The dimly lit chamber was eerily silent except for the sharp, stilted breaths of Talia al Ghul. The pain of childbirth had her clutching the sides of the table, her body trembling, the sweat beading on her forehead. The agony of giving birth to twins—two sons—was unlike anything she had ever imagined.
Her father, Ra's al Ghul, stood by with the same unreadable expression he wore in every moment of intense focus, watching with the calm demeanor of someone who expected nothing less than perfection. He was calculating, as always.
Talia had conceived these children using a combination of artificial insemination and genetic manipulation, carefully selected traits ensuring that they would grow to be powerful, capable, and worthy of inheriting her legacy—theirlegacy.
Damian's cries filled the air as his tiny, wrinkled form entered the world, his small fists swinging, demanding attention.
Ra's, without hesitation, reached for him, his ancient hands cradling the child with an unsettling precision.
"Damian," Ra's muttered, a smirk creeping up his lips. "The first to enter the world. You will be the lead the League."
Talia felt her heart flutter with the pride of hearing her son's name spoken, even though her exhaustion threatened to overtake her. But the joy didn't last. Her second son, the other baby, remained still.
She tried to hold back the fear clawing at her chest, but it was impossible. She could feel it—a cold, empty dread as she saw her second child motionless in the hands of the attending medical staff.
"Talia," Ra's said in his usual calm but commanding tone, "Your second son... he does not breathe. He is weak, and he will not survive."
She clenched her fists, unable to find her voice. She had prepared for this, but the reality of it felt far worse than anything she could have imagined. She hadwilledthis child into existence with careful manipulation, and now he was being ripped away from her.
"No," Talia whispered, struggling to sit up. "There must be a way. We can't let him go."
Ra's turned toward her with a glare of icy indifference. "There is no time for sentiment, Talia. The Lazarus Pit can restore him. It has done so before."
Her eyes widened, horror striking her like a physical Lazarus Pit—her second son, already cold in the arms of the attendants, would be thrown into the depths of the magical, cursed waters. She had always known of Ra's willingness to make such a decision, but seeing it in action, knowing it was her child, left a hollow pit in her stomach.
Ra's al Ghul carried the stillborn child over to the Lazarus Pit, his steps unwavering and certain. Talia wanted to stop him, to scream, but her body was frozen by both physical exhaustion and a deep sense of helplessness.
Her father, unmoved by any of the emotional turmoil she felt, lowered the baby into the pit without a moment's hesitation.
The swirling waters churned, and for a moment, Talia clung to the hope that somehow, the miracle would happen—that the Lazarus Pit would work.
But the seconds passed, and the child did not rise.
Ra's stood still, watching with cold patience as the waters settled.
Nothing.
Ra's's expression hardened, his eyes narrowing as he turned to Talia with his unwavering authority.
"Damian al Ghul shall be the heir," he declared, his voice thick with finality. "The other is not worthy of the League."
Talia's eyes blurred with unshed tears as she looked at the empty space where her second child should have been. Her heart shattered. Despite her son being born just moments ago, she felt the absence, the loss, deep within her very soul. A piece of her was gone—hewas gone—and no amount of genetic manipulation or artificial insemination could have prepared her for the raw, aching void left behind. Damian cried, his little heart out.
Her body trembled with grief, and yet, her father's voice echoed in her ears, cold and final.
She could no longer fight the inevitable. The legacy of her bloodline would pass to Damian alone.
But Talia's heart could not reconcile the cost.
《 》
The moon hung low in the night sky, casting pale beams of light through the gaps in the curtains. Damian al Ghul lay in his bed, his small form twisted in the sheets, his chest heavy with loneliness. He had been awake for hours, staring at the ceiling, his thoughts plagued by the absence of his twin brother. Ever since that fateful night, the emptiness had gnawed at him. He had asked his mother, once, about his brother. Talia's cold, distant gaze was all the answer he needed. She had not spoken of him again.
The night felt too quiet, too empty. Even the wind outside the mansion seemed to whisper in a way that made him feel isolated, like there was something missing in the world. His twin should have been here with brother should have been here.
Damian couldn't push the emptiness away, couldn't silence the ache in his chest. It was a part of him he couldn't escape.
