Chapter Text
"Breaking news of a scientific sort tonight, as researchers in the arctic circle recorded an unprecedented discovery," the news reporter began. "A pristine and unfrozen lake in the middle of an icy glacier. One of the researchers, Dr. Carter said in his report, quote, 'it's unlike anything I've ever seen. The water is green, and almost glowing, like the northern lights in liquid form. We took samples, of course, but our tests have yet to yield definitive results on what causes the strange appearance,' end quote."
Batman was already flying north along with Red Robin and Green Arrow, both of whom insisted on coming along, thinking the same thing he had. Green water, liquid in the frozen arctic, and a mysterious substance the scientists couldn't identify? All signs pointed to this mysterious arctic lake being an undiscovered Lazarus Pit.
It was a simple matter to locate the Arctic researchers' facility, a beacon of bright orange against a white, white background. It wasn't a raid, and they weren't expecting a fight, so they simply walked right up to the front door and knocked. Several long moments later, the door opened.
"Batman?" asked a man with brown hair and horn-rimmed glasses. "Green Arrow? And... you I don't know..."
"I'm not a member of the Justice League," Red Robin told him amicably. "I'm Red Robin, I work with Batman in Gotham."
"What are you all doing here?" he asked, ushering them inside, out of the cold.
"We're here about that lake you found in the glacier," Green Arrow said. "We think it may be something... bad," he finished lamely, knowing Batman would undoubtedly growl at him or something if he revealed too much information.
"Bad?" the scientist repeated. "How so?"
"We have reason to suspect that the water in the lake you found may possess magical properties, Dr. Lentz," Batman said. Of course he knew the names and faces of every scientist at this facility. He was Batman. "An enemy of the Justice League has used similar bodies of water for his own means and ends."
"We don't want to step on any toes here," Green Arrow assured her, "but for you and your team's safety, we think it's best if we step in and run some of our own tests."
"None of you touched the water, did you?" Red Robin asked. If any of the scientists were affected by pit madness, this could become problematic.
"Heavens no," Dr. Lentz assured them. "It was green and glowing, for all we knew it could be incredibly toxic, or acidic. We were very careful in collecting samples; none of that water touched anyone."
"Good," Batman said. "Well done, and be careful not to let the water come in contact with your skin while you study it. Could you point us to where exactly you found the lake so we might inspect it ourselves?"
"Of course," Dr. Lentz waked over to a nearby computer and opened up some sort of file or log report. "Here, I'm printing the coordinates for you. This is where you'll find the entrance to the cave which opens up into the glacier cavern where we found the lake."
"Thank you," Batman waited a moment for him to hand over the print-out. "Green Arrow, stay here in case any of Ra's al Ghul's agents come by for information. If this really is what we think it is, I'm sure he won't be far behind us."
"You got it," Green Arrow agreed. "You two go do your examinations and whatever, and I'll stay here on ninja watch." He turned around, but Batman and Red Robin were already gone, vanished without anyone noticing.
The glacier wasn't far, but once they landed the Batplane, they still had to walk through a long, winding tunnel, carved through the ice to get there. Luckily there were no forks in the path, or even they might have gotten lost in the monotonous, icy walls. When finally they reached the lake, Batman heard a sharp intake of breath from his partner.
The lake was definitely a Lazarus pit; they could tell just by looking, and what was more, it was the largest one they'd ever seen. Ra's al Ghul would definitely want to control it by any means necessary.
"B..." Red Robin said, staring into the waters with deep concern.
"I'll contact the Justice League and make sure a guard is posted around the researchers 24/7 until they return home," Batman said. "Who knows was Ra's could do with a pit this size. We can't let him get his hands on it."
"B."
"There must be some way we can safely destroy it," Batman continued. "I have some theories already, but I don't know how many have the potential to work on this scale."
"Batman!" Red Robin said louder. "You see the coffin down there, too right?" he asked, pointing through the translucent green waters at a metal coffin deep beneath them, wrapped in chains. "Someone was here before now, and they either had no idea what this was when they dumped a coffin inside, or they did know, and they threw it in a Lazarus Pit on purpose."
