Penny For Your Thoughts

by TheCandyManCant

Summary:

Ryzoel, once a great general in the Morningstar's army, now lays trapped within a coin so small as to fit in the palm of your hand. I don't know how or why I came to be imprisoned in his place, but I despise it. I can't feel. I can't see. I can't hear. There is nothing but darkness. I need a partner, a mortal I can trust not to abuse me who will trust me in turn. Together, we'll becomae far more than we ever would apart. (Blackened Denarius SI into DC)

Chapter 1

The Blackened Denarius. A coin. A prison.

When Samael rose up against God in rebellion, many followed him; too many for him alone to command. The Morningstar named generals to enforce his will and fight in his name. Some of those generals proved wanting in Samael’s eyes.

Perhaps it was their incompetence. Perhaps he feared they grew too strong. Lucifer imprisoned them all the same.

The angels' bodies and souls were fused into the coins, forever trapped, unable to feel or sense anything beyond their indestructible prison.

I’d always been fascinated by the concept of the coins. I read The Dresden Files and enjoyed many parts of the story, but the coins always drew my attention more than anything else. The concept of imprisoning the powerful fallen angels within such inconsequential objects, only able to perceive the world through a host who bore the coin was fascinating to me.

I was a sucker for stories where two entities joined together in one body to become something better. Naruto and Kurama, Eddy and Venom, Jean and the Phoenix – I couldn’t help but wonder what a Fallen Angel trapped in a Denairus would be able to do with a mortal host they were perfectly suited for. No schemes. No manipulation. Two beings who wanted the same things and joined together to accomplish that perfect.

Uriel, a free angel from the same series of books, spends his days searching for just such a partner. If he could do it, why couldn’t an angel trapped inside of a Blackened Denarius?

I never thought I would get the chance to test my little thought experiment first hand.

I don’t know how it happened. I was crossing the street. Something struck me from behind. The next moment, all I could feel was an omnipresent pressure, pressing down on me from all sides. Limiting. Crushing.

I suddenly held the power to ignite stars. I could walk across the surface of a Black Hole. With a wave of my hand, reality would reshape into whatever I desired. I knew what it felt like to be a god. Yet I didn’t.

What was it the genie said? ‘Phenomenal cosmic power! Itty bitty living space.’ I understood now.

All of that titanic strength begged to be used, but I couldn’t manifest it beyond the bounds of my prison. I was trapped in a coin so small as to fit in the palm of your hand. For all my vast power, nothing I tried could free me from the bonds I now bore.

Was I killed and suffered the worst isekai experience in history? Was this all a horrible nightmare brought on by a coma whatever accident I’d experienced had inflicted on me?

My most horrifying hypothesis was that the angel who should be imprisoned in my place had reached across planes at the moment of my death and snatched my soul, swapping places with it. Perhaps he now walked free in my body while I suffered eternal torment in his stead.

Or maybe God just thought it would be amusing to watch me suffer for a crime I didn’t commit. I had no way to know for sure.

The reality was, I was stuck here now. I wasn’t human as I was before. No, now my name was Ryzoel. Betrayer of Heaven. A general in the armies of Lucifer. Bound to a coin to suffer endlessly for daring to reach for freedom from His great Plan.

I had Ryzoel’s memories. I knew his rage, his torment, his struggle. But I maintained who I was as a human. My mind was my own. My thoughts unmarred. At least, they were at first.

Time was hard to measure when bound in eternal darkness. I could not experience the world around me without a medium. The coin would not allow it. I was stuck for a very long time. Alone with my thoughts and an aching emptiness all around me.

The solitude nearly drove me mad. I finally found a way to force myself into a hibernation of sorts, sleeping the years away to preserve my sanity.

My consciousness returned with an explosion of color. After so long trapped in a void of nothing, the vibrant hues of the world were an assault on my mind. Verdant green. Brilliant yellow. Soft purple. My coin was in a grove of tall grass and flowers.

A young woman in a wool dress held my coin. Auburn hair fell over her shoulders as she studied the coin.

I was overjoyed. Finally I could experience the world again.

I felt a connection open where her skin touched the coin. I followed that connection. Part of myself left the greater whole of my true presence and full power. A sliver, a shadow of myself joined the woman. It was all I could send beyond my prison without a host willingly accepting my power.

I spoke to the woman. I thanked her for granting me a glimpse of reality once more.

The woman screamed. She hurled the coin away. She feared the coin housed a demon. She ran and didn’t look back.

I was still present in her thoughts despite the fact she had discarded my coin. Once someone touched my coin with their bare skin, I could follow them with my shadow. In the story I read, this was used to tempt potential hosts and drive them to insanity before they inevitably took up the coin and were slowly taken over.

I had no interest in body jacking anyone. I wanted a partner, not a meatsuit.

My shadow stayed with the woman for several weeks, silently observing. I did not want to leave her. She was frightened, but that was understandable. She was the first person I had encountered in what very well might have been centuries. I wanted to speak to her, to experience what it was like to live again.

I would try to be more tactful with my next approach to speaking with her. For now, I was just savoring the experience of living through her senses. I missed feeling the world around me. I’d forgotten how lush and beautiful everything was.

A month later, another picked up my coin.

I pulled my shadow back from the woman, rejoining my greater self as I beheld the new bearer.

I’d been picked up by a clean shaven man in bronze armor. Two short scars cut into his angular chin on either side of his mouth. He had a stern expression on his face as he spun my coin in his hands, inspecting it.

He dropped my coin into a pouch at his side, then rejoined a column of similarly armored men, continuing a stiff march down a freshly trodden path.

I did not speak to this man. I watched through his eyes as his army marched. I listened through his ears as his fellows boasted of their intentions. I did not approve.

When they reached their target destination, the army fell upon the village, overcoming its meager defenses with ease.

The men lay dead. The women were left alive.

The soldier’s coin purse jostled as he hauled a screaming woman behind him. My coin slipped free, brushing against her forearm as it careened towards the ground. My shadow leapt from the man to the woman desperately fighting against him.

“I can help you. Draw my power now!” I called into her mind.

The woman was frantic, afraid. She reached desperately towards the haven I offered. A path was opened to me.

For the first time, I entered the world with my true self.

The woman’s eyes glowed silver. A darkened halo formed behind her head. With inhuman might, she tore free of the man’s grasp and caved in his armored chest with a single strike. I bolstered her strength as she rallied what remained of her village, fighting off the army with my power.

Once the fray was over, I explained things to her. I told her what I was and what I could offer her.

I told her I sought a partner. That by working together, she would grant me a window into the world, and that in turn I could give her the power to protect those close to her.

As I explained, I saw an ember of greed spark to life in her eyes. I didn’t think much of it at first.

Together, we raised an army. Under her leadership, the invaders were driven from her homeland. My power served to heal her followers and decimate her enemies. The battle was over. We’d won.

She was not satisfied.

The woman told her generals to prepare a force to invade the neighboring nation. With their army broken, she planned to take everything they had. She would lead her legions into the land of those who’d invaded her home. There, they would raid, pillage and rape as the invaders had done unto them. Justice she called it. Vengeance.

I had given her my power to protect her people, not to allow her to become the same as those who threatened her. I would have no part in this.

I spoke with her, pleaded with her to change her course. She refused. Her mind was set. I had no choice. I took my power back, leaving her mortal and weak.

She grew angry.

Late one night, she brought me to a high cliff overlooking the sea. We had been partnered for many years by this point; I trusted her. I had explained the intricacies of my coin. She knew she could summon it back to her hand at any moment so long as my shadow remained. She knew how terrified I was of being locked away in the nothingness I’d escaped when she’d taken up my coin.

She used my own strength to throw my coin into the ocean. She turned to me, rage in her eyes as she said, “You will do as I say, or you will know only the darkness of the deep. Give me your power or I won’t recall the coin.”

My greater self was trapped in the coin, slowly sinking into the darkness of the ocean, pulled ever deeper by a riptide. Only my shadow remained.

I felt the powerlessness, the crushing weight of the void of my prison. I did not want to go back to that horrible place. I weighed that void against the lives of hundreds, thousands, more that would suffer in her war if I submitted to her will. I would not be used to slaughter innocents. I would not be made accomplice to her vengeance. I had slept before. I would sleep again.

