Cassandra let out a breath she hadn't realized she was holding.
Lady Shiva was gone.
One moment, her mother had been there—looming in that way only Shiva could, like an elegant panther deciding whether or not to pounce. And the next? Gone. Just empty space and the howling Gotham wind.
Classic Shiva. Always leaving before you figured out whether you'd won or lost the conversation.
Cassandra turned, ready to slip back into the night.
She had come here expecting a fight, expecting—what? A final confrontation? A last test? A demand for loyalty?
Whatever it had been, she had survived it.
She had chosen.
And then she felt it.
Or rather, she didn't.
Which was worse.
Cassandra Cain's entire existence had been built on sensing the world around her. Every shift in weight, every breath, every heartbeat—she could feel them. That was how she knew when someone was watching her.
Right now?
There was nothing.
No movement. No ripple in the air. No warning.
And then—
A shape appeared.
One second, the rooftop was empty. The next, there he was.
Shadowflame.
Black and gold armor. A crimson gemstone faintly glowing at the center of his chest. A deep red, hooded cloak that moved like liquid fire.
And the mask.
That golden mask—sharp, impassive, watching. Like it saw straight through her.
Cassandra didn't move. Didn't breathe.
She hadn't heard him. Hadn't felt him.
That? Was impossible.
Even Shiva had presence. A ripple in the world. Something.
This guy? Nothing.
That scared her more than anything.
Shadowflame tilted his head slightly, studying her like an owl watching a particularly confused mouse.
"You're fast," he said. His voice was smooth, casual, like they were discussing the weather. "Almost got away before I could say hello."
Cassandra's fists clenched. Feet shifted. If she had to fight, she would. Not because she thought she could win, but because instinct demanded it.
He had caught her off guard. And that meant danger.
Shadowflame lifted his hands, palms open. "Relax. If I was here to fight, you wouldn't have seen me."
Oh. Great. That's so reassuring.
Cassandra didn't move.
Didn't blink.
Didn't breathe.
Then, against every survival instinct she had—against the training drilled into her from birth—she spoke.
"…You saw."
Her voice came out rough. Unsteady. Strange. The words felt like foreign objects in her mouth, like they weren't hers yet.
Because they weren't.
She had never spoken before. Not once in her entire life.
But right now, she had to.
Shadowflame didn't react. Didn't flinch. Didn't make a big deal out of it. He just nodded, as if talking was the most normal thing in the world for her.
"I saw," he admitted. "I saw you meet Shiva. I know who she is. And that tells me who you are."
Cassandra's stomach twisted.
He knew.
Batgirl didn't know. The others at the Foundation didn't know. They knew she was someone before they found her, but not who.
Not what she had been trained for.
Not the monster she had been raised to be.
If he told them—
Her hands clenched so tight her knuckles turned white.
She wouldn't go back. She couldn't.
Shadowflame studied her for a long moment, then let out a sigh.
"Relax, Cain. I'm not going to tell them."
Cassandra blinked.
What?
"I mean, unless you want me to," he added. "In which case, I'll absolutely walk right up to Batgirl and say, 'Hey, did you know Cassandra Cain is actually the daughter of the world's deadliest assassin?'" He shrugged. "But somehow, I don't think you'd like that."
Cassandra narrowed her eyes.
This man—this impossible man—was bantering with her.
Like this was just some casual rooftop chat.
Like he hadn't just shattered her entire understanding of the world by existing outside her perception.
Like he wasn't holding the single biggest secret of her life in his hands.
Cassandra's throat felt tight. The words were harder now, but she forced them out. "Why?"
Shadowflame tilted his head again, watching her. "Why am I not telling them?"
She nodded.
He was silent for a moment, then finally spoke.
"Because I know what it's like to want to be more than what you were made to be."
Something in Cassandra's chest tightened.
She didn't know him. Not really. Not beyond the time she spent with him and the others at the Foundation.
But right now, in this moment, she understood him.
And he understood her.
For the first time in her life, someone saw her.
Not as a weapon. Not as a tool. Not as a Cain.
Just… Cassandra.
Shadowflame stepped back, letting the darkness swallow him once more.
"Go home, Cassandra," he said. "The Foundation's waiting for you."
