Chapter 6: Summit

| Sector 16, National City

| 2016 June 13th, 11:016 PM

Dream walking was a common practice on Azarath, but Raven was still shocked to find how empty the dreaming really was. Well, actually that's inaccurate. The dreaming was still full of stuff. An endless array of shapes, colors, feelings, and even concepts. All being formed, morphed, destroyed, or amalgamated by an unconscious will.

It was just no one was really all that aware in their dreams. They all felt… faded. Like they were not really there or were somehow on autopilot. But their feelings were still there. An unpredictable medley of horror, anger, embarrassment, joy, and everything in between. They were all unfiltered, all appearing and disappearing with seemingly no reason.

She was now beginning to understand why her teachers were so intent on her mastering the art. But it still felt odd to have no one to meet. No monk willing to offer her lectures in a space that could replicate any memory. No passing citizen's dream willing to offer her a view of the spaces outside of Azarath's temple. Even the occasional odd spirit or dream creature would be appreciated, even if they constantly tried to pry into her unconscious as was their nature. The dreaming was meant to reflect the mind. To express what would often never be expressed otherwise. Those bits of madness, mania, repressed emotions, and even memories or waking experiences that were not explored enough in the conscious day.

But such things affected her emotional state, and thus, she was taught to never let her mind stray. To never be lulled into that unconscious expression. She still experimented, of course. Was encouraged, even.

But she couldn't say she ever used her abilities like this. Raven extended her hands and focused her mind on remembering Munin, Nightshade's shadow homunculus. The wispy shadow-bird was smuggled inside of Raven's soul-self, hiding inside of a rabbit's shadow.

The peculiar creature cawed out Nightshade's thoughts, serving as a form of discrete communication between the two. But the birds, Nightshade reasoned, were just homunculi formed from thought and night force*.

With that basic knowledge in mind, Raven tried to recreate the essence that was "Munin". It was an artificial creature, but it still came off as loyal. It was a reflection of voiceless darkness, but the creature was influenced by Nightshade's will and emotions.

A dark mass swirled in front of her, the wispy ink only barely starting to form the vague shape of a bird. But soon it coalesced, solidifying into something more distinct as Raven applied herself. The key to this sort of formation was to give the dreaming guidance, but not force it. But she also had to focus her mind inward, attempting to seek out a presence that she now carried within herself.

A caw greeted her ears, and Raven found herself looking at an avian creature that had wisps of ebony fire drifting off its barely existent feathers.

It certainly looked like Munin. But it could just be a recreation. A particularly detailed recreation, but still. When the dreaming was overly forced it created exactly what the caster had in mind — even perfectly replicating the blanks in personality. If the caster never explicitly thought of it, then it didn't exist. Such constructs, therefore, had noticeable gaps. They had unnatural pauses, or weird quirks when put in situations the caster simply never thought about. Which is to say nothing of the random deformations that came from such dissonance.

But this 'Munin' was currently pecking at the imaginary ground and pitter-pattering around, likely attempting to gather its bearings. That was a good sign. While she hadn't been imagining bird habits, the dreaming was able to pick up what behaviors were connected to the idea of 'bird'. But that still wasn't enough indication of the dream creature's intended identity.

"Aren't you supposed to lead me somewhere?", Raven asked. At her voice the bird pierced her with a white-eyed stare, the empty glowing eye pointedly capturing her attention as it gave a loud coo and took to the air.

So it knew how to fly too, then.

Taking a mental note to remember how to wake up, Raven began treading after the careening fowl that was deliberately(?) leaving behind a trail of black feathers for her to follow. They were steadily flowing down from the highest ether, daintily cascading before her impassive eyes like gusts of cotton on a nonexistent wind.

Raven pointedly tried to ignore the sight that was flowing in the corners of her vision, intentionally passing by the dreams of living people without even a nod of acknowledgment. It wouldn't be right of her to intrude on people's dreams. She also couldn't afford to lose her focus when traveling like this. If one became lost in the deep part of the dreaming, they simply couldn't wake up.

But that didn't stop her from seeing glimpses. At first, she saw the usual dreams of a peaceful populace. Dreams of success, of happiness, of some sort of wedding with faces she couldn't focus on. But the more she traveled after Munin, the more the dreams turned into something of a darker nature.

Most of them were standard nightmare fare. Supernatural monsters, glimpses of dismemberment, falling off of tall buildings. But some of them were more familiar to her. She saw it on the television. She saw people revealing themselves to be machines, images of small green aliens masquerading as politicians, and a great moon-sized orb hovering over Earth while it shot several projectile missiles.

She remembered that day. Everyone was being told to take sanctuary in their homes, and every television channel was being forced to tune in to the local or national news stations. Even with her inhibitor collar, the tension and fear in the room was palpable. Even the stern one-eyed teacher had his glued to the news coverage, watching with bated breath as he awaited any information that would tell them of the planet's imminent demise.

Some dreams actually showed her glimpses of what they feared. Of Dr. Fate's shield cracking and allowing missiles to bombard entire continents, of Earth's militaries failing to neutralize all of the Warworld's additional weapons. But the most prominent nightmares of all involved insect-themed ships rising out of the oceans, heralding an extraterrestrial danger that no one was too sure how to deal with.

The only thing more constant than their fear was the black feathers, still falling even as the landscape began to change from passing nightmares to an alien landscape.

She saw giant brown mushrooms, and it was somehow lighter. It also didn't feel like a dream. It was too detailed. Looking up she saw an eclipse in the sky, but the heavens themselves were still bathed in perpetual sunlight. But that light did nothing to dampen the gangly forest that was starting to form.

The forest had no leaves, and what trees could be seen had no discernible form of bark. Instead they looked like gangly strands of flowing sludge. Like the forest itself was little more than an oil painting. Munin was perched in one of these trees, preening its nebulous feathers in a show of absentmindedness.

Raven can't say she's ever been to this part of the dreaming. Although that's not saying much, since the land was never-ending and ever-changing. Raven addressed the bird. "Is this where Nightshade wants to meet me?"

The bird merely looked at her as it ruffled its feathers, seemingly content to just wait around. But it did give a slight caw of affirmation. Or at least she thought so. Raven couldn't really say she knew bird-speak all that well. "I'll take that as a 'yes', then."