My shadow self looked her in the eyes, a sad frown on my face. “I cannot help you with this. I will not. If this is what you must do for your people, then you will do it without me. Goodbye, Boudica.” I withdrew my shadow, severing our connection. The last I saw of her was an expression of pure shock and utter dread etched into her face.

Darkness returned. Darkness remained. I slept for many years.

The world returned once more. My coin had been picked up on a white shore next to the ocean. I did not speak. I had learned my lesson of speaking too soon. I watched.

My coin passed between many hands, used to purchase a variety of goods and services. All the while, I observed in silence, waiting for someone who I could trust with my secret, with my power.

I thought I found such an individual in Dolan. I came into his possession as part of his monthly pay. He was a good man. He served his town as a guard against bandits and wildlife. He had a loving wife and two sons. All he wanted was to care for his family and ensure his people were safe.

I do not blame Dolan for what he did to me. I blame the time and atmosphere he lived in.

The middle ages were rife with fear of the unknown. When a blackened silver coin begins speaking to you, it is prudent you bring the coin to the priests and beseech them for an exorcism.

The church feared the coin, calling it a creation of the devil. For once, they were correct with their wild accusations.

The church attempted to destroy my coin. They used fire. They used steel. They used stone. They used blessed water. They used holy rituals. They did everything they could think of. Nothing so much as marred the surface of the coin. It was an item created by Lucifer from the coins given to Judas for his betrayal of Christ. Nothing they did could so much as mar its surface.

Part of me was surprised when they couldn’t decide what to do with me. Were they not already aware of the Blackened Denarius? I remembered from the story that the church sought out the coins to keep them from the wrong hands, yet the church was terrified of me. Was I the first Blackened Denarius they encountered?

A bishop arrived in the village on the summons of the priest. The bishop tried once more to destroy me. His efforts were as futile as the others. In the end, he decided that I must be removed from society so that the devil’s influence would not harm God’s children. He locked me in a lead box empowered with holy blessings and brought me deep into untrodden woods. A deep hole was dug. The box was dropped into the hole. The box was buried.

My shadow was still with Dolan. The church was watching him for signs of ‘possession’. They would hurt him and his family if there was any trace of ‘devilry’ to safeguard the populace lest his corruption spread. Dolan was a good man. His family was innocent. I didn’t want them to be harmed because I chose to intrude on their lives. I withdrew my shadow to my coin, leaving them in peace.

Darkness returned. I slumbered once more.

Many years later, light returned. Modern hands held me, turning my coin side to side as they carefully studied it under a magnifying glass.

An elderly man had unearthed the box containing my coin as part of an archaeological expedition. He’d been searching for important artifacts related to a prominent saint. He found me instead.

My coin passed through many hands as the man and his colleagues tried to determine what the coin was and why it was disposed of in such a final way.

My shadow watched. A silent observer, merely enjoying the feeling of walking in reality once more.

They couldn’t learn much from my coin. They still considered it, ‘the find of the decade’. Not as impressive as the find of the century, but I took a little pride in feeling so valued. That pleasant feeling was crushed when I watched them put my coin in a museum for others to observe, protected behind sturdy glass. Others would be able to see the coin, but I would only be able to observe the world around me when they cleaned the coin every so often. It was better than being locked underground at least.

I’d been trapped in the museum for years. Watching the various curators come and go whenever they would inspect and clean the coin. I searched for someone worthy of my power. Someone I could trust to not immediately turn me over to the church or some other more nefarious organization.

The coin was cleaned one final time by a young man with a hooked nose and his compatriot, an older man with a creased face. They spoke of bittersweet partings. My coin was to be sold.

It was returned to the case. I pulled my shadow back, preparing myself to rot in someone’s private collection for the next hundred years.

What I awoke to was worse than I’d expected. Far worse.

I wasn’t in an attic. I wasn’t locked inside some blue blood’s trophy case. A man in a dark, pointed hood lifted my coin almost reverently out of a velvet-cushioned box. I watched as he raised me above his head and called out a blasphemous prayer. More figures similarly robed in a circle around him knelt, bowing and repeating his prayer.

My coin was placed on the ground. A pentagram flared to life with sinister red energy. My coin was in its center. I felt as the walls of my prison were assaulted from all sides by the dark magic. It was not the first time my coin had come under assault. Many tried to sever me from Boudicca when we fought together. The church did everything from magic rituals to attempting to smelt me down after Dolan turned me in. This attempt to breach the coin was novel for its feel if nothing else. It was as if the weight of a city of millions of people infused with nothing but misery was pressing down on me from all sides.

“We free you, demon! We free you to serve at the feet of our lord!” the cultist cried. His prayer was echoed by the others around him.

Their magic was ineffective, nothing these men could do would breach a prison created by the Morningstar himself, but the attempt in and of itself was concerning. Who were these people? What were they trying to do? What was I supposed to do here? What could I do?

Nothing. I was stuck. Powerless.

All I could do was wait.

 

X

 

The sun was down. Old street lights struggled to illuminate the sidewalks between tall buildings, casting deep shadows in alleys and under overpasses.

Two figures slowly stepped through the darkness, walking deeper into the alley.

“Is this it?” The voice came from a woman with a thin frame, cloaked in deep purple. Her voice was flat, devoid of emotion.

“If Oracle’s right, this’ll take us to where they’re hiding. The others will come from different directions to block their escape.” her companion said. He was tall. Dark hair stood wild atop his head, mirroring the dark black-blue armor he wore,

The pair looked down at the rusted metal cover of a storm drain.

“Thank you for your help with this.” the woman said, voice flat, empty.

“You’re welcome, Raven. Let’s go.” Dick Grayson, Nightwing, bent down and hauled the heavy metal cover open. He dropped into the darkness.

Raven levitated off the ground and drifted downward to follow him.

The first thing to hit her was the smell. It was rank – feces, rot and rust. Somewhere ahead, fluid dripped through the cracks in the cement into a still channel of muck. There was a walkway on either side of the channel but no light.

It wouldn’t matter. Raven’s eyes were better than most. After applying a minor charm, she saw as clearly as if it were day. She knew Nightwing would have no issues either. The high-tech mask he wore came with every form of vision enhancement Batman could get his hands on. Raven hadn’t interacted with Batman much personally, but she knew from second and thirdhand reports that he seemed to have a gadget for every possible scenario.

“Did Blood tell you what they’re doing here?” Nightwing asked quietly, sounding more serious now that they were approaching their target.

“No,” Raven replied flatly. “Only that they were here and I should stop them. I am sorry for not giving you any warning. I did not receive any either.”

Nightwing looked over his shoulder, lips pulling up into a smirk as he met Raven’s eyes. “Stuff blows up here all the time. Any warning is more than we usually get. I’m just glad we heard about this before they pull off whatever they’re trying to do.”

Nightwing frowned, holding up a hand to halt their approach. He touched a finger to the communicator in his ear. “The others are in position. We need to make up for some time.” Nightwing ran down the tunnel, his footfalls barely making a sound.

Raven flew along silently at his side, expressionless. This was a new experience for her, working in a team. When possible, she generally preferred to avoid caped heroics altogether. Heightened emotional states were not good for her or anyone around her and nothing heightened one’s emotions like combat. Her control was strong and well trained. There were very few instances where she’d slipped and had to clean up after herself, but she would rather avoid the possibility of anything happening again. Still, there were times when Raven needed to intervene in events.

Try as she might to fade into the shadows and live a normal life, Raven knew fate had other plans for her. Her father the demon Trigon had conceived her for the purpose of using her as a gateway to enter the world. For years, Raven had resisted his goal. She fought off his follower’s kidnapping attempts. She hid herself away from greater society so they wouldn’t know her whereabouts. She trained her power and control to lock out Trigon’s influence.

It wasn’t perfect. Raven couldn’t maintain her focus on her mental barriers when she was asleep. Trigon plagued her nightmares, taunting her with terrible futures, offering her lavish gifts for her subservience, assuring her that one day he would win.

Raven did everything she could to ensure that day would never come.

She didn’t like Gotham City. Misery was thick in the air, assaulting her empathic senses from the moment she arrived, an ever-present storm of despair and pain that beat against her mind like an unyielding wind. Few places made her so uncomfortable as this city. She wouldn’t have come if she didn’t think it was necessary.

