Chapter Text
He could do this. He clutches the strap of his bag. How hard could it be, right? With a deep breath he opened the door to the manor. He tried to let any falseness wash away from his face like an open drain, he hopes that he doesn’t wash away too much. He feels vulnerable and raw. He isn’t ready, and that might be okay. Alfred is dusting in the next hallway, Dick stops in his tracks. He’s almost frozen to the spot. He doesn’t know how to do this. He keeps pushing forward.
“Alfred? Where is everyone?” Speaking might make it easier. Even if Alfred is the least terrifying person he needs to face. (He ignores the voice from deep inside that’s screaming that Alfred is also at fault, that Dick should say something, push him to answer for his wrongs.) He takes another deep breath, lets emotion fill out his features. He’s done hiding. He’s made up his mind.
“Master Dick, it is pleasant to see that you have returned. I’m afraid that no one other than myself is here at the moment. Master Bruce is at a board meeting…” The way Alfred trailed off is unusual. Dick can feel his jaw tense, he feels the tension at his temples increase. “And the others?” His lips are pursed, he doesn’t keep the expression off his face, he lets it stay.
“The plane and a car are no longer at the premises. I have received no information as to where they have taken off, I’m afraid.” Alfred knows, he always knows where everyone is, but he rarely uses that information. Dick feels another wave of emotion and thoughts hit him at break-neck speed. Why do you never do anything? Why, why, why? But he knows that Alfred has acted before, albeit at odd times. The most prominent time being when he gave the Robin suit to Tim. Why, why, why.
“What did the tracker say before you disabled it?” Dick doesn’t know what prompted him to say it, he doesn’t even know how he came to the conclusion that Alfred disabled the tracker when he hasn’t even checked if there’s any trackers that are turned off.
Alfred visibly slumps his shoulders, it’s startling to see. Dick wonders if the emotion shown in his own posture is just as odd. “It appeared as if they were heading for Kansas.” Alfred must have done this kind of thing before, small nudges that affect the narrative. Small things to favor the Robins and Birds and sets Batman back. Small things, but never enough. Dick wants to be angry. He doesn’t think that he deserves to be, not when he’s just as much of an enabler as Alfred.
He doesn’t know if it’s going to make a difference, but he feels like he has to do something. He feels like Alfred should be granted the same mercy that he was. He drops the bag to the floor with a light thud, Alfred doesn’t bat an eye. He digs around looking for a flash of pink and yellow, he finds them rather quickly. “Read these before you give them back. I’ll be waiting in the cave until Bruce comes home. There are a couple of things that we need to discuss.” The mask had slipped back on, he tries to peel it off as he walks away. He doesn’t look back, he doesn’t want to know what Alfred looks like—if his mask is also back in place.
Dick doesn’t know if he did the right thing, these days he rarely knows anything. At least he’s trying to act. His one goal is to no longer be complicit. He needs to re-familiarize himself with the Dick Grayson of before. He almost wishes that Bruce will be away for days, he’s got a lot of video and reports to go through.
It’s not too difficult to find what he’s looking for, the hardest part is to not forget anything that might be hidden behind additional safety measures or firewalls. He downloads it, every document, every video, everything, onto his own device. Everything from the day his parents died until Jason’s death. It’s going to take weeks to get through, months if he wants to do it properly—and he needs to do this properly. Dick is prepared to stay locked inside his apartment for another couple of months. He needs to know who he truly is before he tries to remedy any resemblance of a relationship with his siblings. He owes them at the very least that much. He also owes them action rather than compliance, he’s going to do that whenever Bruce comes back.
“I see you’re back.” Dick has been away from Gotham for longer stretches of time without comment, his absence this time must have left a greater impact. “I am.” He doesn’t know if a mask is allowed during this altercation. He briefly wonders what Jason would have done, his Jason, the one he remembers from before. He wonders what Cass would have done, what Barbie would.