She took another look at her surroundings. While the landscape seemed reminiscent of what would be found in artworks like Starry Night or The Scream, she could still sense something beneath the surreal veneer. It was roiling, piercing. Allowing Raven to feel the slight pangs of unease and spine-chilling fear. It made her hair stand up on end, and she concluded that it would be best if she didn't touch anything while she was here. She didn't really like the idea of waiting here either.

Thankfully, she didn't have to wait long.

"I am surprised how quickly you showed up."

Raven turned her head, only feeling mild surprise to find Nightshade approaching her in the form of a frightening shadow. One where her eyes glowed with an ethereal light, and her open mouth showed hints of fangs and sharp teeth.

But like a mirage, that image quickly vanished to replace that form with the Nightshade she knew all too well. She had her hands on her hips, and her eyes gave Raven her typical appraising look. Like she was trying to find any signs of deception or ulterior motive. But it was quickly replaced with her standard serious expression. She always seemed ready to get down to business. "Now that you are here, walk with me. This place tends to go easier on those it becomes familiar with."

Raven gave a gesture toward the landscape "So what am I sensing? Is—"

"The fears, insecurities, and anxieties of mankind. As well as the remnant emotions of bordering realms which have no convenient name. The Land of Nightshades borders the darker side of the dreaming, and is therefore privy to most of what can comprise a nightmare." Nightshade turned around, lifting a hand as an open invitation to Munin. "Although we are merely on the border of those places now. I think Munin escorted you here quite nicely."

Raven caught up with the older woman, observing how Munin practically preened at his master's praise. "He did. I wasn't accosted by anything and didn't get trapped by anything either."

"That is just as much due to your dream walking abilities.", Nightshade stated. "Most people would not have been capable of remembering Munin, much less following him — and that includes me."

"Really?" The confusion Raven felt only lasted for a second, but it had her powers lashing out at the paint-like scenery. Before she knew it the area her powers hit morphed, the stringy tree melting into a dark mass of gurgling muck. For a moment Raven thought she saw the reflection of a hand beginning to reach out. But the sludge was forcefully reconstructed into its previous shape by Nightshade, who commanded it with a strict sweep of her darkness-cladded arm.

She looked startled, and it was with a little reluctance that she repositioned her arm back to her. "…Make sure you keep your emotional outbursts to a minimum. I prepared this place specifically for this meeting, but I have no idea how your magic will affect things."

With that explanation in place, the two continued their walk into what Raven mentally dubbed a "nightmare forest". It all felt unusual. The ground didn't make a sound as they walked, and with every step Raven felt the pinpricks of fear picking at the back of her mind. Thankfully her mental barriers were nothing to scoff at. It also helped that she was distracted by curiosity. "So you don't dream walk at all? Even though your familiars are tied to the dreaming?"

Nightshade absently ran a finger through Munin's feathers. "I actually wouldn't call my homunculi familiars, even though they serve a similar function. They are honestly closer to constructs than anything else. Also, I'm not even sure I summon the same homunculi every time. I just… reassemble them. Although the nightmare really does help animate them."

She gave a sideways glance to the smaller girl, and Raven noted, not for the first time, that her emotions always bordered on concern when she did that. "But to answer your question: No. I can't dream walk. Or at least not in the same way you can. My mind is not that lucid on its own and the only reason we are here is because I performed a ritual in my homeland."

"So I guess that only leaves one question: Why am I here? We were talking fine through Munin in my soul-self."

Nightshade ceased her striding, the action causing Raven to follow suit and stop her movements. "Because I want to see what you think is a threat. Because I want to see if you are really as talented in dream shaping as you claim. And because I want to have a serious talk with you face to face. But that can wait for a bit."

Nightshade decided to sit on the ground, and Munin promptly opted to land itself next to her feet. "How about you tell me about your tests?"

Taking the lotus position, Raven eased herself into the situation. "My tests are going well. I did as you suggested and let them learn of what you call my 'psionic' abilities. But I can't say I enjoyed how they reacted to it. Especially that Arthur guy. He's a creep."

Nightshade almost smirked at that. She always suspected Dr. Arthur Light of being either a sadist or a mad scientist. Or both. The guy was always way too keen on pushing his subjects to their limits. "He is quite the character. But do you even know what psionics are?"

Her response was monotone. "From what I understand it's supposed to refer to psychic potential. The force of mind over matter." Her brows furrowed. "But I still don't understand why it isn't recognized as magic. Magic has deep roots in the manipulation and reflection of the mind. 'Psionics', as they call it, is a natural expression of that. It's just not as rooted in the spiritual despite being part of the mental."

Nightshade gave her a slightly confounded look. It took her a few moments to think it through, but eventually she found a sufficient reason to that logic. "I take it this is part of the Azarathian worldview, then? That everything pertaining to the self is connected to magic?"

"Not just the self. But in plants, the stars, human faith, dreams." She swerved her head to look at her surroundings. "Basically everything. Although we do acknowledge that there is a separation between magic and certain parts of reality."

"Well, Earth — and most of the galaxy really — know psionics to be more of a scientific phenomenon. That's why it can be measured with advanced machinery and the like. Do all Azarathians have telekinesis?"

"Only some of them. Allowing the mind to access the material plane is a feat not every monk can achieve. Monks who do achieve it, but have not trained their minds sufficiently, can only lift light objects or snuff out candles." Raven swallowed. "I, on the other hand, always had a strong mind due to my father and my training."

"That makes sense.", Nightshade admitted. "You may be approaching it from a unique angle, but ultimately you can qualify as psychic."

"That's magic, too."

"Not in the magical way though. That sort of magic is usually associated with prophecy, foresight, and communication with spirits. The term 'psychic' in this world usually refers to those who have really strong minds and have abilities like telepathy and telekinesis."

The look Raven gave Nightshade was blank, but she could still decipher bits of frustration with how her eyebrows gave a slight crease. "I still don't understand the difference. Several sorcerers have strong minds capable of those feats."

"That is true, but —" Nightshade bit her lip. "It's just different. Not only are we capable of analyzing it, but we can often trace it back to biology. Science."

The young girl tried to digest this information, giving a nod. But Nightshade suspected she still internally found it confusing. "The important part is that officials can understand it. Therefore, they will feel more at ease about you. But how about we discuss something else? Like your psychiatric sessions?"

If possible, Raven's expression became even stonier. "They are frustrating, though it's not like they know that. They ask about my mother, my upbringing, and how I am adjusting to my new accommodations. They also ask me about my father, and why I believe what I do about him." Her nose wrinkled in distaste. "They have not explicitly expressed their doubt about his existence. But I know they think I made him up. Or rather, they think Azarath made him up."