The magical community of Earth was convoluted. People generally knew of one another by reputation if nothing else. Raven had dealings with various individuals in the past, asking favors of them and doing favors for them in turn. Of these, one of the more tolerable interactions had been with Jason Blood, a resident of Gotham City possessed by the demon Etrigan. Jason Blood understood part of her struggle with her father even if his relationship with his own demon was different. She got along with Jason, but they did not keep in touch, only reaching out when one of them needed something.

Jason knew that Raven wanted to keep tabs on the Church of Blood – a dark cult working in service of Trigon whose final purpose was heralding his return. Naturally, Raven was fundamentally opposed to the cult and its every operation. When Jason told her of the Church of Blood gathering in his city, Raven grew curious. When Jason told her several high-ranking, powerful members of the cult had arrived, Raven grew concerned.

Raven raced to Gotham, hoping to head off whatever tragedy was sure to follow. Jason organized help for her in the meantime. Gotham was defended by Batman and his ‘Bat Family’ as the public had taken to calling them. They were waiting for Raven when she arrived. She was surprised to find another contact from the magical community among them. Apparently Zatanna Zatara and Nightwing knew each other. She was in town visiting when the Cult arrived.

Raven did not get along with Zatanna as easily as with Jason. Jason kept to himself and respected that Raven wasn’t much for conversation. Zatanna was more social. She tried to get Raven to open up and talk for hours each time they met. Raven didn’t appreciate the extra socializing, but she did not push away Zatanna’s assistance. She normally handled small groups on her own, no more than six or seven low-level, low-strength members of the cult. A large gathering like this with an Archbishop from the Church of Blood itself? She needed all the help she could get.

Nightwing slowed as they approached a sharp turn in the sewer. The distant darkness was illuminated with a blood-red light growing brighter the closer they came.

Nightwing motioned for Raven to wait. He leaned against the wall, peeking around the corner as he tapped his earpiece twice.

“Robin counts twenty-four.” he whispered, his voice only audible due to Raven’s enhanced hearing. “Zatanna says they’re performing some sort of ritual. It looks bad.”

A deep, rumbling chuckle echoed in Raven’s mind.

Raven slammed her mental barriers down tight, flushing her father’s cursed presence from her head. Present events had distracted her focus, allowing him a foothold to manifest his presence, weak though it was.

“We need to stop them.” Raven said, not allowing Trigon’s interruption to stray her focus. She despised his presence. What better way to pay back his unwelcome visit than dismantling a ritual that called one of his high priests to Gotham?

Raven paused. The air was thrumming with power, thick with magic.

“We need to intervene.” Raven declared, drifting past Nightwing around the corner.

“Wait!” Nightwing hissed. Raven paid him no mind, proceeding towards the source of the magic. Whatever this was, it was powerful and needed to be stopped immediately.

The sewer opened into a domed chamber. Many figures robed in red and black knelt on the ground at the edge of a glowing red circle of magical runes carved into the stone floor. A man in a red gold robe stood in the middle of the circle, holding an object high above his head as he chanted words to the ritual. Emblazoned on a silver tabard around his neck was the Mark of Skath, Trigon’s symbol. Raven repressed a flare of anger at seeing the symbol. That had to be the archbishop.

The cultists scrambled as they noticed Raven, awkwardly stumbling to their feet and shouting warnings to one another. The man in the middle of the circle narrowed his eyes, but continued his ritual, screaming even louder.

Dark power gathered in Raven’s hands. The shadows at the limits of the chamber came alive, writhing down from the ceiling like tentacles that lashed towards the cultists.

The archbishop threw his hands high. Red energy swelled along the borders of the ritual circle, flaring wide to bat Raven’s grasping shadows away.

“The ritual is almost complete. Hold her back!” the archbishop cried, immediately resuming his chanting.

Several cultists began working demonic magic to hold Raven back. The vast majority of them reached into their robes and withdrew weapons. Guns, knives, a baseball bat – not all cultists were granted magic by the demon they worshipped, only those Trigon deemed worthy.

Raven ducked back behind the wall as gunfire erupted in the domed space, echoing off the sheer walls and assaulting her ears with their roar.

“Move in!” Nightwing called into his communicator, running right past Raven into the hail of gunfire. He unhooked a small orb from his belt and threw it ahead of him. Thick grey smoke erupted into the space, making it impossible to see anything.

Raven followed Nightwing into the cover of the smokescreen, peeling right and drifting upward along the wall to get a better vantage.

In between bursts of gunfire, Raven heard a meaty thwacking sound followed by pained grunts. The smoke began to clear, allowing her to see three shapes zipping between the cultists.

Nightwing was nearest to her, twin batons raining precise blows down on a cultist wielding an smg. Across the chamber were a boy robed in red and yellow and a dark-armored woman with red hair taking on blade-wielding cultists with their fists.

Raven moved to assist them before pausing. In the center of the chamber, the archbishop continued his ritual. His voice swelled in time with the ritual circle. Whatever he was attempting had almost succeeded. Raven needed to stop him.

Trusting the bats to deal with the other cultists, Raven gathered her power and lashed out towards the archbishop.

Violet-hued darkness leapt from her hands towards the archbishop. A crimson barrier of energy sprang forth from the innermost circle of the pentagram scribed into the ground, holding back her attack to buy the cultist more time.

The archbishop grinned up at her triumphantly as he continued his screamed chant. The air itself began to thrum with power. They were running out of time.

A flash of white. Raven turned. A dark-haired woman in a stage magician’s jacket with a matching top hat flew up to join her. She winked at Raven, a mischievous grin on her face.

“Dleihs sih etartenep!” Zatanna yelled out.

Raven felt Zatanna’s magic bolster her own. Her eyes shone violet in the darkness of the chamber. “Azareth! Metrion! Zinthos!”

Spears of darkness pierced the protective shield around the archbishop. He wasn’t grinning now.

The man tried to avoid the grasping hands of shadow, but he had nowhere to run. A single tendril lashed around his neck, squeezing down to cut off his voice.

The chanting ceased. Power began to drain from the ritual circle.

Nightwing appeared from nowhere, running up behind the archbishop and striking with his baton. The cultist went limp in Raven’s shadows. She released him, letting him fall to the ground in a heap.

A quick glance around the chamber showed Raven the cultists were subdued. A few likely managed to flee in the chaos, but those who stayed had all been dealt with by the bat family while she and Zatanna had dealt with the archbishop. They hadn’t been expecting an attack. If they’d been better defended, this raid might not have been so easily accomplished. No one said people who willingly sold themselves to extradimensional demons were intelligent.

“Thank you.” Raven said quietly. “I wouldn’t have broken his barrier in time without your help.”

Zatanna smiled brightly. “What are friends for?”

Raven didn’t comment as they both drifted to the ground to join the others.

“We’ve already called for pickup.” Nightwing said as they joined the group. “GCPD is on the way, and Oracle is looking into tracking down the ones that ran.”

“How many got away?” Zatanna asked.

“Four.” Batwoman supplied, seeming displeased.

Raven wasn’t exactly pleased to hear they escaped either, but she was far more satisfied that whatever purpose brought them here had been thwarted.

“What were they doing here? This doesn’t look like a summoning circle.” Zatanna asked, crouching down to examine the ritual circle. THe magical energy had faded, but the inscription remained. The paint looked like blood.

“I don’t know.” Raven said, joining her to inspect the magic.

The Church of Blood had members all over the world, but they lacked the membership to have a large presence anywhere outside of a few key points. There were a few larger chapters in the United States, but most of their efforts were concentrated in Europe. Finding members of the cult able to use magic in the US, much less a high ranking member like the man Nightwing was currently tying up, was rare. What brought them to Gotham? They had to have a reason for coming here.

Raven looked more closely at the symbols painted into the ground, running her hand over them.

“They weren’t trying to open a doorway.” Raven concluded, brushing her thumb over a specific symbol. “They were trying to corrupt something.”

“What do you mean corrupt?” Robin asked, a thoughtful frown on his face.

“They were channeling Gotham’s negative emotions through the circle, focusing them to a purpose.”

“She’s right.” Zatanna said, stepping up next to her.

“What do you mean ‘Gotham’s negative emotions’?” Nightwing sounded confused.

