The name of the town Jason and Roy are currently in is perhaps located to the northwest of Nanda Parbat, below Tamaran (the northern country) and to Gotham's northeast if it makes sense. I wish I could have drawn a map or whatever, or if anyone else can do that for themselves, feel free. :) As for the town's name, it's Haitian Creole meaning "goodness" and "kindness"...

There's some triggering mental content in here, classified as mind rape, so ye been warned.

Composed by Phil Rey Gibbons.

Chapter Two

Song For a World Gone Mad

Nanda Parbat had become like a second home to him, but all "good" things had to come to an end at some point. At least he was welcome anytime. And now that Damian was in the picture...

"Well, what do you know, Jaybird? The entertainment of the evening has come to us," Roy crowed, making the younger man shake his head. Among their travels to the various places, beautiful women who danced for the lechers were one of the favorites, but if Jason had the power, he'd eviscerate the ones who disrespected the young ladies who didn't ask for it. It was a common occurrence, but it did NOT mean everyone supported the disgusting endeavors.

Their latest stop before their return to headquarters outside Gotham was this little town called Bonte. It had a lot going for it despite not being of Gotham's sheer mass. Literally, its name was everywhere on the food stands, the clothing shops, the blacksmith's workplace - everywhere. It was nauseating enough in itself. And this tavern was not spared.

This place really was charming and one of the safest places from the war, yet at the same time...

Too good to be true. As any woman would say.

The matron of the tavern lovingly raised her voice to get her cherished customers' attention. She was ancient enough to qualify as someone's grandmother, with her body build being the normal filling out from having a few children - but as far as Jason and Roy knew, and anyone else, that hadn't been the case - and her silvery white hair swept in curves on either side, cropped short rather than braided down the back or bunned behind her skull. Her full figure was garbed in white with an earth-hued apron. Yes, she was every bit the kind old lady that could exist in Gotham, but at the same time, you know about appearances. "All right, boys, forgive me for disturbing your usual rambunctious evening," she called out from behind the counter of her position, wiping her hands on a rag and then slapping it multiple times to get the attention, laughing when some men covered their ears with both hands, "but we have for ourselves a special guest who has never had the pleasure of enjoying what our beloved stead has to offer."

And on her cue, out came a radiant vision from somewhere in the crowd, earning the catcalls of many drunkards who couldn't stand on their feet to get what they thirsted for if their lives depended on it.

Gretchen the matron, nicknamed "Granny Goodness" by everyone because of her benign, giving nature, clapped once, calling out the name of the graceful female she eyed as though the other were a tasty morsel, but no one else would dare to comment due to the alcohol in their systems or merely because they had thoughts of their own.

"Mistress Silviana of the forests of the world! A fae walking amongst us!"

It seemed as though magic had broken out into the air when the maiden pranced all over the place, putting on the show of the lifetime like there was no tomorrow. Her semi-sheer kirtle was colored like her fair flesh, baring her arms, trimmed with golden coins across the neck and shoulders, with her wildfire curls crowned with snowflake-like flower buds.

Her face was half-hidden by the untamed flames attached to her skull, though her jet-black eyes - the stone jet for purifying, empowerment, and healing - flashed with starry cores. Her hands flicked out and around her head top and bottom, occasionally enclosing into delicate fists, then opening the fingers so that the palms covered her face before separating like sliding doors to show her enchanting irises and shadowed features. However she was doing that, she was taking great measures to shield her identity without the use of masks.

"The blood of my ancestors runs through me in everything I see, and hear and touch - the family tree's growing, reaching for the sun." She turned her face downwards, running one hand through her hair and seductively combing through the locks. "And what's that I hear in the voice of a tiny bird?" Her head jerked upwards, looking up at the ceiling as she resumed her waltz, raising both hands upwards as though in prayer at a church altar. "A message true and clear in the step of a deer...a lightness untouched by

life and love and fear."

"Silviana" - Jason doubted that was her real name, only an alias - then proceeded to twirl around, skirts swishing around her exquisite legs. And it was a feeling that was reserved for a certain lady back home he'd longed for painfully to this day but had been forced to cut off contact with on Bruce's orders for both of their sakes.

It seemed that his eyes then made contact with the lady's once again, and the jolt of lightning pierced his heart with the realization. If she was who he was thinking about, then why the devil had he not pieced it sooner?!

She resorted to clutching her skirt with one hand as she turned in the other direction to resume the twirl. "And all of the seeds are sown, within the sacred earth; from their mama's arms are blown on the wind to rebirth..." The maid ceased her dance when she threw herself onto the ground on all fours, throwing her hair back and allowing all to see her face. She might be here only once, so perhaps it wouldn't hurt to show all there.