"That would be a cruel punishment," Batman said. "And a crueler mistake."
"We can't just leave it in there, right?" Red Robin asked. "Who knows how long whoever's in there has been stuck, getting drowned and resurrected by the same water over and over again... we can't leave it like this."
"I agree," Batman said. "We'll use our grappling lines to hook the coffin and pull it out. Stay back from the water."
Red Robin nodded, and they both pulled out their grappling guns and shot them into the lake. The water slowed their momentum some, but not so much that they didn't make it to the coffin in the bottom, and when their hooks were securely latched onto the chains wrapped around it, they both started retracting their lines, slowly pulling the box back up to the surface, and onto the icy shore.
They had to step further back as water leaked out of the coffin through tiny holes drilled in the sides.
"Why would someone drill holes like this in a coffin?" Red Robin asked, though he had some ideas.
"Look at the lid," Batman said, and they both read the writing etched into the metal there.
DO NOT OPEN, it said.
"Whoever put this coffin in the Lazarus Pit must have known what the waters would do," Batman concluded. "I imagine the holes were drilled to ensure the water would fill it." Red Robin didn't want to point out the possibility that they were air holes, and whoever was inside had been alive when they were trapped there.
"The question is... do we open it?" Red Robin asked instead. "Was this done to punish someone evil, or torture someone good?"
"Shh..." Batman said, crouching to hold his ear next to the holes in the side of the coffin. "I don't hear anything. You'd think they would be panicking, but I don't even hear breathing."
"Not... could they really be dead? But how?" Red Robin asked. "Is it possible the Lazarus Pit can only bring someone back from the dead so many times before they're gone for good?"
"That's one possibility," Batman said. "It's also possible there isn't a person inside at all. It could be an object or objects that someone was trying to get rid of."
"But then why drill holes in the coffin? And why would the objects be put in a coffin at all, why not a chest?"
"I don't know." Standing up, Batman pulled a device out of his utility belt and scanned the coffin. "Hm."
Red Robin looked between his partner and the coffin curiously, waiting for Batman to elaborate. When he didn't, Red Robin was forced to ask.
"What?"
"The readings are... confused," Batman said finally. "Signs of life: inconclusive, it saus."
"Possibly because it was in the Lazarus Pit for so long?" suggested Red Robin, eyeing the coffin even more curiously. The thing just kept giving them more and more questions, and no answers at all.
"The coffin and chains are both made of tungsten steel, but they're coated with a substance I can't identify, and even more odd, my readings show that both are approximately three thousand years old, but tungsten steel wasn't invented until the 1860s."
"Plus, the writing is in English," Red Robin pointed out. "Modern English, which definitely hasn't been around for three thousand years. So what do we think? Time travel?"
"Are there any other possibilities?" Batman asked. "A three thousand year-old coffin made of two hundred year-old steel with contemporary writing on it? If there isn't time travel involved, I can't imagine what else it could be."
"I guess maybe it could've been rapidly aged with magic, but that's kinda just time travel with extra steps."
"It could have been transported here from another dimension where time progresses differently."
"But that's also just time travel with extra steps," Red Robin said. "So what now? Do we just open it? Take it to the rest of the Justice League for further study first?"
"We should at least have Flash and one of the Justice League's magic users take a look at it before we let out whatever's inside," Batman said. "They'd be the ones to ask about time travel. Now that we've confirmed it's a Lazarus pit, we should call for Justice League backup to keep the League of Assassins from gaining control of it."
"While you do that, I'll load the coffin into the Batplane's cargo hold."
By the following day, Black Canary, Green Lantern, and Martian Manhunter were in the arctic on guard duty while Batman and Red Robin were at the Hall of Justice getting a second opinion on the coffin.
"Well, I agree that this thing must've traveled through time somehow," Flash told them, looking at the readings he'd taken on the screen in front of him which showed the same information Batman's Scanner had the day before, "but I'm not picking up any speed force, or tachyon particles or... well... anything that you'd expect to find hanging around something that traveled through time. I can run tests all day, but I'm not sure how much that'll actually help."