She hesitated.
Then, after a long moment, she nodded.
She turned, slipping back into the night, her body light with something she couldn't quite name.
Maybe—just maybe—she had finally found something worth holding onto.
—
Batman had seen some crazy things. And by "crazy," I mean weird, unnatural, and occasionally bordering on the kind of absurd that makes you want to question your entire existence. He had stared down gods, fought off monsters, and gone toe-to-toe with some of the most devious minds on the planet. And yet—what he was witnessing now?
This was new.
Totally new.
He'd been keeping an eye on the scene for a while. Watching. Listening. As Lady Shiva and Cassandra Cain stood face-to-face in a silent battle of wills. If it had been any other night, Bruce would've stepped in, maybe given a few gentle words of advice, or more likely, knocked their heads together in the kind of fight-ending way he was known for. But no, this was Shiva. And Cassandra. Neither of them took advice well, and frankly, he knew better than to get involved in a Cain family drama unless he wanted to be the punching bag.
But then—there was Shadowflame.
It was like watching a scene play out, and then—poof. Suddenly, Shadowflame was there, standing right between them like a bad punchline to a joke nobody told.
And Bruce didn't even see him. Not once. Not even a flicker of movement. One second, it was just Cassandra. The next? A guy in black and gold armor who looked like he just strolled out of a medieval fantasy flick, cloaked in a fire-red cloak and the kind of aura that screamed, "I'm here to kick butt and look good doing it."
Bruce hated people like that.
Not because he didn't respect them—no, he respected them too much. The problem was, they were a total mystery. And when it came to mysteries, Batman did not like to be left out of the loop. Not one bit.
He'd been tracking this guy for a while, ever since the name Shadowflame started popping up in league circles. Back when he was still a kid named Harry Potter.
Harry Potter. The name hit Bruce like a ton of bricks every time he thought about it. The same Harry Potter who had fallen into Luthor's hands, who'd been experimented on, and—somehow—was now the leader of the Justice League's new batch of heroes. It didn't make any sense, and that alone made Bruce's skin itch.
Shadowflame wasn't just some random vigilante. He was a leader. He led the younger generation of heroes, like some kind of walking, talking beacon of power. And Bruce didn't like that.
No.
He didn't like it one bit.
It wasn't that Bruce had a problem with young heroes. He'd trained enough of them himself. But there was something about Shadowflame that was just… off. Something Bruce couldn't put his finger on.
Which is why, when Shadowflame showed up, without a sound, without a movement, and without warning—Batman got very, very concerned.
The man had done it again. He had slipped right past Bruce's watchful eyes. Not a sound. Not a movement. He was just there. Like the guy had been hiding in the space between the breaths of time itself.
That wasn't stealth.
That was impossible.
Even Bruce wasn't that good.
And that was what bugged him.
Cassandra's voice broke through the silence, that raspy, hesitant whisper that made the hairs on Bruce's neck stand up.
"...You saw."
He'd known this was coming. He'd seen the signs. But hearing Cassandra speak—actually speak for the first time in her life—sent a ripple of disbelief through him. She had spoken.
And Shadowflame? He didn't even flinch. He didn't react like some training session where the first word was an event. He just… listened. He let Cassandra be Cassandra. And in that moment, Batman felt something he hadn't felt in a long time: respect.
Because Shadowflame wasn't here to expose her. He wasn't here to turn her history into a weapon against her. He was just... there. Giving her the chance to decide for herself who she was going to be.
Bruce couldn't help but admire that. In a world full of people who used information as leverage, Shadowflame was offering Cassandra something she had never gotten before—freedom.
So he stayed in the shadows, not to interfere, but to observe.
The part of him that was Batman—the part that always had a plan—knew this was a moment of decision for Cassandra. And he needed to know where this would go. Would she take the out? Would she use this chance to run?
But what Bruce hadn't expected—what he couldn't have predicted—was how Cassandra would handle it.
The silence stretched between them, and then—just as easily as she had come into the world, Cassandra Cain disappeared back into the night. Like smoke, like a shadow, like nothing more than a whisper on the wind.
Bruce remained still. Not moving. Not blinking. Just watching.
His mind raced. Calculating.