Nightshade looked at her in understanding. "That is not unexpected. Just continue playing along for the time being."

Raven looked at her quizzically. "Play along?"

"For the most part, people do not believe in magic. And those who do believe in magic are either practitioners or are people who believe magic is just an 'alternative science' that is just not well understood yet. Which means your prophecy of Trigon's return? It's just a fairy tale to them. Make-believe from a fanatical cult."

Nightshade gave a thick swallow, and her face noticeably contorted slightly in a show of fear. "I don't think they could believe in Trigon even if they wanted to. Much less the face that you are his—" There was a poignant pause, and Raven felt a wave of incredible unease run through Nightshade's body. "Daughter."

Another pause. "That's part of what I wanted to talk to you about. I think you should downplay that part of your heritage. They may believe that you are part demon, but they are only going to categorize you as a delusional headcase if you continue spouting how Trigon is a threat."

"But he is a threat!" Raven insisted.

Nightshade's voice was stern. "I know you think that, but the others just won't believe you. If you continue saying it so openly, I can't really help you prepare for his potential return."

Raven bit her lip and her hands began fiddling with each other. They were small actions, but they somehow made the girl look guilty. "So I just…. lie? Just tell them I don't believe in Trigon anymore and that I was brainwashed or something?"

Munin, intrigued by the girl's rare emotional response, began pecking at her feet. It was fiddling with her shoelaces, the vast majority of which were coiled and knotted in lace monstrosity. That inept show-tying combined with her general small appearance made Nightshade think of a lost child. "Have you... ever lied before?"

Raven looked at her with her black eyes that almost looked like a dark shade of purple in the right light. "A few times. I usually feel horrible about it and accidentally blow something up."

Nightshade almost balked in surprise. "You say you can't lie, but the whole reason we are here is because you didn't tell anyone except for me that you were capable of dream walking."

"Obfuscation isn't lying though.", Raven argued. "I just occasionally withhold information if I think it's prudent."

"That's just lying by omission.", she stated.

Raven tried to shoo Munin away. "If you would like to view it that way. Point is: I don't tell people falsehoods. It just feels wrong."

Nightshade wanted to argue but stopped herself. Regardless of how she framed it, it was still proof that she was capable of deception. Plus, the claim matched with her experiences thus far.

Dream walking, for instance, could be considered a form of magic since the dreaming is a magical realm. People couldn't say she lied about having psionic abilities either since she explicitly stated that she had the power of telekinesis when first questioned. They just did not foresee the form, or rather, forms — plural — that she was capable of using. Never mind the fact that Raven apparently didn't see the difference between her psionics and magic.

Nightshade could work with that. "Alright. Then continue obfuscating. Just abstain from talking about Trigon as openly as you have been. If the men in white get the impression that you are becoming less and less affected by Trigon's supposed mythology, the more likely they are to give you more freedom. Might even be able to transfer you to some place where we can plan out extended public outings. From there, we will have a lot of opportunities to deal with the issue at hand."

Given her circumstances, such permissions would likely take months or even years to acquire under normal conditions. But if a trusted agent in their employ was willing to act as a handler, then that would be another matter.

But that could be handled at a later date. "For the sake of understanding Trigon's potential arrival, I want you to show me what he is capable of."

Raven's head snapped to attention, Munin's picking completely forgotten as the girl eyed Nightshade with a barely perceptible skepticism. "You want me to show you what he is capable of? As in, demonstrate his destructive potential?" Her face hardened. "I don't think you understand what you are asking. I don't know what will happen if I release even a fraction of my destructive power."

"But you forget, Raven." Nightshade extended her arms and gestured to the surrounding area. "We are in the dreaming. The nightmare part of it, specifically. In a place that I specifically prepared so you can show me what you fear. So that your terrors can be made manifest without the dreaming being overly affected by it. It's part of the reason we are so close to the Land of Nightshades in the first place."

Nightshade rose from her seat, and Munin took this as its cue to perch on her shoulder again. "Whatever happens here, it will only be remembered in this place. In this section of non-reality that is caught between two dimensions. So, show me." Her eyes crinkled in mild humor. "Assuming that you can, of course. It depends on how skillful you are at forming dreams like you claim to. Or a nightmare in this case."

Raven was unimpressed, but her explanation still made the girl stand up to survey her surroundings once more. The fear that was prickling on her mind before had disappeared, and was instead just… sitting in the trees. It was still there, being held behind the bark that was perpetually smeared in abstraction. But it somehow still felt ready to reach out.

Raven closed her eyes in concentration and extended one of her arms to the bright eclipsed sky. Within a few moments the sky darkened with storm clouds and the fear within the landscape was beginning to seep out and tinge the ominous sky with red. The sky cracked with crimson thunder, and even though Nightshade expected the cold chill of an oncoming storm, all she felt was an almost unbearable heat. Like she was somehow in a furnace. The booming red thunder had chills racing up and down her spine, with the cracking charges only serving to herald an oncoming calamity.

But she saw other, small figures flying through the air. Familiar figures. Martian Manhunter, Wonder Woman, Hawkwoman, Hawkman, Atom, etc. The Justice League was in full attendance, their various glowing hands and stern looks showing that they were preparing for battle. At the head of the group was Superman, standing proudly like the American symbol he was.

The next thing Nightshade knew, he was engulfed in a blood-red laser that pierced him from beyond the chaotic storm. His body flashed for a second, his skeleton viable even from this imaginary distance. And then he was dust.

He was just… gone. Not even able to put a fight or even see the enemy.

But as if a vengeful god was gratified with the Man of Steel's death, the clouds began to part and the air somehow became even heavier as an invisible power began pushing down on everything around it.

A giant figure stepped out of those clouds. Several stories tall, red skin and adorned in what would normally be an unimpressive set of armor that only covered his hips and upper thighs. But there was no denying his power. His glowed with an unfathomable intensity, shimmering with the power of destruction. His posture was strong and proud, surpassed only by his seeming invulnerability as the Justice League began shooting at him with everything they had. Energy blasts, superhuman punches, magical volleys, an assortment of lasers—all of them didn't seem to do anything. These attacks, which could decimate tanks or even small armies, didn't even seem to graze him.

