonlight slipping in through tiny barred windows high above. It was freezing, reeking of blood, feces, and horror. Raven looked closer at their surroundings. That smell — she recognized it. She’d been somewhere like this months ago. The dungeons.
Looking at the walls and structure, Raven realized she hadn’t been in this exact one before. The dungeon she’d seen had no light and required torches. This one had small windows and was more airy and cold — different from the damp, moldy filth she’d known. That made her wonder: just how many dungeons were there in the castle?
If they were even in the castle…
Any thought vanished from her mind when she heard Zatanna whisper:
"John!"
Raven hurried to Zee’s side. Neither of them knew if they were truly alone.
Standing there with his back to them, in his usual pale cream-colored trench coat, was John Constantine. He appeared to be holding something in his hands.
"John, come here. We need to talk. Urgently," said Zatanna to the unmoving man in front of her. Constantine didn’t budge an inch.
"John?"
"What, Zatanna?! Huh? What the hell is this — following me now?!"
John turned. In his hands was a simple purple cloak. His face was grim, his eyes shadowed. Raven had never seen him like this. Zatanna looked just as stunned.
"John, what the hell is this ? I’ve got something massively important to tell you. It’s about the Resistance."
John didn’t seem to care. He glanced at the cloak again, then back at the two of them.
"I don’t care. You and they deal with it. I’m done."
Then he pushed past them both and left. Zatanna blinked twice, her face a mix of shock and rage, before running out into the hallway after him.
Too late — he had already vanished through a portal too.
"What the hell was that?!" Zatanna said to herself. She was clearly stunned by John’s behavior.
Sighing, she ran her hands through her hair and turned to Raven.
"Rachel, sweetheart… I know you just told me all this now and I know you want to be more actively involved with the Resistance — especially since this whole mess centers on you — but I don’t think the other members are ready to reveal their identities. Not yet. But I have to share this information with them right now because it changes a lot."
Zatanna pulled her along with her.
"But Zatanna, what’s going to happen with John? Why is he acting like this?"
Zatanna didn’t answer. Frenzied, she dragged Raven through the portal until they were back in the room.
"Raven, I really wish I could explain things right now, but the more time I waste here, the less chance I have to investigate and put together a plan against Ra’s. I need to act on this info now . We’ll deal with Constantine’s weird behavior later."
Zatanna’s chaotic energy made Raven even more uneasy about how off this whole thing felt. But there was nothing she could do — following her teacher’s advice was the smartest option. So, when she returned to her room, Raven dealt with her emotions.
That was the only thing she could control.
Chapter 30: XXX
Notes:
This chapter needs a little soundtrack, so here it is:
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=9z-Mh9Qeinw
You have to listen to it and watch the music video before reading. Seriously, the video is so on point with this chapter. Don’t skip it.Rae’s dress:
https://pin.it/6VlVGiTRae’s dress, pt. 2:
https://pin.it/2kmVwkIFolder of Azarath Mountains inspo:
https://pin.it/5msPOteThank you so much for sticking with me this far.
From one fan to another—enjoy the read.
We’ve reached the end.
Chapter Text
For a long time, a really long time, he had stayed there. Born under the greatest star, blessed by the gods. But those kings had been ruthless with foreigners—they enslaved them. Destroyed them. And now, because of a failed escape plan, he and his companions were trapped. They were in a tight black hole underground, with the only air coming from the containment mesh meters above. Sometimes the guards came and dragged them out after they begged to relieve themselves. And when the guards did respond, most of the time they humiliated them again, beating them, cursing them, even raping them. Three of his friends had died from fever and scorpion stings; now only eight remained, including him.
It was on that fourth night, when they came to remove the rotten bodies from the cell, that they threw a woman in there. She fell like a bird, sprawled on the floor, and didn’t lift her head for a long time. When she finally managed to get up and squeeze into a small space between two men, she cried all night. As days passed, the men—already stripped of humanity and crazed like animals—tried to rape her. But something inside him was stronger and wouldn’t allow it; he defended the woman and warned them he’d kill them if they touched a single strand of her hair. That’s how he invited her to sit close to him, for her safety. The woman never spoke, her face thin like her whole frame, fragile beyond belief, so he started sharing his piece of old bread with her. She never ate, but in her dull, tired eyes, he could see her gratitude.
Days went by, and she started talking to him. And he to her. They spoke about the past, dreams, the state of the world, the future, and themselves. And so, in that desert, a tiny bud of love grew between them. Just holding each other’s hand or resting their heads on each other’s shoulders made them happy. The world didn’t seem so bad anymore, even in the hell they were trapped in. Then, one night, the woman asked to relieve herself. The guards dragged her out, and he waited, timing how long it took her to return, knowing the route from the cell to the bathroom spot. At one second past that time, he realized something was wrong—he heard cries for help, cruel laughter and taunts—and understood what was happening.
The guards knew the woman was connected to him and he to her, and since he was the revolt’s leader, he would pay for it. It wasn’t long before the fabric was torn—the prelude to something worse. When the woman screamed, called his name, begged for help, pleaded for him to come save her, something shattered in his chest. He screamed—screamed to the cellmates, screamed at the soldiers, screamed to the sand, screamed to the sky. When the scream wasn’t enough, when his nails dug raw trying to climb the wall, he begged. Begged them to stop, to punish him instead of her. To torture him, kill him, but leave her alone, free her. And amid cries of pleasure and screams of pain, the soldiers satisfied themselves and finally let her go. They threw her back into the hot, dark cell. The woman collapsed on the floor, and he ran to catch her.
Nothing remained of her clothes but rags, which the soldiers made sure to throw away. So he took off his own shirt to cover her. He cradled the woman in his arms, holding the last of her spirit. Neither of them slept that night; she cried until dawn. Soon she started burning with fever, and he held her, cared for her, begged for water, but no one answered. When the old moldy bread was thrown in, she couldn’t eat. Neither could he force her. She was too weak to even move.
For two days she burned with fever, and he didn’t let go, crying as she slept, stroking her hair, holding her tight. On the third day, she finally seemed lucid. Taking his face with her cold, delicate hand, she looked at him and said she loved him, that she’d be forever grateful to have found him, to have found love; her eyes shone like stars. Then, smiling, she took her last breath. Thick tears streamed down his face, the full moon lighting the cell, and he screamed. Not out of pity, mercy, or kindness—he screamed with hatred, anger, and sorrow. And there he died too, the man who once was human, full of hope. There, the wild beast was born—the lethal, sharp serpent that finally tore through his chest and broke free.
Placing her body on the ground, he looked at the moon and swore to the sky and stars he would never be submissive again, never live like that, never be weak. Because in his weakness and humanity, he failed to save her. With tears burning his face, he turned to the alarmed cellmates. Turning his neck from side to side, he smiled—and finally consumed himself, letting the wild beast do its job. Each death was quick, and he held only one hostage in his arms so a guard would come down. When two guards came, he killed the man and then the two guards. Without wasting time, he grabbed their knives and climbed the wall.
Sublime, lethal as a dagger. Like a serpent, he killed each guard, and when all were dead, under the huge white moon, he was not satisfied. Unable to look at his woman’s body, he walked. Walked, walked, walked, until he found a village. The beast inside screamed for more blood. That day he had no pity, no compassion, nothing but an insatiable hunger for hate and blood. One by one, he killed them all. Children, women, men, elders, and animals. In his lethal frenzy, he reaped what had pulsed inside him for so long. When dawn came and he found his last victim, he asked:
“What place is this?”
The trembling man, full of tears, said:
“The village of Nanda Parbat. Please, don’t k…”and with that, the blade was closed on his throat.
He looked up, tears running down his face. Then dropped the man’s body on the ground. A salty breeze kissed his face, and he saw he was near the sea. Raising his head, behind the intense moonlight, through the slope, he saw the ocean. He dropped the weapon and moved closer to the cliff. The wind blew his hair and dried the blood on his chest.
“To what do I owe this feast, Ra’s al Ghul?”
At other times, he would have been scared, but now he wasn’t the person he used to be. So he just looked to the side and found a man with striking features, extremely pale skin, and black hair. His eyes were red.
“Leave now, whoever you are, or I will kill you.”
“I don’t think you can manage that. But I’m not here to bother you. I’m here to repay the magnificent gift you gave me.”
Ra’s wiped his tear-filled eyes and looked away from the moon, then turned to the man. In that hot land, the man wore elegant black clothes covering his entire body. His whole presence radiated power and royalty.
“And who are you?” – he said, thinking about killing him. Ra’s al Ghul hated men of royalty; they were all a bunch of filthy pigs.
“Trigon.”
“Great, now leave here, Trigon. Before I kill you.”
Ra’s turned around and started walking. He needed to wash up. The man laughed once, then suddenly, as Ra’s walked toward the village, a coffin appeared right in front of him. He stopped immediately when he saw the woman surrounded by flowers inside the box. It was too much—he dropped to his knees before the wooden chest. With tears in his eyes, he took the woman’s cold hand.