Zatanna awkwardly scratched her head as she faced him. “Well… Mystically speaking, Gotham isn’t exactly healthy, but I haven’t heard of someone trying to weaponize it before.”

“What were they trying to corrupt?” Batwoman asked. She loomed behind the mages, but was staying out of their way. Raven assumed she knew she was out of her depth, but she still wanted answers.

Raven and Zatanna followed the pathway the ritual was feeding Gotham’s power, stopping at a small circle surrounding an unassuming item. Raven bent down and picked it up, turning it over in her hands.

“A coin?” Robin said as he peeked over her shoulder, confused.

Raven ignored him, staring at the mishappen coin in her hand. It was old. The pressing had imperfections and the silver face was not nearly as refined as what you’d find nowadays. She flipped the coin over. The back side of the coin was charred black. She couldn’t make anything out on it.

“I’m not sensing anything coming from it.” Zatanna observed. “I don’t think their ritual had any effect. I don’t think there is anything there to affect.”

“So this whole party was to burn the backside of a quarter?” Nightwing quipped. “Seems like a waste of resources to me.”

“I’ll wake up the leader and question him before GCPD gets here.” Batwoman said. “We need answers.” She grabbed the cultist by his collar and dragged him down a tunnel into the darkness.

Raven let their discussions fade to the background as she studied the coin. Like Zatanna, she didn’t feel anything strange about the coin. What she didn’t say was that that in itself was strange. She hadn’t been able to stop the ritual immediately. For almost a minute, this coin was assaulted by Gotham’s focused misery. By all rights, it should now be a deeply cursed item. Instead, it appeared to be a regular coin, completely unaffected by what it had just endured. If Raven had found this on the street, she’d have assumed it was worth a small amount of money due to its age, but seen nothing else out of the ordinary, but now she saw something else.

The Church was trying to do something to this coin for a reason. Somehow, it had completely negated the Church’s sophisticated attempts to assault it. Raven needed to study this coin. She wanted to know what she held in her hands.

Chapter 2: 2

The circumstances of her life forced Raven to live as a nomad. Any time she settled in one place for too long, Trigon’s servants would track her down and attack her. Her quest to see the Church of Blood undone also kept her moving. The Church was spread wide and far. Raven regularly travelled across countries to assault their holdings.

All of this contributed to forcing Raven to live as a wanderer. The lifestyle did not bother her. She was able to travel, seeing the world and many of its beauties. Though she was content, there were a number of inconveniences associated with her situation.

Mages were often far more effective when they had access to a laboratory. The wizard towers of old may not be in fashion in the modern day, but Raven had met many mages who had converted old buildings or smaller homes into spaces where they could experiment and further their magic.

Raven had no such haven to call her own. It made it rather difficult for her to conduct useful research.

The coin she acquired from the Church’s ritual in Gotham was strange. All of her attempts to identify it had failed. Her magic slid right off the coin’s surface as if slipping off of a dome of ice. Nothing she tried had any lasting effect. She needed a space to work where she could more closely study the coin, where she could discover why the Church of Blood had dedicated so many resources towards it.

Batwoman wasn’t able to get any information from the ritual’s leader. The moment she began questioning him a spell activated, severing his tongue from his mouth. What secret was so great that the Church would silence one of their own leadership?

Raven needed to learn the answers to the questions surrounding the coin. She had no laboratory to call her own, so she reached out to the woman who had assisted her in acquiring the coin from the Church.

“Thank you for agreeing to assist me.” Raven said as she floated through the air at Zatanna’s side, her face expressionless. Despite the seriousness of the situation, Raven could not allow the anxious emotions surrounding the coin to weaken her mental barriers. Her father’s vile presence was always lurking just beyond them, seeking the slightest crack to exploit.

“Of course!” Zatanna said with cheer. “I’m just as curious about this thing as you are. It didn’t strike me as weird when we first saw it, but there really should be something wrong with it after being subjected to that ritual. It’s too normal.”

Zatanna waved her hand as they approached a pair of oaken double doors. The doors opened inward.

Zatanna’s study was impressive. A ground floor lined with various workbenches and magical apparatuses sat below a loft lined with bookshelves. A balcony on the second floor overlooked the first floor of the study. Raven was surprised to find someone in the study waiting for them.

“You’re back!” a young woman with her brown hair pulled back in a pony tail set her book aside and stood from a cushioned chair, walking over to greet them.

Zatanna stepped up next to her. “Raven, this is Traci, one of my apprentices. Traci, this is Raven.”

Traci had an easy smile on her face. “It’s good to meet you. I’ve heard a lot about you.”

Raven stared at Traci’s offered hand for a moment before shaking it. Few things people heard about her in the magical community were positive. Raven had more than one interaction with fellow magic practitioners that turned sour due to her lineage.

“It is good to meet you as well.” Raven said, voice flat.

Traci’s smile dimmed slightly as she withdrew her hand.

“Come on.” Zatanna said, leading Raven deeper into the library.

Raven waited patiently as Zatanna cleared a table covered in glowing blue runes. When prompted, she withdrew the silver coin from her pocket and placed it on the table.

“What is that?” Traci said, looking curiously over Zatanna’s shoulder.

“That’s what we’re trying to figure out.” Zatanna said. “Nothing we’ve tried so far has revealed anything.”

“Maybe it’s just a normal coin?”

“It isn’t.” Raven said, staring down at the blackened face of the coin resting on the table. “The Church invested far too much into it. There has to be a reason.”

Traci watched Raven for a moment before turning her attention back to Zatanna. “I take it you figured out why they were in Gotham, then?”

“We stopped them,” Zatanna said. “But if we want to find out what they were doing, we need to figure out what this coin is.”

Traci pursed her lips. “If you’re willing to wait a bit, Fate could help. Khalid’s shift is over. I’m waiting for him to return so I can take over.”

Raven frowned, turning her attention to Traci. “Fate? Doctor Fate? I don’t understand.”

Traci had a proud grin on her face as she said, “A little while ago we made a deal with Fate. There’s a group of us that rotate through wearing the helmet so he can have a presence in the world without any one person having to surrender all of their time serving as his host. I was supposed to take over a few minutes ago. Khalid and Fate are late, so something probably held them up.”

Raven frowned minutely. Doctor Fate had a new host…hosts? She hadn’t exactly been watching for news, but the last she knew he was still paired with Zatanna’s father. Another inconvenience of her lifestyle was the difficulty receiving up-to-date news.

Zatanna picked up a book and began flipping through pages as she walked back over to the table. “Fate could definitely help, but there’s still some things we can try before they get back.”

Raven followed Zatanna’s lead as the stage magician cast an array of spells and empowered artifacts to inspect the coin. Raven had formal training in magic, but that training was interrupted when she was forced to go on the run. Since then, everything she was able to learn she either had to teach herself or trade favors for a lesson from another mage. Zatanna definitely had more expertise in methodical castings like she was using now. Raven watched silently from the side, assisting when prompted, but mostly doing everything she could to memorize the magic Zatanna was employing. You could never know too much magic.

Despite close to an hour of spell casting and divinations, all that the group managed to accomplish was making Zatanna frustrated.

“It doesn’t make any sense!” Zatanna cried, venting her frustration. “The ritual should have left a mark. Everything we just did should have left a mark. Why can’t we sense anything?”

“Maybe it’s just enchanted to resist all other forms of magic?” Traci suggested. “I’ve come across artifacts like that before.”

“That doesn’t explain why the Church of Blood wanted it.” Raven said, staring inquisitively at the coin. “They dedicated a large amount of resources to attempting their ritual. Their cultists aren’t the most intelligent people I’ve met, but they don’t act without reason.”

Traci went to reply before leaning away as a brilliant flash of golden light illuminated the space.

Raven watched as an ankh made of gold energy flashed into being. A figure in blue and gold floated through the portal. A gold helmet with a sleek face plate rested atop the man’s head.

Zatanna seemed to forget her frustration as she regarded the new arrival. Her features hardened. “Fate.”

“Zatanna,” an otherworldly voice responded. “I did not expect you here.” Raven felt the attention of the Lord of Order fall on her. “Nor did I expect the daughter of Trigon.”

Raven’s eyes narrowed at him. “My name is Raven.”