And then, from the depths of his own self-doubt, he couldn't help but ask himself one simple, burning question:
Who the hell is Shadowflame?
The League trusted him. He was the leader, for crying out loud. But Bruce wasn't so sure. Not yet. Not with someone who moved like that. Not with someone whose power was still so incomprehensible.
Bruce wasn't just watching for threats. He was watching for answers. And the answers weren't coming fast enough.
"Wait and see," Bruce muttered to himself. A mantra he repeated so often, it had started to lose its meaning.
But this time—he meant it.
Because one way or another, Batman was going to figure out exactly who Shadowflame was. And when he did—he'd be ready.
—
Cassandra's Return
The Foundation was as quiet as a church at midnight when Cassandra Cain walked through the door. The only sound was the faint click of her boots tapping against the stone floor. It echoed in the otherwise silent, dim-lit halls like a ghost passing through. The building felt almost alive, like it recognized her return and decided to shush itself in anticipation. Weird, right? But that's how it felt. Like the place knew something had changed.
And it had.
Someone else was already there, waiting for her.
Of course. Batgirl. Always hanging around, acting like she owns the place. Not that Cassandra blamed her. It was her turf, after all. Batgirl was sitting on one of the benches near the entrance, eyes glued to a datapad, tapping away furiously, the type of deep concentration that made it look like she was solving world hunger or possibly just ordering food off a menu.
Barbara Gordon—Batgirl, if you're keeping score—didn't need to look up to know who was walking through the door. She always sensed it. No, it wasn't some weird Bat-sense or spooky superpower thing. She was just that good at figuring out who was around. Years of being stuck in a cave with a bunch of bats and a grumpy old man will do that to you.
But tonight? Tonight was different.
Cassandra's usual silent warrior princess act was thrown out the window. When she walked into the room, there was something off—something almost… new. Like someone had switched up the air and she was breathing something else now. And Barbara could feel it, too. The tension, the electricity hanging in the air. This was not the same old Cassandra Cain she knew.
For a long moment, Barbara kept tapping away at the datapad, pretending she hadn't noticed, but then, she tilted her head, eyes flicking upward.
"You're late," Batgirl said, her tone a mix of dry sarcasm and concern, a signature move she'd perfected. It was her subtle way of saying, I'm happy you're here, but seriously? You could've texted.
Cassandra's eyes widened like someone had just told her that pizza was now illegal. Then, she blinked once—maybe twice—and… spoke.
Yeah, you heard me. Spoke.
Her voice was like a rusty hinge, creaking after years of disuse, but it was there. Tangible. Real. And the fact that she actually did it—well, that was the part that shocked the heck out of Barbara. This was Cassandra Cain. Silent, brooding Cassandra. Never a word. Not one.
"I… had... to go," Cassandra's voice broke the air like thunder in the distance. You could almost feel the storm building.
Barbara blinked, half-expecting Cassandra to be messing with her. Maybe she was in some sort of weird "I'm testing out speaking for the first time" phase? But no. There was a realness to it. The girl was actually talking. And that? That was a whole other level of weird.
Batgirl's fingers froze on her datapad. Her brain scrambled to catch up with her ears. "Go? Go where?" she asked, trying to make sense of it all.
Cassandra hesitated, her usual calm exterior giving way to something new—something… open. She looked like she was searching for the right words, and for a second, Batgirl could've sworn Cassandra was about to break into a rendition of Bohemian Rhapsody or something. But no, it was more serious than that.
"A... meeting," Cassandra said, her lips tightening after she spoke, like the words themselves were foreign to her. "With... Shadowflame."
If Batgirl had been sipping on coffee, it would've been all over the place by now. Shadowflame? Seriously? Batgirl's eyebrows shot up so high they nearly disappeared into her hairline. Shadowflame. Leader of some mysterious new generation of heroes? The guy who could apparently turn an entire neighborhood into his personal fan club? Yeah, Barbara had heard the rumors. She wasn't impressed, but she was definitely intrigued.
"Okay, and?" Barbara asked, her voice still careful but a little more sharp, like a detective who wasn't buying the story but wanted to hear it anyway.
