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The Tower was unusually quiet. Not the kind of silence that came after curfew or lazy afternoons — this was the thick, heavy hush of exhaustion. Of battles fought and barely survived.
Sunlight spilled through the high windows of the common room, catching on dust motes drifting lazily through the air. The floor was littered with empty food containers, discarded blankets, and someone's crumpled hoodie. Gar's, probably.
Mars stretched out on the couch, limbs aching, skin still carrying the phantom burn of shadow chains and bloodline magic. The ache was everywhere, but strangely, it felt good. Like proof she was still here.
A few feet away, Jaime snored softly, a bag of half-eaten fries clutched to his chest. Kory had one leg dangling off a recliner, head tipped back, mouth slightly open.
The world had cracked open the night before — and somehow, they'd survived it.
Mars found herself climbing the tower stairs before she even realized it, muscle memory guiding her to the one place she could breathe.
The rooftop garden was quiet, only the soft rustle of leaves and the distant sound of the ocean against the shore filling the air. The sky was streaked in pale oranges and faded lilacs, the last shreds of dawn clinging to the horizon.
And there he was.
Damian leaned against the railing, posture rigid, a scowl tugging at his mouth as if daring the sun to rise. A few strands of dark hair clung stubbornly to his forehead.
Mars hesitated. She didn't want words. Not explanations. Not apologies.
Just this.
Quiet.
Space.
Being.
She padded over without a sound and slid down to sit beside him, back against the railing. For a while, neither spoke.
Birds chirped somewhere in the distance—the scent of damp earth and crushed leaves carried on the wind.
When she finally spoke, it was soft, almost lost in the breeze.
"I'm still here."
He glanced at her, green eyes sharp, unreadable.
Then, just as quietly: "Good."
They sat like that for what could've been minutes or hours, the space between them gradually shrinking. A brush of shoulders. A shared glance. The weight of everything unsaid hanging heavier than the dawn.
When Mars shivered against the breeze, Damian shrugged out of his jacket and tossed it over her head without a word. She huffed, tugging it down.
"I swear, you have this habit of—"
"Of keeping you from freezing to death? You're welcome."
A ghost of a smile tugged at the corners of her mouth, and something in Damian's chest uncoiled just a fraction.
It wasn't a confession.
It wasn't forgiveness.
But it was a beginning.
And maybe, right now, that was enough.
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⭐️ Eternal Shadow 🌙 Damian wayne ~~~~complete
FanfictionShe controls the shadows. He was raised by them. Fifteen-year-old Marceline "Mars" Dawn has spent years trying to outrun the past-the night her world was shattered, and the darkness inside her woke up. Now a quiet but powerful member of the Teen Tit...