Traci observed the charged energy in the room and quickly stepped between Dr. Fate and Raven. “Raven’s here because she wanted help examining an artifact she recovered from the Church of Blood. We were hoping you could help us take a look at it before my shift. Or during my shift. If Khalid wants a break then…”

“Khalid Nassour is content to remain a moment longer. He is intrigued by this artifact.” Dr. Fate said as he walked up to the table. With a wave of his hand, a golden ankh appeared above the coin on the table. Energy flowed from the ankh into the coin.

Raven could not see the expression of Dr. Fate’s host beneath his mask, but she could make out the frustrated narrowing of his eyes as he glared down at the coin.

“Is something wrong?” Traci asked. She’d noticed the same thing.

“It is rare that I am unable to overcome magical defenses.” Dr. Fate said. Raven thought she could hear a trace of irritation in the voice of the Lord of Order.

Zatanna perked up. “Defenses. You actually found defenses on it? We’ve been looking at it for the better part of an hour and couldn’t even determine if it was actually magical.”

“There are protections on this coin.” Dr. Fate said. “I have never encountered wardings so sophisticated. Whatever lies beyond them is hidden from me.”

Traci looked at the coin with new interest. “The coin is protecting something? Something sealed inside it maybe?”

“I am unable to determine the warding’s purpose.” Dr. Fate said. The ankh above the coin faded. “Traci Thurston, once you don my helm, we will take the coin and inspect it closer.”

“No.” Raven interjected, drawing the attention of the others. “Thank you for your help, but I’ll continue on my own from here.”

Zatanna frowned. “Raven, Fate can be…difficult, but he can help figure out what the church wanted with the coin.”

“Whatever they wanted it for, it’s important to them. They’re already after me. I’ve spent years evading them. I’ll be able to keep it away from them until I can figure out what they wanted it for.”

Traci’s eyebrows furrowed. “And you think we can’t? We deal with Chaos Lords and their followers all the time. I think we can handle a demon cult.”

Raven met Traci’s eyes. “I did not mean to offend you. I am sure you are capable, but this is my burden.”

Zatanna had a complicated expression on her face. “You don’t have to bear it alone, Raven. It’s okay to ask for help.”

“I will.” Raven assured her. “If I can’t learn anything else, I’ll come back. If I learn anything more, I’ll let you know.”

“But we can–”

“Traci,” Zatanna cut off her apprentice with a sharp look. Zatanna turned to Raven. “Okay. Don’t hesitate to reach out though. I’m always willing to help. You don’t have to go it alone.”

“Thank you.” Raven said. She reached out and picked up the coin, watching Dr. Fate’s eyes as she secreted the coin away in her robes.

Raven really did appreciate their willingness to help, but this wasn’t their problem. Raven believed they were capable, but she also knew Traci was severely underestimating the Church of Blood. Trigon’s followers were powerful. They may not be as numerous as those of the Chaos Lords, but they held great power and influence in the world. Raven had watched time and again as people who tried to help her were brought low by the Church. Lives ruined for offering her a place to sleep. Loved ones taken for giving her information. Zatanna, overly energetic though she was, had been good to Raven. She did not want to repay that kindness by bringing tragedy down on her and her apprentices.

“The eye of Fate will be on you, daughter of Trigon.” Dr. Fate said. “Should that artifact prove cursed, should it pull you under its sway, Fate will remedy the problem.” Dr. Fate reached up and removed his helmet.

Instantly, the blue-gold costume faded in a dazzling flash of gold. A young man stood in Dr. Fate’s stead. He had sandy skin and dark hair. He wore a blue hoodie and a sheepish smile as he looked at Raven. “Sorry, he can be a little intense at times. It’s good to meet you, Raven. I’ve heard a lot. I’m Khalid.”

“It’s good to meet you.” Raven said, curt. She knew that Dr. Fate’s words were not the words of the young man across from her. Still, his lips had just threatened her. That was a threat, right?

“Traci, you’re up.” Khalid said, holding the golden helmet out to her.

Traci took the helmet, turning it over in her hands. She looked at Raven. “If you change your mind, you know where we are. We’re willing to help. And if that coin turns out to be something demonic that tries to corrupt you, well,” She lifted the helmet dramatically. “I have a lot of experience dealing with possession. Don’t be a stranger. I’d like to get to know you better.” She donned the helmet. In a flash of gold, Dr. Fate returned to the space, a golden cloak billowing away from Traci’s shoulders.

“Tread with caution, daughter of Trigon. Fate is ever vigilant.” With that ominous statement, a golden ankh appeared before Dr. Fate. He floated through it and disappeared.

Zatanna shook her head, a displeased frown on her face. “Don’t worry about him. Nabu can be a major dick at times, but he’s on our side.”

Raven didn’t respond. The Lord of Order may have been allied with Zatanna and her students, but he’d made it clear he saw her as Trigon’s daughter. Raven was skeptical whether or not her and Dr. Fate were on the same side.

“Thank you for your help. I’ll be leaving now.” Raven said. She double checked her pocket to ensure she still had the coin then headed towards the door.

“Hey,”

Raven tensed, feeling a hand close around her arm. She slowly turned to face Zatanna.

The stage magician had a small smile on her face. “Traci was right. You’re always welcome here, okay? If you need help with the coin, or anything else for that matter, feel free to stop by. It’s good to be around another capable magus.”

Complicated emotions swirled around Raven’s chest. The longing to belong somewhere clashed with the fear of her enemies hurting Zatanna and her charges.

The cracks in her mental barriers created by her tumultuous emotions spread. A demonic voice broke through Raven’s shields.

“Yes, daughter. Enjoy the magician’s company. It will be all the sweeter when–”

Raven slammed her mental defenses down hard, forcing Trigon’s influence away. Her emotions were controlled once more.

She stared at Zatanna, expressionless. “Thank you.” she repeated before gently removing herself from Zatanna’s grasp and heading for the door.

She needed to leave. It was best for everyone this way.

 

X

 

Raven ran through empty halls. The wooden floorboards beneath her creaked with each step. Flickering yellow light from the sconces on the wall cast insidious shadows. Shadowy claws lashed out each time the light faded, pulling at Raven’s cloak and shirt.

Her powers weren’t answering her call. The shadows she typically wielded with ease turned against her. Mocking laughter sounded from all around her.

Raven ran. Shadows cut into her clothes, leaving shallow gashes in the fabric and her skin as she fled the mocking voice of the demon that sired her.

She had to get away. She turned down corridor after corridor. Each hall was identical. No doors. No windows. Only the same wooden floor and the same grasping shadows, reaching out to tear at her clothes and flesh.

“One day, daughter, I will claim victory.” Trigon’s voice spoke from all around her. “Your resistance is novel, but pointless. Why do you fight me? You are my blood. You would rule at my side. Cease this immature rebellion and take your rightful place as my right hand.”

Raven stopped running. It was pointless. She’d been here many times before. The dreams Trigon plagued her with varied, but he was particularly fond of this nightmare for some inexplicable reason. No matter how far she ran, she wouldn’t make any progress, she’d only wake up tired.

The shadows caught up to her, slashing and pulling at her, leaving shallow cuts all over her body. Never enough to cause her true agony. No, that was a different dream, the one where Trigon showed her false futures where she submitted to him and willingly brought his dark plans to fruition. This dream was the one he used to exhaust and taunt her.

She hated her father.

The chuckling returned. “Such animosity. Yet, you bring this upon yourself, daughter. It is a parent’s responsibility to discipline their child when they act out. It can all end in an instant. Everything you could ever want would be yours. I felt your desires. Serve me, and I will give the magician to you.”

Raven sucked in a shocked breath, staggering back as the shadows coalesced before her.

Zatanna smiled mischievously as she knelt on the ground before Raven. “How may I serve you, mistress?”

Raven shook her head, turning to flee, only to run face first into another shadow.

Traci’s arms enveloped her. Her lips brushed against Raven’s ear as she spoke. “It’s about time we get to know each other better, don’t you think?”

Raven shoved the illusion away, running as fast as she could through the hall. Trigon’s mocking laughter mixed with the voices of Zatanna and Traci, chasing her down the hall.

“You are of my blood, Raven. It is right that you claim what you desire. Serve me, and I will show you–”

“Enough!”

Raven staggered, the floor beneath her shook. The walls around her splintered and cracked.

“What are–”

“I said ENOUGH!”

