Used to be, in ye olden days, every December, a Lord of Misrule presided over the winter holidays, called back then, the Feast of Fools.
So Christmas was happening, even though this year's Lord of Misrule was none other than the Black Hood.
And so, another mystery was wrapped up in a neat, tidy bow, just in time for Christmas.
Throughout the Black Hood's reign of terror, Betty had stared into the blackest of voids.
The place where Joseph Conway's soul had once, perhaps existed.
And in that void, she'd seen a dark reflection, a truth that could not be burned away.
A truth that whispered to her, "This isn't over."