The medical bay was heavy with silence—a hush broken only by the soft pulse of monitors and the hum of fluorescent lights overhead. Raven lay restrained, wrists secured by shimmering wards and chakra-sealed cuffs. Her hood had slipped, strands of dark hair setting shadows across her serene, too-still face. It was the calm of deep water, not peace but danger lurking below.
M'gann stood by Raven's side. Sweat beaded at her brow as her glowing fingers hovered just above Raven's temple, green eyes shining with concentration and dread. With every flicker in her aura, the tension in the room tightened—Wildcard's fists clenching against the cold metal wall, eyes narrowed, Sharingan spinning as he measured psychic tides for any sign of eruption.
The other Titans clustered by the doorway, kept at bay by necessity and fear. Their glances traded silent questions and anxieties as the minutes crawled forward.
Gar broke first, his whisper shaky: "She's been like this too long. Did you—did you find anything?"
M'gann's hand remained on Raven's head, her brow furrowed. "Her mind is… like a dungeon," she whispered. "Endless corridors. No light. Just shadows feeding on shadows."
Wildcard didn't flinch, his response cold and clinical. "Keep calling," he said, the authority in his tone a line drawn through the bay. "She will answer. We just need to be ready."
The suspense coiled tighter. The hum of the machines peaked, air growing heavy.
M'gann nodded faintly sweat traced down Megan's cheeks, then shifted her focus inward. Raven… she began calling gently, telepathically. Can you hear me? Come back.
Five minutes passed. Raven's fingers twitched. The cuffs sparked. Her body shuddered as a ripple ran through her chest.
Hope flickered—then vanished as her eyes snapped open, blazing crimson and wild with terror.
The psychic scream struck first; a wave of despair slammed into every heart, ice-cold and blinding. Robin staggered, Starfire gasped, Beast Boy clutched at his chest, all crushed beneath the weight of emotion.
A second pulse erupted. The cot lifted and crashed, furniture scraping, glass splintering. Shadows unfurled along the walls, twisting, writhing, snapping like spectral snakes.
Worse yet—the soul-self burst free, a monstrous shadow of wings and claws filling the room, its shriek not with sound but force. The medical bay seemed to shrink as the raven-shaped entity threatened to swallow it whole.
Wildcard moved. A single hand seal snapped into place.
The curse mark he had branded into her flared, lava-like lines racing across her body. They seared into her skin, suppressing the wild tide of magic threatening to swallow the room whole.
The bed crashed back down as the resistance of her power fought the restraint. Wildcard muttered under his breath, voice low with annoyance.
"Tch. Stronger than I expected… but nothing I can't handle."
His Sharingan locked with her glowing crimson gaze.
"Be silent,"
he commanded, his tone carrying a weight that pressed into the very air. It was less a request, more a decree—like a sovereign declaring order to a world that had no choice but to obey.
And slowly, her struggle broke.
The soul-self faltered, the psychic storm stilled. Raven's scream collapsed into a groan, the red in her eyes guttering as the violent quiet settled.
She bolted upright, clawing her hood low. Sweat dripped, breath came in ragged stabs—each inhale louder than the settling debris around her. Her hands trembled as she closed around the frayed fabric, shrinking beneath even the weak light.
"Azarath… Metrion… Zinthos…," she whispered, voice fragile, mantra stumbling but never lost.
The mantra steadied her, each word stitching the walls of her mind back into place. But her body still shook, the sweat still clung, and the glow in her eyes faded reluctantly, like embers refusing to die.
All around her, hearts hammered. The dread was fading, but the aftershocks crawled through the beds and spilled into silent prayers.
Wildcard lowered his hands, the sharp calm in his face replaced by observational concern. The Titans, shaken but steady, watched as Raven rebuilt herself piece by piece in the aftermath—her mantra a lifeline in the wreckage of psychic war.
The room was still trembling from the aftershock of Raven's outburst—shattered glass crunching faintly, the faint scorch of burned ozone hanging in the air. The glow in her eyes flickered, then dimmed, leaving behind only the uneven rise and fall of her chest.
Her fingers gripped the edge of the bed hard enough to blanch her knuckles, as if holding onto the material world kept her from slipping back into that nightmare. Her hood shadowed her face, but a thin strand of sweat slid down her jaw before she yanked the cowl tighter, retreating behind the fabric like armor.
Her lips moved in silence. Barely audible, but those closest could make out the rhythm:
"Azarath… Metrion… Zinthos…"
Again. Firmer. "Azarath. Metrion. Zinthos."
Her voice steadied as she repeated the chant, but her hands still trembled. The mantra wasn't just words—it was a dam, hastily rebuilt stone by stone, locking the torrent of emotion back where it belonged.
For a long moment, no one dared to break the silence.
Then a cautious step—the shuffle of boots against the floor. Megan's aura brushed gently against Raven's, testing the waters before daring to speak.
"…Raven?" Her voice was soft, almost fragile. "Can you hear me?"
Raven stiffened, as if the words themselves were another weight she wasn't ready to carry. She inhaled sharply, grounding herself, before finally nodding once.
Raven's hands finally loosened their grip on the bedframe. She closed her eyes, steadying herself. Another mantra. Another breath. This time, her voice didn't shake.
"I'm… fine," she rasped. But her voice betrayed her—the thin edge of exhaustion, the hollowness of someone who'd just clawed their way out of something no one else could see.
