The bathroom mirror was fogged, but Arthur didn't care. The steam from the hot water cloaked the cracked tiles like an invisible mantle. He adjusted the collar of his shirt with trembling fingers, the scissors tossed beside the sink. He had trimmed his hair. Poorly, unevenly. But to him, it looked like a gala cut.
The burgundy blazer, worn at the sleeves, was clean. He had spent hours scrubbing stains only he could see. The shoes, polished with candle wax, gleamed under the cold light. A cheap cologne lingered in the air. Too strong. But he thought Sophie would like it.
"Today's the day."
He looked at his reflection. His face still bore the marks of a beating. One eye half-closed. Lips cut. But there was something in his eyes. A spark. As if the whole world was about to recognize what he had always known:
He mattered.
Arthur took the Water Crystal from the makeshift shelf. The object pulsed faintly, a deep blue that seemed to breathe. He tucked it into the inner pocket of his blazer, like a noble secret.
He descended the building's stairs as if walking a runway. His knees ached. But he moved with resolve. Each step a note in an imaginary orchestra. The doorman didn't even glance at him. It didn't matter.
He crossed the hallway to Sophie's apartment. Her door was like an altar. Paper flowers glued to the glass. A small mirror hung at the top. Arthur stopped before it. Took a deep breath.
He raised his hand to knock.
But froze.
From the other side of the thin wooden door… sounds.
Creaks. Movements.
Moans.
Arthur frowned. He pressed his ear to the door. His heart tightened.
"Oh… Bruce…"
It was her voice.
Sophie.
"Bruce… harder… don't stop…"
Arthur stepped back. His eyes widened. His chest sank as if something had torn inside. Her laughter pierced through the door.
"If Arthur knew… that loser… thinking I'd ever look at him."
A sharp, warm, cruel laugh.
Arthur stumbled backward. He leaned against the wall. His face buried in his hands. His entire body trembled.
Her laughter echoed in his mind. Repeated. Each word a needle.
"Arthur… loser… Arthur…"
His hands slid down his face. His nails marked his skin. His tear-filled eyes no longer blinked. His mouth opened. No sound came out. Just the trembling.
He backed down the hallway. The walls seemed to curve. The ceiling sagged. The lights flickered.
'Him. Always him. Bruce.'
'He steals everything. The spotlight. The people. Sophie.'
The sound of the door opening behind him. A man's laugh. Footsteps.
Arthur didn't look back.
He ran.
Down the stairs, he nearly fell. A neighbor was coming up but didn't see him. Or pretended not to. No one saw. No one ever saw.
Arthur reached his apartment. He locked the door in a hurry. Pushed a chair. The table fell. The mirror cracked. The walls seemed to breathe. Everything spoke.
"Bruce. Bruce. Bruce."
He fell to his knees. The blazer dirtied. His face buried in his hands. The crystal slipped from his pocket. Rolled across the floor.
Stopped.
Pulsing.
Like a strange heart.
Arthur crawled to it. Picked it up with both hands. Pressed it to his chest.
Tears streamed without resistance. Silent. Childlike.
"I'm not invisible…"
"I'm not disposable…"
"I am important."
His voice came in whispers. And slowly, something changed.
His words grew firmer. His eyes darker. His body tenser.
He raised the crystal. Its blue glow danced across his face like a promise.
"Bruce… you took everything from me. But this… you can't take."
He smiled.
A small smile.
Then wide.
Then… deranged.
"She won't laugh at me again."
"No one will."
He stood slowly. Bare feet on the cold floor. The light flickering.
He stared into the cracked mirror. His fragmented reflection. But smiling.
"Now it's my turn."
But then…
The mirror changed.
In the reflection, he wasn't standing. He was sitting.
On the floor.
Alone.
His face buried in his hands. The crystal in his lap.
The room in ruins.
Nothing had happened.
No visit. No hallway. No name whispered by Sophie.
It was all… in his head.
Arthur lifted his face.
His face swollen from crying. His mouth half-open. His body hunched.
The crystal kept pulsing.
And deep down, he knew what was real.
But he preferred… the delusion.
Because in the delusion, he was the center.
In the delusion, he mattered.
He pressed his forehead to the crystal.
And in the darkness, a laugh was born.
Weak. But alive.
The first of many.
The laugh of the end.
And of rebirth.
---
Western Himalayas – League of Shadows Headquarters
The mountain seemed to breathe with the wind. The peak was shrouded in clouds, and snow fell in silent flakes, blanketing the ancient temple's roofs with sacred whiteness. Copper bells, hanging beneath the eaves, chimed like whispers of ghosts.
The interior was stone, fire, and shadow.
Ra's al Ghul knelt before a black crystal mirror. The room's walls shimmered under the light of blue torches. No sound. No breath. Only presence.
The mirror's surface didn't reflect his face. Only a wavering void, a darkness speckled with faint sparks that seemed alive.
Ra's maintained his reverent posture. Head bowed. Bare hands touching the frozen ground.
"My lord."
The mirror rippled. Waved like water.
Ra's raised his eyes but saw no reflection. Instead, he saw absence. The kind of void that has eyes.
"The League walks under your will. The cycle nears its end."
No voice came. But he heard.
And when he heard, he bowed deeper.
"Yes. The Red Hood has been useful. Unpredictable, fierce… perfect for setting Gotham ablaze and testing the new bat."
A pause. A subtle tremor in the flames.
Ra's tilted his head slightly.
"Yes. The time has come."
Silence.
But to Ra's, it was a living conversation. He heard what no one else could. Words that crossed dimensions. Orders heavier than time.
"He will receive the final mission. One last act. As the heir of war… and of loss."
The mirror pulsed. Tiny cracks of light appeared at its center, as if the glass wept.
"And afterward… yes. Afterward, he will be erased."
Ra's closed his eyes. The pain of the order didn't show on his face. But the honor of obedience did.
"Not for betrayal. Not for weakness. But because everything that fulfills its role… must be removed from the stage."
Smoke rose around the mirror. It began to swirl. Abstract forms appeared and vanished. Souls? Memories? Echoes of ancient oaths.
"He never knew. He never will. He was shaped for chaos, trained for pain, fueled by loss."
Ra's rose slowly. Still before the mirror. Now standing, but with eyes lowered.
"The Red Hood has fulfilled the League's will. Blood has been spilled. Shadows have claimed the city. The new era is in gestation."
The mirror trembled again. But this time, a reflection began to form.
Not Ra's.
But a skull wreathed in smoke.
"I understand. The order will be fulfilled."
Ra's placed a hand over his heart.
"And the new warrior? The one who already wears the hood but has not yet seen his true face?"
Nothing. Only cold.
Ra's nodded, as if the absence were an answer.
"Then the game continues. The bat is not ready. But he will learn. Through pain. Through grief. Through ruin."
He stepped back. The mirror lost its light. Returned to stagnant black.
Ra's stood there, still. Eyes closed. Body upright like a statue of ice.
When he spoke again, it was to himself.
"The logic of the abyss is simple: everything that descends… breaks. And everything that breaks feeds what sleeps below."
Silence.
But now… not an empty silence.
It was the silence of acceptance.
And from the depths of the temple, the sound of footsteps.
The messenger approached.
Ra's didn't look at him. He only spoke.
"Prepare the Red Hood. Tell him the city has a new knot. That the chaos needs one final push."
The messenger nodded.
Ra's touched the mirror once more, now cold and opaque.
"And after that… prepare the coffin."
The snow continued to fall outside.
But within… there was only fire.
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