Cassandra's eyes flicked to the side, her gaze lingering in the shadows, as though the darkness held the answers to all the questions in the world. She didn't speak right away. Then, with the faintest hint of a sigh, she added, "He... didn't judge."
And there it was. The bombshell. Cassandra Cain, the girl who'd been quiet for her entire life, was talking about being judged. Barbara's eyes widened, and her fingers, which had been drumming on her comms device, froze mid-tap.
What in the world?
"He didn't judge me," Cassandra repeated, this time louder, more clearly. And that's when Batgirl finally understood. There was something real in the way Cassandra said that—something raw, something almost… human. Not that Cassandra wasn't human, but this—this was new.
Barbara's mind raced. This was more than just a conversation. This was a massive shift. A monumental change. The girl who had built walls so high they'd probably reach the moon was now telling her about feelings. Emotions. Thoughts she never expressed.
Batgirl swallowed, trying to keep her voice steady. "Do you want to talk about it?" she asked. Normally, she was the one cracking jokes or making sarcastic comments, but this was different. This was Cassandra. The girl who, up until now, had been a living, breathing enigma.
Cassandra hesitated. The girl had a thousand-yard stare going on, and for a second, Barbara was worried she might shut down. But then, slowly, Cassandra looked back at her, and for the first time, Barbara saw a flicker of something soft. Maybe it was vulnerability. Maybe it was just a shift in the atmosphere. Either way, it felt like the walls around Cassandra were beginning to crumble. Just a little.
"He... understood me," Cassandra said, her voice barely above a whisper.
Barbara nodded, keeping her eyes on the girl. She didn't need to say anything. The words spoke for themselves. Cassandra had been looking for understanding. She'd found it. And for the first time in her life, she wasn't alone.
For a moment, everything in the room went silent. Too silent. Like the world was holding its breath, waiting for the next thing.
But then, like nothing had changed, Cassandra turned away and walked toward the shadows again. Her movements were still graceful, still that fluid dance she always did, but there was something different about the way she moved. A weight had been lifted off her, even if just for a moment.
Barbara watched her go, her heart pounding with a mix of awe and concern. She was used to being the one who had the answers, the one with the plan, the one who could fix things. But right now? Right now, she had no idea what was going on in Cassandra's mind.
And maybe that was a good thing.
Barbara leaned back against the bench, staring at the spot where Cassandra had been just seconds ago. She didn't know what would happen next. What kind of person Cassandra was becoming, or who she was going to be.
But one thing was certain. Whatever came next, Batgirl would be there for it.
And so, Cassandra Cain had spoken.
And Batgirl? She had absolutely no idea what was coming next.
But hey, that's what made it exciting, right?
—
Shadowflame's Arrival at Mount Justice
I pop into Mount Justice through the Zeta Tube, stepping out with the usual fanfare of a slight hum and a small puff of smoke trailing in my wake—because why not? I like to make an entrance, and if you've got shadowy powers like me, might as well use them to keep things interesting.
The team's already here, lounging like they're waiting for me, which is kind of sweet, but also… a little creepy. I mean, did they know I was coming? Are they just sitting here doing their best "let's make Harry feel like a rock star" routine? I could do without the attention, but eh, I'll roll with it.
First thing I notice is Kara (Supergirl)—a.k.a. the girl who's always worried about me, even when she pretends she isn't. She's leaning against a wall, arms crossed in that typical Kara way, as if she's debating whether to tackle me with a hug or start a lecture on how I'm impossible to keep track of. Seriously, I think she spends more time checking on me than she does on anything else.
Kori (Starfire) is doing her usual thing—being way too chill for anyone's good, which I've learned to appreciate. She's sitting on the arm of the couch like some regal alien princess, smiling at me in that way that makes it feel like she's looking into my soul. It's a gift, really.
Megan (Miss Martian) is bouncing in her seat like a kid on Christmas. "Where've you been, Harry? It's been forever!" she says, her voice full of that sweet, innocent curiosity that makes me want to run for the hills... or maybe just dodge her questions. (Okay, okay, I'm not that bad. But I've learned over the years that sometimes, silence is golden.)
Tia (Galatea), who's basically a walking superhero drama, just arches an eyebrow, already knowing I'm not about to spill. "Short version, Shadowflame," she says, crossing her arms. "We both know you're not going to tell us anything anyway, so let's skip the song and dance."
