Ra’s al Ghul stood in the dimly lit chamber, the stillness broken only by the shallow, ragged breathing of the figure strapped to the chair. The tools on the table beside him gleamed faintly in the torchlight, their edges marked with streaks of blood. Ra’s studied the instruments with practiced detachment before returning his gaze to the boy.
No—not a boy.
His sharp eyes narrowed as he stepped closer, the faint creak of his boots against the stone floor the only sound in the oppressive silence. Hours of relentless torture had passed, and yet the figure before him, battered and trembling, had given him nothing. It wasn’t the lack of information that gnawed at him; it was the unyielding defiance, the refusal to break under pressure that set his mind racing.
This is no boy, Ra’s thought, his lips pressing into a thin line.
Tom’s head hung low, his sweat-drenched hair clinging to his face. His chest rose and fell with labored breaths, but even in this pitiful state, there was something undeniably unsettling about his endurance. A teenager—an ordinary teenager—should have broken by now. Screaming. Begging. Pleading for mercy. But Tom hadn’t.
Ra’s crouched, bringing himself to eye level with the boy. The faint flicker of life in those half-closed eyes sent a shiver of recognition through him. “Impressive,” he murmured, his voice carrying an edge of cold calculation.
It wasn’t admiration—it was acknowledgment. Whatever this creature was, it wasn’t ordinary.
The Light had speculated that Tom Martin was an enigma, an anomaly—a pawn placed with meticulous intent. To them, he was a courier of secrets, the instrument delivering information that had turned the Justice League’s attention toward their clandestine operations. It had to have been orchestrated; they still believed this without question. Only an organization of immense power and precision could have unearthed their machinations, let alone exposed them to the League.
Yet, as Ra’s al Ghul stood in the chamber, watching the boy’s trembling form, a different truth began to take shape, heavy and unyielding in his mind.
Ra’s stepped closer, his shadow stretching across the room as the torchlight flickered against the damp stone walls. The boy’s shallow breaths were the only sound, ragged and uneven, punctuating the suffocating silence. No boy could endure this.
Who are you? Ra’s wondered, his sharp gaze narrowing. And why are you here?
He inhaled slowly, the deliberate motion of a man who knew the weight of time and how to wield it. The Light had assumed Tom was a planted operative, a calculated piece on a board controlled by forces as formidable as their own. That narrative had seemed plausible—logical, even.
Ra’s moved toward the table lined with instruments of pain, his fingers brushing the cold, blood-slicked metal of a slender blade. He had been precise in his methods, avoiding broken bones. This wasn’t about inflicting mindless brutality; it was about the slow, deliberate erosion of willpower. But it hadn’t worked. The boy had endured, defying Ra’s every expectation. Which admittedly were very low.
Straightening, Ra’s allowed his dark eyes to fall on Tom’s sweat-soaked face. The boy’s head hung low, his hair matted, yet beneath the exhaustion and agony was something unbroken. Something resolute. Tom wasn’t resisting out of instinct or desperation. He was resisting for a reason. He knows something, Ra’s realized. Something vital. Something worth suffering for.
Ra’s turned, his movements fluid as he strode toward the heavy door. The findings he would report to the others were minimal at best. The boy hadn’t spoken a word of value—no names, no organization, no allegiance. But his silence itself spoke volumes. It was a testament to purpose.
“I was wrong,” Ra’s murmured under his breath as he reached the threshold, his voice swallowed by the oppressive stillness of the chamber.
He paused, glancing back one last time at the boy slumped in the chair, his body trembling but his spirit unyielding. “Rest while you can, Tom Martin,” Ra’s said softly, his tone laced with a quiet promise. “Tomorrow, we’ll uncover who you’re working for.”
The door closed behind him with a resounding thud, the sound reverberating through the corridor like a tolling bell. Inside, Tom was left in the cold embrace of darkness, his breaths harsh and uneven, the faint echo of Ra’s words hanging in the air.
As Ra’s ascended the stone steps, his thoughts churned with calculated intensity. The Light had assumed Tom was merely a pawn in someone else’s game. Whoever—or whatever—had brought him here had done so with careful intention.
Ra’s allowed himself a faint, grim smile as he reached the top of the stairs. He would let the boy stew in his pain, wallow in the isolation of his suffering for a day. Let the psychological toll compound the physical. Let him feel the weight of hopelessness. Tomorrow, the pressure would escalate, and Ra’s would extract the truth no matter the cost.
Because even if Ra’s had to acknowledge Tom’s resistance, no single person could unravel the plans of the Light.
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Tom stirred, his body heavy and sluggish, as though waking from a dream that had tried to anchor him to its depths. His eyelids fluttered open, and the first thing he noticed was warmth. It was soothing, wrapping around him like a comforting embrace, the kind he hadn’t felt in what seemed like forever.
He lay there for a moment, his thoughts muddled, his mind struggling to piece together where he was. The pain was gone—no searing cuts, no throbbing agony in his muscles. It felt unreal, a jarring contrast to the unrelenting torture he’d endured. Slowly, fragments of memory began to resurface: Ra’s al Ghul’s cold gaze, the gleam of blades, the suffocating darkness of the chamber, the endless waves of pain.