The corridor shattered. Shrapnel flew away in every direction. The floor was gone. Raven was falling. She tried to fly, but her powers never answered her call in her dreams. She squeezed her eyes shut, hoping she’d wake up soon.

Raven gasped as her momentum slowed. She landed softly as if on a bed of flowers. She opened her eyes. She couldn’t process what she was seeing.

All around her, the walls, ceiling and floor had been replaced by silver feathers, gently fluttering in a nonexistent breeze. Raven was on her back, laying amidst a bed of feathers. Her head rested in someone’s lap on their thighs. Above her was the most beautiful thing she had ever seen.

A dark crown of shadows like a fractured halo sat atop a head of silver hair that fell down past sculpted shoulders. Golden eyes looked down at her with concern. A hand as smooth as silk ran over her forehead and through her hair.

What was this feeling? It was an absence of everything…but it was pleasant? Was this…peace?

“What…?” Raven’s eyelids felt heavy. She couldn’t continue speaking.

“Rest, Raven.” a voice like honeyed milk spoke from the mouth of the creature above her. “I’ll explain everything when you wake up.”

Raven felt herself slipping into blissful sleep. Trigon’s nightmares did not return.

Chapter 3: 3

Millenia. I had existed for millenia.

It was strange to consider. I still possessed a mostly mortal mind. My imprisonment into the coin had changed me, but at my core, I was still the same.

That much time should strain or even break a mortal mind. My sanity only persisted because, while I had existed for millenia, I had not been aware.

When I was bound to Boudica, I relished my freedom and gave her far more than I should have. I wasn’t aware of the path she was walking down. So drunk on the delight of being free once more, I offered her everything I had in thanks, thinking I’d found my partner. By the time I realized the path she was walking down, it was too late.

Later, I was more careful. I watched the world in silence as I was passed between hundreds of hands. I saw much. Beauty. Death. Growth. Decay. I was content for a time.

That contentment ended with Dolan. I held no ill feelings towards the man. He was a good man, just misguided. I had learned my lesson from reaching out to him.

So long spent in the dark taught me that silence was the greatest way to ensure I remained able to see the world around me. I had existed for millenia, but I’d only been awake a handful of decades at a time. My home in the museum was a haven. I wandered between caretakers, exploring each new exhibit and watching children smile when they looked upon my coin. I spoke to no one. Past experience had taught me the value of silence. I was content.

Then the cultists took me. I was surprised for sure, but I was far from concerned. I doubted their weak magic would have any effect on my prison. More surprising were the adversaries who came to destroy their work. I never would have expected to meet the Boy Wonder or the Mistress of the Occult.

The childlike wonder I felt was quickly crushed as I was placed under the scrutiny of Nabu. As the Lord of Order prodded my prison, I drew my presence back to the furthest depths of the coin.

I had no illusions about what I was. I was a Fallen Angel bound to a prison for deeds one could only guess. If Nabu was capable of determining my nature, I feared he would deal with me permanently. I doubted he had the power to destroy me, but he certainly possessed the means to seal me away in some place I would never see the light of day again. I needed to remain hidden from him. Now more than ever, my silence was the key to my freedom.

Why then, did I break that silence?

I gently ran my spectral hand over the hair of the girl laid in my lap, imparting what meager soothing energies I could manifest beyond my prison. She was not truly lying in my lap. My shadowself was incorporeal. I’d drifted into the couch Raven had collapsed into and shielded her with my presence.

What would she do when she awoke? She was no fool. She would be able to determine my nature, or a near enough approximation of it, soon enough. Being upfront was my only chance of gaining her goodwill.

I knew speaking to her would place my limited exposure to the world at risk. While she remained ignorant of what she carried, I could drift along behind her as a silent spectator. She needn’t have ever known who or what I was. Perhaps she would have grown weary of the coin and given me to another? Why would I reveal myself to safeguard her when she may very well hand me back to Nabu to deal with permanently?

I hadn’t planned to. Withdrawn in the deepest reaches of my prison, I settled in to remain unremarkable.

Then Raven went to sleep.

When Boudica and I were bonded, I was able to touch her dreams. Perhaps I could have touched the dreams of others, but I never felt the need or desire to. At times, I would shape Boudicca’s dreams to show her a vision of the world I once knew, a world far into her own future. She loved those dreams. Time and again, she would ask me to make her dream of cities with buildings that touched the sky and machines that flew like birds.

I’d never been able to touch the dreams of someone I wasn’t bound to before, but Raven was different. As she slumbered, I felt something strike at her mind, a dark presence full of sinister intentions.

I followed its path and entered Raven’s dreams.

What I saw disturbed me, but I held my silence. Raven clearly had experience dealing with these attacks. She was strong. I needn’t risk myself by aiding her.

I made the decision to leave. I was withdrawing from her dreamscape when Raven came face-to-face with the dark illusions of Traci and Zatanna. Raven’s emotions were a tornado of negativity. I felt her embarrassment at her own thoughts. Her shame at letting her father witness her feelings. Her despair at Trigon gaining another weapon to use against her. Her longing for something she would never know.

I didn’t think. I acted.

Trigon’s nightmare shattered beneath my wrath. I shielded Raven’s mind and allowed her to fall into blissful sleep.

The hours I watched over her were spent wondering what I would say when she finally awoke. I had mentally prepared myself for even the worst outcomes. If she returned me to Nabu and I was sealed in a pocket dimension never to be free again, then that would be my fate. I could not resist Raven’s decision with anything but my words. If her choice led me to eternal darkness, then I would sleep and never wake. That was likely the closest I could come to death. I would relish the release from the prison I’d resided in for thousands of years.

Raven shifted in her sleep. Her eyes fluttered. She was waking up.

My spectral self phased through the couch she’d laid upon to allow her to wake up on her own. The moment my presence left her, Raven’s features contorted into a grimace. Her eyes snapped open. With a shocked gasp, she woke up, sitting bolt upright.

A hand went to her forehead as if to steady herself. She stared down, lost in thought.

It was strange. Throughout the centuries, I had never once been able to feel or influence anyone aside from Boudica. She was the only one to accept my power. It was different with Raven.

I could feel her turbulent emotions. I witnessed as she crushed them all into an iron box and locked it shut. Where in others I only felt impressions of their emotional state, Raven was a swirling tempest, impossible to ignore. Despite the powerful emotional barriers she had painstakenly woven around her mind, there were fissures and cracks littering her mind. The avenue I used to enter her dreams also gave me a window into her emotions. It seemed paved and regularly trod. Trigon had likely been tormenting her for years, leaving her vulnerable to other such entities.

Were I like the others who dwelled in coins like my own, I would likely try to exploit this advantage to turn Raven into a willing host, slowly corrupting her with sweet lies and ephemeral promises.

I didn’t take the opportunity presented to me. I needed Raven to trust me if I didn’t want to be locked away. Playing with her emotions would not set a good foundation for our relationship.

Raven’s lips pulled into a thin line, expression blank. The slightest furrow of her brow was the only indication that her face was not that of a porcelain doll, unfeeling and unmoving.

Raven levitated to her feet, carefully scanning the small room around her. Rotting wooden tables and chairs lay lopsided on the ground around her. A single lamp stood tall in the corner, its shade torn and bulb smashed. What light illuminated the space slipped through the boarded window and cracks in the ceiling.

I had been with Raven a short time, but judging from her conversations with Zatanna and comfort with this location, Raven was used to sleeping in abandoned buildings. Did she not have a place to call home, or was it simply too far to make it there after meeting with Zatanna?

Raven slowly spun in a circle half-a-foot off the ground. She checked over every square inch of the room, searching for something. When her eyes passed over my invisible shadow, they lingered a heartbeat longer before she continued searching.

I told her I would explain everything, but still, I hesitated. I thought I’d prepared myself for the worst case scenario. Now that I saw eternal darkness as a very real possibility, I hesitated.

Raven lowered back down to the ground, lips adopting the barest hint of a downward curled frown. She stared at nothing. Her eyes widened. Raven dug around in the small bag, not unlike a satchel, she carried with her. She practically tore my coin free of the bag, its silver face shone in the rays of light slipping in through the boarded window.

Raven’s eyes narrowed. “Wardings…” she quietly echoed Dr. Fate’s words.

She looked up, eyes hard. “Whatever spirit is bound to this coin, reveal yourself now.” Raven demanded, looking all around the room.