“How… how did you do this?”
“My methods don’t matter, Ra’s Al Ghul. This is one of the gifts I want to give you.”
The demon said. In an instant, he was behind Ra’s, who was crying over the pale hand of the woman.
“Poor woman, the king’s soldiers showed no mercy…”
Ra’s wept holding his beloved’s hand, his dirty, rough figure clashing with her clean, morbid delicacy.
“But tell me, Ra’s Al Ghul. What would your life and your beloved’s have been if you had power? Like the nobody you are—and always have been—you never truly had power, right? Born under a grand star, the dirty, crude Ra’s Al Ghul couldn’t protect his beloved, despite all his physical skills.” – said Trigon.
“Stop!” Ra’s cried. The demon had hit a nerve.
“You want me to stop, man? Look ahead—this is the fate waiting for you, the fate you can’t fix for your beloved. Tell me then, Ra’s Al Ghul, is that what you want? To be a nobody for the rest of your life? To suffer again what you’ve already suffered? Because as soon as I pay you for the feast, I’m gone—and I promise nothing will change.”
The demon’s voice was low and dark. Ra’s felt the darkness gathering around him. He feared if he looked into the man’s red eyes, he’d regret it. He couldn’t see clearly through the tears and moonlight, but he knew the darkness came from behind him.
“You call what I did to those people a feast?”
Silence. No reply. Ra’s wiped tears with the back of his right hand and turned slightly to check if the man was still there. The polished boots confirmed he was.
“I didn’t kill those people for you!”
Silence again.
“I… I didn’t kill those… people… for you. It was… for… her… and… for… me.”
Ra’s Al Ghul cried, touching his beloved’s cold palm again, searching for lost warmth.
“Do you want to keep surviving, Ra’s Al Ghul? Or do you want to truly live?”
The demon’s voice was now a low whisper, closing in on him like destiny itself. He looked at his beloved’s serene face, imagined endless futures where they lived freely and happily in fields full of sheep. He thought of his father, his time in the desert training with blades, the sea, the rain—and how he had always lived just to survive. He had never really stopped; since his family was lost in the great Chaos, he alone escaped the massacre and anomie that followed in his homeland. And he had lived… No, now that he really looked—he had only survived. All that time.
“What do you want in exchange to give me the life I desire?”
A dark laugh followed. Then he felt soft leather on his shoulder when the demon touched his back. The touch lasted three seconds and disappeared. The creature in black walked across the sand. The only sound was his boots; the world seemed silent.
“I want the lives of your wives and children.”
The demon was already on the other side near the slope, but Ra’s heard him clearly. The words pierced his heart like arrows.
“I have no children, and my wife is dead.”
“You will still have wives and children, Ra’s Al Ghul. Not now, but in a distant future.”
Ra’s looked at his beloved’s rose-covered figure. He remembered her smiles and the promise of a better life.
“And will I love them? My wives and children?”
“Only you can answer that. Now tell me: do we have a deal or not?”
For the promise of a better life. For the promise of being unyielding, not bowing to the misfortune of men’s feelings. For dignity, for the power to live. For the power to live as he wished, never just surviving as a nobody again.
“My name is Ra’s Al Ghul, by my honor and by my blade, yes, we have a deal.”
Ra’s waited to feel something, but nothing happened. The red in the pale man’s eyes dimmed.
“Great, follow me then.”
The man started walking and Ra’s followed. They went along the coast for a few minutes and entered the desert interior until Ra’s saw a small pool of glowing green water.
“This is your second and last gift, for our deal and as repayment for your feast in my name.”
“It wasn’t in your name.”
“Enter it.”
Ra’s wanted to ask what the pool did, but the demon’s now dark expression made him keep quiet. He stepped into the water with his ragged pants. His fingers parted to feel the silky, clear water. The intense green glow hypnotized him. He wanted to linger longer, fascinated by the beautiful mysterious water, but fearing the demon, he dove in all at once. When he surfaced, Trigon was gone. In the distance, the little village of Nanda Parbat was burning completely in an intense, devastating fire.
Three millennia later, in a dark hallway, a king walked. The Demon’s Head.
His cloak billowed as he hurried through the narrow, cramped space.
He opened the alcove door, and the scent of blood hit him. He had been trying to contact his old partner for days. The matters were urgent. The ritual he performed the day before hadn’t yielded results at the time, but he had reflected that perhaps waiting might bring something. The offering he had made stained the floor with blood. The entire room was filled with offerings and symbols, but there was no sign of him.
He was nearly ready to give up when smoke formed, and four glowing lights appeared—they looked like eyes.
“Demon’s Head, what do you want this time?”
“I need more, Trigon. I need to secure the crown for my grandson.”
“He already has power, Ra’s Al Ghul, just like you. What exactly are you asking for, then?”
“I want power the world has never seen. I want my family’s name to rule over the world. I want my heir to dominate this world.”
“And what price are you willing to pay?”
“Any and all. But I want a guarantee of absolute power—to reign everywhere.”
Silence. The dimorphic lights of the four eyes vanished. But the dark voice spoke again:
“In this world, there are creatures born with luck woven into their fate. Others are born cursed, like your sorceress, Jinx. Today, magic no longer flows freely because of what you asked of me, and very few children alive carry such a gift. However, if you manage to find a girl born under the red eclipse, one who carries fortune within her, she will bring you what you seek.”
“And how exactly will she do that?”
“Keep her close to your family.”
“That’s it? I don’t need to sacrifice anything?”
“No, as long as you don’t kill her.”
“And why is that?”
“Are you questioning my methods?”
Ra’s looked down. A phantom sensation of fear crept through him.
“No.”
“Didn’t think so, Demon’s Head. I doubt you’ve forgotten so easily who brought you luck for so long.”
Ra’s swallowed his rage. That demon thought himself his master. He was Ra’s Al Ghul and bowed to no one. But he wanted his final wish fulfilled—he wanted his grandson to dominate the world. He wanted to pass on the crown and ensure that his family would rule forever.
That the world would never forget how ruthless and lethal the Al Ghul blades and power were.
For Damian, for Talia, and for his name. He was Ra’s Al Ghul, the Demon’s Head, and he would make it happen.
“Where do I find this girl?”
“You’ll know from the whispers of the people.”
“So you’re not going to tell me where to find her?”
“Correct.”
“Not even how to recognize her?”
“No. Consider it punishment for your insolence…”
The demon said as he vanished. The room was swallowed by darkness, engulfing everything around. When the faint candlelight returned, all the amulets and offerings had disappeared, and only Trigon’s invocation book remained atop the table—the one Ra’s had used as a channel to summon him. He understood little to nothing of its pages, only that it was a source of power and indestructible. That’s what the mages he’d hired had told him, and he had made sure what they said was true.
Now, he had to call Jinx.
They had someone to hunt.
She needed to be sure she’d done the right thing. She needed to know her efforts hadn’t been in vain—that all that humiliation hadn’t been for nothing. Her mother had died giving birth to her, just like her father’s other wives and their respective children. Subconsciously, she feared that this would be her fate too—or worse, the fate of the baby she carried in her womb. With hair brushing her waist and a round, swollen belly hidden under a cloak, she stepped into Madame Xanadu’s establishment.
Nimue Inwudu was the craziest and most mysterious woman she had ever met. Talia had found her enslaved by a group of pirates who practiced magic. After torturing and killing each one of them, Talia had freed Nimue—or Xanadu, as she liked to be called. The sorceress had then sworn a life debt to Talia and, bragging about her card-reading skills, had said the young princess would one day come looking for her when she needed to. Then she’d vanished off into the world. That, of course, was before Talia had heard through whispers on the battlefield just how powerful Madame Xanadu truly was.
Xanadu didn’t have a fixed residence, and no one knew how to find her, but it was said that when you truly needed her, she would appear. Well, that had been the case. One night, Talia had found a tarot card bearing the image of a pregnant woman. The paper smelled like women’s perfume and carried a graceful signature from a distant principality.
And so, Talia found herself face to face with Madame Xanadu once more. She hadn’t changed a bit, except for her physical condition—because the first time the princess had met her, Nimue had been filthy and sickly. The occultist stood the same height as Talia, with the same eye color. Her porcelain skin, oval face, and long, silky black hair gave her an ethereal beauty.
“Talia! What a pleasure to see you again.”
“I got your card.”
“I knew you needed me.”
“Yes.”
“Then sit. Let’s talk.”
Talia sat down. Madame Xanadu smiled, laced her fingers, and rested her chin on them. Her jade-green eyes studied her carefully.
“My, my… what a lovely and huge problem you’ve gotten yourself into, princess…”
Talia scowled.
“It’s that obvious? Even with this stupid cloak covering me?”
