🕯️ “The Ghost in the Cowl” — Part 2
(Continuation from: “Danny isn’t alone anymore.”)
The lights flicker once. Twice.
Then the emergency generators hum to life — low, shuddering, uncertain.
Cass is the first to move. She signs, Not safe.
Jason’s already aiming his gun at the shimmer forming behind Danny.
Because there’s another presence in the cave now.
And it feels wrong.
The shadows ripple — stretching like liquid smoke.
Then a shape steps out. Cloaked. Hollow-eyed.
Its face is cracked porcelain, voice layered like a dozen whispers.
“He found the lost piece,” it hisses. “The stolen soul.”
Danny shifts instantly, energy flaring.
“Stay back.”
The Batfamily circles up — classic formation. Damian at the front, Tim at the console, Cass silent in the dark.
Bruce doesn’t move. His gaze is locked on the intruder — because it’s wearing a bat symbol.
A twisted one. Melted.
Like something dug out of a grave.
“What are you?” Bruce demands.
“What you left behind,” the creature says. “The rage. The fear. The piece the Pit couldn’t resurrect.”
Danny steps forward, eyes glowing brighter.
“That’s what I came to warn you about. The Lazarus didn’t just bring you back — it split you.”
“You were supposed to die, Bruce. But they cheated death. And death... doesn’t forget its debts.”
The entity turns its broken mask toward Danny.
“You stole my claim.”
“You can’t have him,” Danny snarls.
The air drops twenty degrees.
Frost creeps up the Batmobile.
The ghost king’s aura flares, a crown of green flame circling his head.
Jason mutters, “Okay, we’re doing this now,” and fires. The bullets pass through harmlessly.
Tim yells something about containment fields. Cass pulls Damian back.
And in the middle of the chaos, Bruce just stares.
Because deep inside, under the layers of calm and control, something in him remembers.
A scream underwater. A hand dragging him toward light. A voice — gentle, desperate — whispering,
“Come back. You don’t belong here yet.”
That voice had been Danny’s.
Bruce looks up.
“You… saved me.”
Danny turns, sadness flickering through the glow.
“No, Bruce. I only saved what I could.”
The entity lunges. The world erupts in green and black.
Wind. Frost. Static.
Everything freezes — then implodes into silence.
When the smoke clears, the cave is empty.
No Danny. No creature.
Just a scorch mark on the floor — shaped like a bat.
And Bruce Wayne, kneeling in the dark, whispering to no one:
“What did I lose?”
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