Tom bolted upright, his breath catching in his throat, his heart pounding as if the torment had found him again. But as his eyes adjusted, he froze, confusion overwhelming him.
He wasn’t in that chamber anymore.
He was on an endless, stretching plain of green, the grass rolling like an ocean in a soft breeze. The air was warm, carrying a gentle, sweet fragrance he couldn’t place. Above him, the sky stretched wide and endless, painted with hues of gold and amber, as if the heavens were caught in an eternal sunset. Wisps of clouds floated lazily, glowing faintly in the ethereal light.
Tom blinked, his head turning slowly as he tried to take it all in. The beauty of the place was overwhelming, almost surreal. It felt safe. Too safe. His hands instinctively searched his body, running over his arms and torso, expecting to find the wounds he knew were there. But there was nothing. His skin was smooth, untouched, as though the events in that dark chamber had been a cruel hallucination.
"What…?" His voice cracked, the word barely escaping his lips.
“You’re safe, for now.”
The voice cut through his daze, soft but familiar, wrapping around him like a lifeline. Tom’s eyes darted around, his breath hitching, until he felt it—the solid warmth of arms encircling him, holding him steady. Kaelith’s embrace was firm yet gentle, her presence grounding him in a way he hadn’t realized he needed.
She wasn’t in her usual guise of sharp edges and biting sarcasm; her expression was softer, almost... apologetic. Her crimson eyes glowed faintly as they met his, carrying an unfamiliar gentleness. “You’re safe, Tom,” she said quietly, her voice steady but touched with a vulnerability that startled him. “For now.”
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Tom blinked, his mind sluggish as it tried to piece together where he was. The warmth of her hold contrasted so starkly with the agony of the torture chamber that it left him disoriented.
“Kaelith,” he whispered, his voice trembling. “Where—what is this? What’s happening?”
Her arms tightened around him briefly, a silent reassurance. “This is your mind,” she explained softly. “Or, more accurately, a refuge I created within it. A place to shield you from... what’s being done to you.”
Reality struck him like a hammer. The torture, the blades, Ra’s al Ghul—it hadn’t ended. His body was still there, trapped in that hell, suffering under the hands of his captors. The realization made his stomach churn. But Kaelith held him firm, her strength keeping him upright as he shook.
“Breathe, Tom,” she urged, her voice low and soothing, close to his ear. “You’re here now. Safe, for a while. Your body may be theirs to hurt, but your mind is mine to protect.”
Tom clutched at her, his fingers trembling as they gripped the fabric of her sleeves. “I—Kaelith, they’ll kill me. I can’t—” His voice cracked, the words spilling out in a panicked rush.
“Stop,” she interrupted, her voice firm but laced with a rare tenderness. She leaned closer, her forehead brushing lightly against his. “You’re stronger than you think. You’ve already proven that. You survived longer than I expected before I had to do this.”
“Do what?” he asked, his voice barely above a whisper.
“This,” she said, gesturing subtly to the idyllic landscape around them without letting go of him. “I pulled you here, into your mind, to keep you from breaking. I can’t stop what’s happening to your body, Tom, but I can make sure you don’t lose yourself to it. You needed this reprieve.”
Tom’s chest heaved, the weight of her words pressing against him. “But... how long can you keep this up? How long before they figure out what you’ve done?”
Kaelith’s gaze hardened slightly, though her arms around him remained steady. “Not long,” she admitted. “That’s why we can’t linger. You need to rest, recover your strength. When you return, you’ll need every ounce of focus to survive what’s coming.”
Her words chilled him, but the warmth of her embrace gave him the faintest sliver of comfort. Slowly, he allowed himself to relax, to sink into the softness of the moment. The grass beneath him, the warmth of her hold, the quiet hum of the world around them—it was a reprieve he didn’t know he needed.
Kaelith’s voice softened, her tone almost a whisper. “I’m sorry, Tom. This is all I can do. But I promise, no matter what happens, I’ll stay with you. Always.”
Tom exhaled shakily, letting himself believe her, if only for a moment. But even as he closed his eyes and let himself rest, he muttered, "You’re the nicest demon I’ve ever met."
Kaelith froze. Her crimson eyes flickered faintly, and for a moment, an unreadable expression crossed her face. She sighed softly, shifting her hold on him as if trying to steady both him and herself. “Tom…” she began, her voice hesitant in a way he’d never heard before.
“What?” Tom asked, his voice muffled as he rested against her shoulder. “You’re going to tell me you’re the worst demon I’ve ever met? Because right now, I’m not buying it.”
She chuckled softly, though the sound lacked its usual sharpness. “No. I’m not a demon, Tom,” she said, her words careful and deliberate. “I never was.”
Tom’s eyes shot open, confusion flashing across his face as he pulled back slightly to look at her. “What?” he said, his voice tinged with disbelief. “Then what are you?”