At most, they annoyed him. The horned figure sneered at their feeble resistance, his hand swatting at the flying figures faster than she could blink, and the action was accompanied by a red spray. A shower of blood that burned itself into cinders due to the being's immense ambient power.

When those that were left began distancing themselves from him, likely attempting to stay out of his reach, the massive demon shot them a deadly glare. A glare that sent the very same lasers that all but atomized Earth's greatest hero.

The air became even more oppressive the longer Nightshade watched. But she couldn't turn away. She was compelled to watch what could only be called a slaughter as Trigon began incinerating the world's greatest defenders one by one.

The more she watched, the more difficult it was to breathe. And even though she couldn't see what was happening around her, she knew from the smell of sulfur and burnt flesh that the land was in flames and being reduced to cinder.

Before she knew it, there was nothing left but the towering demon. There were no other heroes coming to save them. They were all dead, with not even ashes to serve as reminders. And then the legendary tyrant demon conqueror began to walk away, the ground shaking as he walked and the burning storm worsening with every infernal breath he took.

But she was still scared. Frozen in place by an invisible force that all but screamed Trigon's essence. An essence that only minutely reminded Nightshade of her first encounter with Raven. Just that feeling of oppressive power, damnation, and a willingness to destroy. At least Raven was good at hiding it. Mostly.

But at last Trigon's visage disappeared among the clouds and smoke, his presence finally lessening its influence on her mind. But she somehow still had trouble breathing. Looking down at herself, what was left of Nightshade's breath was caught in her throat.

Her arms, legs, and most of her torso were all turned to stone. It was only now she realized that her limbs felt like lead, and that her lungs were beginning to burn with each attempted breath as the petrification slowly but surely began crawling up toward her neck.

A sense of panic overtook her body as she futilely squirmed and struggled. She strained what was left of her muscles, had breath rushing through her mouth and nose, and began craning her neck in every available direction in a vain attempt at escape.

But eventually the stone began reaching her neck, seeming to take a perverse joy in how it was all but strangling nightshade as she took her last and final breath. Her face was frozen in an almost scream, her neck accidentally twisted in such a way that she was looking toward her side.

She wished she was still looking at the sky.

The surreal land of the Nightshade realm was replaced with her Kansas town, the street littered with the petrified remains of her close friends and family - each sporting their own expression of terror and fright. Some had their face twisted as they screamed. Others had their faces marred when their petrification captured their ugly sobbing.

Just when Nightshade thought these rampant feelings of despair would consume her, it all vanished like dust in the wind. Something that almost prompted her to wail, for what else could she do to express her grief?

But that dissipation of all she had ever loved was not the result of Trigon's imaginary whim. It was just the end of the nightmare, and Nightshade was once again looking at the familiar terrain of spindly trees and an ever-bright sky.

Nightshade quickly turned around, her gaze quickly focusing in on a guilty-looking Raven who still had her arm slightly outstretched. She knew she could form dreams. She knew she had knowledge of a demon known as Trigon. And she knew that the girl was abnormally powerful.

But those were not random people she was looking at. They were her friends, her family. So how did she know that?!

"What else do you know?!", she roared. She drew power to her fists in an angry and fearful surge, shooting a blast of pure night force at the girl who quickly levitated herself out of the way.

Her surge of power began calling out to the surrounding area, with shadows beginning to dance and reach from every nearby shadow of the forest that was quickly beginning to darken as Nightshade shot blast after blast after the quickly moving creature.

This might be the dreaming. But they were in her realm, her territory where Nightshade's powers were at their most potent. She was the last of the royal line of the Land of Nightshades and she would defeat this creature!

A dome began to form around the area, the black darkness beginning to take shape the longer Nightshade remained in distress. But Raven didn't seem particularly panicked.

Concerned, yes. Her face showed a little distress, but it wasn't something that spoke of panic. She continued to fly around, deftly dodging Nightshade's attacks with surprising ease. What few shadow blasts that came close were promptly deflected by an ebony shield Raven generated from her hands.

Nightshade called the ambient power around her even more, trying to pick and pluck at the girl's subconscious and begin manifesting her fears. If she couldn't harm her conventionally, then she could get her mind to do it for her. The Land of Nightshades was the land where people's greatest fears were reflected back at them, so this should be possible.

But nothing happened. She called and called, but what latent magic was able to reach Raven's mind was being repelled or pried off with ease. Nothing of the realm was capable of reaching inside its depths. So she had mental barriers? She should have guessed. If she was capable of dream walking then that meant she had mental discipline.

With a yell she continued her assault, shooting even more magic at anything that moved. The young girl was beginning to slow down, her eyes occasionally darting toward an incoming attack she rushed to deflect. She extended her arms a few times, likely trying to conjure a fragment of a dream to aid her defense. But that was not going to happen with Nightshade's stranglehold on the terrain.

The one-sided battle continued, and Nightshade even landed a few blows on the girl purely due to her massive spread of attacks. But while her blasts pushed her back and even began tearing away at her clothing, the attacks didn't give her any bruises or any other form of notable damage.

Instead, Raven's form began to flicker and fade. And then it clicked: Raven wasn't really here. She was dreaming, and this form of her Nightshade was seeing now was only a mental projection of her sense of self.

This realization made Nightshade falter, the shadows around the area fizzling out in her nervous fit, and Raven saw her chance. "I'm sorry." Raven shot out a blast of her own, and Nightshade brought her arms up to form a paltry defense.

But instead of feeling any form of damage, Raven's blast instead surrounded Nightshade, and the older woman felt herself falling through a cold and empty space. When her feet finally hit the ground, she was greeted with the sight of aging stones and crumbling ruins.

With a few disorienting steps, Nightshade began looking around. She knew this place.

It was her family's estate. Or used to be, at any rate. Whatever this grand castle used to look like was worn down by destructive forces and reduced to nothing but a collection of dark rubble and half-standing ruins. She was standing in what used to be the west wing's main hall.

Looking outside of a broken window, Nightshade looked at the familiar dour landscape of the empty realm. Always dark. Always bathed in perpetual darkness. Within nothing but a collection of dark, ink-like trees populating the landscape. There were never stars.

She never told Raven about this place, and yet she was undoubtedly sent here for a reason. Probably so Raven herself could make an escape and wake herself up. With the sudden displacement allowing Nightshade to settle her nerves, the woman let out a long and labored sigh.

With each breath Nightshade's fear was being pushed further and further away, and the leftover effects of her terror were starting to fade away. It was only when she was calm that she noticed a piece of cloth stuck in her thigh-high boots, and it stuck out like a sore thumb.

