The chamber was warm with fire, yet the air was heavy—thick with expectation and the scent of old incense. Flames danced in iron braziers, casting long, uncertain shadows along the curved walls of the ancient sanctum. Carvings of lost languages etched into stone watched in silence.
Marek stood at the center of the room, his bare feet firm against cold marble. His damp black robes clung to his slight frame, the tips of his fingers bloodied and bruised from the day's trials. The black blindfold from his earlier training now hung loosely around his neck, like a noose never pulled tight.
He said nothing.
"There are many who train to kill. Many who train to endure, but the rarest train to be more than flesh"
Ra's al Ghul stood just beyond the fire, ageless and commanding, his voice smooth
"Do you know what it means to become a legend, Marek?"
The boy remained still. His breath was steady now, the ache in his limbs quieted
Ra's paced slowly, robes whispering against the floor.
"A legend is not forged from strength alone. It is not earned in one battle or by killing a dozen nameless foes. A legend is a symbol—a shadow that survives time and flesh. When men speak of the Bat, they speak in fear. The Arrow — a weapon forged for the disciplined; the patient. The Tiger, a beast of savagery—- one that would brutally kill a hundred"
He stopped in front of Marek.
"What will you be?"
Silence followed.
But inside Marek's mind, a storm stirred.
He thought of all the things he had seen. All the things no one else had noticed him noticing. The faces of the dead. The way people flinched at his silence more than his words. The way they waited for him to scream—but he never did.
He had adapted. Quietly. With quiet flutters
'I don't want to be a beast', he thought.
'I don't want to be a lion or a dragon. Those are things people try to slay'
He listened to the wind pressing through the carved windows. Then—just barely—the sound of wings, distant and light.
Wings
He did not turn to look. He didn't need to. The sound alone wrapped around his thoughts like an answer, he was waiting for
Crows
Unwanted. Feared. Misunderstood. But present. Watching. Always watching. They were not like hawks, soaring high and proud. They circled the aftermath. They lived in memory. They whispered warnings with silence and shadow.
'They don't cry out.
They don't lead charges
They remember. They mark the end
And they learn to disappear'
That was what he wanted to become
A phantom
One day, perhaps, he would master illusions—not to deceive, but to remind. To haunt. To bend the battlefield with perception alone. End wars without lifting a blade.
A crow, he thought, because they never forget what others want to bury
But he said none of this aloud
He stood in place, unmoving, letting the sound of wings fade into silence once more
Then, finally, he lifted his chin, meeting Ra's al Ghul's gaze.
"I will be a crow"
The Demon's Head studied him, as if peering through his soul. "The crow is not noble," he said, voice low and testing
Marek didn't flinch. "I don't wish to be"
A long pause. Then, slowly, Ra's turned toward Lady Shiva, who had appeared behind him in the firelight, arms folded in mute judgment.
Ra's lifted a hand. An acolyte stepped forward, unfurling a dark cloth embroidered in silver thread. He started stitching a stylized crow in flight, wings curved like slashing blades, three crimson eyes staring from within its shadowy form
"Then from this night on," Ra's said, his voice ceremonial, "let it be written: the boy who walks in silence, who sees the world through demonic eyes, has chosen his symbol. A bird of silence and death"
The acolyte knelt and placed the symbol at Marek's feet.
Still, Marek did not move
But deep inside, he felt something shift
He had made his choice.
————————————————————————x
A crow arrived in Gotham at midnight, with a letter tied to its' feet. The false bottom of a hollow arrow shaft. No seal. No name. Only a thin strip of parchment contained within.
Artemis opened it alone, up on a rooftop where the sodium lights couldn't reach and the city's noise fell away. The writing on the page looked like nonsense—half symbols, half smudges. But she knew better.
It was their cipher
The one they'd made when they were younger. Before Nanda Parbat. Back when they were just two kids trying to survive long enough to matter
She crouched, turned her back to the wind, and began decoding.
'Artemis.
I miss you, bubbles. Hope you are healthy. Hope you are safe
I'm deeper in now. Past the point where they stop testing and start using you. Ra's speaks like prophecy, and Shiva watches me like I'm already a weapon.
My first mission would be assigned soon
I have learnt to be quieter. To be the silence
Yet, I haven't forgotten what you said on the tower that night. About lines. About not losing the part of me that wants to be better. You were right. But it's harder now. And the cost of staying human keeps going up.
Burn this when you're done.
—M'
Artemis let out a slow breath. Her hand trembled slightly as she folded the note.
She lit a flame from her borrowed lighter until the paper blackened and curled. The wind carried the ashes away like broken wings
She smiled —- a sad smile. She missed him too
The crow watched it all, till she descended away, back to her apartment. Only then did it fly away