SON OF BATMAN

Damian remained seated for a while, holding Raven as she slept, watching the peaceful expression settle over her features. Her breathing was slow and steady, and for the first time in years, she looked truly at ease. He observed her quietly, feeling the weight of all the years they had both endured slip away, if only for this moment.

After a time, he moved. Gently, carefully, he shifted, rising to his feet with Raven still cradled securely in his arms. She was so light, fragile even, and he held her with a tenderness that seemed out of place in the endless, consuming darkness that surrounded them.

The vast expanse was absolute. There was not even the faintest hint of light to break the oppressive blackness. He stood there, holding Raven, alone in that abyss. Then, all at once, the darkness began to stir.

It shifted and swirled, coiling around them like a living thing. The shadows moved faster, transforming into a vortex, a swirling storm of darkness that twisted and churned around them, with Damian at its center.

The darkness spun wildly, faster and faster, a typhoon of pure, inky blackness that swallowed everything in its path. It roared around them, a chaotic dance of shadow, until, as suddenly as it had started, it began to lift.

The darkness peeled away, unraveling in swift, fluid motions, dissipating like mist in the morning light.

In the blink of an eye, it was gone. The oppressive abyss vanished, replaced by the familiar, quiet surroundings of Raven's room. The air was still, almost tranquil.

Damian stood in the middle of the room, Raven still cradled in his arms, her face serene in the gentle light that filtered through the dim curtains.

He moved forward, each step careful and deliberate, his gaze never leaving her face. Gently, he approached her bed, lowering her onto the soft sheets.

Her head rested against the pillow, and for a moment, she stirred, letting out a quiet sigh before settling back into deep sleep. Damian pulled the blanket over her, tucking it around her with an unexpected tenderness, his touch lingering for a brief second.

For a moment, he simply stood there, watching her breathe, his gaze softening as he took in the toll the past years had carved into her fragile form.

Her once-vibrant skin was pale and drawn, her cheeks sunken and hollow. Dark circles shadowed her eyes, a stark reminder of countless sleepless nights and endless battles fought in silence.

Her frame was painfully thin, almost delicate, the lines of her collarbones and wrists too pronounced, hinting at the severe malnourishment she had endured.

She looked so small, so breakable, lying there beneath the blankets, as if the weight of a single touch might shatter her.

The strength and power he had always seen in her seemed almost hidden now, buried beneath the frail exterior of someone who had spent years trapped in a relentless struggle against an unimaginable darkness.

A pang of sorrow and protectiveness twisted in Damian's chest, and he found himself reaching down to gently brush a strand of hair from her face, his fingers lingering for a moment longer than necessary.

There was a calm now, a sense of purpose that seemed to fill the air. He had brought her back. She was safe.

With one last glance, he turned away and moved towards the door. The darkness of the room was now a comforting presence rather than an overwhelming void. It was not the end, but perhaps, it was the beginning of something new.

*********

The atmosphere in the hallway was thick with tension. The members of the Teen Titans, each wearing expressions that ranged from unease to outright worry, stood clustered around the closed door, their eyes fixed on it as if willing it to open.

The air was heavy with the unknown, a silence broken only by the occasional shifting of feet and the muffled sounds that filtered through the thick walls. The tendrils of darkness, seeping from the small gap under the door, added a sinister edge to the oppressive stillness.

Some time ago, Damian had vanished behind the door to Raven's room, and no one knew what to expect. An anxious energy crackled in the air, as if the whole tower was holding its breath.

Dick Grayson leaned against the wall, his arms crossed, eyes flicking back and forth between the closed door and the faces of his teammates. His usual composure seemed a little more rigid, his jaw set tight. Kory was standing close by, her gaze fixed unblinkingly on the door, her expression thoughtful but betraying a hint of worry.

Garfield was pacing, a nervous bounce to his step, his eyes darting toward the door every few seconds. Terra stood next to him, watching with folded arms, a worried frown tugging at her lips.

And then there was the red-haired youth, lean, intense, with an air of restless impatience that only seemed to grow with every second of silence. He looked ready to spring into action at the slightest sound, his fingers tapping a silent rhythm against his leg.

Finally, Garfield broke the silence. "How long has he been in there?" he muttered, glancing at Kory. "Should we, you know, do something?"

Kory, her tone measured but soft, replied, "Don't worry. If there's anyone who can reach Raven... it's Damian. He'll bring her back." Her voice carried a quiet certainty, though her eyes betrayed the anxiety she kept tightly leashed.

Before Garfield could respond, the sound of light, confident footsteps approaching echoed down the corridor, drawing the group's attention.

A tall, graceful figure stepped out of the shadows moving with a relaxed and confident stride, her footsteps slow and casual, as if she hadn't a care in the world.

She had a slender, athletic build, and her pale skin seemed to catch the dim light in the hall. Icy blue hair cascaded down her back, the color stark against her dark clothing.

Her gaze was a cold, piercing blue, shimmering like frost under the moonlight, carrying with it an almost tangible chill that prickled the air. It was the kind of blue that didn't just freeze you in place, it made you feel the cold seep into your very bones, sharp and unyielding like the bite of winter's first frost.

Her eyes seemed almost alive, glacial, and haunting, as if carved from the edges of a frozen lake at dawn. They didn't just look at you, they looked through you, stripping away every layer and leaving behind an unsettling sense of exposure, as if the cold had crept beneath your skin to touch something deeper.

The ghostly intensity in her stare promised equal parts beauty and danger, an arctic brilliance that drew you in with its hypnotic allure while the icy edge warned you to stay away. They were eyes that held no warmth, glinting like knives of ice, reflective and unknowable, leaving a trail of cold unease in their wake.

"What are you guys doing here?" she asked, her tone laced with a hint of amusement as if she had stumbled upon a particularly odd scene.