Roy just about spat out what was less than half of his pint.

Jason came close to jumping out of his seat and drawing unwanted attention. After all, while he wasn't wearing his infamous getup at the moment, he didn't need the publicity in this small town famous for its hospitality.

"Dearie, that was marvelous!" Gretchen praised, coming around from behind her counter to stand before the young woman with the flaming locks. "In fact, you deserve a reward for your fine performance for my boys. We are all family here whether everyone knows each other or not. You are most welcome to be included even if you are here for only one night."

The girl smiled, standing when the old woman's hand was offered. "I thank you, madam," Kristine answered, her voice shocking Jason's ears as well as sending warm shivers through his being, "but I regret I cannot stay here. I have heard many things about this wonderful village. I did come here for a certain treasure if the rumors are true."

She's still on her quest. That's my girl...but also dangerous. Cobblepot's spies had to have infiltrated even a quiet place like Bonte.

A hushed silence filled the room, and it seemed as if the atmosphere was overtaken by the wind of taboo.

~o~

Perhaps she had once again been a fool and made yet another mistake like she did time and time again in pursuit of what was important and involved the world. Yet Kristine had to once again remind herself that this had never meant to be easy, which Papa always taught her, and that moment she blurted out her request in front of that lady and all those lecherous men, she could safely call it a heat of the moment when she'd lowered her guard.

What she came all the way here for was the Stone of Magic itself - the labradorite. According to the tales of old, it fell from the rainbow night lights towards the north that split the human and spiritual worlds from each other. She'd searched and gathered everything else, save for two more, and this was one less.

The jewel of healers, travelers seeking knowledge, and divine worshippers. It was the most powerful of protection stones, renowned for bringing forth one's psychic abilities, strengthening their aura, and protecting the user against evil energies around. Their minds and intuitions would be enhanced to proportions, allowing them to communicate with the spirit world, offering ease in between, and allowing a safe return to the present.

There was so much more, just like the others that she'd gathered before it, but the opportunities for the usage were limitless.

Here in the inn room she'd paid for while she was here in town, as long as she needed to be - and with the backup plan that she'd summon the earth for additional resources in payment - she had everything she took with her on her travels in her unassuming little pouch configured to have all she needed and wanted. Everything sized down by magic in limitless proportions. The protection charms were all in place so that no one would hear, sense, or suspect the guest's activities.

This room was very fine for such modest living and travelers' accommodations. There was an entire wall majestically painted with lovers in nature's embrace: two dryads, male and female sharing a passionate kiss in each other's arms, their hair entwining into tree branches that spread in all directions like a halo. The man's lower half comprised ivy vines while the woman was of colorful flora; the sun behind them was washed with golden yellow and hues of blue, setting over a ripe valley. The bed she would sleep in was covered with enchanting dark blue swirls forming heart shapes, framing the woven phases of the moon.

In the center of her space on the wooden floorboards was the skull her father had acquired long before she was born from an enemy who had wronged him in his youth and would have been a great threat to Gotham, scripted with formulae all over the ivory surface. The herbal green candles for all the luck needed in their scent encircled them in the lucky number seven.

The light turquoise treasure box to her west, topped with a natural icy quartz crystal, carried all her gifted potions and formulas until they were needed. To her east was the abalone dish filled with a variety of incense, bearing white sage to center the soul and ground you to the earth at the same time, daisies to let love flow and sunflowers for abundance.

And right between the skull and herself was the book that was passed on through generations of the Crane family. The warm, rich mahogany leather bore cloth of gold silk thread in the details, by the hand of a master craftsman. Vibrant red and green existed in the branch arms like apples and leaves in a new form, while the tree woman's body was lush green and her head, breasts, womb, and root legs were gold...leaving her heart bearing a stimulating red jewel. The stars around her were radiant diamonds.

Mother Earth, help me.

Unlatching the book at its side, Kristine allowed the wind to blow into her hair as the forces of life joined her. If no one else in town could help her aside from one too-friendly old lady, which was too good to be true, then the Earth Mother and the cosmics would be on her side.

~o~

Not again...stop it...

...stop, I beg you. Not today.

Could he just not get a break this once?!