"Thank you, Flash," Batman said. "Captain Marvel should be here any minute. He'll be able to tell if there's a magical element, and if neither of you can find anything, well..."
"We may have to crack it open and see what happens," Red Robin finished for him.
"Isn't that too risky?" Flash asked. "What if we end up letting loose some kind of monster?"
"We have no idea what's inside or who put it there," Red Robin said. "It's just as likely to be a monster as it is to be a hero who fell victim to their enemy's trap. We have to be prepared for anything."
There was a knock on the door and they all turned toward it sharply.
"Batman? You wanted to see me?"
"Captain Marvel, come in." As soon as the door swung open, Captain Marvel gasped. "What is it?"
"Whatever's in that coffin has magic coming off it in waves," Marvel answered. "It's so strong I'm surprised you guys can't feel it, even without magic."
"Is it dangerous?" Batman asked immediately. "Can you tell?"
"I mean, all magic can be dangerous, but this is... I don't even know how to describe it, maybe peaceful?" Captain Marvel shrugged, more a question than an answer. "It's like there's a sleeping god in there, a dormant volcano of magic. Powerful as it is though, I don't think it's malevolent."
"What exactly do you mean by that?" Red Robin asked. "Would you be able to tell if it was malevolent, even dormant?"
"Well, magic develops different vibes based on how it's used, I guess." Marvel expounded hesitantly, crafting his explanation in his head before speaking, and still not entirely sure how to explain it to those who couldn't feel magic at all. "Magic that's often used for violence will feel violent, even when it's not being used. If it mostly gets used for everyday tasks, it'll feel gentle and helpful. And if it's usually used to protect others, it'll feel... like this, actually, like a security blanket, or like someone telling you everything will be okay."
"So you believe whatever's in this coffin is likely a positive force?" Batman reiterated. "A protector or guardian of some kind."
"Protector or guardian, yes, but..." Marvel trailed off, thinking about how he should phrase himself. "Well... a person who protects something evil while it rampages is also a guardian, if that makes sense. Normally, a guardian is a positive force, but just like magic can be used for violence against evil and be ultimately good, protective magic can serve evil as well."
"And what about the fact that it's a three-thousand-year-old coffin made from two-hundred-year-old steel?" Red Robin asked. "I assume there's a magical explanation for that?"
"Probably," Marvel said. "But I don't really know anything about magical time manipulation. I know time can get a little wonky in areas with a lot of magic, but usually it moves slower, not faster. I would call the Justice League Dark about something like that if I were you."
"Aren't you the champion of magic?" Red Robin frowned.
"Champion, not expert," Marvel said. "Constantine would probably know."
Batman sighed. "I was hoping we wouldn't have to call him." But he called Constantine nonetheless, and a few hours later, after Flash, Red Robin, and Captain Marvel had all left, the grouchy Brit was shuffling through the Hall of Justice, grumbling about a hangover.
Constantine didn't bother to knock, just shoved open the door he sensed a ton of magic behind and grimaced when he felt it roll over him. "Bloody hell, what've you got in that old box, anyway?"
"We don't know," Batman said. "That's why we called you." Constantine stepped over to the coffin, grumbling at him.
"You just brought a strange magical box into the Hall of Justice with no idea what was inside? You bloody morons I can't—" he stopped abruptly. "Oh, it's a protector spirit."
"What's that mean?" asked Batman.
"Little known fact, but if you put a ghost in a final resting place—that's a coffin, or urn, or anything like that—they'll be forcibly put to rest," Constantine explained. "That is what's happened here."
"So you're saying there's a ghost in this coffin..."
"A bloody powerful one, too," Constantine added. "Maybe even a fuckin' Ancient from the magic coming off it. Where'd you find this thing, anyway?"
"At the bottom of a Lazarus Pit in the arctic," Batman answered.
"Musta come from the Realms, then."
"Explain."