She flashed a mischievous smirk. Xanadu laughed, and the deck of cards on the table began to float in the air. Talia watched the cards with cautious curiosity.
“Don’t mind the cards, darling. They’re just doing their job. Now then, what exactly do you want them to tell you?”
Talia gently touched her belly under the cloak before answering:
“I want to know if my baby will survive.”
Xanadu blinked, then nodded. The cards floated down into her open hand. She shuffled them for several minutes, then blew across the deck.
“Alright.” She stopped shuffling and ran her finger slowly across the spread cards until she stopped at one. “Here’s your answer, princess.”
A woman wearing a crown and holding a baby was illustrated on the card.
“Yes, your baby will survive.”
Talia gave a faint smile. She wasn’t one to smile often, but the relief made her lips twitch upward.
“And me? Will I survive the birth?”
Xanadu repeated the ritual. Two cards appeared. She glanced at them, made a face like she was unimpressed, and showed them to Talia.
“Yes, you’ll survive. You’re scared because your mother and your siblings didn’t make it, but you will survive this birth.”
Another wave of relief washed over her. As the strategist she was, Talia allowed herself to look beyond—to the future. Her maternal instincts were already stirring.
“And my baby? Is it a girl or a boy? Tell me about their future.”
Xanadu’s face lit up with curiosity.
“Well, well, who would’ve thought the general I once knew would turn into a mommy.”
Xanadu laughed. Talia grimaced, refusing to let her guard down.
“Watch those cards, you fool. The general in me is still alive. Pregnant or not, I can still slap that smug look off your face.”
Xanadu laughed with delight, and Talia found herself smiling too.
“There’s the Talia I know,” she said, shuffling the cards once more. When she stopped, she had her answer.
“You’re having a boy.”
The words echoed through her whole body, and she let them sink into her heart. She was carrying a son.
“And his future? Tell me about it. Will he live many years? Will he survive all his battles?”
“Talia, Talia…” Madame Xanadu sang her name like a lullaby. “I owe you a life debt, not the baby. Which means I can only read your future for free—not his.”
Talia looked her dead in the eyes. On the battlefield, where she’d heard tales of Madame Xanadu, she'd also learned of the steep prices people paid for her readings. Some prices were small and silly. Others? Serious and life-altering. It always depended.
“If I pay for your services, will you read my son’s future?”
“Yes.”
“What’s your price, then?”
“Hmm... let’s see. What could I ask for that I don’t already have? What could I possibly want from a princess?” Xanadu said theatrically. She leaned back in her chair, arms draped lazily on each side. “You know, Talia, for someone who’s lived as long as I have, and been through what I’ve been through, I don’t think I’ve ever met someone like you. That soul of yours is so strong and... powerful. And of course, there’s your knack for attracting any man you want. If I could steal something from you, it’d be a bit of that beauty. But...” she lowered her voice, “I’m not here to steal—I’m here to trade. My price is a piece of your soul. That way, I can draw on your courage and strength when I need it.”
“Are you insane?! My soul?! What about my baby? You want to take a piece of me?!”
“The baby won’t feel a thing. It won’t harm him, or you. But that’s my price. If you want to see your son’s future, that’s what it’ll cost.”
Talia exhaled sharply. She had to know. She had to be ready if any misfortune lay ahead for her son.
“I accept.”
Madame Xanadu smiled and snapped her fingers. In the next instant, a stunning emerald necklace shimmered on her neck. It was the most beautiful piece of jewelry Talia had ever seen.
“Like it?” the occultist asked, admiring herself in a round mirror.
“Why are you wearing that necklace?”
“To carry a piece of your courage and strength with me, princess.”
“That thing on your neck is a piece of my soul?”
“Yes. A materialized piece of your soul. Gorgeous, isn’t it?”
“You’re out of your mind.”
"And you'll get your answer, mommy dearest."
Talia rolled her eyes but waited for the response from the cards. Madame Xanadu remained silent for a moment, simply observing the cards she was drawing.
"Well?"
Xanadu wiped away a tear.
"You're the one who's pregnant, and I’m the one getting emotional, princess..."
"Tell me what those cards say."
Madame Xanadu began placing them one by one on the table as she explained.
"Your son will be a ruler like no other, Talia. Everyone will know his name—and that of his queen. He will go down in history. He will emerge victorious in most of his battles and won’t lose his life in any of them. He’ll live a long life, full of abundance."
Talia held the joy tightly in her chest as she heard those words. She wished Bruce could hear that too. That he could know the success born from that lost love. A pain settled in her chest as she thought of the love of her life.
"You said my son’s wife will be as well known as he is."
"Yes."
"And he’ll truly love her?"
"Yes."
"So you’re saying he’ll be blessed with a partner who brings him both power and love?"
"Yes and no."
"What do you mean?"
"There are two futures for your son, Princess Talia, when it comes to love. Both lead to nearly the same end, but their paths are completely different. Little tricks of fate—it happens to the luckiest ones."
"Explain."
"In one future, your son still reaches triumph, but in love, he’s as miserable as you are. In the other, he also triumphs in life, but in that one, he marries the one he loves—the one who also brings him power, but she is different from the first."
Talia wanted to punch Madame Xanadu in the face, but her words were too serious, too heavy.
"You said these are two sides of the same coin. So what causes the horrible fate in love?"
"You can’t have it all, Talia," Xanadu replied, but Talia knew she was hiding something. She knew how to read between the lines.
"Tell me what causes that in my son's future."
Xanadu raised her arms over her neck and tilted her head from side to side, stretching. She rested her hand on the table and pointed at the set of six cards on the right side. A man with a sword, a crown, and a chalice were illustrated.
"Your father. As long as he lives, he’ll control your son just like he controls you. And so, your beautiful heir will be doomed to live the same misery as you."
The truth in Xanadu’s words stabbed at Talia’s heart like daggers. But deep down, she knew she had to hear how miserable she was, because despite all the glory, beauty, and intelligence, Talia al Ghul was utterly miserable when it came to living a life beyond the role of princess and future heir. There was no room for choice or freedom—she was doomed to be her father's puppet.
Three knocks on the door snapped her out of her despair. It was Shiva, letting her know it was time—it was three in the morning, and they needed to head back if they wanted to reach the castle before anyone noticed they were gone. Talia had asked her to come when the time was right, and there she was, her loyal soldier.
"What happens if my father is out of the picture?" the princess asked as she stood up. Her stern, hard demeanor had returned—it was time to be the cold general again. Her voice was once again clear and sharp.
"Then Damian can be happy and live out his love."
She adjusted the cloak over her shoulders and pulled the hood over her face.
"I have to go."
"Yes. Thank you for the visit, princess," said the occultist, watching her leave.
Talia was already at the door, body half outside, when she turned and asked one final question to her old friend.
"Does Bruce still love me?"
Her voice was firm and loud enough that she knew Xanadu had heard. Looking over her shoulder, she saw the woman give a sorrowful goodbye smile. She wouldn’t answer.
"Good night, Talia," the princess tightened her lips in pain.
"Good night, Nimue."
The dirt floor was slippery and muddy from the heavy rain that had fallen. They were far from Nanda Parbat now. A tiny village in the middle of nowhere, full of trees and drunk people stumbling around—that’s where he was at the moment. He’d been searching for her for a while, needing to find her in order to get the exact location of the girl his grandfather had ordered him to locate. Damian knew he was close to finding this so-called Madame Xanadu. His instinct and intuition had been honed and sharpened during all his years training with the League of Assassins, so whenever he was near his target—or whatever he was hunting—he always got that unmistakable gut feeling.
He looked around. The central tavern was packed, lights in all the surrounding houses were on, and people seemed happy to hide from the rain as they crammed into their warm, lit-up homes. He kept his attention sharp, observational senses on high alert, trying to spot anything out of place. That’s when he saw it: a slightly ajar door on the other side of the courtyard, the house completely dark. He made his way over. John, Jinx, and the rest of the League were scattered around other parts of the village searching for Xanadu, so Damian was covering the southern sector alone.
As he got closer to the door, it suddenly shut by itself. Damian’s instincts flared. He reached for the doorknob, but it was locked. There was no way wind had moved that door—it was too damp and heavy in the air for any draft to have that kind of force. He stepped back to survey the rest of the house. Green lights flickered on in the upper window. The door creaked open. Damian entered.
A cozy room, draped in intense shades of red, green, and purple, spread across tapestries, cushions, and curtains. A massive cauldron sat in the back, glowing embers lit beneath it. At a table sat a young and sensual woman smiling at him.
"Damian, darling! How long has it been since I last saw you?" said Madame Xanadu, smiling. She looked to be in her mid-thirties, wearing a black dress with red detailing that accentuated her pale skin and generous cleavage. Resting above her full chest was a glowing green emerald necklace.
"I don’t believe we’ve met."
"I’ve known you since you were in your mother’s womb."