Nightshade grasped it. It was white and shimmered with a magical light, and while Nightshade was no expert on the dreaming, she knew what a dream construct was when she felt it. It even had the ends of its fraying threads turning into a golden dust the longer she held it, slowly but surely fading away like fairy dust.

Removing one of her gloves, Nightshade noticed that it felt like cotton. Like what Raven's uniform was made out of. Had she ripped this off of her person? Her dream projection? She turned it over to see a messily scrawled message: It took me a while to find your empathic signature. I hope this place makes you comfortable. I didn't know the realm was so receptive to your presence.

The calligraphy was terrible, and the message itself looked like it was written in black slime instead of proper ink. As if to accentuate that point, the message began to smear as the writing material began to slug its way toward the direction of gravity.

Like everything else pertaining to this imaginary cloth, the message was beginning to fade away. Reduced into dust, and then nothingness as the laws of reality began to push it away. Was she capable of doing this on Earth, she wondered. Or was it only possible here because of how this realm bordered the dreaming? It was probably the latter (she hoped).

She had… overreacted. When Raven began forming the nightmare, she didn't expect it to be as potent as it was, or to affect her mind as much as it did. She even forgot about how her affinity for the realm combined with Raven's knowledge would enable viewer consonance — she formed the nightmare specifically so it could take Nightshade's mental input. Hence why she saw familiar faces among the fabricated stone statues.

Although that phenomenon opened up the possibility that several other things seen in the nightmare were due to Nightshade's mental input: The heroes in the sky, the apocalyptic atmosphere… Trigon himself. But that didn't seem like Raven's style. Plus, viewer consonance could only be invoked so much before the fabricated dream broke apart. The whole point of viewer consonance was to fill in the blanks of a nightmare, not generate the whole thing.

But at least Raven took her to where she needed to go. She used this place to prepare for her meeting with Raven and still had some business to take care of. Walking along the ruined rug, Nightshade found herself pushing past a set of large mahogany doors.

What was left of the castle's library largely consisted of a rotting roof and entire piles of half-burned books, but for the most part the place still served as a useful place to find knowledge. Unfortunately, one would have to sift through several damaged collections of parchment to find anything useful, and because of the latent properties of books' construction, that meant nothing could be removed from the realm either. If anyone tried, it would just dissipate into ethereal dark matter and never be recovered.

But there were several tomes of note here. Including tomes that explicitly detailed Trigon.

At the thought of that name, Nightshade gave a visible shiver. She didn't voice this aloud, but she had been hoping that Raven was mistaken. That Trigon was not her father and that tales of the omnipotent demon lord were false. But research in this library told her differently.

There were indeed records about Trigon in this library. Most of them were not on open display either but were tucked away in storage books that held pocket dimensions or secret archives hidden in one of the library's many shadows. But they were all fairly consistent, despite how little there was to go on. He was a demon lord with no peer. A conqueror of worlds and dimensions alike. Constantly described as being a towering figure with crimson skin, white hair, black horns, and eyes filled with hellfire. That he was capable of shooting beams that could erase a person from existence and had strength that could rival gods.

Raven's nightmare all but matched what was recorded here and even showed phenomena that the documents completely overlooked. She supposed it was possible Azarath had similar documents and indoctrinated her to believe in this figure of Armageddon as her father figure, but somehow… she doubted it. And just to be sure, she came here to prove it.

Nightshade strode across the decaying chamber, heading toward a space she had personally taken over in one of the far corners of the massive room. It was laden with esoteric scripts written in chalk, and had several books scatted across the empty floor, each bookmarked and scribbled in with Nightshade's personal notes.

She had used it to prepare a part of the dreaming for their meeting and to allow Nightshade the ability to enter the realm of nightmares with complete lucidity and complete physicality. But only for as long as she remained on the realm's borders. It was also prepared so that it could be used in an informative ritual once she convinced Raven to use her power in that area.

In that sense her plan went without a hitch. There was no way the land didn't pick up on Raven's magic once she began dream shaping. But she could have just as easily ruined it when she used her own magic as excessively as she did.

With that in mind she kneeled before the array of arcane markings, her lips already forming syllables of an esoteric language most humans did not know even existed. "Yest kisnib kloshak uraugt hetnet. Ost enib jurum ket no tek eren! Est! Est nurouk!"

The aim of the ritual was simple: Determine Raven's true identity. While there was always the possibility that Raven was telling the truth, as she always seemed to do, high class demons were notorious for keeping their identities secret. Names have power and demons are sensitive to spells that directly invoke their name. If "Raven" was just an alias, then this ritual would likely shed light on what her real name is.

But this ritual could also produce other results. While most English translations of this ritual would say it would reveal a "name" it could just as easily reveal a title or epithet. Something that was irrevocably tied to her identity and being, and therefore magically relevant. Assuming this ritual worked at all, of course. She might have screwed everything up.

The chalk was beginning to dissolve into white smoke, their puffy wafts focusing themselves into a tight ball while she continued her second set of chants. The smoke continued to focus itself, the nebulous mass eventually becoming so concentrated that it looked like a crystal ball was beginning to form in the middle of the air.

That wasn't much of an exaggeration either since she was petitioning one of the many spirit realms to look into Raven's identity. With the orb nearing completion, Nightshade opened her eyes and began peering toward the ball's center. Trying to see something — anything — that could answer the questions that struck fear into her heart.

At first nothing seemed to be happening, just the continual movements of what could easily be mistaken as mist or fog. The movement of natural precipitation. But the more she focused the more her mind began to buzz, affected by some sort of paranormal force.

She continued to focus further, her eyes determinedly never leaving the center of the smokey orb—even as it began to darken to that familiar shade of ominous black that she saw not too long ago. It even began showing the after images of crimson lightning strikes.

She focused harder, the buzzing in her head now becoming a cacophony of whispers that she couldn't make heads or tails of. Her head began to pulse with pressure, and the voices began to get louder and louder. As if they were each desperately trying to tell her something important. She thought she heard snippets of English, incomplete phrases that only barely registered in her mind. Each registering in her mind through hushed whispers and hoarse voices.

Gem of—

Soul Ascending—

Heart of Darkness—

She is the Nexus—

They were discordant, disarrayed. A mess of overlapping voices. The pressure in her head got worse the more they spoke, but she knew she was close. The voices got louder with each second despite their continued murmurs and pressure built and built.