“There was something you wanted to discuss?” There’s something odd with Bruce’s voice, some kind of emotion he wasn’t fully able to push aside. “Yeah, I think you should sit down. It might take a while.” Dick Grayson before Cardinal wouldn’t have done this. That Dick Grayson would have wanted to wait until the ‘reliving painful memories’ fiasco had long passed and Bruce was in a good headspace—all whilst knowing that Bruce Wayne won’t ever be in a good headspace for such a conversation, unconsciously resorting to never confront him and let whatever he wanted to discuss come to pass.
Without saying a word, Bruce complied, carefully sitting down in a chair. Dick is starting to feel ill.
“Have any of the others spoken with you yet, or are they still giving you the cold shoulder?” When Dick practiced for this conversation, this had never been a part of the script. In the heat of the moment—after watching the first few videos of himself at nine years old—Dick went with his gut and walked away from strategy.
Bruce didn’t even twitch. His face unmoving like a statue, mouth set in a familiar and harsh downturn. That’s when he noticed it, Dick wasn’t talking to Bruce, he was talking to Batman. And that distinction is what makes it clear, Dick doesn’t want to be Bruce Wayne—and so he has no choice but to let any and all masks go. Disappointment, hurt, uncertainty—he lets it all seep into his features. It’s terrifying, but he feels lighter than he has in years.
Batman still hasn’t answered, Dick has to take the reins for this conversation. “I take that as a no.” He gets a grunt in response. This is more difficult than talking to a horse, not that Dick talks to a lot of horses, but still.
“Do you understand why everyone is starting to leave you, why everyone is running away?” Bruce would have flinched, Dick is sure of it—Batman only thins his lips, the skin around them almost white. “They aren’t seeing things clearly. They’ll come around, eventually. They always do.” That’s almost more than Dick expected.
“I don’t think we will. Not this time. We’ve had enough. All of us have.” Batman’s brow rises this time, it’s a slight thing but it’s pointed. Dick almost falters. He remembers little Dick Grayson at nine and ten and eleven years old, screaming at Bruce Wayne and Batman with no sense of fear.
“You’re not the same person you used to be before Jason died. I should have said something earlier, but everyone around you is suffering. We’re just too busy fighting crime to notice how we’re falling apart.” Batman moves to leave, Dick can see it in his posture, his heart breaks a little.
“Are you seriously going to run away? Do you really care that little? ” He stops midway through raising from the chair, at least Dick can see that he’s clenching his teeth, that he’s affected by this.
“I can listen when you stop being emotional.” Is this why Dick stopped being Dick Grayson all those years ago? Did he say something similar after Jason died? Dick feels choked. He has done nothing but push down his emotions for years, and it has done nothing but make him—and those around him—miserable. Just like Bruce, or Batman, but on a smaller scale. “Don’t you understand that your lack of emotional capacity is why no one wants to stick around?! If you just let the lid on your feelings open every once in a while, maybe you wouldn’t have caused Jason to run away to Ethiopia and then, just a few months ago, almost beat him to death!”
He has fully risen out of his chair at this point. Dick is feeding off of the rage in Batman’s eyes and the stiffness of his posture. “You have no right—”
“Of course I have a right! Jason’s my brother! I lost him too, and you didn’t even wait long enough for me to attend his funeral. If anyone has the right to be angry between the two of us, it’s me!” He’s crying now, angry tears that flick to the floor with every angry shake of his head. This conversation is long overdue. It has festered and grown over the years to the point that the infection has spread all throughout their relationship. Dick might have to cut it off like a limb that’s too infected to save.
“Now who’s running away? You won’t even let me speak.” Dick feels like snarling, might even be doing it subconsciously. “Then speak!”
“You are impossible, I’m not having this conversation.” Dick can’t stand Batman’s voice, it’s too deep and too cold, and he hates it.