Damian walked over to the table.
"I need your services, Madame Xanadu. I’m looking for a girl born under the blood eclipse."
"I figured that’s why you’re here, then."
"Yes. I need to locate this person."
"Of course, no problem, darling. Easy job. But first, I want my payment."
"What do you want?"
Madame Xanadu laughed and stood up. She was slim, the same age as his mother, but still carried youthful features. She circled the table until she was just inches from Damian. Then she raised a finger to his cheek.
"Well, well... what could I possibly ask from someone who already has everything?" Her voice dripped with playful seduction. "With that face and that fire in you... hmm... let me think..." She turned and walked back to her armchair across the table. Leaning on the backrest, she finally said:
"Imagine a child born of you and me. Oh! They’d be as beautiful as a god. Limitless. A prodigy on this earth." she said, all teasing and sultry.
Damian knew that if that were the price, he'd have to pay it. He had to succeed in this mission, no matter the cost. His grandfather would not tolerate failure.
"If only I liked children and could actually conceive!" Madame Xanadu burst out laughing, purely amused.
"Cut the nonsense, Xanadu," said the assassin, and he hurled a dagger that missed her head by mere inches, hitting the back wall of the room.
"A little laughter never hurt anyone, darling," the occultist said, sitting back down.
"Tell me your price. I don’t have much time."
"You Al Ghuls never do, do you? Always chasing something, always with some mission—but never noticing time’s limits."
"No stalling. Name your price. Now."
The occultist grimaced, but then her voice dropped into seriousness.
"I want a bit of your blood. Your grandfather manipulates magic, and he’s close to finding me—caging me up like he did the others. It’s through blood that he does these things."
"But my grandfather’s blood isn’t mine."
"But you’re family. You share the same traits. With your blood, I can cast a counterspell to protect myself from his prison."
"We have a deal, then."
"Excellent. Now let me do my part."
Xanadu picked up her cards and shuffled them. She blew on them twice.
"Since your mother’s womb, you were destined for greatness, Damian Al Ghul," said the occultist as she placed two cards on the table—one showed a pregnant woman, and the other, a shining star.
"Born into wealth, you were trained from early on to be a perfect machine. Your grandfather made sure you learned the art of the blade." Two more cards—two men in black fighting with swords, and another card showing a man with a crown on his head.
"Now, close to claiming your grandfather’s title, you’ve been given a mission you must complete with excellence. Let’s see what the future holds for you, young one."
“I don’t want to know my future. Cut the crap with the cards and just tell me where I can find the person I’m looking for.”
Xanadu ignored him and kept shuffling the cards. She drew one.
“As I said, you’ve always had it all—money, women, a renowned family—and guess what else? True love! Oh, Damian, what a lucky boy you are!” the witch said with a mischievous smile. She drew another card.
“Oh, but what do we have here? How lovely. You’re close to finding your soulmate!” she said with a devilish grin.
“Stop this right now. Tell me immediately where to find the person I’m looking for.”
Madame Xanadu gave a sly smile and drew two more cards, laying them on the table. A raven and a mountain.
“Well, look at that—death,” she said, pointing at the raven. “Seems like fate likes to play tricks too, doesn’t it?” the occultist added. “In this life, you will find your true love, your soulmate, but you might lose her to death, for your other half has suffered and will suffer greatly on her journey…”
“Tell me where to find the person I’m looking for, Xanadu. Now!” he said, rising to his feet. He had no time to waste. His grandfather had given him a deadline. He needed to deliver.
Xanadu ignored his demands and placed the final card on the table.
“Your other half isn’t far from here. She’s in the eastern mountains. From the moment you meet her, her life will be in your hands,” said Xanadu, finally ending the reading.
“What is this? I didn’t ask to know where my other half is!” He drew his dagger and stabbed it into the table threateningly.
“That, Damian Wayne, is fate playing its tricks. After all, no one can be as lucky as you without a little misfortune to balance things out. The girl born under the blood eclipse—the one you seek—and your soulmate, your true love, are the same person,” she said, smiling like the devil. “Good luck dealing with that, kid.”
It wasn’t fair. No, it wasn’t fair that after all this time, she still felt like a miserable wretch. Unable to have what she wanted most. What had once been hers. She had to distance herself from Rachel because she urgently needed to be alone—otherwise, she might’ve just snapped and killed Selina right then and there. She held herself back with everything she had to keep from unleashing the hatred and fury boiling inside her, holding it in until she reached the decorated balcony at the back of the ballroom. No one was there—thank god. Only the moon watched her.
From the start, she knew it was wrong. She knew how her father loathed the Wayne bloodline and how he’d never allow her to be entangled with the enemy, but still, she ignored all that and gave in to Bruce Wayne’s affection. And it wasn’t fair. Because she knew he truly loved her. She knew it because she’d seen into his soul. She’d seen the purity of his love. She had loved him truly, too. In another time, maybe they could’ve been the greatest rulers the world had ever known. Bruce Wayne and Talia al Ghul could’ve ruled the world like no one before. But her father would never allow such a union—even knowing they would’ve been unstoppable together, he didn’t realize it until the princess’s pregnancy confirmed everything.
That’s when she swore Damian would be solely an Al Ghul—Bruce would have no say, no role in their son’s story. As punishment for what she had done, her father stripped her of her title as heir to the throne and gave it to young Damian instead. Luckily, though, her father loved Damian as much as his own son and gave him the finest training royalty could ever get. He molded Damian into a version of himself—only better. Damian was raised to kill. Her father chose that life for him.
Talia, in the end, was pushed back into the role of a mere princess. Her status in the League of Assassins diminished drastically until her own son took over her place in the hierarchy. With no real control over her future and destined to live out her days as nothing more than a ceremonial princess, Talia watched the world bow before the Al Ghul name while she lived in the misery of her own existence. And it was just so unfair.
She dug her nails hard into the palm of her hand, holding in the rage. Seeing Selina Kyle—an old concubine of Bruce’s—pregnant and married to him made Talia think that maybe, just maybe, the world might have accepted her and Bruce too. Even with a child before marriage. Even if their houses were mortal enemies. But there was no going back. And now there she was—miserable, just as she had always been. A single tear slipped down her cheek. Just one. Just like her.
Returning to the ballroom, she stopped at the edge of the large circle that had formed. A couple dominated the dance floor. Graceful like a king and queen, they glided across the floor, perfectly in sync. Damian towered over her, yet Rachel didn’t seem to mind. They danced wrapped in their own little bubble, like no one else existed. Her son looked at the sorceress as if hers were the only face on Earth, like nothing else mattered. But to the strangers watching, his gaze seemed unchanged, cold as ever. Still, Talia knew. She recognized that look. Twenty-four years ago, she’d looked at Bruce Wayne the same way—and he’d looked back at her just the same. And now Damian looked at Rachel the same way.
Maybe Talia had always known. She knew Damian was obsessed with the girl—even if that obsession partly came from the fear that if she fled, his grandfather would destroy him. The princess knew it ran much deeper than that. She’d discovered that her son genuinely cared for Rachel’s well-being. And just as he kept his eyes on the girl, Talia kept her eyes on him. Because there wasn’t a single thing that happened in her castle that she didn’t know about. Talia always knew everything. But the way he looked at Rachel—that confirmed it. There was no escape from the trap he’d fallen into. The princess laughed to herself. Damian may have inherited many things from his father, but from her, he’d inherited the insane, obsessive way of loving. She just hoped Rachel could return the feeling—that she felt the same.
Rachel hadn’t shown any signs of liking Damian back, but he was the only one who could get her to speak properly. The girl had arrived too thin, too beaten down, too forgotten—everyone thought the first few weeks in the castle would kill her. She looked like a twig ready to snap. But Damian had watched over her from behind the royal curtains. And Talia, in her own way, had done the same. And even though she wasn’t exactly happy or content, Rachel seemed safe—maybe even a little happy—in her son’s arms that night. So beautiful. They were so beautiful together. Not the kind of beauty that Damian had when paired with Mar’i, where they looked like a king and queen made of steel and fire. No, Rachel and Damian were odd, even strange together—but Talia knew they fit. An invisible, perfect match. Opposites that completed one another. Just like her and Bruce once did.
So there was no denying it now. Damian loved Rachel.
Part of her heart warmed at that thought. But another part feared it. Because before Damian was even born, an old friend had read the cards and warned her: her son might be just as miserable as she was when it came to true love. Watching Bruce and Selina begin to dance, Talia finally understood—that wouldn’t be fair to Damian. She finally saw and acknowledged the two women who could change his life. And more than that, she now saw the father—and the role he’d play in choosing Damian’s fate. The king smiled from the throne at Queen Koriand’r and their daughter. The board was already set in her father’s eyes. Damian would never really get a choice. His fate, his life—it would all be sealed by the firm hand of Ra’s al Ghul.
