SON OF BATMAN

Moving closer, Damian knelt beside Raven, his movements gentle and slow. He reached out, brushing a few strands of her hair away from her face and tucking them behind her ear. She flinched slightly at his touch but didn't open her eyes, her lips parting in a pained, barely audible murmur, a plea for the torment to end.

With infinite care, as if handling something infinitely precious, Damian gently gathered her into his arms. He looked down at her, concern filling his gaze as he took in her fragile state. Her body trembled, her face drawn and weak, as if every ounce of energy had been sapped away. She seemed hollowed out, a shadow of the powerful figure he remembered.

Behind them, Trigon watched in uncharacteristic silence. The otherworldly realm hung in perfect stillness, broken only by the soft clinking of the demon lord's chains. His earlier bravado replaced by a wary observation of the scene unfolding before him. His massive form cast long shadows across the ancient columns, yet for once, his presence seemed almost peripheral to the moment taking place.

Raven's eyes remained closed, and it was clear she had not yet realized that someone was holding her. Or perhaps, to her, Damian's touch was just another illusion, another manifestation of her own longing playing tricks on her mind.

During all of this, Trigon remained silent, watching them with a strange, unreadable expression. His fiery gaze followed Damian's every movement.

In Damian's arms, Raven's quiet muttering grew louder, her trembling lips barely forming the words, "Stop… please, stop…" Her voice was faint, almost a plea lost to the stillness around them, yet each word held a raw vulnerability that made Damian's heart clench. Though Trigon had ceased his verbal torment, his cruel words had carved deep into her mind, leaving wounds that festered in the silence.

Raven clutched her head tighter, as if trying to block out echoes only she could hear, her whole body caught in a painful reflex of resistance and surrender. Her breaths were shallow, punctuated by soft whimpers, and she flinched even in Damian's gentle hold, as though expecting the next lash of her father's scorn at any moment. The crystal embedded in her forehead pulsed weakly with a dim purple light, a visual reminder of her ongoing struggle. Damian tightened his grip around her, silently willing his presence to shield her from the lingering shadows of Trigon's cruelty.

Damian looked down at Raven's face, his expression softening as he gently brushed a few stray strands of hair behind her ears. Her features, though pale and strained, held a haunting beauty even in her weakened state. The years of isolation had left their mark - her cheekbones were sharper, her skin almost translucent, like porcelain on the verge of shattering.

The moment he touched her, Raven's muttering stilled, her mind seemingly sensing a new presence within the fog of her suffering. Like a beacon cutting through storm clouds, somewhere deep within her consciousness, a voice echoed, familiar and warm, calling to her, drawing her back from the darkness.

Slowly, her eyelids fluttered open, and she found herself gazing up into Damian's eyes. Her eyes, when they finally opened, were the same deep violet he remembered, though now they held shadows he had never seen before.

She lay cradled in his arms, feeling the solid warmth of him beneath her, a comfort she hadn't felt in what seemed like an eternity. The air between them seemed to hum with an electric tension, years of absence crystallizing into this single moment. But there was no shock, no start of recognition in her weary gaze. She simply looked at him, her face expressionless, almost resigned.

Raven had seen him like this so many times before, an illusion born of her own desperation, her mind conjuring him up out of longing and loneliness. She had grown used to these visions, knowing they were only phantoms that would vanish if she reached out to them. Though a small part of her wanted to believe this was real, her heart had been broken too many times by these apparitions to trust her own senses now.

Even though the Damian in front of her or rather the illusion of Damian as she thought him to be seemed different than usual. That difference made her hesitate, a flicker of confusion crossing her features. His hair, once a deep, shadowy black, was now an unnaturally stark white, a striking contrast against his dark clothing. And his eyes... they were no longer the familiar, vibrant green she had known, they were pitch-black, like the deepest abyss, swallowing any trace of light. The sight of him, changed and yet unmistakably him, made her chest tighten, her breath hitching.

But despite the strangeness of his new appearance, there was no shock, no start of recognition in her weary gaze. She simply looked at him, her face expressionless, almost resigned. Though a small part of her wanted to believe this was real, her heart had been broken too many times by these apparitions to trust her own senses now. She simply watched him, distant and numb, bracing herself for the moment he would fade away as he always did.

Damian's gaze remained steady, unbroken. He leaned closer, his voice soft and unwavering as he spoke, "Raven… What's wrong? You don't recognize me anymore?"

She didn't respond, her breath coming in shallow, ragged gasps, her body still tense and curled in on itself. To her, it was just another dream, another cruel trick of her weary mind.

But Damian didn't move away. He stayed there, his expression a mix of determination and concern. He slid his arms gently beneath her, lifting her into a sitting position. He held her securely, his voice lowering to a gentle murmur. "Raven,"

For a moment, there was no reaction, and then slowly, hesitantly, Raven's eyes fluttered. They were distant, unfocused, as if she were seeing him through a fog, not truly believing what lay before her. The pain in her gaze was unmistakable, the weight of her internal struggle etched into the dark circles beneath her eyes.

"It's not real," she whispered, her voice trembling and broken. "You're not real. You can't be here. You're not real." Each repetition seemed to drain more color from her already pale face, as if the very act of speaking was sapping what little strength she had left.

Hearing that, Damian's lips twisted into a smirk as he lifted a hand to her face, his fingers brushing against her cheek with a feather-light touch. "What's the matter, Raven?" he teased, his voice carrying a hint of mockery that cut through the haze clouding her mind. "I just stepped out for a stroll, and now you can't even tell it's me?"