“Now you’re doing it again! You just don’t know what to say because you know that I’m right. So stop running away and face the fucking music!” There was a pitcher of water on the table that Alfred must have somehow forgotten to take away, there was a pitcher—because now it’s on the floor in pieces. A few pieces of glass bounce off of the floor and leave cuts on Dick’s arms, one is particularly deep just below the fold of his arm. Batman's hand is bleeding, his eyes are sharper than steel.
“You cannot speak to me that way.” Dick takes a few steps back, he doesn’t know if he’s ever heard anyone sound so angry before.
“I don’t see why I can’t. I’m not one of your villains or your rogues so you can’t just beat me up and put me in Arkham. And I’m not your son, either. I’ve told you that you’re not my dad and left before. This time, I’m not coming back, not unless the world is burning. I sure hope that the others are following my example. You deserve them even less than I do.”
Dick doesn’t have anything else to say. It’s obvious that Batman won’t listen no matter what he says. It’s a futile effort. Dick walks away, the glass is crunching under his feet.
His wrist hurts, most of his arm, really. He doesn’t even recognize the feeling until he looks down. There’s a crushing grip around his wrist, it’s twisted in a weird way. He can feel every finger against his skin like a brand. Batman just broke his wrist. It feels like time has stopped. None of them move. Dick doesn’t know how long they stand there, both just looking at his arm. Bruce used the hand that was bloodied by the pitcher, when he finally drops his hand as if burned, he leaves behind a bloody handprint. Dick’s arm is already starting to bruise.
Before Dick has the chance to even blink, Bruce is gone.
Carefully, Dick cradles his arm to his chest. The physical pain is dulled in the face of everything else that just happened. It feels like he’s going to fall apart and collapse. He briefly wonders if Bruce, if Batman, has done this before. When he can’t come up with anything, he decides that it doesn’t matter. He won’t allow it to happen to any of the others.
It’s probably alright to put the mask on for just a few minutes, just until he’s outside of the Wayne Manor premises. He grabs his bag before walking out through the entrance that leads straight out of the manor. It wouldn’t do to leave the material he downloaded behind. He still has some studying to do.
~._.~-*-~._.~
Jason shows his sketches to Damian and the others. Tim has a few technical improvements, mainly regarding the garage that is going to double as a training ground and Steph has a few requests regarding what she’s already claimed as her room. Damian and Cass have already started scouring the internet about how to take care of a bunch of different animals so that they can plan the exhibits that Damian wants.
It doesn’t take long before Jason starts ordering supplies.
They managed to grab three rooms at a nearby hotel where they can eat dinner and sleep before going back to the farmland the day after. Even without supplies, Jason can start mapping out soil and water access as well as the ground where the different houses and buildings are going to be. He has to re-do the groundwork multiple times because one of the others doesn't like the placement. Sometimes he thinks they’re only saying it to be annoying.
Even if it’s a somewhat tedious task, Jason enjoys getting to show off his magic. If someone gets hungry, he sprouts some fruit from the nearby trees or makes berry bushes appear from out of nowhere. When Tim complains about being too warm, Jason makes a small rain cloud follow him around until he begs for it to stop.
The next four months are spent in a weird sort of limbo. To be fair, most of Jason’s life has felt like a weird sort of limbo. Either something terrible and messed up is happening, or he’s waiting for the next terrible event to happen. But these four months have been more peaceful than should be possible. He has noticed that Damian, Tim, Cass and Steph sometimes huddle together and whisper in low voices, but has ultimately decided to ignore whatever it is until it inevitably turns into a massive problem. That strategy has worked well so far.
Steph and Cass are commuting in between Gotham and Kansas on a regular basis, Jason doesn’t know if they’re staying in the manor or not and decides that knowing won’t make anything better. He keeps himself from asking any questions.
Tim on the other hand hasn’t stepped a foot in Gotham since arriving in Kansas. He’s either been staying with his Young Justice team, in the hotel where Jason and Damian have become semi-permanent residents, or—less surprisingly than it should be—at the Kent farm with Conner and whatever other Kents are there at the moment. Jason doesn’t know exactly why Tim has put himself in exile, but has decided that knowing isn’t worth the emotional strain and fallout that is certain to follow if he were to ask any questions. “Ignorance is bliss” has become Jason’s mentality lately, and he is trying to convince himself that it won’t come back to bite him in the ass.