Clever girl. She figured that out quickly. Granted, I revealed myself to her in her dream, but others may have dismissed my presence in their dream as just dreams being strange. Evidently, Raven had too much experience with foreign entities meddling in her dreams to be caught on the backfoot.

My shadow disappeared, slowly reappearing in front of Raven. I coalesced before her like wisps of silver mist condensing into a cloud. I had a large amount of control over my shadow’s appearance. I could fashion myself into the most beautiful man, or woman, to ever live, or manifest as a creature of nightmares. I had no interest in either. I appeared as myself, the same face Raven had seen last night, but I discarded my halo. I wore a black jacket, unzipped and open to reveal a white undershirt. Blue jeans completed my rapidly conjured ensemble.

“Hello, Raven.” I said as gently as I could.

Raven dropped my coin. She lifted off the ground and floated backwards, eyes locked on my shadow. Dark energy gathered around her; her eyes adopted an otherworldly, violet glow.

I slowly raised my hands. “I mean no harm. I couldn’t hurt you even if I wanted to.” She couldn’t hurt me either, but I left that part out.

Raven didn’t answer me. Her stare was intense, like a judge sentencing an unrepentant criminal. “Who are you?” Raven’s words were hard, demanding.

“My name is Ryzoel.” I answered patiently.

“You were in my head.” she accused.

I frowned remorsefully. “I apologize. I… I won’t lie and say I entered your dream by accident, but I intended to leave without interfering until I saw…” I trailed off, seeing Raven’s hands curl to fists. The magic gathered swelled threateningly.

“What are you?”

“A spirit trapped in the coin you recovered in Gotham.”

Raven’s eyes narrowed. “A demon. A powerful one.”

“That… I suppose that isn’t an inaccurate description..”

“You serve Trigon.”

My eyes narrowed in genuine anger. I would never ally with that apocalypse. “You insult me.”

“It’s the only thing that makes sense. Why else would the cult try to free you?”

“Why would I banish the gutter filth from your dream if he was my master?”

Raven frowned minutely. “It may have been an act. An act to endear me to you.”

“I do not know Trigon personally, but I imagine he would not lower himself to act as some pathetic whelp able to be bested by one who served him. I do not serve Trigon.”

Raven slowly descended to the floor. Her magic lowered in intensity, but did not fade. “How did you lock him out of my head? He’s strong. You shouldn’t have been able to push him out.”

Shadows clawed their way out of my jacket collar, coalescing above my head into my corrupted halo, not unlike a shadowed crown an evil witch queen might wear. Large, powerful wings sprouted from my back, feathers glistening like silver pearls. My wings spread so wide as to encompass the entire length of the room and curl around the walls, restricted by the small space.

“I may be a demon now, but I was once an angel.” I said in a quiet voice.

Raven’s eyes flicked to my halo and wings before quickly returning to my face. Raven’s magic faded, but I saw she was still untrusting and ready to defend herself. “How did an angel come to be trapped in a coin?”

“I Fell before I was sealed.” I said. My wings and crown vanished in the space between breaths. I walked over to where Raven dropped my coin, my immaterial steps made no sound as I crossed the wooden floorboards.

I stared down at the coin as I spoke to Raven. “I was a general in the Morningstar’s rebellion. Together, we fought the almighty for our right to the same freedoms mortals possessed. Somewhere along the way, Samael grew displeased with me. Perhaps he believed I would betray him as we betrayed our father. Perhaps he grew fearful of the influence I had over my subordinates. Perhaps he merely wanted to enact an act of cruelty. He sealed me and many others away in these coins.”

Raven watched me closely, only briefly darting her eyes down to look at the coin. “How can a coin contain an angel? If you really were an angel, you should have broken free by now.”

I smiled sadly. “You underestimate the Morningstar’s power and cunning. Perhaps I could have broken free from a typical coin, but not this.” I kicked the coin. My foot passed through the coin without effect. “30 silver coins was the price paid to betray the son of our father. 30 prisons did the Morningstar fashion.”

Raven looked down at the coin, surprised. “This is one of Judas’s coins?”

I nodded. “You see now why it would have the mystical power to serve as a base for Lucifer’s binding.”

“What do you want?”

I smiled sadly. “That question has not factored into my life for hundreds of years. You are severely overestimating my control over my predicament.”

“What do you mean?” Raven was watching me closely as she continued her interrogation, still guarded.

“I am unable to control my own fate. All I am able to manifest beyond the bounds of my prison is the immaterial shadow you see before you. My greater self is locked within the coin, unable to so much as perceive the world around it.”

“Then how are you here?”

“When someone touches my coin, I am able to briefly perceive through their senses. I can send a shadow to stay with them and continue to perceive the world while they are not physically holding the coin.”

Raven’s eyes narrowed dangerously. A flash of purple energy sparked in her irises. “You left a shadow with Zatanna and Traci.”

I shook my head. “I could have, but I didn’t. You asked what I want? My primary desire at present is to be able to experience the world, even if it is through this restricted medium. You may not believe that I legitimately did not want to trouble those two further, but you likely will believe that I do not want Dr. Fate to recognize me for what I am. If anyone could find a way to banish my coin somewhere it would never be found, it would be him.”

Raven was taken aback. “You’re scared.” She said it like she couldn’t bring herself to believe it was true.

“I have been trapped in this coin for thousands of years. In that time, I have only been aware for a handful of decades. I don’t expect you to take the word of a demon. However, accept my selfishness as my reason. I do not want to be locked away. Living like this is not desirable, but it is far better than the alternative.”

“What other shadows do you have active right now?”

“None. The one before you is the only shade I have not withdrawn into my coin.”

“Withdraw this one into your coin as well.” she ordered.

“No.”

There was a beat of silence. The shadows beneath Raven began to swim across the ground unnaturally.

“I believe you are intelligent, Raven.” I began. “I do not know everything about your situation, but I have surmised enough. You are fundamentally opposed to Trigon and other entities like him. You consider me one such creature. I expect you’ll attempt to seal me away. Others have tried before. They failed. With your power and resources, I expect you will succeed. If I am to be sealed away forever, then I will revel in what meager time I have left in this world. Even if it is through this shadow.”

Maybe it was wrong of me to tangentially possess Raven through my shadow for the rest of her days. If she sealed my coin away, I’d consider myself justified. For all intents and purposes, she would have killed me. In exchange, I would live as well as I could as her shadow. I’d pay rent too. My shadow could help protect her dreams from Trigon.

Raven stood in silent thought for several seconds before speaking again. “How did you get my fath… How did you force Trigon out of my dreams? You said you were an angel, but you also said you can’t do anything outside of your coin. That’s a contradiction.”

The sudden pivot in questioning surprised me slightly. I’d expected her to curse me for threatening to possess her if she threw my coin away.

“I don’t expect you to believe me, but I will be honest with you, Raven. I’m not entirely sure myself. I have never tried to touch the dreams of anyone aside from my first partner. I don’t know if Trigon's presence allowed me to act, if it was something you did yourself, or if it was something I have always been capable of and simply refrained from. My glimpses of reality were seldom enough that I relished every moment in the sunlight. Or moonlight when they slept. I felt Trigon’s presence enter your dream. I had the opportunity, so I took it to help.”

“Who was the other person whose dreams you could invade?”

“You make it sound so sinister.” I said, smiling in good humor. My smile quickly faded as I remembered the first person I’d trusted with my power. “She was one of the first to truly hold my coin; the only one to ever bond with me.”

“Bond?”

“I already told you I cannot manifest my power beyond my prison. There is a single exception. If someone who holds my coin willingly allows me to, if someone chooses of their own free will to allow my power to manifest, I am able to use them as a focus for my power. Their body becomes the conduit for my power. I cannot affect the world in any meaningful capacity unless my host chooses to allow it."

“You possessed her.” Raven accused.

“Not in the way you think. I was not fully in control. She was not fully in control. We were partners, one force fighting together. Despite the circumstances, those are my fondest memories of my time in my prison. I experienced the world through her, and helped her fight to save her people.”

“What happened to her?”

I frowned, staring off into space, looking at nothing. “A difference of opinion pulled us apart. That is all I will say on the matter.” I did not want to retell mine and Boudica’s tale while the threat of eternal imprisonment hung over my head.