Deedee (Death), my favorite goth queen, leans forward, popping her gum in that way that makes her seem like she's got an entire universe of sarcasm to unpack. "He was probably off saving the world... or starting a new one. You know how he is." She winks at me, a playful smirk tugging at her lips. Yeah, that sounds about right.
Mareena, the grumpy mermaid with a heart of stone (or something close), just grins at me like she's in on a joke no one else is getting. "He's been super busy," she says, barely containing a smile. "Wouldn't expect the man of mystery to share his secrets."
Zatanna's sitting next to her, not really saying anything at first. But that's Zatanna for you—she only speaks when she's got something important to add, and she's clearly been thinking about this. "I bet he's been really busy... with important things," she teases, her eyes glinting with that spark of mischief I really shouldn't encourage.
Finally, there's Raven. The enigma of the group, the one who just gets me. And by that, I mean, she's the one person who can see right through my crap. She's perched on the couch, arms crossed, giving me a look that could burn a hole straight through my soul. "So, Harry," she says, her voice low and flat, "where have you been?"
I flash my trademark smirk. "Ask no questions, and I'll tell no lies," I reply, my voice dripping with sarcasm. It's my go-to line when I don't feel like explaining myself—plus, it's fun to watch them squirm.
Kara blinks at me, mouth half-open like she's not sure if she should laugh or call me out. "You're seriously not going to tell us?" she asks, half-joking, half-concerned.
I raise an eyebrow, shrugging dramatically. "Why spoil the fun? Where's the mystery in telling you everything?"
Megan looks way too excited by this, her eyes wide like I've just promised her a lifetime supply of candy. "Come on, Harry! You have to tell me something! Please?" she practically begs, her hands clasped together like she's going to literally die of curiosity.
Tia groans, her voice flat as she shoots me a side-eye. "He's not going to tell you, Megs. Ever."
"Oh, I know," Megan says with a disappointed sigh, flopping back against the couch. "But one can dream, right?"
Deedee laughs, a low, throaty sound that bounces off the walls. "It's so obvious. He's been out there doing shady things, probably saving the galaxy and breaking hearts," she says, giving me a wink. "No biggie."
I smirk at that. "You have no idea," I say, giving her a lazy salute. "I'm basically a one-man army of awesome."
The whole group laughs, and I can feel Raven's eyes boring into me. "You're not fooling anyone," she says, voice sharp as glass. "You're hiding something."
"Well, Raven," I say, turning to face her, "you're not wrong. But, I'm also not going to tell you what I've been doing. So, you're gonna have to guess."
She crosses her arms, giving me the look. You know the one. It's the "I could turn you into a potato and nobody would know" look. "I'll get it out of you eventually."
"Yeah, sure, Raven. Sure," I reply with an exaggerated sigh. "If you can get past the whole 'I'm a master of mysterious vibes' thing. Good luck."
Kori chimes in at that point, her smile sweet but mischievous. "Oh, Harry, it's not that hard. You're just too stubborn to admit you've been up to something fun. Admit it—what's the big deal?"
"Big deal?" I chuckle, pushing off the wall with a grin. "The big deal is I'm not telling you anything."
Raven glares at me again, but this time it's softer, like she's considering the possibility that maybe I'm just a little bit of a challenge. "Fine," she says, standing up and brushing her hands off. "We're all really convinced you're a mystery wrapped in an enigma."
I chuckle, rubbing the back of my neck. "Well, if it's any consolation, you're not wrong. But let's move on. What's on the agenda?"
Tia grins like she's been waiting for me to ask. "Now that you're here, we were talking about... other matters."
I raise an eyebrow, suspicious. "Other matters?"
"Other fun matters," Zatanna says with a grin. "Like... convincing Raven to join your harem."
I literally choke on my own air. "Wait, what?"
The entire room erupts in laughter, and I can see Raven's mental eye roll from here. She's pretending to be offended, but I know she's enjoying this a little more than she's letting on.
"I'm not part of anyone's harem," Raven mutters, but it's clear she's not as angry as she wants us to think.