At least the people working at the hotel are nice! They have insisted on breakfast being free of charge after Jason and Damian stayed there for more than a month straight, and Jason has started helping out in the kitchens, or with the cleaning crew, or in the reception whenever anyone’s sick. The beds are soft and the air conditioning is awesome, there’s no complaints, really.
The farm is coming along great as well. With magical aid, some of Talia’s trusted minions, and the occasional superpowered volunteer from Young Justice, they’ll be able to move in soon. Another month or so. Everything should be finished and good enough for the animals to arrive another four or five months after that. Especially considering Talia’s contacts. Getting all necessary licenses will go way quicker than it should. Jason won’t be complaining about it, though.
The oddest thing of all is that he’s been able to keep seeing Zaya. It happens once or twice a week. It’s almost like she knows how much they have going on with the farm and acts accordingly. Knowing Zaya, she most definitely knows. He could be working on building a fence in one moment, and in the next be standing in front of Zaya’s house and getting hoarded by animals. Every time he gets back it’s as if he hadn’t been gone at all. As if the entire interaction has been nothing but a daydream spread out over the length of a single blink.
She’s been teaching him more powerful magic. Apparently he’s a natural or something because he rarely fails anything more than three times and steadily improves. Zaya never looks at him disappointingly or anything like Ducra and Essence used to do, either. He’s been trying to work up the courage to ask her for lessons in teleportation, but doesn’t want to receive one of those looks. The ones he always received in the All Caste whenever he tried to move their teachings along. Some people prefer strict teachers, Jason thinks he likes them more gentle and kind. Zaya likes to talk in riddles and more often than not goes off on some rant about destiny or fate, but she’s definitely kind.
It is during one of those moments, when he’s going over all the ways to broach the topic of teleportation, that Essence pops out from out of nowhere. The animals either run off or crowd even closer to Jason, apparently they don't like Essence very much. “How nice of you to finally answer my summons, Essence of the All Caste.” At least this means that Jason won’t have to ask about whether Zaya and Ducra know each other.
“On the contrary, my mother and I have been trying to contact you for over a thousand years with no luck.” If this turns into some sort of family squabble, Jason will try his best at getting back to his farm, even if that means he’ll have to run for centuries. He’s had enough family feuds for a lifetime.
“If Ducra truly wanted to reach me, she would. We are one, after all. But that is not why you are here, let’s get back on topic.” Wait, no, Jason kind of wants to hear what's up with Ducra and Zaya being one. He’s over not asking questions, ignorance isn’t bliss, Jason wants answers and context please.
“And what, do tell, is the reason you have called me here?” At least Jason finally feels somewhat the same age as Essence, and not some sort of weird ‘we’re pretty much the same age and yet you’re over a thousand years older than me’ thing.
“You have been neglectful with this one’s training, he sincerely lacks in the magical compartment. His potential is so immense that it blinds me and enchants my livestock.” Jason stops petting the horses, goats and donkeys. What does she mean enchanting the livestock? It’s not anything he’s been doing on purpose! The animals start muzzing closer at him with their snouts, begging for him to keep up the petting.
“Our instructions were to help him learn control of the mind, not magic. All magic that he’s learned has been a bonus and nothing else. You could teach him if it is of such importance to you that his magical abilities are up to your standards.” This is the part where Jason would like to take up his initial plan of trying to run away and get back to the farm. Everything is getting a little too close to family drama for his comfort. “And why are you still here? It’s not like I'd be able to teach you today anyway!”
Jason’s almost a little offended when he’s returned to the farm. It’s not like it was his choice to see Zaya. It’s not like he was the one to invite Essence. Whatever. If he paints with a little more aggression after that, and if paint splatters a little carelessly on the ground, no one makes any comment about it.