Then, as if the community of ethereal beings reached a consensus, the voices ceased and a single, clear thought came to her: Daughter of Darkness

| Washington, D.C

| 2016 June 19th, 9:30 PM

It was a small meeting, but one that several interested parties made sure to attend. Be they generals, a handful of senators, or special lawmakers. This meeting, as short notice as it was, was not one to be ignored. Especially not with recent events.

The Warworld was quite literally hanging over everyone's heads and the government recently released a report to high clearance personnel concerning the Kroloteans. Certain things needed to be discussed.

The conference room was dominated by a large meeting table, and each prepared seat was paired with a carefully constructed dossier. A variety of imposing figures sat at the table, the majority of whom were frowning as they read through the given files.

But none held more attention than General Wade Eiling, who was standing at the head of the table. "We have reason to believe that the existence of the "metahuman" gene has been leaked." An image showed up on a projector, showing a small green alien restrained onto a metal table and speaking an unintelligible language. "Interrogations of captured Kroloteans have all but confirmed that those outside extraterrestrial forces are now beginning to take interest in our planet and our population. They have already established several bases throughout the world, and continue to infiltrate high government positions. I am sure I don't have to remind everyone how they even impersonated Secretary General Tseng."

A murmur of agreement started, and several heads began to nod.

"And to make matters worse, this newfound interest is not just the result of scientific curiosity, but is in fact a side effect of Earth entering the galactic stage."

The image changed, this time showing the Justice League. "While they were tight lipped on the details, the Justice League has informed government officials that they were accused of crimes in a different sector of the galaxy. They have left the planet to stand trial on —" The general looked at his notes. "A place called Rimbor." His eyes hardened. "With their alleged crimes and their arrival on Rimbor for a public trial, it is all but guaranteed that Earth will encounter future alien threats."

Another image, this time showing footage of the reach's fleet rising from the oceans. "Something that is quite troubling, now that we know that Earth is apparently too ill-equipped to detect an entire damn armada entering orbit and then promptly hiding under our oceans!"

The figures of the room were stoic. They already knew this. It's why the U.N. was all but determined to kick them off of the planet. Furthermore, there were already talks across the globe to prepare and enhance existing alien invasion countermeasures. Congress had already preapproved the research and development of several projects, including an incentive to gather more talented individuals for U.S. service.

"But aliens are not our only problem. We need to talk about the Warworld." Another image changed. "The U.N. has not made a decision on how to deal with it yet, but I think we all know what is going to happen. The nations of the world will put forth a motion to make it a U.N. asset only, and member nations will send their finest scientists to study and evaluate this weapon of unprecedented destructive power."

He snorted. "But I think we all know every nation worth their salt will attempt to steal or commandeer the thing. Even if they get away with bits and pieces of it, we have to be prepared for the possibility that our enemies will begin developing their technologies at an unprecedented rate due to their attempts to reverse engineer Warworld tech. For the sake of national security, we have to ensure the U.S. remains technologically superior."

He grabbed a giant set of files, the manila envelopes practically bulging from an excess of forms. "These are a collection of plans and proposals on how the U.S. can appropriate and use Warworld tech. Obviously these are highly confidential and go against the spirit of the U.N.'s imminent decision, but we simply can't leave our nation defenseless against an oncoming technical revolution. So, we need to be three steps ahead."

The folder was making a round around the table, with several differing proposals entering the hands of interested parties who were briefly looking them over. "The details have mostly already been planned out. I suggest we look over these proposals, select the ones with the highest potential for success, let it go through military officials to iron out the wrinkles, and rush them to congress for approval. Time is of the essence here, so we need to —"

The door started banging, the noise startling a few of the room's occupants. The man nearest to the door opened the door, about to shout how this was a confidential meeting. But the look of the frazzled young man, who clearly wore a lieutenant's uniform, stopped him.

"Where is General Eiling?! We need him immediately, it's an emergency!"

The man in question answered promptly. "I am in here. What is it?"

"It's the Warworld, sir. It's… well, it has left Earth's orbit."

There were screeches of wood throughout the room as several figures rose from their seats, and the general felt his eyes widen in shock. "Everyone stay calm! Our military is undoubtedly already on high alert. If it is determined any of you are in danger, someone will be sent to escort you all to an underground bunker." He shot a lieutenant a look. "But first, a question. Is the Warworld projected to come back to Earth?"

The soldier nodded his head. "We don't believe so. Current intel believes that the Warworld is being led to someplace outside of our solar system. Possibly to another part of the galaxy. But we still need to go on high planetary alert."

The room calmed a bit at that information, but Eiling immediately took on a serious disposition as he rushed out of the room with a stern expression. By the time he stepped out of the room, he was already barking orders at any military personnel that was nearby.

With him gone, the room was left in an uncomfortable silence, each inhabitant feeling varying degrees of unease and anxiety creeping through the room. But after a few moments of awkward standing, people slowly began to return to their seats. No one was touching the paper in front of them, nor were they paying any attention to the data shown. It was just a tense silence, punctuated only by various people lacing their fingers together or resting their heads on an open palm.

Some of them took a deep breath. But eventually someone broke the ice. He was an older man, as demonstrated by his white beard and grey eyebrows. But his round glasses and light suit identified him as Senator Warren Eden*. He was a known advocate for prohibiting sidekick activity until they reached the age of consent. "Since the Warworld is a… developing situation, I suppose we can skip over the majority of this meeting. We can look over these proposals at the end — just in case the Warworld comes back."

At this a woman stood, her serious disposition balanced only by her slightly larger appearance to anyone in the room. "I suppose I am directing the rest of this meeting then."

Amanda Waller resolutely took her stand at the table's head, and made it a point to command attention by leaning on the expensive wood. "As mentioned earlier in this meeting, our threats are not purely extraterrestrial. With the existence of metahumans exposed, our experts say it is safe to assume other countries will begin researching metahuman potential."

She fiddled with the projector's remote, scrolling through several slides and graphs before it landed on a picture of a man shooting fireballs out of his hands. "The world has always been aware of superpowered individuals. But until this moment, only the U.S. had any idea on how and why people gained these abilities — and that information was a closely guarded secret."

She reverted to an image of a Krolotean. "But that information is nothing compared to what these gremlins found. To say our genome technology is exponentially growing due to forcefully extracted information is an understatement. It is practically being revolutionized. The problem is that the U.S. is not the only place these beings landed."