She looked once more at Bruce and Selina, then at Rachel and Damian. The past, the present, and the future seemed to blur together, and then the princess finally understood—finally grasped what Xanadu had told her twenty-four years ago.
As long as Ra’s lived, he would control Damian. As long as he breathed, his grandson would have to obey. He would be miserable—just like his own mother had been.
And her? She wouldn’t let that happen. She would give Damian a genuine chance at happiness. Because he deserved it. Because he was her son. He would be free. Because Ra’s Al Ghul would live no more.
When the first hours of dawn arrived, she already had a plan in mind—and it was already in motion. Her arms were draped over the shoulders of Slade Wilson, former lover and rejected suitor of Talia. The princess knew he had never truly gotten over her, and that he still harbored a strong desire for her. But Slade wasn’t stupid—so she would be direct about his services.
Like two lovers, she brought her mouth to his ear as he swayed with her.
"What would you do to protect what’s most precious to you?"
"I’d give everything I have to make sure it’s safe," Slade Wilson replied.
His voice was deep and low, but still carried a sensual edge. He spun her, then pulled her back into his arms in one fluid, flawless motion. All the best assassins were good dancers. He spun Talia again, letting her back rest against him as he inhaled her scent. Then one last twirl brought her face to face with him once more. Bodies pressed together like two perfect, decadent lovers.
"And you, Talia Al Ghul? What would you do to protect what you love most in this world?"
"There would be no limits. No one and nothing would stand in the way of protecting what I love most—because what is done for love goes beyond good and evil, Slade."
He chuckled and held her waist tighter.
"I know that look, princess. Tell me what you want."
Talia let out a small laugh. Over his shoulder, she saw Damian and Rachel walking arm in arm toward the exit.
"Wait, Damian!"
She saw Rachel tense, but the girl turned around just as her son did. Damian looked so well—there was a light in his eyes she hadn’t seen in years, and it became unmistakable the moment he looked at his mother.
"Yes?"
She smiled at her son, Slade still holding her waist and hand. For Damian, she would kill her father. For her son—the most precious thing in her life. Talia was a princess, a fallen queen, a lover, vengeful and bitter—but above all, she was a mother. And she would do everything—anything—for her son. She would give him a shot at happiness.
To play up the part of drunkenness and put on a show for her father, who was watching from afar, and everyone else around, she said loudly and teasingly:
"If you two are gonna get involved, at least use protection!"
Damian was extremely skilled at hiding his emotions, but she knew he was embarrassed by the comment. Still, she also knew that a part of him genuinely wanted the girl by his side. What would it hurt to give her a little hint?
Her son and the sorceress turned around, both intimately acquainted with the secondhand embarrassment she had just dumped on them. Let the people gossip about them—and forget that she was there with Slade Wilson, plotting the death of the king. Sealing fate, she called out one last time:
"Damian!"
Her son turned his head. For him. Her boy.
"You looked beautiful tonight."
She gave Slade’s hand a little squeeze, and they resumed their dance. When she saw the couple disappear from the ballroom, she whispered to Slade:
"I want you to kill Ra’s Al Ghul for me, Slade."
Slade Wilson—the Terminator—smiled at her. She knew that smile. It was all the confirmation she needed.
Raven couldn’t sleep. It was pointless. Right after she got back to her room that night, after talking with Zatanna, she couldn’t control her impatience and anxiety. Meditation didn’t help at all, and facing her emotions just made everything worse. After turning over for the fourth time in a row on the mattress, she finally gave up and got up. She went to the bathroom, grabbed a lit candle, and with it, lit the ones next to the furniture by the bed. The room was bathed in a soft yellow light. She thought about studying the book a little more, but she knew that would just torture her even more. So she looked in the dresser drawers for something to read. Didn’t find anything in the left one, so she checked the right. There was the book she had found in the library. She had already finished that one. Under it was the red, well-kept book that had been there for months. She hadn’t finished that one yet. Perfect, maybe she’d find some relief.
She sat on the bed and pulled the covers up to her lap. Settling into the pillows, she dove into the reading, this time starting the book from the beginning.
Raven had always been an avid reader. Throwing herself fully into the words, trying to escape her anxiety, she managed to finish the book in two hours. By the end of the second to last page, her eyes were full of tears. That story was beautiful, full of hope and light. The most touching thing she had ever read. After a few tears of emotion rolled down her face, she allowed herself to turn the blank page and find the hardcover of the book. There were words written in different handwriting on the back cover. That caught her attention, so she wiped her tears and allowed herself to read what was written. The first handwriting, exquisite and elegant, written in gold, caught her eye.
From King Thomas of the Wayne lineage to his son Bruce Wayne, Prince of Gotham.
Dear son, our lineage has made many mistakes in the past. I have made some too. We still have a long blood debt to Gotham and its people. But you can be different, Bruce, you can prove that there is still justice, light, and hope. Do not fear the darkness, my son. Without darkness there is no light, but the light must always win.
Right below, a black ink handwriting followed the same elegant style, though the lettering was noticeably different.
From King Bruce of the Wayne lineage to his son Damian Al Ghul Wayne, legitimate Prince of Gotham.
My son, there is nothing in this world I love more than you. Do not let your grandfather’s darkness extinguish your light. Don’t let the shadows corrupt you, you are a Wayne and always will be. When the darkness is too much, do not be afraid; fight for justice and you will find the light.
With all my love, your father.
Raven’s heart stopped in her chest recognizing the last handwriting below.
From Damian to the Sorceress of the Eastern Mountains.
I hope one day you can forgive me for taking you from your home. Life in the castle isn’t easy, but don’t be afraid, I will always be here whenever you need. Welcome.
When she finished the last word, the book slipped from her hands. She sat up straight in bed immediately. Her heart was pounding so hard she thought it might stop at any moment. She grabbed the book again and reread the words once more to confirm she had read them right. She couldn’t believe it. That book had been there since the beginning, a few days after she arrived, if she wasn’t mistaken. And only now she had read it and reached Damian’s message.
Damian, that weird and mysterious prince who hadn’t left her side. Who had been a little better than her cruel family. The one who had listened to her, even when she only had poison inside. The one who had been an enigma from the start. She couldn’t believe it. It felt extraordinary, surreal, even more surprising than her mother in the flesh that night at the ball. More surreal than anything. She thought the prince had problems, that he was a little crazy, like his grandfather and mother, for treating her as an equal and caring so much about her. But now she saw and understood, even if she didn’t fully get it. Actually, there wasn’t much to understand. There was just the fact that Damian, that cruel prince, was actually not so cruel. And those words there, those damn words, had been with her all along. Damian had been genuine. His attention was true and sincere, even if the reasons behind it made no sense.
From that point on, she couldn’t sleep. She stayed frozen, then paced the room like a maniac. A small, but noticeable part of her heart had lit up. It was totally wrong, but there was a bit more sympathy and appreciation for Damian Al Ghul there. And something else. But that... no, it couldn’t continue, she needed to focus on something before she went crazy from the whirlwind of thoughts in her mind. This was what happened when she truly felt for the first time, without holding back. Without worrying about the destruction it would cause.
When dawn broke and her maids came to get her ready for the day, she stayed silent. Later, when Jinx showed up in her room to instruct her on what to do during the king’s ritual, she remained quiet and bowed her head obediently. There was no space on her tongue to express what she felt inside. There was nothing to say, only to feel. When she was taken to the castle’s underground section and finally saw the faces of the royal family, she just pretended nothing was happening, even though she was exploding inside. She couldn’t face Damian. She performed a spell alongside Jinx and guarded the entrance as the sorceress had ordered.
Ra’s immersed himself in a well of glowing green water with the whole family watching around. Raven wanted to say she was surprised when he emerged 10 years younger than when he entered a minute before, but the words in that little red book still amazed her so much that fact was just another item on the giant list of things Raven was starting to understand about Ra’s Al Ghul’s game.
Jinx noticed her blank face, but then went to Ra’s to hug him and congratulate him on his birthday and another successful ritual. Raven kept her face closed off, like she did in Azarath, but when she felt Damian’s presence beside her, everything became too much to bear. Especially because her heart beat faster and stronger at the thought of looking at him. She couldn’t hide the heat in her cheeks, so she asked to be excused immediately by the family, who released her and joyfully celebrated among themselves.
When she got to her room, exhaustion ran through her bones, but she couldn’t sleep. An hour later, a letter magically fell from the air onto her head. It said:
We fled today, don’t take anything. The book is already with me. John is fine. Stay alert, when the time comes the lights will go out. Be well.
Z.
Then the paper burned a second after she finished reading. She went to the balcony. Looked at the clouds, looked at the green forest that stretched for miles ahead. She missed the view of the sea. Thought about all the months she had spent there, the things she’d been through, the suffering she’d felt. She walked slowly around the room and stopped in front of the mirror. The girl looking back at her surprised her. It wasn’t the ghost of the broken, scrawny girl from the mountains. It was the sorceress with light purple eyes, red lips, and rosy cheeks. A healthy, flushed woman with delicate, beautiful features. Everything she had once wanted to be. That castle definitely transformed her. Those people changed her, she allowed herself to change for Nanda Parbat.