As the hours passed, the urge to do something—anything to fill the void—became too much to ignore. His curiosity, his need to understand, pushed him to act. With a quiet resolve, Damian slipped out of his bed, his small bare feet padding softly against the cold stone floor, careful not to wake the guards patrolling outside, and crept through the corridors of the manor.
The chamber housing the Lazarus Pit loomed ahead, a dark, foreboding space that had haunted his dreams. The green waters below were a mystery, one Damian had often wondered about. This was where his twin had gone—this cursed, ancient pool of power. If it had brought his grandfather back to life countless times, perhaps it could bring his brother back as well.
Damian slowly pushed open the door, stepping inside. The air smelled faintly of damp stone and something ancient, something otherworldly. The Lazarus Pit sat before him, its waters glowing with an eerie green light. He stared into the depths, his heart beating faster, a mixture of hope and fear rising within him.
"I wish you were here," he whispered into the stillness, his voice small and fragile. "I wish I could have known you. I want you here, with me."
The water swirled, as if responding to his words. For a brief moment, he thought he saw something—just a flicker of movement beneath the surface. Damian's heart skipped a beat.
"Brother?" he whispered, leaning closer to the pit, his small hands pressing against the cold stone.
But before he could move any further, he heard a noise from the hallway outside the chamber. A distant footstep, muffled, but unmistakable.
Damian froze, his eyes wide in fear. He quickly turned and bolted toward the door, his heart hammering in his chest. He ran as fast as his small legs could carry him, his breathing shallow and quick.
He reached his room and closed the door shut behind him, throwing the lock into place. His breath came in ragged gasps as he crawled into bed. The room was dark, silent again, but the ache in his chest wouldn't go away.
Though the Lazarus Pit had given him a brief flicker of hope, Damian knew the truth: the piece of him that was missing would never come back.
Not now, not ever.
But he would never stop wishing.
《 》
"We need more people!" A League assassin shouts before getting his neck sliced. The League of Assassins' stronghold had been under siege for hours. Deathstroke, the mercenary, had launched a brutal assault, aided by his army of ninjas. The once-impenetrable fortress was slowly crumbling under the onslaught, and the League's forces were being pushed back with each passing minute.
Talia al Ghul and Ra's al Ghul stood at the forefront of the defense, their faces grim as they fought off attackers with ruthless precision. Despite their strength and skill, the sheer number of Deathstroke's forces was overwhelming. Talia's eyes flicked toward her young son, Damian, who was being guarded by the remaining League ninjas.
"Stay close, Damian," Talia ordered, her voice sharp, though her mind was elsewhere, constantly scanning for any sign of weakness in their defense.
Damian nodded silently, his small form crouched behind the protective barrier the League had set up. His emerald eyes were wide, his small fists clenched at his sides. He had never seen anything like this before. His world, always one of careful order and control, was crumbling before him. And yet, through the chaos, the ache in his chest with fear.
Talia, Ra's, and the rest of the ninjas fought valiantly, but it was clear they were losing ground. Deathstroke, ever the tactician, seemed to anticipate every move, pushing them further and further into a corner. Their strength was dwindling, their energy spent.
"Father!" Talia shouted, eyes flicking toward Ra's, her voice tinged with desperation. "We cannot hold out much longer."
Ra's al Ghul turned, his eyes narrowed, focused on the battle. "We must protect Damian at all costs. If we fall, the legacy will fall with us."
As the words left his mouth, the room trembled, a sudden surge of power filling the air. The Lazarus Pit, long dormant, began to glow with an eerie green light. Talia, Ra's, and the ninjas halted, their eyes drawn to the pit as the light intensified.
From the depths of the pit, something emerged. The surface of the water rippled violently, and from it rose a child—no older than Damian—his small, fragile body rising from the waters as if summoned by some unspoken force. His hair was dark, his face serene, his expression unreadable. He was an exact carbon copy of Damian, except for his eyes; Blue eyes. He stood on the edge of the pit, his feet finding solid ground, and as his small hands pressed into the stone, the glow of the pit began to fade.
The room fell silent.
Deathstroke's forces hesitated for a split second, as if unsure of what had just transpired. And in that moment of uncertainty, the child moved. With an impossible speed, the mysterious figure began to strike. His movements were fluid, precise—every strike landing with lethal intent. He cut through Deathstroke's ninjas as if they were nothing more than paper, his small frame an unstoppable force.