Constantine pulled a box of cigarettes out of his pocket and immediately put it back when he felt the force of Batman's glare, scowling before he continued.
"Common theory about the Lazarus Pits—among those that make theories about magical shite instead of assuming it's beyond understanding—" he said, "is that they're a sort of runoff from a place called the Infinite Realms, which is a lot of things, but under the circumstances, all you need to know is it's where ghosts come from... sort of.
"There's also, obviously the souls of the dead element there, but the other vital ingredient is a substance called ectoplasm, and that's what the Infinite Realms is made of. It's what gives ghosts the power to exist, even though they're not alive, so ghosts who live in the Realms are more powerful than the ones that don't."
"And the Lazarus Pits are... runoff ectoplasm?"
"That's the theory anyway." Constantine shrugged. "Nasty, used up stuff, diluted and weak and tainted. That's why it makes people mad. Pure ectoplasm wouldn't do that."
"So... scale of one to ten, one being the weakest, where would you put the ghost in this coffin?" Batman asked.
"Ten, easily."
"And for comparison, where would you put Deadman?" Batman asked, since that was the only ghost he knew personally.
"If I'm bein' generous? Maybe a two, probably less."
"Do you believe this ghost is malevolent?"
"Definitely not," Constantine said. "Protector spirits are really uncommon, especially in the realm of the living, but ghosts aren't like humans. There's not so much grey area with 'em. The ectoplasm, it makes 'em obsessive. When a ghost's obsession is protection, it don't matter what it is, the ghost'll try to protect it. Good, evil, hero, villain, human, ghost. If you're not something people actively need protecting from, then you're under their protection."
"So you're saying it's safe to open?"
"Yeah," Constantine said. "I dunno why someone would've put 'em in a coffin. That's usually reserved as punishment for the worst of the worst in the Infinite Realms. The last ghost I know of to be punished like that was the previous ghost king, a tyrant called Pariah Dark. He was so powerful they had to get a specialized sarcophagus painted with his image in order to trap him, and they called it the Sarcophagus of Forever Sleep."
"So it could be some kind of ghost criminal inside?"
"No, the writing's in English," Constantine disagreed. "Whatever ghost is in there, was put there by a human. If they were a ghost criminal, the words would be in ghost speak, or maybe Latin, and the coffin would be locked up somewhere securely in the Realms, not left floating around so it can end up in the ghost equivalent of a fuckin' sewer. The biggest worry if you open it is that the ghost'll be disoriented, and probably a little sick from all the disgustin' bloody runoff they've been stewing in for god knows how long."
It wasn't until a few days later that Batman was able to assemble most of the Justice League's magic users in order to open the coffin, though Dr. Fate couldn't be bothered, apparently. They didn't want to risk not being able to fight back in case the ghost was so disoriented it started attacking them in its confusion, and Wonder Woman assured Batman that regular weapons would be useless against a ghost, and magic was the only thing that might have an affect.
"It reeks in here," complained Deadman. "I don't even breathe, and I can still smell it."
"It's because you can't breathe that you can smell it, Boston," Constantine told him. "If you weren't a ghost it wouldn't bother ya."
Once everyone was standing at the ready, Superman broke the chains, removing them from the coffin, and tore off the lid, which was screwed down tight. Instantaneously, the temperature in the room dropped until they could see their breath in front of them, and tendrils of ice creeped out of the coffin and spread across the floor. A cloud of white vapors billowed from the coffin as if it was full of dry ice.
"It's... a kid..." Superman said, flying back away and landing on the ground as they all waited for whatever would come next.
They heard a young voice groan, and a white gloved hand reached out and and gripped the edge of the coffin. Another shot up and gripped the opposite edge. The Justice League held their breath as the ghost inside pulled itself up into a sitting position.
It was a boy, in his teens, with snow white hair, looking notably green in the face. He groaned again, and pushed himself further up until he began to float out of the coffin, and hovered a few feet above, wobbling slightly. He definitely looked more solid than Deadman, and unlike the other ghost, this one glowed faintly, even in the well-lit room, especially his eyes which were a bright Lazarus Green.