When afternoon came and her servants began preparing her for the ball, she just surrendered to the process of finishing up. Let her mind go completely blank. Let it go so she wouldn’t have to think anymore. Not even about Damian and his kind words. Her heart ached with confusion, but she silenced it. She would be the powerful sorceress the Al Ghuls insisted she was. She’d give them one last act.
Dressed as a crow, this was the most beautiful dress Talia’s seamstress had made for her. Voluminous, the fabric was soft and shiny dark bluish purple, flowing down in a tail made of crow feathers, and the bodice was full of sparkle, like a star-filled sky. From her shoulders hung a beautiful veil the same color and sparkle as her dress, decorated with some geometric shapes that resembled stars. The veil was attached to a perfectly sculpted metal piece. Her hair was styled in a beautiful updo, holding all the strands back and exposing her neck. Finally, they made up her face and put on her mask and the necklace Damian had given her as a gift.
Raven didn’t feel fear walking through the castle halls. Before leaving her room, she looked at him one last time, and the door closed behind her, sealing that chapter of her life forever. She would never come back there, she was sure. After that night, she would leave Nanda Parbat and the Al Ghuls behind, with all their gold and promises. She’d leave Damian too, and everything she felt for him. Because she had come to the conclusion that no matter what she felt, nothing would change who he was or what he was destined to be—and she was nothing more than a girl with nothing to offer who didn’t want to stay in that court.
When people stopped to look at her, when she finally reached the top of the stairs, she no longer felt fear or shame. On the contrary, determined to fulfill her last act, she straightened her shoulders and copied Talia’s same attitude. And when she stopped beside Damian, she gave the same look Jinx gave people. She knew the Al Ghuls were more than proud. Finally, the sorceress they had been searching for appeared. Ra’s Al Ghul began to speak. The entire crowd stopped to listen. This ball was unlike any before. There was double the gold, food, lights, servants, music, and people. The hall reached full capacity and everyone buzzed with beauty and color in their creative, colorful costumes. Raven totally ignored the king and just watched the crowd. She tried to guess what some costumes represented.
When Ra’s finished, she gracefully detached from the family and walked away. People looked at her, and for the first time, Raven didn’t care, she felt no shame. She greeted dukes, princesses, princes, viscounts, and all kinds of royal titles that existed, just like Talia had taught her. It was when she was halfway across the hall that two women called her.
“You must be the prince’s new sorceress. We came to congratulate you.”
“And who are you?” Raven said, feigning indifference. The women stood unusually close together, as if they were a couple. Both had genuine smiles on their faces.
“My name is Pamela Isley, miss. And this is my wife, Harley.”
“Harleen Frances Quinzel, at your service, but everyone calls me Harley.”
“Pleasure to meet you both.”
“The pleasure is ours, miss. At the last ball, we wanted to congratulate you, but there were so many people wanting to talk to us that we didn’t get the chance. We’re also very sorry for what happened to you.”
The memory brought anger to Raven’s heart. Still, she kept up the cold façade she had maintained until then.
“Thank you for your kindness.”
“Of course.” Pamela looked at Harley and then turned her attention back to Raven.
“Come have tea with us someday. We can show you our perfumery.”
“You make perfumes?”
“Yes, the best in the kingdom. The royal family only does business with us. I bet the perfume you’re wearing was made by me.”
“Interesting.”
“Yes. Pamela is the best at what she does. I have a jewelry shop—I make the royal jewels. But everything that’s mine belongs to my dear Pamela here, right?” said Harley, beaming at her wife. While the first was lively and animated, the second was calm and sober.
“Yes, we can schedule something. I’ll set aside a day off from castle duties—I give you my word.”
“Perfect.”
Someone called for Harley.
“Harley, I think Slade is calling us. We need to go.”
“Yeah, I thought I was hearing things, but I’m glad you confirmed they’re not just voices in my head.” Harleen chuckled at herself and linked her arm with her wife’s.
“You’re crazy as it is, dear.”
The two of them laughed.
“We’ll see you another day, miss. It was a pleasure meeting you.”
“Likewise.”
Raven smiled inwardly. She turned to head back toward the center of the ballroom to try and find John or Zatanna when a woman appeared in front of her. She was a stunning, slender woman dressed as a peacock. Her dress was green and purple, adorned with shimmering green gemstones. A red belt cinched her waist, and a beautiful set of peacock feathers was symmetrically arranged on her back, simulating the bird.
“Hello, Miss Raven. It was about time we met again.”
Raven froze in place. She didn’t recognize the woman at all. Her emerald green eyes were locked onto her.
“Who are you?”
“Don’t you remember me?”
“No.”
The woman stepped closer, smiling, and took Raven’s wrist in her cold fingers. When she looked down at where the hand rested, Raven’s eyes widened. The skin that should have been youthful was wrinkled and old, the nails long and unkempt. Shocked, she looked up. Standing before her was no longer the sensual woman in the peacock costume—but an old, hunched, tiny crone.
Then she remembered.
Months ago, that very same woman had forced Raven into her home and read her fortune. And now, here she was again, standing right in front of her. Madame Xanadu.
Xanadu smiled and then shifted back. Raven looked around to check if anyone else had seen it—but no, no one seemed to be paying attention to them.
“Don’t worry, little bird. Only you can see this change. I had to disguise myself that day so others wouldn’t see me—you see, I was being hunted too.”
“What do you want with me?”
The woman’s eyes grew serious as she took Raven’s other hand, making her freeze up even more, tension locking her in place.
“I’ve come to warn you about something important. Don’t be afraid of what’s about to happen, Raven.”
“What do you mean? What’s about to happen?”
Madame Xanadu held her hands gently.
“This game began long before you were born. It’s still going, but you… you will be the one to end it.”
“What? I don’t understand, be clearer!” Raven interrupted, her voice sharp.
“Remember this, Raven: darkness cannot exist without light—but light must always prevail.”
“Raven.” A male voice called from behind her. She turned.
The elegant figure, dressed entirely in black, his mask covering most of his face, was the last person she wanted to see in that moment. But she had to finish the conversation with the woman—she needed to know what she really meant. When she turned back… the woman was gone. No sign of her anywhere.
Damian touched her elbow and she shivered.
Slowly, she turned to face him.
“I’m about to open the royal waltz, and I’d like you to accompany me.”
Raven blinked twice. Damian was standing right in front of her—that cruel prince with dark beauty. A son of darkness. And yet, he had given her a book that held the promise of kindness. She simply didn’t understand. Didn’t understand how everything had shifted. How this boy standing before her had gone from being her enemy to…
To…
She didn’t know how to define what Damian was to her now. People around them were paying attention to what was happening. The prince always drew attention wherever he went.
“Would you do me the honor of dancing with me, Raven?”
Like her body was made of a thousand snapping twigs, Raven slowly nodded. He took her hand and placed a gentle kiss on it, sending shivers through her entire body.
The crowd parted; a melody began to play through the ballroom.
Xanadu, Zatanna, the ritual, the king, the princess, the facade Raven was maintaining—it all faded from her mind when Damian drew their bodies together. With a delicacy that made her melt, he began to move her. Raven smiled as her feet started following on their own, without tripping.
“Why are you smiling?”
She looked up.
“I really learned how to dance.”
Damian gazed at her deeply, then smiled too. A genuine smile, showing his white, perfect teeth. He spun her and then moved behind her, guiding her from there. Raven blushed as she felt her back press against his chest. People were watching, and she blushed even harder—not because of them, but because of how her heart reacted to the simple friction of their bodies. She had danced like this with him once before, but she hadn’t felt any of this then. And here she was now, shivering and blushing.
When he spun her again, Raven couldn’t lift her eyes.
“You’re distant today.”
She looked to the side.
“Yeah.”
“Any particular reason?”
“No.” She lied.
“You know you can tell me the truth.”
She felt Damian’s gloved hand under her chin. No, no, no. She wouldn’t be able to lie to his eyes.
Their gazes locked—that sea of jade, intense and mysterious like a serpent’s. He was more skilled than anyone at hiding his reactions and emotions, an abyss so deep and endless that she was afraid of falling into it.
“Damian…”
“Raven.”
“Who are you, Damian?” He spun her again.
“And who am I?” she said, finding herself face to face with him again. “I don’t even know anymore what’s real and what’s not. What’s an illusion and what is truly real. I always thought there was a clear line between what’s right and what’s wrong… but now I can’t see that line anymore. So tell me, Damian Al Ghul, prince of Nanda Parbat and Gotham. Tell me who you are—if you’re a good person or a bad one—and what’s behind these defenses you hide behind.”