Robin and the others rushed toward Raven's bedside, their voices a mix of worry and questions tumbling over each other. Cyborg's scanner whirred, Starfire hovered close with trembling hands, Beast Boy leaned forward anxiously—but Raven only lowered her hood further, muttering her mantra like a wall against their concern.
Wildcard ignored the commotion completely. His eyes slid instead to Jinx, perched against the bed rail like it was her throne.
"You can walk?"
"Yeah." She dusted off her knees like she'd only just stood from a nap.
"Good." A few cards slipped through his fingers before vanishing in a practiced flick. "Let's eat. My treat."
Jinx smirked, relief softening her posture. "Finally. I was about ready to die of secondhand angst."
A low chuckle slipped out of him—more dangerous than warm. "Yeah… they're starting to look like a sitcom."
That cracked her composure. Jinx burst out laughing, pushing her pink hair back. "Careful, Wild. Stick around long enough and these goody-two-shoes might give me diabetes."
"Then let's get out before the sugar overdose." He tilted his head toward the exit.
They were halfway through the door when Robin's voice, taut and edged, snapped after them.
"Wait—where are you two going?"
The door hung half-open. Wildcard paused, head tilting lazily without ever fully turning back.
"To eat," he said flatly.
Jinx nearly choked on her laugh, shoulders shaking as she pressed a hand over her mouth.
The Titans stared in bewilderment, caught between outrage and confusion.
Wildcard's tone shifted—not mocking, not cruel, but heavy with the calm authority of someone who had already weighed every soul in the room and found them wanting.
"Don't misunderstand me. I'm not a hero. Not a villain. I'm not the man waving a flag of hope, or the one cowering in his own shadow."
He finally half-turned, Sharingan gleaming, the weight of his gaze pressing into them.
"I didn't save you because I wanted to. I saved you because I know what happens if Asmodeus gets his hands on the girl in indigo." His eyes flicked briefly toward Raven, still trembling behind her hood, before settling back on the team. "And trust me—you don't want to see that future."
Wildcard didn't move. "And one more thing," he added, voice calm enough to sting. "Don't worry about Asmodeus. I'll handle him—alone."
Robin's fists clenched, voice taut. "This isn't a game, Wildcard. Asmodeus is dangerous—"
Wildcard cut him off, voice sharp enough to end the argument before it began.
"No. You are dangerous—to yourselves. Last time, nearly all of you lost without even trying. If it wasn't for me, you'd all be corpses rotting in his shadow.Save the pep talks for each other. I don't need ballast."
Starfire flinched; Beast Boy's joke died in his throat. Cyborg's jaw worked, words failing to form. M'gann's eyes flicked to Raven, then back, worry folding into resolve.
The Sharingan spun wildly, crimson light dancing like a storm, menace coiled beneath every turn. The weight of it pressed into the room, daring any of them to argue.
"I am Wildcard. And I have a dream. A dream I'll see through to the end. If Asmodeus—or anyone—stands in my way, I will devour them like the storm devours the sea."
The words lingered like thunder after a flash of lightning.
He turned his back to them without hesitation, stepping into the hall as if nothing more needed saying.
Jinx leaned against the doorframe, her smirk lazy but her eyes sharp.
"You know, watching you all stumble around like headless chickens would've been funny… if it wasn't so pathetic."
She let the silence hang a beat before twisting the knife.
"Wildcard fixed you. He carried you. And you're still glaring at him like he's the problem. Newsflash—without him, Asmodeus would've chewed you up and left nothing but scraps."
Her boots clicked as she turned to follow Wildcard, tossing one last barb over her shoulder.
"Next time you want to play heroes, maybe try surviving five minutes without him. I'll bring popcorn."
Jinx's laughter echoed down the hall as she fell into step behind Wildcard, her posture light, her eyes sharp—her reasons her own. She followed, half challenge, half curiosity, and the Titans realized: whatever dream Wildcard chased, it was drawing trouble, and perhaps a few allies, along for the storm.
The door hissed shut behind them.
Silence. Heavy, unbroken.
Robin's fists stayed clenched, jaw set as if sheer discipline could make sense of what just happened.
Beside him, Starfire pressed a trembling hand to her heart, torn between hurt and a flicker of reluctant understanding.
Beast Boy shifted from foot to foot, the usual jokes deserting him, his unease loud in the silence.
Cyborg's exhale was sharp, mechanical fingers flexing restlessly, a man built for action left stranded in inaction.
M'gann stayed silent, arms wrapped tight around herself. Her gaze lingered on Raven, then slid toward the floor, shame and uncertainty pulling her inward.
The Titans stood in the wreckage of the medbay, left with only the lingering echo of his conviction—and the undeniable truth that, for all their strength, they had been dismissed as nothing more than obstacles.
Raven watched the door for a long, silent beat, her gaze shadowed but fierce. "Dreams are powerful," she murmured, "but nightmares don't care whose dream they meet."
Her voice cut through them like a blade, leaving no comfort in its wake. The Titans exchanged glances, unease pooling between them. None spoke, The silence held, and in it grew the truth none wanted to name,
the future uncertain—each of them left to confront their role as the darkness gathered, and the dream of a single wildcard began colliding with the fate in the wake of a storm that had already chosen its path.
End of chapter.
Author's note: Don't forget to add this story to your library and drop a Power Stone to show your support!