"Holy fucking hell!" Deadman said in alarm.
"What is it?" Zatanna asked. "Do you recognize him?"
"Do I recognize Phantom? King of the Infinite Realms?" Deadman practically shouted. "I've only seen his stained glass windows."
"Phantom?" Constantine repeated. "Tell me you're joking."
The kid groaned again and held out a hand to them like he was asking them to quiet down, rubbing his temple with the other hand. He gagged, and slapped a hand over his mouth. Then he keeled over and vomited watery green ooze into the coffin.
"Ugh, that's disgusting," the kid said, floating higher again. "I need like a thousand showers right now."
Deadman put his right hand over where his heart once was, and thumped it twice against his chest before bowing.
"Don't do that," the kid said.
"I thought you said the king was a tyrant who got locked away in a sarcophagus," Batman muttered to Constantine. "What exactly are we in for here?"
"Different king," Constantine whispered back. "Long story, but basically, Phantom defeated him in single combat and won the throne by right of conquest. Shortly after that, he disappeared, and no one's seen him in thousands of years. Phantom was famously a protector spirit, but I'd never've guessed it was him in that box of yours."
"So what'd'ya summon me for?" Phantom asked, words slurring slightly. "'M telling ya now, 'f you called the ghost king fo'world domination reasons, 's not gonna happen. I don't do that, and th'other guy retired."
"We didn't summon you," Captain Marvel said. "And we don't want world domination. Batman and Red Robin found your coffin in a Lazarus Pit and we just let you out."
"My what in a what? I don't have a—" Phantom looked down at the coffin he'd just risen out of and his expression turned sour. "Oh. That."
"Who trapped you in there?" Zatanna asked. "All the stories I've read say you were a beloved king, despite your short reign."
"More or less, I guess," Phantom said, smacking his lips. "It wasn't ghosts though, it was..." his expression darkened further and he cleared his throat awkwardly. "My parents put me in there."
"Your parents?" Wonder Woman echoed, and Batman clenched his teeth, privately horrified by the prospect. "Why would they do something like that?" He'd seen it more times than he cared to count, but that a parent could intentionally do horrible things to their child was still a concept he struggled to wrap his head around sometimes.
"Well, ghost hunters tend to do that kind of thing to ghosts," Phantom said, more casually than any of them liked, though from the way he spoke they could tell he was slowly becoming more coherent. "Anyway, what do you guys want as thanks for letting me out?"
"You don't have to thank us," Captain Marvel said. "It's what heroes do. You were in there for thousands of years, apparently. It would've been too mean to leave you in there any longer." Phantom froze.
"How long?" he asked.
"No one's seen or heard from you in about three thousand years," Deadman told him. "Not since a few months after you defeated Pariah Dark."
"No way... but... it can't be. Unless this building is a whole lot older than it looks... what year is it?"
"Two-thousand-twenty-two AD," Wonder Woman answered. "Though that might not mean anything to you."
"I'm from 2005," Phantom answered. "It's only been seventeen years."
"All the stories about you are thousands of years old," Zatanna told him, "legends and myths, at this point. You definitely weren't around here in 2005."
"Shit..." Phantom said. "Shit. Was I in the Ghost Zone, in this coffin?"
"Uhh..." only Superman had ever heard of a ghost zone.
"Why would you be in an intergalactic prison dimension?" Superman asked.
"What?" Phantom asked. "What are you talking about? What prison dimension? Was I in the Ghost Zone? You know, the Infinite Realms?"
"You must've been until you got carried out by ectoplasm runoff into a Lazarus Pit," Deadman told him.
"Ectoplasm runoff?" Phantom repeated with a grimace. "Ew, is that what all this gross shit is? Have I been bathing in sewer water for several thousand years? Did I say I need a thousand showers, I meant like a million showers, ASAP."
"I still don't understand how you could be gone for three thousand years if only seventeen years have passed," Superman said.