In mere minutes, the battlefield was quiet once again, save for the sound of footsteps and the occasional groan from the injured. Majority of the ninjas that Deathstroke brought were dead.
Deathstroke, seeing his forces crumble, turned and made his retreat, his cold voice echoing across the now-silent room. "This isn't over, Ra's. I'll be back."
Ra's al Ghul watched, amusement dancing in his eyes as he observed the mercenary's hasty departure. "He will return," Ra's said with a smirk, "but for now, it seems we have been given a gift."
Talia, still recovering from the shock of what had just transpired, turned her gaze to the child, her eyes narrowing as she observed him. "Who… who are you?" she asked softly, a mix of confusion and wonder in her voice.
The child turned toward her, his green eyes blank, almost emotionless. "I don't have any," he replied simply.
Talia's heart skipped a beat. "What do you mean?You don't have any?"
Damian, still crouched behind the barrier, approached slowly. His small voice cut through the tension. "Where did you come from?"
The child's expression remained unchanged as he answered, his tone flat and matter-of-fact. "You asked the pit for a wish and it brought me here."
Talia blinked in disbelief. "A wish? What wish?"
The child's eyes met Damian's. "A sibling."
The words hit Talia like a physical blow. She stared at the boy, realization dawning. A wish? She couldn't fathom how or why the Lazarus Pit had responded this way—how it had granted her son's unspoken desire. But it had, and now they stood before the child who had emerged from the depths. He looked exactly like the man she had once loved.
Ra's al Ghul chuckled softly, his eyes glinting with amusement as he stepped forward, his hands clasped behind his back. "It seems, Damian, that you have been granted a most extraordinary gift."
Damian looked at his grandfather, his expression serious. "Thank you for the praise, Grandfather.
Ra's al Ghul nodded, turning his attention to the child once again. "You may stay," he said, his voice carrying an authoritative edge. "But you will have to train. You will need to be strong if you wish to survive under my tutelage."
The child, who had not said a word in response, simply nodded, a faint, mysterious smile tugging at his lips.
Ra's al Ghul turned to Damian then, his smile widening. "What shall we name him, then?"
Damian, still processing everything that had just happened, looked at the child with newfound resolve. "Danyal," he said, his voice firm, though a hint of warmth settled into it. "He shall be named Danyal."
The child—Danyal—smiled at the name, the first sign of emotion he had shown. It was small, fleeting, but it was there.
Talia stood still, her mind racing. She had just witnessed the impossible, and yet it had come to pass. A sibling for Damian, one who would walk alongside him and carry the weight of their legacy. But the question lingered in her mind—how would this child, who was born from a wish, shape their future? What if he's actually her lost song?
As Danyal smiled, the realization settled in. The League of Assassins had just gained a new force—one that had been brought into existence by the power of the Lazarus Pit.
And nothing would ever be the same again.
《 》
In the heart of the League of Assassins' grand, shadowy headquarters, the building was alive with the silent buzz of activity. Danyal had just taken down one of the League's best ninjas, a move that stunned even the most hardened members. His stealth and precision made it clear he was no ordinary assassin, a fact that had not escaped his older brother Damian's attention. Though Damian would never openly admit it, he felt a twinge of pride as he watched Danyal stand victorious over the fallen ninja.
Talia, with a rare smile tugging at the corner of her lips, approached Damian. She leaned close, her voice soft and approving, "Good job, Damian." She knew what he had done, and despite not being happy about it, she was happy to see him protecting his brother.
Damian piercing gaze landed on Danyal, scrutinizing him like a hawk eyeing its prey. "I thought you were good?" he said, his tone almost playful, though a hint of challenge lingered. "I had to pretend to lose just so that you could win!"
Danyal, unfazed, tilted his head slightly and stared at Damian for a beat before responding. "Well, I did just win a fight with no sleep, so where's my praise?"
Damian, unbothered, merely ignored the challenge in Danyal's words. His face softened into something resembling a smirk, but his words were casual as ever. "Anyway, come on, Dan knee yel. Let's get some trouble."
Danyal pouted, crossing his arms in mock irritation. "But you gave me that name..." he muttered, running after his brother as they began to exit the training hall.
Damian looked over his shoulder with a knowing grin. "I know, and now you're stuck with it," he teased, a flicker of mischief in his gaze as he quickened his pace.