A map was shown.

"Rhelasia, Bialyia, and China are all places where Kroloteans are suspected to have landed and set up operations. It is only reasonable to assume, therefore, that other countries are seeing similar development. Combined with the leaked existence of metahumans, our experts believe we will see a significant increase in the active metahuman population and metahuman incidents. But it gets worse."

New footage showed up, showing the destruction caused by giant green plants.

"For those who are unfamiliar, this incident in 2010 was caused by a group called the Injustice League. They used a combination of Poison Ivy's abilities, technology, cobra-venom, and mysticism to create the destruction you see here. But the main issue at hand is this:"

New footage started playing, showing the Joker interacting with what looked similar to holographic technology. But the formation was wrong. The things he was interacting with were mostly circular, not rectangular. And the information displayed on it, as far as they could see, only showed locations where the plants were causing destruction.

"These plants were controlled by advanced nanotech capable of controlling organic life. Intel shows us that this technology is being further enhanced and developed by several countries. Which is to say nothing on our own developments… Point is, odds are good this advanced technology will be used to alter, trigger or control metahumans in the future. It won't be on such a grand scale, but we do foresee this technology being used in metahuman weaponization."

She grabbed another set of files. It was not as large as the first, but it was just as imposing. "I have looked through previous programs and actions taken against superpowered individuals. With that, I have put together a set of proposals on how we can adapt to this projected onslaught of metahuman development. Among them include programs to further train our own metahuman individuals and a reformed draft of a 1990's program code named Task Force X."

| Washington, D.C

| 2016 June 20th, 8:37 AM

It had been almost seven days since she last saw Raven. She was being cowardly, she knew. But she hadn't figured out how to approach the girl yet. Not since their fight. Well, more like one-sided assault.

From what she'd seen through the DEO's computer system the girl seemed to be doing okay, but Nightshade still couldn't bring herself to face her right now. Someone else could take over her training for the time being. She had been on missions left and right, even taking on missions that were not explicitly assigned to her by the CBI. She should appear as nothing more than an overachieving worker.

So, it came as surprise when she was told to report to DEO headquarters. She was dressed in her formal civilian clothing. It was nothing fancy, just a pencil skirt with high heels and short blazer. But it made her look like one of the many bureaucratic personnel that could be found at the capital. As far as the public was concerned, she was just Eve Eden.

The headquarters of the DEO was just as impressive as any other building in the area, dominated by white pillars and marble steps. The inside was just as lavish, with the lobby being adored with expensive furniture and pristine modern architecture. But the lobby openly showed how unopen it really was. Every door except for the bathroom was made of metal and guarded by a security panel. No one was allowed in unless they had security clearance.

She approached the front desk, an introduction already forming on her lips but she was cut off. "The Director is already expecting you." A card was gently placed on the desk, already filled out with her name, face, and security designation. Her Nightshade ID card would technically be valid here, and offer a much higher clearance, but it seemed the powers that be knew and respected that she wanted to enter as a civilian.

The attendant gave her a sweet, welcoming smile. "He should be in his office on the top floor."

Security card in hand, Eve let her feet carry her to the first guarded door, her card immediately clearing once she scanned it. She walked down the clean, tiled halls, not even paying attention to the ambient décor until she reached the elevator. Another scan, another cleared security checkpoint.

The doors opened, and Eve was taken aback at what she saw. Or rather, who she saw.

Her voice was cold. "Senator."

"Daughter." The aged man replied. After ignoring Eve's sneer at how she was addressed, the man gestured one of his grey-suited arms toward his side. A clear indication to join him in the elevator. "I normally wouldn't do this, but I think you would be very interested in what I have to say."

With a prominent frown, the woman obliged. Pointedly not looking at him as she pressed the button, she asked "And what, pray tell, does Warren Eden want to discuss with me?"

Imitating her behavior, the man readjusted his spectacles. "It's less of a discussion and more of a polite warning, actually. You should be grateful too, since this is supposed to be classified information." He gave her a sidelong glance. "But given the subject matter, I know you will be furious if I didn't tell you this ahead of time."

"And you are going to do this where there are cameras?", she asked, giving a slight nod to the elevator's ceiling.

His eyes crinkled in mild amusement, not that Eve was able to see it. "The director owed me a small favor. Besides, he dislikes Waller almost as much as I do."

At the mention of that name, Eve's sharp eyes widened significantly. But her pride prevented her from fully facing the man. "And what does that ruthless woman want now?"

In an odd show of consideration, the older man paused. But the next words out of his mouth sent her into a slight shock. "She wants to bring back Task Force X."

"She wants to what?!", she gasped.

"Did I stutter?", he curtly replied. "Apparently, she plans to change the setup significantly, but the premise is generally the same: Superpowered individuals taking on highly classified missions."

If possible, Eve adopted an even more dour frown as her hands shook with rage. That program was a disaster. While it was technically a success at the time, the program needlessly cost lives — both professional and civilian. Which was to say nothing about how it utilized villainous individuals who promptly went rogue with every emergent opportunity.

"Given your history with them, I figured you should be informed. I doubt they will put you back on the member roster — in fact I will personally ensure that — but the proposal is already making rounds on capitol hill. It will likely be struck down by the ethics committee or the committee for internal defense. But Waller isn't known to give up easily."

She glared at the elevator panel, inwardly cursing how slow the damn thing moved. "Anyone with half a mind will strike it down. If not on moral grounds, then on the basis that is a security threat."

"Well, developing technology may change that. If it is not approved now, it may be approved in the future." The elevator finally gave a 'ding' as it reached its intended destination, the alternate panel requesting card certification before it opened the doors. "In fact, I suspect recent government concerns are part of the reason for why you are here."

After swiping her card, the doors finally opened. She was prepared to begin her trek when she felt a heavy hand grasp her shoulder.

"I know you don't like me and I don't like how you developed in life… But I still want you to be safe. Whatever you discuss in there, be sure to use your smarts and keep your wits about you. There is a layer of unease beneath this patina of civility, and I imagine the intelligence community will be forced to reckon with a troubling future. You included." With those ominous words being voiced out, he released his grip. Taking a step further back into the cramped space, he readjusted his suit as he pressed the button for the lobby the moment Eve began taking her leave.

She didn't stop to consider his words, for she had similar thoughts herself. One of the perks of being part of the CBI was how she was always in the know about government concerns. It's why her missions were largely dominated by alien captures and surveillance of political personnel.