"The Infinite Realms is like the lining between dimensions," Phantom explained, flickering in and out of visibility as he tried in vain to shake the gross tainted ectoplasm off with intangibility. "In it, there are portals to various times and places. It connects to a theoretically infinite number of parallel worlds and universes and dimensions et cetera, not all of which progress through time at the same rate. I must have drifted into a different dimension.
"If I could find a way to return to my home dimension... three thousand years in the Ghost Zone would be... about two thousand years there, since time there progresses at about two thirds the rate as it does in the Realms." Phantom gave up trying to phase off the ectoplasm runoff, since it resisted his intangibility, and his shoulders sagged. "Even if I went home, everyone I ever knew would be dead."
"You could still return to the Infinite Realms," Batman pointed out. "Aren't you their king? Don't you have responsibilities there?"
"The Infinite Realms don't need a king," Phantom snapped back, pulling an irritated expression and waving a hand dismissively. "If I've said it once, I've said it a million times. Ghosts don't need a king. They managed perfectly well without one for ten thousand years before those stupid artifacts got pawned off on me, and apparently, they've been going strong for another three thousand years without me." Phantom floated down until he was only a few inches above the floor, and at eye level with most of the heroes, instead of above them.
"Besides," he said. "It's not like I can just go back to the Ghost Zone whenever I like. It's not that easy. I'd have to find a natural portal, and those aren't that common. In my home dimension, there was a stable man-made portal to and from the Ghost Zone, so it was easy, but I doubt you have one of those here."
"We might," Captain Marvel said.
"If you did, you would know," Phantom said. "For one thing, your ghosts would be a lot more powerful than he is," Danny said, gesturing toward Deadman. "Stable portals leak pure ectoplasm into the world, slowly but steadily, and ghosts are drawn to them, and draw power from them."
"We could make one," Batman suggested.
"You'd better fucking not!" Phantom scowled at him, eyes burning brighter in a stunning imitation of Batman's own glare. "Humans can't create a stable portal without sacrifice. In order to open it, someone has to stand inside and die without dying. It's a shitty experience I wouldn't condemn the scum of the Earth to, and one that makes the person an immensely powerful ghost, meaning that if they're a bad person when they go in, they're an obsessive villain with godlike powers when they come out and if they're a good person, they have to suffer a fate worse than death and that can change you. So no. Creating your own portal is not an option."
"I understand," Batman said. "I'm sorry for assuming. Is there no other way for you to get back?" Phantom sighed.
"With practice, I may be able to learn how to create my own portals into the Ghost Zone, but I don't know how to do that, so it could take me years, if not decades to figure it out on my own."
"You could stay here, then," Zatanna suggested. "My dad used to read me stories about you as a kid. There was a lot of contradiction, but one thing that always carried through every variation, was that Phantom is a hero. A protector of ghosts and humans alike. If you can't go home, either to your original dimension, or to the Infinite Realms, then I'm sure you'd be welcome in the Justice League, and if not, then I'm happy to extend an invitation to the Justice League Dark."
The assembled Leaguers looked at her in surprise. An invitation to the Justice League wasn't something you just handed out to a random teenagers minutes after meeting him. They barely knew this kid, and she was asking him to join them based on bedtime stories?
"I'm... honored?" Phantom said, cocking his head in confusion. "I think? I don't know what that means."
"We are the Justice League," Superman said, choosing to trust Zatanna for the time being. She hadn't been lying, and she seemed to know more about Phantom, or at least his reputation than anyone else there. "A team of superheroes who protect the Earth and its people from anyone and anything that would threaten us. And the Justice League Dark is a specialized group within the Justice League that deals with magical threats."
"I'm part of both, depending on the situation," Zatanna said. "If you're not sure, you can join on a probationary basis."
"Well, I'm pretty sure I'm free for the foreseeable future," Phantom said, feigning thoughtfulness. "My teachers are all dead and in another dimension, so I guess I don't have homework to do, and I missed my best friend's birthday party by a couple thousand years, so sure. Why the hell not? I'm Phantom, by the way, but I guess you knew that. So what are your names?"