The voice that spoke back to him, once again violating his mind and willpower, was old and grandmotherly, too sweet and underlying with demonic relish. No sympathy or care for his well-being, making her no different than the enemies he slew in battle and interrogated. Sorry, child. You have been naughty, so there are no reprieves for troublesome ants like yourself. You should have known it would have been all too easy to come to old Crane's rescue like the knight in shining armor that you are. You should have suspected even a tiny bit that the contact you and your little merry squad had as a so-called mole was a double agent on my watch. She laughed like this was all a good joke to her.

More fire to everything within his brain and throughout the rest of his body that he took, but as the days passed, it was slipping away. Yet it wasn't always like this; he would have been dead by now, and she would make sure he begged for death in the end, but for some reason, he was no good to her that way. He wanted to say Cobblepot, too, but he'd come to learn that this old bag was the one pulling all of the strings, based on the way she spoke about every little thing.

She hasn't exposed everything, but this is her power.

This was another failure to add to his scroll, ever since the fighting broke out. It wasn't a full war on a global scale, but it could have very easily become one if not for the plotting, secrecy, and the alliances forged as well as the time and resources over the last five years - and the common folk who had nothing to do with it. Very few had it better than others, with the surprise lurking in every corner.

Sometimes, Richard Grayson-Wayne wished he'd done something to prevent all those deaths, and that they'd gotten Jonathan Crane out of Cobblepot Castle that terrible night.

Oh, dear boy, no use dredging up the past. If only he could curse at her for invading what she had no right to. However...everything indeed proves you are the poor boy you always have been, no matter what was put upon those strong shoulders. Even responsibilities that were never yours; you just wanted to appear untouchable and prove yourself. And look where you are now. He didn't need to have his eyes opened to the light to see her wicked smile.

She'd been in his mind and saw his passionate, eternal love for a princess of the north who showed him what it was like to be free as soon as she obtained hers, and used it against him, thus shaming him in his captivity.

She saw his fierce protection of his brother and their comrades, including the ones who died under his command he still defended with his own life, and still called him a failure who hid behind an unblemished shield but would never amount to anything.

She'd seen his parents' deaths and told him he was weak for never saving them, even though his adoptive father and everyone else reassured him he'd only been a child who couldn't really do anything.

He was wracked with never-ending stabs to everything within his brain, every nerve center while keeping him awake as his body was restrained in the world. His naked form stood at attention like a suit of armor on display, his own clothing having been stripped from him. His jailer had held his mind to her own as she'd ordered him to remove it all and stand at attention whether he liked it or not. According to her, he lost all rights to himself when he let himself be deceived.

He was her toy now, to play with as she wished...and that included touching him where she wasn't supposed to. Which only belonged to his princess.

Whatever this torture was, its intention was to hammer so much into him aside from the words alone and make him submit like some damned dog. But days went by, and no one had come to his aid, or Crane's, wherever the old man was now.

Dick couldn't take another and wondered if this would be his last day, meaning he would never see the world saved, would never see his little brother obtain peace and happiness, would never see Roy find his center - and would never marry Kori.

Please, he begged, his sobs descending into screams which no one else would care to hear if they ever managed to come near this place. Please, pleasepleasepleaseplease PLEEEEAAASE STOP!

~o~

She jumped upright when there was a rapid knocking on her door. Immediately, she went on the defense and snapped her fingers, everything going back into her knapsack she then shoved under the bed, and she withdrew the rosewood-handled dagger from beneath the pillows, keeping it in its sheath until the threat was identified.

Didn't stop her, however, from pulling it out halfway to reveal the striking engravings resembling water waves.

At the same time, a voice she hadn't heard in years made her halt. It was muffled, but loud and clear, and after the speaker was done talking, she let go of her weapon and undid the door's latch.

"Don't be afraid, but it's Captain Roy...Mistress Kristine. Could you please let us in?"

By "us", he referred to the other with him. Someone she had believed dead along with everyone else back home. Her heart stopping and throat tightening were delayed until after she let them both in before someone saw them.

Kristine's stage name, Silviana, is Romanian and means "girl of the forest". And the song she sings is "Fire in the Blood" by Woodland. Sizzles.

Jet (a black stone) is a purification stone, protecting you from negative influences and connecting you with Earth's energies for healing and empowerment.

The wall mural in Kristine's guest room is the Josephine Wall masterpiece "Nature's Embrace".

The Omega Skull is said to be more than merely ancient bone, for omega itself means "the end", and the skull by a famed alchemist seven thousand years ago with the writing all over its surface accumulates symbolic wisdom and dark secrets. Haven't found the entirety aside from a couple of shopping websites with replicas of this thing, but I've made it an item of neutral magic depending on who uses it.

On the Pyramid Collection website, look for the Color Goddess Tree-of-Life Journal. :3