Their feet moved on their own—they were just two souls stripped bare before each other.
“Raven.” He slowed their dance. He took her chin and lifted it delicately. “What would you do if you received a gift you didn’t want, but then you finally understood it was truly meant for you? What would you do to protect the most precious thing you had? If the fate of something as fragile as a flower was in your hands… how would you react? Tell me, what would you do?”
She didn’t know. She didn’t know anything anymore.
Trumpets sounded in the distance. And the king announced himself while Damian still held her in his arms.
“Attention, my dear guests! The eclipse is about to begin!” They were still dancing in each other’s arms. The torches began to go out, one by one. They stopped. When the ballroom was completely dark, and an excited murmur rippled through the crowd, the sky began to shift—the Moon covering the Sun. And, in a total eclipse of the heart, Raven rose up on her toes and pressed her lips to Damian’s. It lasted only a few seconds.
“For the cruel prince who tore me from my home… thank you for your kind words.”
The full moon began to shine again, illuminating the entire ballroom. The ecstatic crowd began applauding and saluting the king and his family. The lights were manually relit the next minute, with the torches flaring up again.
Raven had slipped out of Damian’s arms. She knew something was wrong the moment after—Zatanna hadn’t shown up. Damian was staring at her intensely.
“Ra…” Damian was about to say something when two sharp blades pierced through his chest, lifting his body off the ground. Blood poured from his nose and mouth the very next second.
“This, Talia Al Ghul, is for making a fool of me!” shouted Slade Wilson, ripping the swords from Damian’s chest and letting the prince collapse to the floor. The scream that followed froze every heart in the ballroom.
It was Talia, screaming for Damian.
Slade Wilson shot a quick glance at Raven just before explosions echoed in the background and the ballroom doors were blown apart.
“Fire!” The entire hall erupted in chaos as the flames began to consume the banners hanging from the ceiling. People panicked, running and desperately trying to escape.
Raven’s knees gave out, collapsing to the floor beside him. She leaned over Damian—blood was dripping from his mouth, pooling beneath him. Raven’s eyes filled with tears.
“You’ll beg to see the devil, Slade, because I’m going to take my time with you!” screamed Talia, feral like a wild animal. A sword gripped tightly in her hand. The hall was on fire. Utter madness.
Before taking one last look at her son, tears streaming down her face, Talia turned to Raven.
“Save him, please. Don’t let my son die.”
The woman who said that wasn’t the same cold, ruthless princess who ruled herself and the world—but a mother. With her face streaked in black, she ran after her son’s assassin.
The prince coughed up blood. Life was leaving him.
Damian placed his cold hand on her face, and she began to sob. Death had come to greet Raven once again. First with Azarath, her people, her mother. Now with Damian. And it was so unfair. She couldn’t let this happen; he couldn’t leave her like this. Not after she had seen his heart. Not like this.
Spitting blood, Damian spoke with great effort. Raven leaned her head closer to hear him, as her tears mixed with his blood.
“You are the most precious jewel I’ve ever seen in my entire life. Don’t let them extinguish your light, Raven.” He said that for the last time, his eyes going lifeless and dull.
“Damian!” she cried, sobbing. Damian’s hand fell from her face, but she caught it, squeezing his cold fingers.
It wasn’t fair. Death had surprised her once again.
No matter where she was, Raven always brought darkness and death with her. It didn’t matter how long it took—sooner or later, chaos always arrived. And it was always her fault.
But not this time. The screams of her dying people, the tears in Talia’s eyes, and Damian’s empty, lifeless gaze were too much. This time, she would face death head-on. But how? If only she had her magic.
Then she felt it. Like a chill down her spine, like an invisible string just being tugged—she felt it. And the moment she did, she raised her head.
There he was.
Dressed in black, with the same pale grayish skin tone as Raven. There he was. The one from her vision, the one who had visited her in the magic chamber. She knew she wasn’t going crazy.
The hall was almost empty, except for a few people fighting for reasons she didn’t understand, near the throne.
But there was that man, laughing. As if he delighted in the chaos happening around him.
He was leaning back, relaxed. When he stopped laughing, he smiled at Raven.
Then he moved his hand to the side.
Raven felt it immediately.
The cuffs shattered and fell from her wrists.
Magic coursed through her body once again.
The man stared at her, but Raven ignored him.
“Don’t be afraid, Damian. I’m coming to get you,” Raven said, her voice choked with determination.
With thick tears rolling down her face, the sorceress placed her palms on the prince’s chest and closed her eyes. She inhaled deeply, gathering all her magic and power, held it for three seconds, and then, as she exhaled, she said:
“Azarath Metrion Zinthos!”
It was cold. Very cold. She opened her eyes. She was in a forest. The trees had already lost their leaves, and their trunks were covered in snow. She breathed in. The icy air filled her nostrils. She looked at her hands. She was wearing her cloak.
She heard a distant sound.
Something pulled her forward.
Like an invisible rope.
She didn’t know what it was, but she let it guide her. Like a thread connecting two points.
She followed, the sound becoming clearer and clearer. Crying. Someone was crying.
Then she approached a clearing, frozen over with snow.
A boy stood with his back to her. He wore an elegant black cloak. He was standing still, motionless like a statue, but he was the one crying intensely.
Raven approached. That’s when she saw it.
Two bodies. A girl and a giant dog. Both decapitated and covered with a thin layer of ice over their bodies. Two katanas pierced through their backs. She recognized those swords. They were the prince’s.
Raven gasped. The boy was still crying.
“Go away from here or I’ll kill you,” he said, acknowledging her presence.
He didn’t turn his head, but Raven recognized that voice.
“Damian,” she said, running to him.
“Who are you?” he asked, without looking at her.
“Damian, look at me.”
He ignored her, his sword—smaller and more elegant—was stuck in the ground, and the boy kept his hands resting there.
“Damian, look at me, please.”
He clenched his fists in anger, but then the child finally looked at her.
With spiky, rebellious hair, and two green eyes reddened from so much crying. The child version of Damian looked at her.
“Someone killed them. They killed my friends.” he said, full of pain, unmoving, as if rooted to the spot.
Then his legs gave out and she ran to him, wrapping his thin body in her arms. The boy hugged her and began crying into her chest.
“Talia and Ra’s warned me. They told me I couldn’t have friends, that if I kept having them, something bad would happen to them. But... I didn’t listen, and look what happened! Someone killed them. They killed them!”
Raven felt her own tears begin to fall. Her empathy made her feel Damian’s pain, the devastation in that so young a heart.
And crying along with the boy, she pulled him gently away from her chest and delicately lifted his chin.
“Damian, listen to me. This isn’t your fault. Whoever did this will pay one day, but this isn’t your fault.”
“If I hadn’t had friends, this never would have happened. Emiko... and Titus, no one will bring them back.” he said, crying intensely.
“Damian, listen to me.” She said, then wiped the tears from his eyes with her fingers. “Darkness can’t exist without light, but light must always win.” she said, crying too. She let Damian’s pain become her own, absorbing it all, pulling it into herself and easing that pounding ache.
She was healing him. Damian stopped crying.
“I didn’t get the chance to say goodbye.”
Raven smiled sadly and let that pain enter her. She lowered her head for a second before looking at him again.
“Why don’t you tell them now?”
Damian’s eyes widened, but then he looked at his friends' corpses on the ground.
The bodies had disappeared. And, in a yellow light, Emiko and Titus were looking at Damian happily.
“They need to say goodbye now, Damian. Can you say goodbye to them?”
With tears in his eyes, he nodded. Then she let him go, and the prince ran to his friends.
First, he went to the giant dog, hugging him. The dog, happy, gave the boy one last lick on the face. Then Damian threw himself into the girl’s arms, hugging her tightly. She laughed and hugged him back. From Damian’s shoulder, Emiko smiled at Raven—a sweet and happy smile. She whispered something into her friend’s ear before letting him go and calling Titus.
The dog and the girl then gave one last look at the people in the frozen forest before starting to walk north.
Damian stood there, waving. Raven stood up and went to his side. When they could no longer see the yellow light, Damian turned to her and hugged her, crying one last time. Raven placed her hands on his head, gently stroking his hair.
When, at last, all the pain was dissolved from Damian’s heart, and when she destroyed that pain within herself, Raven felt the wind start to dance through her veins. When she pulled away from the prince and rested her gaze on him, it was no longer a boy standing there. It was a man. A king. And he was smiling at her.
“Thank you.”
The frozen forest around them started to blur, and then she felt a pull on her back—something was pulling her back.
Smiling one last time, she said his name before caressing his cheek.
“Damian.”
Then she was torn forcefully from his arms. A strong wind pulled her away. And Raven, dizzy with the blurred images and the numbness in her senses, let the darkness carry her.