DamianandDanyal, brothers bound by fate and blood, run through the hallways, their laughter a quiet echo in the dark. the bond between them seemed unbreakable. Though their world was one of training, death, and cold ambition, they had each other. There was no one else they needed.
Despite the oppressive silence of their surroundings, there was a bond between them, one that could not be broken.
Damian,always the leader, with his usual air of authority and quiet confidence,took spoke first, his voice filled with the kind of certainty that only the truly destined could carry. "When I am king," he said, his steps sure, "no other person will break my stride."
"My brother," Danyal catching up besides him, teased, as he grinned.
Damian turned his head slightly, a small smile tugging at his lips, but his tone remained as steady as ever. "When I'm king," he continued, the weight of his words unmistakable, "you'll always take my side."
"Ha!"Danyal scoffed with a playful grin, "Yeah, right," he joked, the smirk never leaving his face. He was the light to Damian's shadow, the one who kept him grounded with playful humor, despite the heavy weight of their surroundings.
"That's right," Damian confirmed with a gleam in his eye, "But when I am king," Damian continued, a hint of amusement creeping into his voice. Danyal's voice was almost a challenge as he responded, "When you are king..."
Damian's eyes grew darker, filled with the same intensity he had carried since they were young. "No other person will break our pride."
"My brother," Danyal echoed, his voice playful but filled with genuine respect for the one who was destined to lead. Despite the jokes, Danyal would always stand by his brother, no matter how much he mocked his ambitions.
Damian's expression grew serious, his eyes flashing with a determined gleam. "Our prey may run away," he declared, "but they can't hide."
"Watch your hide," Danyal shot back with a laugh, ducking under a low-hanging archway as they continued their night of adventure, always testing the limits of the League's watchful eyes. The two brothers locked eyes, the future hanging between them like an unspoken promise.
"Let's go!" Damian shouted as he led the way, taking a leap over a broken pillar.
Danyal, ever the playful one, quickly caught up. "Let's go!" Danyal cried, eager to follow, "You can't outrun, me Damian!"
The duo kept running, their feet moving faster and faster as they dodged guards and scaled obstacles. As they sprinted through the compound, the two of them found themselves making their way to the outer walls of the fortress. They felt the freedom of the night air rushing past them, a rare moment of respite from their rigorous training and the expectations of their family.
But soon, the playful banter slowed as the sounds of footsteps approached.
"Hey," a voice broke through the rhythm of their steps— "Did your mother say you could be up this late?" The boys froze, recognizing the voice of Omar, one of Ra's al Ghul's more loyal but intimidating assassins.
Damian, ever the strategist, immediately took charge,expression hardened in an instant. "Okay," he muttered, glancing over at Danyal. "She didn't say, either way."
He kept moving, ignoring Omar, as he focused on his brother. "We're on our way."
Danyal echoed his words, the familiar rhythm between them almost like a song. "We can outrun them!" he added, already knowing what was coming. "Run away. Let's go!"
Once they were a far distance from Omar, Danyal turns to Damian and raises an eyebrow, his mischievous grin never faltering. "Well, that doesn't sound like permission, now does it?" he teased, though he wasn't backing down from the confrontation.
Damian's gaze flickered toward the horizon, where the glowing lights of the distant mountains beckoned. "When I am king," he said, quieter now but with a deep conviction, "no one will break our stride."
"My brother," Danyal answered, mimicking his brother's tone with a lightness that made the words seem almost like a game.
Damian's voice grew colder, a challenge in his tone as he looked down at the guards closing in. "Our prey may run away, but they can't hide."
"Let's go!" Danyal shouted, taking the lead this time, darting toward the outer courtyard.
"Let's go!" Damian echoed, following closely behind.
The chase had begun in earnest. They were out of the League's reach for now, testing the limits of their youthful defiance. But in the back of his mind, Damian knew they couldn't outrun the inevitable forever. One day, he would lead this League—and Danyal would be right there by his side.
《 》
Hours passed as the brothers continued to test their boundaries, avoiding their tutors, slipping past sentries, and evading capture with ease. As they settled on a hill overlooking the compound, breathless and exhilarated, Damian couldn't help but voice the thought that had been with him since they began this adventure.
"I always wanted a brother," he said softly, almost to himself. "And I always wanted a brother just like you."
