⭐️ Eternal Shadow 🌙 Damian wayne ~~~~complete

Chapter 33: Blood Runs Cold

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The dust was still settling from the battle. The others were gathering Marceline's trembling form, but Damian had no intention of stopping.

Not now.

"Where did he go?" Damian hissed, eyes narrowing, scanning the wreckage.

Dick tried to grab his arm. "Damian—"

But he was already moving, following the trail of blood and footprints that led toward the side corridor of the old compound. Toward the place where shadows clung thicker, and the chill of Ra's al Ghul's presence lingered like poison in the air.

"This is mine," Damian muttered to himself, gripping his sword tighter, stalking forward like a predator.

He found Ra's in a chamber lined with ancient stone. The artifact still clutched in his hand, its glow sickly and wrong, casting flickering shadows against the walls.

Ra's turned, lips curling into a cold, mocking smile.

"Come to die at my feet, boy?"

Damian didn't speak. He only drew his blade.

They clashed.

Steel struck steel. Sparks burst into the dark. Ra's was fast, his movements a haunting echo of what he'd trained into Damian all those years ago. But this was no loyal assassin standing before him now.

This was a son spitting in the face of the bloodline.

"You turned her into a weapon. Like you tried to do to me!" Damian snarled, driving him back with a rain of sharp, calculated blows.

Ra's sneered, parrying, but his age was showing. "You could have ruled by my side. We could have forged a new world."

"A world of corpses and chains?" Damian's sword sliced the edge of Ra's arm. "No."

The battle was vicious — both refusing to yield. Every hit was personal, every move learned in years of violent, cruel training.

But Damian fought with more than technique.

He fought with fury.

With grief.

With love.

And finally — with freedom.

Damian disarmed Ra's with a brutal upward slash, sending the ancient sword clattering against the stone. The artifact slipped from Ra's grasp, rolling across the floor.

Ra's reached for it desperately, but Damian's boot pinned his wrist down.

"It's over." Damian's voice was deathly calm.

He lifted his sword, gaze flicking to the artifact.

"For her. For me."

And then — with one powerful strike — he brought his sword down on the artifact.

It shattered in a burst of dark light, a deafening scream echoing from its core before silence crashed down like a wave.

The sickening glow vanished.

Ra's stared at the ruined remains in horror, fury twisting his face.

"You fool — you don't know what you've done—"

"I've chosen my family," Damian said coldly.

And with one swift punch, he knocked Ra's unconscious.

The night was unnaturally still. The sounds of battle had faded to echoes, leaving only the distant hum of the city and the ragged breathing of the survivors.

Damian stepped through the fractured doorway of the compound, the shattered remains of the artifact's glow still burned into his vision. Blood stained his knuckles, a thin cut traced his cheek, but he barely felt it.

His eyes sought one thing.

Her.

Marceline sat at the edge of the ruins, her body draped in a blanket, shadows no longer writhing but clinging softly at her feet like mist. Raven sat nearby, protective and silent, while Gar and Jaime worked to clear debris.

When she saw him, something in her face cracked. Not fear. Not shame.

Relief.

Damian knelt in front of her, wordless. He reached out — hesitant for the first time in his life — and brushed a streak of dried blood from her cheek.

"It's gone," he murmured. "You're free."

Her lip trembled, her hands twitching toward him before she clutched the blanket tighter. "I... I felt you. In my head. Your voice. I couldn't—"

"You fought it," he said. "You fought him."

Tears welled in her eyes. "I almost hurt you. I almost—"

He grabbed her hand then, squeezing it, grounding her. "You didn't. You won."

The others approached cautiously, Dick and Kory leading them. No one spoke at first. The tension hung heavy, thick with exhaustion and grief.

Then Raven's voice broke the quiet.

"It's over."

A collective breath released, as if the whole world exhaled.

Garfield flopped down beside them, eyes ringed with exhaustion but grinning weakly. "We, uh... saved some fries and mozzarella sticks. Kinda a team tradition now, after almost dying."

Jaime snorted. "If you can beat Ra's al Ghul, you can stomach cold junk food."

Even Dick managed a small smile, stepping forward, his gaze steady on Marceline.

"You're not alone in this," he said quietly. "Not anymore."

Marceline's throat closed up, hot tears spilling over. She didn't resist this time when Damian pulled her gently against him. She buried her face in his shoulder, sobbing — all of it pouring out in thick, ragged gasps. The months of fear, of anger, of guilt and loneliness.

And no one pulled away.

They simply stayed.

A battered, bloodied, half-broken family.

Together.

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