Kaelith hesitated, her gaze dropping for a brief moment before she met his eyes again. “I’m a construct,” she admitted. “Created by the Entity that brought you here. My purpose is to watch over you, to teach you, to… help you survive.”
Tom stared at her, the weight of her words sinking in slowly. “You lied to me,” he said, his voice flat but carrying an undercurrent of hurt. “All this time, you let me think you were some all-powerful demon?”
Kaelith winced at the accusation, though she didn’t look away. “I didn’t know how else to approach you,” she said honestly. “The Entity… it told me humans are suspicious of kindness without any strings attached. That if I came to you as I truly am, you’d question my motives. So I hid. I pretended.”
Tom shook his head, still struggling to process her words. “And now you’re telling me the truth? Why? Why now?”
Kaelith’s expression softened, her usual sharp edges giving way to something more vulnerable. “Because I couldn’t keep lying to you,” she admitted. “Not after everything you’ve been through. Not after seeing you endure this… and knowing I can only do so much. You deserve the truth, even if I’m afraid it’ll damage the relationship we had.”
Tom blinked at her, taken aback by the raw honesty in her voice. “I couldn't hate you,” he said quietly. “Not after what you’ve done so far to help me. I just… I don’t understand. If you’re not a demon, then why act like one?”
Her lips quirked into a faint, rueful smile, her crimson eyes holding a mixture of regret and determination. “I’ve never interacted with humans before, Tom,” she said, her voice softer than he’d ever heard it. “I didn’t know what you needed or how to connect with you. So I played the role I thought would work—something strong, intimidating, a deterrent for anyone or anything that might come after you.”
She paused, her gaze drifting to the horizon, her expression shadowed. “You being here, in this universe, is strange enough. You don’t belong, not in the way anyone else does, and neither do I. Pretending to be something that’s already part of this world—a demon—was a way to avoid drawing even more attention. I thought if I fit into the narrative of this place, it would be safer for you, for both of us.”
Tom frowned, processing her words as she continued. “In hindsight, it wasn’t perfect,” she admitted, her tone laced with frustration. “And I know I’ve messed up more times than I care to count. But I was trying, Tom. I am trying.”
Her gaze snapped back to his, her expression softening once more. “I wanted to protect you, to be the shield you needed. But I realize now that I don’t have to be Kaelith the demon to do that. You don’t need someone pretending to be larger than life. You need someone real. And that’s who I want to be.”
Tom felt a lump form in his throat as he watched her, her vulnerability so starkly different from the biting, sardonic figure she usually projected. “You didn’t have to pretend,” he said quietly. “I just needed someone to be there. Someone I could count on.”
Kaelith’s lips curved into a faint, genuine smile. “Then let me be that, Tom. I’m your friend. You can count on me. I’ll still make mistakes—I’m not perfect—but I’m here. For you.”
Tom exhaled deeply, the tension in his chest easing just a fraction. “Alright,” he said, his voice steadying. “Let’s figure out how to survive this. Together.”
Her smile widened slightly, and she reached out to grip his shoulder firmly. “Together,” she echoed, her voice carrying a promise. “We’ll get through this. No matter what it takes.”
They both allowed themselves a brief respite, savoring the rare tranquility that wrapped around them like a warm embrace.
Kaelith’s grip on Tom’s shoulder tightened just slightly, her crimson eyes searching his. “I know you’re going through hell right now,” she said, her voice steady but tinged with an undercurrent of pain. “What they’re doing to you... it’s unbearable. But that’s exactly why we need to keep going. Why we need to use this time to make you stronger.”
Tom blinked, confusion flickering across his face. “Stronger? Kaelith, I can barely hold myself together right now.”
“I know,” she said softly. “And I hate that I can’t pull you out of this place, that I can’t physically stop what they’re doing. But I can help you fight back, Tom. I can help you prepare. We have to continue your training in magic.
He hesitated, his voice trembling. “You really think I can learn enough magic to get out of here? To stand a chance against them?”
Kaelith’s faint smile returned, a glimmer of determination lighting her eyes. “I know you can. And we have an advantage.” She gestured toward the endless green plains around them, the warmth of the sun brushing against their skin despite the dire circumstances outside. “This place—your mind—is ours to shape. Time works differently here. I can alter your perception, stretch one hour out there into several in here. It’ll give us more time to train, to rest, to prepare.”
Tom’s breath hitched as he considered her words. “You can do that?”
She nodded. “I can. It won’t be easy, and it’ll take a toll on me, but it’s worth it. You’re worth it. Every moment we have here is a chance to make you stronger, sharper. So when the time comes—and it will come—you’ll be ready.”
Tom swallowed hard, the weight of her conviction settling over him. “And if I fail?”
“You won’t,” Kaelith said firmly. Her gaze softened, and she placed her other hand on his. “But even if you stumble, even if things don’t go as planned, you won’t be alone. I’ll be with you every step of the way.”
Tom let out a shaky exhale, the enormity of the situation pressing against him like a tidal wave. But Kaelith’s words planted a seed of resolve deep in his chest. “Alright,” he said finally, his voice steadier than before. “Let’s do this. Let’s train.”