Danyal, smiling widely, dropped down beside him. "I always wanted a brother too," he said with genuine warmth. "Now, we rely on each other."
Damian looked at him for a long moment before speaking again, his voice surprisingly soft. "When I'm king, you'll be at my side. And I'll never let anyone say otherwise."
Danyal tilted his head, giving his brother a sidelong glance. "Of course, brother. I wouldn't be anywhere else."
"Make a wish on the brightest star," Damian said, his voice almost soft with the weight of his future. "And I say… I always wanted a brother," Danyal finished, his voice tinged with a hint of affection.
"I always wanted a brother," Danyal echoed, the words flowing between them like an unspoken vow.
"I always wanted a brother," they both sang together, their voices a perfect harmony.
"Just like you," Danyal added, his gaze softening as he glanced at his older brother.
Damian smiled, the smallest of smiles, but it was all that was needed.
"And I always wanted a brother," he whispered.
"Just like you," The two says together, the bond between them stronger than anything else in the world.
The two of them sat in comfortable silence for a while, the weight of their shared destiny resting on their shoulders. And though the years ahead would be filled with conflict, training, and danger, for that moment, all that mattered was their bond. The world of the League of Assassins would always be harsh, but together, they would face whatever came.
《 》
They were supposed to be making a map of the sun's location but instead they got distracted by the birds. "See that tree?" Danyal asked, pointing ahead. "Those birds are watching the world unfold."
"The world unfolds," Damian repeated, as he started to climb up the tree. "Oh, brother."
Danyal, not wanting to be left behind, follows in suit, "My brother," Danyal said again, his voice filled with meaning.
"When I'm king," Damian said, his words more determined than ever, "they will do as they're told."
"You may look down on them," Danyal teased, running on the tree branch, behind Damian, "but they are free."
"You can't catch me!" Damian shouted, already darting ahead.
"And where they go, cannot be controlled," Danyal added, quick to follow, the chase on. The brothers run, gracefully, as if they were dancing on ice.
As Damian goes to run to another tree branch, he slips and grips onto the branch, holding onto it tightly, "No one looks down on me,"
"Ironic," Danyal says as he stands on the tree branch, looking down at his brother. He jumps to the other tree branch. Damian slips and lands on the tree branch that his brother was standing on, "They look down on us, brother," Danyal shot back.
Damian grinned. "Ha!" he laughed, leading the way.
"Some things you chase, but you cannot hold," Danyal said as he caught up.
"Okay, it's getting old," Damian said, smirking, "Let's go!"
"Let's go!" they called out in unison before they both jump off the tree branch together.
《 》
The dining hall of the League of Assassins was dimly lit, the torches lining the stone walls casting flickering shadows across the long rows of seated warriors. The scent of seasoned meat and rice filled the air as assassins and trainees alike sat in disciplined silence, eating their meals with precision.
Damian and Danyal walked side by side, trays in hand, moving toward their usual spot among the recruits. They weren't like the others. The weight of their lineage set them apart—the grandsons of the Demon's Head, heirs to something far greater than mere foot soldiers. Yet, the distinction only seemed to deepen the chasm between them and the rest.
Just as they were about to sit, a voice cut through the quiet murmuring of the hall.
"I heard his grandfather say he doesn't want this stray."
The words, so casually spoken yet dripping with venom, sent a hush over the room. A few of the younger trainees gasped, while others exchanged wary glances, their gazes shifting toward the two brothers.
Damian stilled. His grip tightened around his tray as his head snapped toward the speaker—Hasid, a teen who had always looked down on Danyal with thinly veiled disdain. He's one of the trainees whos at a lower rank than the demon siblings.
"I dare you to say that again," Damian's voice was low, dangerous. He turned fully to face Hasid, his golden eyes burning with barely contained fury. "To my face."
Hasid smirked, as if amused by the challenge.
"What did you say about my brother?" Damian demanded, stepping forward. "That's not a stray. That's my brother. You stay away from my brother—because I say so."
His voice rang through the hall, commanding attention. A few of the other assassins whispered among themselves, but none dared to speak against the grandson of the Demon.
"If you put your hands on my brother," Damian continued, his tone unwavering, "you'll meet the jaws of his brother. Those are the laws for my brother."
Hasid scoffed, his expression filled with mockery. "Ha! As if you can do anything to me!"
Before Damian could react, he felt a shift in the air—an absence. He turned his head sharply, scanning the room.
