EUPHORIA

part 1

Chapter One: Arrival

The sky tore open.

For a heartbeat, the forest glowed violet — shadows stretching, trees bending under pressure from something wrong. Then it ended as quickly as it began, leaving silence heavy and electric.

Raven fell through the last remnants of the portal and hit the ground hard, breath stolen from her chest. The dirt was wet, sticking to her hands. It was cold — the kind of cold that cut through her skin and made her realize she was somewhere real. Somewhere she didn’t belong.

Her pulse thudded in her ears as she looked around. The world was louder than she expected. Every emotion pressed against her mind — distant anger, laughter, loneliness — all bleeding into her consciousness until her body trembled from the noise. She clutched her head, shadows spilling from her fingertips in dark, rhythmic pulses.

“Stop,” she whispered to herself, though the words came out uneven, strained. “Stop—please—”

A twig snapped behind her.

She froze. Slowly, she turned.

A man stood a few meters away, half-hidden by the trees. His posture was disciplined, balanced. A black hood shadowed his eyes, but even in the dim light she could see the way he analyzed everything — every twitch, every movement, every breath she took.

“Don’t move,” he said, voice low and steady.

Her heart hammered. The aura around him wasn’t normal — sharp, controlled, like steel.
“Who are you?” she asked carefully.

“The one asking questions,” he replied, stepping closer. The faint glint of metal at his side confirmed what she already sensed — he was ready to fight.

“I’m not your enemy,” she said quickly. “I just—”

“People who say that,” he cut in, “usually are.”

Her throat tightened. “I didn’t mean to come here.”

“You opened a portal in the middle of Gotham County Forest. That’s not an accident.”

His voice was calm but edged, the kind that didn’t allow lies. She could feel suspicion radiating from him as strongly as her own fear. His mind was guarded — she could barely sense emotion through the solid wall of discipline surrounding him.

Her powers flared again. Shadows pulsed out from her body, the trees flickering like candlelight.
“I can’t control it,” she muttered, pain threading through her voice.

“Then control yourself,” he said coldly.

She looked up sharply, eyes glowing faintly violet. “Do you think I haven’t tried?”

For the first time, his expression shifted — not sympathy, but understanding. He’d seen loss of control before. He’d lived it.

The forest went silent. Her breathing slowed. Gradually, the shadows sank back into her skin, leaving the air still again.

He didn’t lower his guard, though. His hand hovered near his weapon, eyes locked on her like she was a loaded gun.

“Name,” he said finally.

She hesitated, then: “Raven.”

He nodded once. “Damian Wayne.”

Her gaze flicked toward the stars visible through the canopy. “Earth is… louder than I thought.”

“You’ll get used to it,” he said flatly. “If you survive it.”

Raven studied him — his calm posture, the faint edge in his voice. “You don’t trust me.”

“You appeared out of nowhere radiating demonic energy,” he replied. “Should I?”

A long pause. She exhaled softly. “No.”

Damian stepped closer, stopping a few feet away. He looked her over again — assessing, calculating.
“You’re unstable,” he said. “You’ll draw attention. If someone else finds you first, they won’t ask questions.”

Her shoulders tensed. “And what are you going to do?”

“I haven’t decided yet.”

Raven met his gaze. For a moment, the world seemed to narrow to the space between them — her unsteady energy and his measured stillness, colliding like two storms waiting to break.

Then Damian turned, motioning for her to follow.
“Come on,” he said. “You’re coming with me. Until I figure out what you are.”

She didn’t move immediately, just watched his back as he walked through the trees. Everything in her screamed to run — but she didn’t. Something about his steadiness anchored her, even if he didn’t mean it to.

As she followed, the last trace of her portal flickered out behind them, fading into ash.

And somewhere deep in the quiet spaces between her heartbeat and the wind, something ancient stirred — a whisper of her father’s voice, faint but growing stronger.