The ghost of a past regret
The tome hidden under Damian’s mattress continued to burn in the back of his mind. He knows he shouldn’t have kept it. Magic is dangerous, that of the Infinite Realms especially so. And there was no guarantee the book was even accurate; he’d never given the cultists a chance to make use of its contents.
But a single section from it refused to leave his mind. He couldn’t just throw out the opportunity it offered.
‘Danyal…’
–––
Damian had hated to admit it, but his twin brother could be cannier than him at times. Danyal had caught on to the harm of the League long before he ever had.
And he had tried to get out. To get them both out.
Damn him. Why couldn’t Danyal have been selfish for once in his life…
But Damian had still been caught up in it all. He was the perfect heir. He was loyal. He would not betray his family in the League.
And yet he’d been so quick to betray his brother…
Danyal’s shocked gasp as Damian’s knife slipped between his ribs still echoed in his ears when he awoke from nightmares. Sometimes, on particularly bad nights, he would swear he could still feel the blood dripping down his hands, and amount of scrubbing ever made the sensation go away.
He was sure Alfred at least had noticed the redness of his hands, but he never pushed for answers. Damian was thankful for that, even as he felt undeserving of the comfort. It had all been his fault.
At the time of the betrayal, Damian had felt little of the emotional weight. He was disappointed in his brother, but he was just doing his duty to the League. It would only be later that it set in, and the regrets continued to eat at him long after his family forbid all discussion of the traitor his twin.
What if he hadn’t fought? Would they have succeeded at escaping? Would they have met their father sooner? Would he still be able to see Danyal’s smile?
It was pointless to wonder. Danyal was gone.
–––
But perhaps not completely.
The siren song of the spellbook continued to call to him. The first thing to ever offer even the faintest glimmer of hope for finding closure.
For it contained a ritual to summon the ghosts of the betrayed.
Maybe it wouldn’t work. Regardless of the book’s accuracy, he’d never done anything like it before and wouldn’t be using the spell for its intended purpose. It was described for use in combat, tearing apart enemies with the specters of the vengeful dead, not for seeking atonement. Was changing the context even possible without entirely restructuring the ritual? He didn’t know.
And it wasn’t like he could ask the magicians of the Justice League Dark for help—even the most unscrupulous among them would still try to dissuade him and likely inform his father.
But how could he not try?
It might be wishful thinking to hope he would ever forgive him. But even if Danyal rejects the apology, it would still be worth it just to see his brother just one more time…
He grit his teeth and clamped his eyes shut as emotions warred against logic inside him. It was a terrible idea. He shouldn’t do it. He shouldn’t.
‘Damn it.’
The tome felt impossibly heavy as he pulled it from under the mattress with unsteady hands.
He had a ritual to set up.
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