She reached a rather impressive set of black doors, the name "Mr. Bones" being boldly emphasized on the side. She gave another swipe of her card but raised an eyebrow when she was prompted to give a finger scan. Promptly pressing her thumb on the provided panel, she heard the distinct beep that told her that she was free to enter.

This was not the first time she visited this office, but even so, she always found the room's lone occupant to at least a little intimidating.

Director Bones was not just a quirky name. It was an apt descriptor. Because anyone who looked upon the figure sitting at the room's large desk would say they were looking at a walking and talking skeleton. No, seriously. He looked like a skeleton.

Anyone who looked at him would see a skull, exposed vertebrae, etc. When combined with his black suit and a smoking cigar, the man was quite an intimidating figure. "Ah, Eve Eden. Please have a seat."

The woman obliged, taking a seat on one of the plush chairs situated in front of the desk. It was this time she noticed the "Do Not Touch" sign situated at his desk, no doubt a reference to his deadly touch. Despite his appearance, Mister Bones was not an animated skeleton. He just had transparent cyanide skin that made him look like one. From what she was able to gather, his deadly touch was the reason the man always wore a set of gloves.

"Cigar?", he asked.

Her nose wrinkled. "No thanks. I don't smoke."

He gave a small hum. "That's a shame. I don't judge though." After knocking his own cigar onto an ashtray, he immediately reclined in his desk chair as he lightly lifted a form from his desk. "I'll get right to the point then. The powers that be want us to up our CBI training program."

She feigned surprise. "And how does this deal with me?"

Bones tilted his head, the only emotional indication of acknowledgment since his facial features were basically invisible. "Because our boys have already identified several potential trainees within our custody and one of them —" He slid the paper toward her. "Happens to be an individual you have been personally training."

Eve was only mildly shocked to see Raven's face on the file, with each additional notes section being filled to the brim with un-redacted text.

"Normally we would put her in specialized classes with the others, but we find that one-on-one sessions with a mentor yield better results than subjecting them to a generalized curriculum. Although she will still receive standard education."

He continued. "We are especially interested in how she apparently has mental barriers."

"Mental barriers?" She inquired.

He nodded, his eyeless expression boring into Eve's notice "Yeah. Turns out the main reason her psychic telekinesis came as a surprise is because her brain was actively rejecting psionic scans. Which means her brain was rejecting intrusion." He took a long drag of his cigar. "There were even tests done within the last week to see if she could reject mental intrusion. Did you know that she was even capable of resisting Ace's powers for few minutes?"

"You put her against Ace?!"

He raised his hands in a placating gesture. "We had protective gear in place! We also gave her a bit of a break from testing and education since it left her abnormally fatigued."

With a small exhale, signified by a billow of smoke, he fixed the woman with his best attempt at eye contact. "But that's not the only thing of interest. Her body is incredibly adaptive and capable of being built up quickly, she is abnormally intelligent, and she has a decent power set. Hell, ignore her abnormal beliefs and we can even add an ideal disposition onto the list. Do you know a 10-year-old who is capable of holding a poker face? Because I don't."

She firmly placed the piece of paper back on his desk. "So, we are just training kids now? Making child soldiers?"

The skeletal man leaned forward. "Don't be melodramatic. Several CBI agents have been trained while in their youth, they are just not formally employed or sent on missions until they reach 18. If you want to throw the child soldier claim around, go point at every hero who has a protégé."

He rifled in his desk for more paperwork, this time bringing out an innocuous-looking form. "She's going to be trained, one way or the other. Her biological and mental peculiarities can be worked around and accommodated. I'm just giving you the opportunity to personally oversee it since you have such an interest in the girl."

He raised a boney hand to his face. "Although speaking of superheroes ...if you complete this form, you will be given the option to operate as one. Your record will say you are put on extended leave, but you will still be in contact with us and the CBI. Superheroes are by and large allowed to operate as they see fit. Child heroes too. Experts say it can also serve as useful field experience. Although you will be expected to only handle comparatively minor threats. Thugs, two-bit villains, etc. We don't want anyone dying."

Eve grasped the form. What crossed her face could only be described as dumbfounded as she registered what she was looking at. A guardianship form. "You want her to become my ward?"

"Basically. We already know you are more than capable of providing for her, and in the event that you need more money you will be given a hefty check each month. We'll just say it's part of your vacation pay or label it as coming from the superhuman aid program. That will be going through some reforms shortly, but at the end of the day people agree parents of superpowered children need financial aid. Helps take care of their unusual needs and all that. Naturally, both of your files will be kept confidential. That's basically how it is set up for everyone who signs up anyway."

She didn't even look at him, far too engrossed with the stack of paper in her hands. She couldn't say she was comfortable around the child. Quite the opposite, actually. But she was still a child, and children really shouldn't be forced into a life like this. And Raven still expected her help — and Eve assured her repeatedly that she would.

She gave a thick swallow of unease, her brain attempting to rationalize her experiences with the girl thus far. She was unnervingly talented. She tended to be truthful. She didn't know how to tie her shoes. She could form nightmares that could bring her to her knees. She hated lying….and she was the child of the most terrible being known to ever exist.

The paper began to crinkle in her hands, and she was sure that if Mister Bones has a visible face, she would see the man raising an eyebrow. "Are you…ok, Eden? I was informed you tend to be more composed."

"I am fine." She snapped. "I am just…displeased at how things are going."

The skeleton head gave a nod. "Ah. You know, despite not being on the best terms with your father, you sure do have similar opinions."

"But that doesn't matter in this situation, does it?"

The director didn't move, his silence speaking more volumes than a confirmation ever would.

Taking a deep breath, Eve looked up. "Can you please pass me a pen?"

Author's Notes:

Night Force was created by DC comics. While the name may refer to Baron Winters's supernatural team (of which Raven was a member), Nightshade has also referred to the Night Force as a type of energy.

Fun Fact: The Land of Nightshades is actually listed as being part of the Nightmare realm on the DC multiverse map. There is also some debate on whether or not it is related to the Shadowlands. But for the sake of this fanfiction, just know that the Nightshade dimension is only bordered by the Nightmare realm and is not part of the dreaming itself.

Senator Warren Eden is a figure from DC comics. In some alternate dimensions he is shown to be a corrupt official. But he has also been shown to occasionally be at odds with Amanda Waller.