The hall was still on fire, and people were still fighting each other. Talia Al Ghul was still far away when the sorceress’s seated body fell onto the young man’s.
And, in the very next second, he stood up. Gasping back to life, he screamed her name:
“Raven!”
Chapter 31: XXI
Chapter Text
Finally, the end has arrived. Guys, lol, I don’t even have words—this was such a long journey. It’s funny, Montanhas de Azarath is about the ancient, the medieval, the trees, the stars, and… I’m the most modernist person you can imagine! Seriously, if I spend more than an hour in nature or away from the city, I get sad. I need my buildings, my cafés. But more than that, Montanhas de Azarath was started and conceived when I, a character in this thing called life—just like all of you—had just moved to a faraway place. And there I learned the strength life sometimes forces us to find to change, even if it hurts. How many times was I alone in my own “mountains,” lolol. Jokes aside, Montanhas de Azarath is for everyone who is far from home, for everyone who’s been “kidnapped” from what was comfortable, usual, safe; know that you’re not alone. Sometimes we need to leave the island to be able to see the island.
Also, Montanhas de Azarath is built on the premise of showing a believable universe, a real world, where power can change anyone’s life; and to achieve it, a lot must be sacrificed. There’s nothing soft about Nanda Parbat or the characters’ stories, it’s a harsh world—rough, at best. There’s no god watching over people’s suffering; gods don’t pity. Over the chapters, I noticed a generous amount of people didn’t get that, and if that still isn’t clear after this little speech, I ask you to reevaluate your ability to handle such themes. Damian’s training as he grows up to be Ra's al Ghul’s heir is hidden, but I have to say—our prince was not trained with affection. At no point was Damian al Ghul expected to behave kindly, empathetically, or be considerate of the feelings of those around him. He was born to be king, from a dynasty with violence running in its veins.
There is nothing healthy, cute, harmonious, or respectful about Montanhas de Azarath, and that was—and continues to be—my intention from the start. It’s meant to be toxic, it’s meant to make you uncomfortable, it’s meant to make you feel bad. If you still don’t get that, that’s entirely your problem, and comments in that vein will no longer be accepted or validated.
This story also wouldn’t be anything without the precious illustrations by the talented Amaati—they gave me that final spark to overcome procrastination and write.
Here’s her profile:
Here’s the art that inspired me to write:
I want to thank all of you for the comments, kudos, and all the support.
On Nyah! Fanfiction: Daniel Ferreira, Rafaela L, TheNyx;
On Spirit Fanfiction: Scorpion2523—thanks for always being around, seriously, thank you for supporting this story since the first chapter. JuJu176, lunary_light, Amy_blin—thank you for being such a sweetheart, you were so precious, kept me writing with your comments. KarinaMartins22, rykirys, AneMarie425, vitoriafardineu, BellyBunny, ichinel, Srainha, Cibeli_Prado, emanuelly30, MahhOliveira, kac_kac_kac, jsontodd, Elentiya1840, belly____, fotoDefalt, hellena09, XxxLilythXxx, Dylansilva, YuriGralha, aanamariee, Senhorita_L—thank you for the favorites, you kept me online wanting to know more about all of you. For the amazing comments: Amy_Blin, jsontodd, Scorpion2523, Cibeli_Prado, belly_____, AnieMary425, Elentiya1840, and ichinel—THANK YOU.
On Wattpad: thanks to 1234_eu, DR_Marini, Scorpion2523, JliaNavarro4, BigDreamerCE, Magicshop1308, damianterra, Gomss_maria, AnaRocha782, GabriellySilveira120, AnaLuciaSouzaSilva2, YasminMarques205, and tay468. Thanks for the votes, for adding MDA to your lists, but most of all, thank you for commenting. Especially the dear Gomss_maria who stuck with me through most of the chapters. You guys made such a huge difference in my fanfic journey .
On ArchiveofOurOwn: thanks to JTee, Raven_Roth_2_5, Waldgott, Azuna9, AzuBBlue, Raven_Roth_2_5, sophiabell01, VanillaFlower, Nate_x_xxiv, agd992, MariaMoonLight0112, PhoenixLee2579, RyougiShiki, 1Ravens_Haven1, JTee, Scorpion2523, and RineWayne. And all the others I couldn’t see names for. Thanks for the favorites and kudos! For the comments—my absolute fave because either it was hate or pure love—I wanna thank: Scorpion2523, always constant—thank you so much. JTee, I love your nickname, thanks for the precious comments. Paulapoet, you sure made an entrance, I loved seeing your comments. PhoenixLee2579, my dear who’s been here since version 1.0 of Montanhas de Azarath, thank you! Raven_Roth_2_5, you’re a sweetheart, my lovely, thank you. RyougiShiki, we laughed SO much in those comments—you were my favorite notification. RineWayne, thank you—girl, I’m following you on Twitter, follow back! LOL. From version 1.0 of Montanhas de Azarath (which doesn’t exist anymore), I want to thank everyone who commented and made me so happy. I remember some nicknames I’ll leave here: DimpleG, Ophelia, Seeven, and PhoenixLee2579. If you still follow MDA from the old version and had commented, please drop your name so I can add it here too—it’d be a joy to remember .
Seriously, guys, thank you—you made this São Paulo fanfic author’s life so much brighter. I can’t even begin to express my gratitude.
I want to dedicate this story to my daughters and sons: O’Dara, reason of my life. Ivy, Nina, Nikolina, Crystal, Black Panther, Duke, Félix—and to the grandkids and great-grandkids too, who must be grown up by now. To write Raven’s personality I based it on my sister, the most beautiful jewel, my little princess, Beatriz. Also wanna dedicate this to my dad, Maurílio—dear God, Jorge & Mateus—if you’re reading this, sorry for the typos. USP 2023—wooooooohoooooo! Not. LOL. Love you, ok?
Shoutout to WildFireDesigns: https://wildfiredesigns. / who made the beautiful Montanhas de Azarath cover. If you haven’t seen it yet, for the love of Jorge & Mateus—go check it out!
And last but not least, I want to explain something no one ever asked, but I’m answering anyway: Why is our protagonist’s name written Raven, not Ravena? Look, pay attention with me here. I don’t know what got into the minds of the Teen Titans dub production team, but the name Raven is literally a noun! They wanted to feminize a noun! That makes zero sense to me. Her name is literally Raven, not Ravena, which is just the article “a” plus the noun “raven,” which translates to “corvo” in Portuguese. To me, that’s ridiculous. If they wanted to add the article without fusing it, just to mark the noun, like “a Corvo,” fine—but they didn’t, right? Too late, Teen Titans premiered a million years ago on Brazilian TV and it’s not today or tomorrow they’ll realize their mistake. So I’ll keep using her name in the original language, English: Raven . Not changing it
. If you’re bothered, move
.
So now, let’s go to the final round of thanks. Montanhas de Azarath is the first book of two! Yay, woo! Let’s dive even deeper into this depression. Come on, friends! Let’s spin the wheel of doom because now things are getting real… LOL. The script for book two is already done, woohoo—now just gotta write it. HOW-E-VER, I’ll be dedicating myself to some other projects first. I have two stories to post: Blondie, which will be a Harley solo—that crazy gal I adore—and the other about Jason and Rae, ‘cause I think they’re SO cute together. Don’t be fooled—I ship Rae with all the batboys. Also gotta finish the other story I have open on AO3. Yikes, so much stuff. I also need to make covers for all these stories AND for Montanhas de Azarath’s sequel. Plus, I still haven’t figured out the title... damn, so much to do. You saw, right? The train’s gonna take a while.
And finally, the gold trophy goes to the biggest Montanhas de Azarath reader: Miss Leila. This crazy, wild, brilliant soul is my favorite. Future Math teacher who’s still gonna teach me trigonometry. Leila, this little goth being, I swear broke the Guinness World Record for longest comment ever. Guys, I don’t have a screenshot or anything, but she basically wrote a whole chapter, like 730 words, just as a comment. Leila, babe, I have no words to describe how grateful I am for you, seriously. Thank you. You hit this fanfic author right in the heart.
And finally—wrapping this all up—I’d like to leave my socials in case anyone wants to know more about me :
instagram: julianabutnot
tumblr: msmysticfail
youtube: julianabutnot
wattpad: flynn_lives
spirit: TronLegacyfan
archive: TronLegacyfan
fanfiction: constantiny
TronLegacyfan on Chapter 1 Fri 09 May 2025 12:06AM UTC
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Aquila11566 on Chapter 2 Fri 09 May 2025 07:05PM UTC
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Raven_Roth_2_5 on Chapter 6 Sat 31 May 2025 02:59AM UTC
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Raven_Roth_2_5 on Chapter 30 Tue 10 Jun 2025 02:18AM UTC
Last Edited Tue 10 Jun 2025 02:18AM UTC
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TronLegacyfan on Chapter 30 Fri 20 Jun 2025 07:02PM UTC
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