~._.~-*-~._.~
It was on the second day at Jason’s farm that Dick sent Tim the message. Tim didn’t expect Dick to take a stand, not really. He expected a neutral middleman who tried to mediate the situation with a smile. At best he expected Dick to be angry with Bruce in private and pretend like everything was just fine whenever all of them were together. He didn’t expect Dick to draw a line in the sand and go rogue from Batman.
Dick encouraged them to stay away from Bruce. Dick Grayson encouraged them to go against Batman. TIm wouldn’t have been surprised if the Dick Grayson he knew of as a kid went up against Batman, rather, he would have expected it. Right now, he isn’t sure what to think. Dick wrote that it might be dangerous for any of them to stay around Bruce at the moment. It was absurd, it was madness, and yet Tim felt such relief that he almost had a hard time staying upright.
He showed the message to Cass first, she would know what to do. If they should reply—what to reply—if they should tell Damian and Jason—what to tell those two—and whether they should actually listen to Dick’s…advice.
There were some personal things in that message, some things that Tim doubts he’d sent to anyone else, he hid those parts before showing anyone just to be safe. When he found out that Cass hadn’t received any sort of message from Dick at all, he was certain he made the right choice.
Cass wanted him to tell everyone. She thought that they all deserved to know what was going on at the manor, and said that any sort of response to Dick should come from Tim, and Tim alone. She probably figured out that there was more to Dick’s message than what she was shown. When they showed Steph, she came to the same conclusion as Cass. Damian didn’t agree.
“I don’t think we should tell Jason about Grayson.” At first he had been confused, because why wouldn’t Jason want to know that someone supported him, that Dick had finally re-grown his spine? And then Damian reminded him that Jason hasn't properly been in contact with Dick in years, and all that he has seen of him since death has been antagonistic.
With a frown on his face, Damian continued, “Jason needs some time to recover and settle down. We can tell him later. I almost feel like Grayson is even more of a sore subject than Bruce, and I don’t want to risk another setback just when he’s starting to get better.” The argument is sound, and Damian is the one who knows Jason the best. So they don’t tell him, and Tim has to answer Dick—if he wants to, that is. And he wants to.
Writing the letter to Jason had been difficult. He’d burned so many attempts that the phantom scent of burned paper lingered no matter where he went. Answering Dick is harder, in a way, because no matter how scared, scarred and messed up Jason is—Dick is the more volatile out of the two, Dick is the kind of person who evades and runs away. Tim is scared that he’ll make Dick regress into the kind of person that doesn’t stand up to Bruce.
Everything is complicated. Dick is a flight-risk and a wonderful ally whenever his head is screwed on right, and talking with him feels like walking on a tightrope. But Dick is trying, and Tim is weak and perhaps too much of a hero-worshipper to give a short and non-emotional response. He re-reads the message.
Tim, I have done a lot of things, and made a lot of decisions that I’m not proud of. I have lost sight of who I am, and I didn’t even realize it until I saw Jason. Until I found out.
I wanted to apologize to D and ask if there is a way to get in contact with Talia. I believe I owe her an apology as well, at the very least a thanks. I also wanted to speak with Bruce, to….hash some things out—so to speak. If that conversation had gone any better, I would have sent word to D directly rather than speaking through you like a coward. The thing is, I have realized that if I were to apologize, and (hopefully,) try to make things better, it wouldn’t work. Not yet. I want to apologize for their sake, not for mine. I’m not myself enough for that, not yet, but I’m getting there.
In order to “get there” I have also made the decision to leave Gotham, and Batman, behind. I don’t think I’m going back. Our conversation was bad, really bad. For your personal safety, I recommend staying away. He’s dangerous, and not of sound mind. I realize that I’m not the most reliable source at the moment, but it’s the truth.