"I wasn't that serious," I say with a shrug, trying to play it cool, but my grin betrays me.
"Oh, but you are," Deedee says, winking at me like she's in on the best secret ever. "And let's be real—Raven would look amazing as your fourth girlfriend."
Raven glares. I grin. The rest of the team looks like they're one joke away from falling out of their seats. And me? I'm just happy to be here—stirring the pot and watching the chaos unfold.
"Let's just get to work, please?" Raven grumbles, trying to sound exasperated. But even she can't hide the amused glint in her eyes.
"Alright, alright," I say with a laugh. "Work it is. But Raven, just know... you're always welcome to join the Shadowflame team. If you change your mind..."
She glares, but I can see that smile lurking behind her irritation. "Let's just get to work," she mutters again, but this time, I know I've won.
—
Unknown Location – The Demon's Council
There are places in the world where even the shadows don't feel safe. This was one of them.
The air was thick with the scent of sandalwood and ancient secrets, curling through the chamber like unseen ghosts. Flickering torchlight cast long, restless shadows against the carved stone walls, their patterns shifting as if they had something to say about the conversation about to unfold.
At the center of it all, sitting like a king on a throne of whispers and nightmares, was Ra's al Ghul. The centuries sat well on him. His green eyes, cold and calculating, gave the distinct impression that he had already seen this betrayal play out a hundred times before. He probably had.
To his right, Sportsmaster stood with his arms crossed, looking like he'd rather be anywhere else—preferably somewhere that involved punching something. The man had all the charm of a brick wall and the patience of a ticking time bomb.
To Ra's' left, Cheshire lounged with an effortless, predatory grace, spinning a dagger between her fingers. She had the kind of smirk that promised both trouble and entertainment in equal measure.
And standing before them, composed as ever, was Lady Shiva—the deadliest woman alive. The title wasn't just for show.
She bowed her head slightly, her voice calm and precise, cutting through the silence like a knife. "It is confirmed. Cassandra has turned her back on the League."
The room absorbed the words like a deep breath before a storm.
Ra's closed his eyes, inhaling slowly, as if tasting the betrayal in the air. When he opened them again, there was something ancient in his gaze—something that had watched empires rise and fall and still had time for afternoon tea.
"And to whom has she pledged her loyalty?"
Shiva didn't hesitate.
"Shadowflame."
The torches flickered. Maybe it was a draft. Maybe it was something else.
Sportsmaster let out a sharp exhale, shaking his head. "Of course, it's him. The guy's collecting powerful women like he's playing an RPG."
Cheshire grinned, tapping a finger against her chin. "Jealous?"
"I'm just saying, I respect the hustle." Sportsmaster shrugged. "But the kid's been a thorn in our side for too damn long. It's about time we put him down."
Ra's, who had remained silent throughout their exchange, finally spoke, his voice carrying the weight of centuries. "Cassandra is not the first to betray me. Nor will she be the last."
His gaze turned toward the flames, watching them dance as if they held the answers. "Talia thought she could defy me. And now she masquerades as the CEO of Peverell Industries, deluding herself into thinking she is beyond my reach."
Cheshire leaned forward, her green eyes gleaming. "And Shadowflame?"
Ra's' expression barely shifted, but his tone darkened, as if the very name was a curse upon his lips. "He was the beginning of my downfall. He has undone centuries of my work. He stands as an obstacle to the natural order. And now, he has taken yet another piece from my board."
His fingers curled into a fist. "He joins Talia on my list of enemies."
Shiva, ever the professional, inclined her head. "Shall I retrieve Cassandra?"
Ra's smiled—an unsettling, knowing smile, the kind that suggested he was playing a much longer game than anyone in the room realized. "No. Let her believe she has found freedom. Let her believe she has won. It will make it all the more satisfying when we remind her who truly holds power in this world."
Sportsmaster smirked. "Oh, I like where this is going."
Ra's turned to him, his expression unreadable. "Increase surveillance on Shadowflame. Every move he makes, I want to know about it. Every ally he gathers, every weakness he reveals. And when the time comes…"
His voice dropped to a whisper, but the threat was louder than any shout.
"We will strike."
And just like that, the flames flickered again—this time, definitely not because of the wind.
---
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