Where'd he go?
Danyal was gone.
His brother's presence had always been something Damian could sense, a constant shadow beside him. But now, it had vanished without a trace.
Leaving his tray forgotten on the table, Damian pushed through the dining hall, ignoring the whispers that trailed behind him. His pulse quickened as he stepped into the open corridors of the compound, the night air cool against his skin.
Meanwhile, Danyal wandered through the training grounds, his footsteps light as he watched the ninjas practice beneath the moonlit sky. The rhythmic clash of blades, the silent precision of their movements—it was familiar, yet distant. A life that had shaped him but never quite welcomed him.
"I always wanted a brother," he murmured to himself, his breath fogging slightly in the cold night. His hands curled into fists as memories surfaced—fragments of a life before the League, before this cold, relentless existence.
"I still remember my mother," he whispered, "One season after another…" feeling hurt that he doesn't belong here.
《 》
The years passed swiftly in the League of Assassins, marked by rigorous training, whispered lessons in the dark, and quiet moments where brotherhood flourished despite the harshness of their world.
At five and six years old, Danyal and Damian were still small, their swords too large for their hands, but that didn't stop them from training relentlessly. In the courtyard of Ra's al Ghul's stronghold, the night air was filled with the sharp clack of wooden swords clashing. Damian moved with precision, already showing signs of the prodigy he would become. Danyal, smaller and less refined in his movements, struggled to keep up. With every failed strike, he gritted his teeth, refusing to yield.
"You'll never defeat me if you keep standing like that, little brother," Damian teased, dodging a sloppy swing with ease.
"I'm not little!" Danyal huffed, lunging forward.
With a swift movement, Damian disarmed him, the wooden sword clattering to the ground. Danyal stared at it, frustrated, his fists clenched. But Damian only smirked and offered his hand. "Again." Without hesitation, Danyal grabbed his brother's wrist and pulled himself up. The fire in his eyes never wavered.
《 》
As the years passed, so did the seasons, their bodies growing stronger, their skills sharper. By the time Damian was seven and Danyal six, their training had moved beyond wooden swords. Steel gleamed in their hands, no longer just students, but warriors in the making. They ran across rooftops in the dead of night, their movements quick and silent as shadows. Damian leaped effortlessly between buildings, landing with catlike grace. Danyal hesitated for only a second before following. He barely made the jump, his fingers slipping on the ledge—but before he could fall, Damian's hand shot out, gripping his wrist tightly.
"I had that," Danyal muttered, panting.
Damian only smirked, pulling him up. "You're getting better."
《 》
Ateight and nine, they were nearly inseparable, their skills honed to near perfection. Danyal's acrobatics rivaled even the most experienced assassins, and Damian had already mastered several forms of combat. They fought side by side, their movements synchronized, like two halves of the same blade. Where Damian struck with ruthless efficiency, Danyal was quick, agile, his strikes like lightning. Every battle made them stronger, every scar a lesson. And yet, despite the brutal training, there was always a moment of joy between them.
One evening, as they sat atop the high walls of the compound, looking out at the mountains beyond, catching their breath after an intense sparring session, "I always wanted a brother," Damian murmured.
"Now, we rely on each other," Danyal responded, nudging him playfully.
Damian smiled, warmth flickering in his usually guarded eyes. "One season after another."
《 》
By the time Damian was ten and Danyal nine, they had grown taller, leaner, their bodies hardened from years of training. They no longer needed words in combat. The once-small boys who had struggled to hold their weapons now wielded them with deadly efficiency. But despite their growth, there was still an unspoken lightness between them—moments where they were simply brothers, not warriors. Their bond was unbreakable, forged in fire, tested in battle.
One such moment came after a grueling training session. They did so well that Ra Al Ghul rewarded them with an hour of free time, which surprised the brothers.
Damian smirked, a glint of mischief in his eyes, "Hey, Danyal."
Danyal, wiping sweat from his brow, glanced up. "Yes, Damian?"
"I'll race you to the other side."
Danyal grinned. "Race you to the other side."
And just like that, they were running, feet pounding against the stone pathways, laughter trailing behind them like echoes of a childhood they barely had time to embrace.
"Race you to the other side!" They shouted together, disappearing into the fading light, two shadows bound by blood, by loyalty—by brotherhood.