You told me that you looked up to me before. I want to be that person again. I want to be someone that can be relied on. I want to be someone that can be angry and stand up for what’s right. Bruce stopped me from killing the Joker, once. I think it was somewhere after that that everything changed. I think I was too afraid to get angry after that, and just stopped feeling anything at all in order to remain in control. I think that’s why I got so scared when you almost joined Ra’s in order to get your parents back. Because he made me so angry that I almost saw things clearly again.
Anyways, I don’t know why all of you are heading towards Kansas (don’t worry, Alfred deleted any trackers and I made sure that he didn’t miss anything,) but I hope that you find whatever you’re looking for.
Do whatever you wish with this information, I trust you. Thank you for helping me to get some sense, looking for Damian with you, Donna and Superboy helped. I would appreciate it if you could thank Damian for the book as well, he’ll know what I’m talking about. I also read the pink one. They were a great help.
– DG
It is a nice message. Tim thinks so. It feels like a truce, like a break before atonement. It feels mature. Tim really, really wants Dick to keep walking on this path. He doesn’t know what to say.
He doesn’t want Dick to wait too long for an answer, he knows how terrifying that can be. He wants Dick to know that he doesn’t hate him. Tim won’t speak for Damian, and he definitely won’t speak for Jason, but he still wants Dick around. Dick is the closest thing he’s ever had to a brother. Tim wants to be a little more like Jason, Jason with his undying loyalty and fierce heart that harbors more feelings than should be possible after what he’s been through. He tries to say as much in his response.
~._.~-*-~._.~
Tim’s response is a blessing. It hurts and burns and gives him dangerous amounts of hope that Dick doesn’t know what to do with. It assures him that he made the right choice. It makes the pain in his wrist almost evaporate and the pain within his heart a little easier to bear.
He spends a lot of his time watching old videos and reading old reports. He misses who he used to be, he used to be so much brighter. He used to be angry, angsty and pissed off—but he was so much brighter, so much more real. His heart breaks a little as he’s watching. He grieves for himself.
When he isn’t watching or reading, he takes care of his city. She’s beautiful in her ugliness and Dick hates that he loves the similarities to Gotham. He fights and he trains and his muscles aches afterwards.
He re-reads the books whenever he can’t sleep. Alfred had returned them in the mail after just a week. Dick has gone back to the book shop twice and bought whatever the person who works there recommended. He doesn’t like them as much, but he still finds comfort in the words. It makes him feel closer to Jason and Damian. It reminds him what he’s working for, who he’s doing it for.
After a few months he starts feeling a little better. He even starts cooking his own meals. That he does for himself. He can want to get better for himself, and not only for others. He feels a little less guilty.
A few weeks after that he starts reaching out to his friends. Donna slaps him on the arm and tells him welcome back. He feels like he’s truly walking in the right direction. She has that kind of influence, it’s a relief. Wally doesn’t say anything, but it’s obvious that he’s delighted, he smiles so brightly that it hurts. It feels like looking at the sun. Dick laughs a true laugh for the first time in forever. Dick had almost forgotten what it felt like to laugh.
Kori laughed when she saw him. They went out dancing, just a random club. She’s tall, beautiful and extraordinary, but despite the stares they’re getting—Dick feels like a normal person. The guilt isn’t as heavy and the expectations that weigh him down washes away with the sweat. Roy gives him a shake, then they share a drink—just some rootbeer—and then they cry together. Dick feels like the weight of a skyscraper has been removed from his heart afterwards. He is starting to feel like he knows what it’s like to be Dick Grayson again.
He doesn’t go back to Gotham, he can’t. But Babs comes to him. He’s more guilty than she is, but she had been left out. She knew Jason too, she loved him like an annoying, lovable little cousin. She grieved him. She was at his funeral. She was the last one to find out that he was still alive. They grieve together a second time. She goes back to Gotham for her father. No matter what, the commissioner won’t leave Batman. She buys her own apartment in Blüdhaven a few months later. She lives in the two cities like a child of divorce.
He hasn’t heard anything from any of them since Tim sent his reply. Dick is strangely fine with that.
~._.~-*-~._.~
Jason is working on building aeroponic towers out of wood the next time he gets teleported to Zaya. Essence is also there even though her brows are particularly high, her arms are tightly crossed over her chest and the way her soul is churning tighter than usual.
“Jason, you have taken to the magic embedded within nature like a fish has to water, or a swallow to the sky. Those are the teachings that I hold dear and close to my heart and soul.” Zaya twirls her staff a little as she continues, “The art of magic purely connected to the soul is more of my counterpart’s specialty. Unfortunately I’m afraid that terrible things would happen if the two of us were to meet—or even reside very close together—which is why Essence is here in her stead. I want you to broaden your magical knowledge, Jason.”
Jason is unsure as to why Zaya cares. He knows that Ducra helping him started out as a favor for Talia, and that Essence has kept helping him because they’ve become…acquaintances? Friends? Allies? But Zaya’s motivation is unknown and this kind of dedication without reason is rather frightening. “Why? I know that nature or whatever wanted you to help me, and that there was something about destiny—but what’s that? What do you need from me?”
Zaya’s smile is tired. She aims it at Essence and looks a little remorseful, almost pitying. “A long time ago, before Essence was born, before Ducra was Ducra and I was I, there was an entity of the All Caste stronger than what a soul could contain. That disturbance put the lands and nature itself at an unbalance, it put destruction upon the spirits of the world, those too strong even for us to witness.”
All of them suddenly sat down on cushions on the ground, a spread of food and drink around their knees. Jason settled in for a long story.
“That entity’s name was Dukhrana. In order to instill balance between the spirits and nature itself, Dukhrana split their soul in two. Ducra is one of them, and I am the other.”
Jason knows what it feels like to die and lose memories. He has no idea how much it must hurt to have a soul split in two. Just the thought makes his soul shiver in distress.
“With its strongest opponent’s strength cut in half, the Untitled grew stronger. Only those with magic connected to the soul can defeat it, and I am not one of them. Ducra had to grow stronger in order to persevere. She knew that splitting in half again would kill her, and so she had to choose an heir and mold them into someone who could be better. She had a child.”
Jason can’t imagine how Essence can even stand with that much pressure. Batman’s expectations had been enough.
“Essence is the next leader of the All Caste, and there is no doubt that she will achieve great things. Her destiny is long since decided, and is far on its way to come into fruition. Yours, however, is different. You’re meant to serve as the protector of the spirits themselves. It is a high honor, and you will serve your fate well.”
What?
What?
How is he, Jason Todd, supposed to protect something too strong for someone like Zaya or Ducra to even see?! Jason takes a cup of whatever’s closest to him to drink and brings it to his lips with shaky hands. It tastes like mulled wine.
“Do not worry, your clairvoyance for spirits will surely come in time. It is impossible to have a high aptitude in both magic connected to the soul and the lands—the fact that you have is evidence enough. You just have to be stronger.”
Jason is terrified. Wasn’t that what Ducra and Zaya were trying to do before they were ripped apart!? Jason must either be speaking aloud, or Zaya is able to read minds, because she immediately answers. “You have been told time, and time again that you have a very special soul, Jason Peter Todd. Yours is one that has died and been revived by means unperceivable even by me or my counterpart. The difference between Dukhrana and you, is that Dukhrana sought power from the spirits for themselve, the spirits have chosen you. You will prosper with them by your side.”
Jason’s lips feel dry even though he’s downed two cups of mulled wine at this point. He still tries to speak. “How is that even supposed to work? How do I protect, or care for spirits?”
Zaya smiles, it’s a broad, toothy thing. It’s a terrifying thing from an old woman, especially one like Zaya. “You build a few shrines on your farm, of course. Just imbed everything for the shrine with a little bit of your soul and the spirits will flock to your farm like my cattle has to mine. Think of them as a few additional animals.”
Damian is going to freak out.