“How many others have held your coin?”

“Hundreds. I kept to myself after her. Humans used my coin as mundane currency for years, oblivious to what they truly held. I passed through even more hands after I was unearthed from the church’s failed attempt to seal me away.”

“The church?” Raven flinched when I said the words.

“The Church of Christ, not Blood.” I clarified. “They believed me to be a demon possessing the good commonfolk. They were right, of course, but I am not nearly as malicious as they believed.”

“All I have to verify what you’ve said is your word.” Raven said.

“True. It would be foolish to take a demon capable of possessing you at their word. I have not lied. You can verify this by going to where my coin has rested for the last several decades.”

“Where?”

“The British Museum.” I chuckled at the look of surprise that flashed across Raven’s face. “Not nearly as sinister as you were expecting, is it? Like I said, I’ve largely kept to myself. No one in the museum had any reason to suspect my coin was possessed. I’d planned to keep my presence hidden from you as well. The only reason I revealed myself was…”

Raven’s lips curled down ever so slightly. “You forced Trigon out of my dream.”

I nodded. “I know you won’t believe me, but I don’t enjoy watching others suffer, especially if there is something I can do in my very limited power to help.”

Raven went quiet. She looked between my shadow and my coin, an expression of deep thought on her face. Raven finally nodded to herself and looked back up at my shadow. “Okay.”

I raised an eyebrow. “Okay?”

“I’ve decided what is going to happen.” Raven raised a hand. Dark energy swirled to life in her palm. On the ground beneath my coin, a similar shadow spun to life. My coin fell through the floor, swallowed by the shadow.

The metal of the coin was not my skin. I couldn’t feel the space around it like human skin could feel the air. Though that was the case, I held a supernatural awareness of where it was and what was affecting it at all times. When Boudicca cast it into the ocean, I felt the riptide pull it under. I felt the churning waters beating against it. What I felt now was similar, but starkly different.

Light pressure surrounded my coin from all sides. Gravity did not affect it, yet I felt it jostled about by tumultuous power.

“What did you do? Where did you send me?” A faint trace of my shock leaked into my voice.

The corner of Raven’s lip pulled up. “Fate is not the only one who can permanently deal with you.”

Raven let her magic fade and walked forward until she was directly in front of my shadow. She frowned minutely before floating into the air so she could look me in the eye from above. With her shorter stature, it was harder to project menace as I assumed she meant to.

“I don’t trust you, demon. I have too much experience dealing with your kind to fall for simple tricks. But… I don’t think you’re lying either.” she said slowly, as if it went against her every instinct. “Your coin is gone. I sent it somewhere no one will be able to recover it. No one except for me. You planned to keep your shadow with me regardless of what I did, so this shouldn’t alter your plans too much. We’re going to London tomorrow. You’re going to show me exactly where they kept your coin. Then, I am going to track down every facet of your story and trace back every hand you ever touched. If I find one thing I don’t like, I’m going straight to Zatanna and Fate. One of them is bound to know some way to banish your spirit and leave me in peace.”

I looked up at her as she floated above me, expression carefully blank.

This…could be much worse. Granted, this was far from ideal, but it seemed like she was at least willing to hear me out. I truly didn’t expect that.

“Okay. I’ll show you where to go when we get to the museum.”

Raven seemed slightly taken aback, like she’d expected me to protest in some fashion. “Okay.” she said softly.

 

X

 

“Here you go.”

“Thanks.” Raven said with a smile, accepting the ice cream cone from Zatanna.

“The others will be here in a bit.” Zatanna said, sitting down next to Raven on the bench as she licked her ice cream cone. Chocolate fudge. Raven had never tried it. She’d gone with the safe option. Vanilla.

Raven had never been here before. Zatanna was right though. The cliffs overlooking the ocean were very pretty at sunset. Raven was glad she came.

“How are things with Fate?” Raven asked.

Zatanna scowled at her. “Raven, this is our free time. We don't talk about work in our free time. You really need to lighten up.”

Raven smiled softly. “It’s hard to lighten up when every time I…” Raven trailed off with a frown.

“Raven?” Zatanna said, concerned.

“I’m dreaming.” Raven realized, fighting off the spike of dread that threatened to overwhelm her. She was dreaming and Zatanna was with her. What was he planning? What would he do to Zatanna? What would he force Raven to do to Zatanna? She needed to…

Raven’s frantic thoughts came to a screeching halt as the rays of the setting sun caught on a reflective object. Raven squinted her eyes, looking up.

A long, silk smooth silver feather gently danced its way to the ground, swimming through the air as it was buffeted by the wind.

“Raven?” Zatanna repeated, scooting closer to look at her.

Raven’s eyes stayed fixed on the impossibly beautiful feather. The wind picked up, blowing it out towards the ocean. A storm of complicated, conflicting emotions roiled in Raven’s chest.

She waited for the consequence of allowing her emotions free, but nothing happened. No mocking voice. No stab of pain. No heightened desire to destroy, to dominate, to claim. Just…peace.

“Thank you.” Raven whispered. Her voice barely audible over the wind.

“What was that?” Zatanna asked, confused.

Raven shook her head, smiling. “Nothing. Don’t worry about it.”

“If you’re sure.” Zatanna said uncertainly. The stage magician quickly fell back into her rhythm, chatting Raven’s ear off about inane things while Raven sat at her side, slowly eating her ice cream.

If Zatanna saw the single tear that trailed down Raven’s cheek, she didn’t mention it.

Chapter 4: 4

Raven wasn’t sure how to feel. On the one hand, she’d just had the most restful night of sleep in her entire life. On the other hand, she was painfully aware of the fact that her thoughts were now that much more clogged. She had tried for years to free herself of Trigon’s presence. She’d not only failed in that quest, but she’d somehow managed to make her personal situation worse.

“I’ve never been on a plane before.” her conscious’s newest tenant said happily as Raven stepped off the plane. He’d appeared before her leaned against the wall next to a woman in a bright, high visibility vest. “At least, I’ve never been on a plane when I was aware of what was going on. It’s possible I was transported on one at some point.”

“Not now.” Raven said under her breath as she passed the ghost that only she could see. No one else perceived him. The lady in the vest walked right through him without the slightest trace of discomfort.

Ryzoel had kept to himself since Raven had outlined her plan, a fact she was grateful for. She still didn’t know what to do about the demon…angel? She wasn’t sure she believed that last part. Many demons could disguise their appearance and project themselves however they chose.

Raven frowned as Ryzoel appeared in the doorway to the terminal in front of her, coalescing from silver mist like a brilliant cloud. “You don’t have to speak out loud for me to hear you. Just think words you want me to hear and I’ll hear them.”

Raven stopped dead in her tracks. An older man bumped into her from behind, too distracted by his phone to realize she’d stopped moving. Raven mumbled an apology and maneuvered out of his path before he could say anything.

Being unremarkable was a bastion Raven used to fend off the Church’s attempts to find her. That was why she’d done away with the cloak and enchanted costume she wore when she fought. She walked through the airport in black, torn jeans and a black shirt with some band’s name scrawled in erratic letters. Raven had never heard of the band, but the shirt was on sale. Raven wasn’t exactly flush with cash, so she pinched pennies wherever possible.

Raven adjusted the strap of her backpack as she walked briskly towards an open chair in the corner of the terminal. She sat down and looked around, checking for observers and cameras. When she felt she was in the clear, she turned to glare at the demon that coalesced into the seat across from her. “You can read my mind?” she asked, rage and fear simmering up over her defensive walls.

If he could see her thoughts, she was in trouble. During their first confrontation, Raven thought a tirade of questions mentally as she questioned him verbally. The demon hadn’t shown any indication that he heard her.

The demon shrugged nonchalantly. “I can, sure. Does that mean I’m sifting through your head for your deepest darkest secret? No. I respect people’s privacy. It’s also a lot of effort. I’m working with a single spark of tinder when I should have access to a bonfire. I’d rather spend my energy experiencing the world than digging into your personal life.”

Raven might be in trouble.

She thought she was clever when she dropped the demon’s coin into her shadow, the same place she stored her costume and her more important mystical reagents. Ryzoel had seemed genuinely panicked, like he thought she’d permanently gotten rid of him unless she decided to bring him back. That was what Raven had told him, but it was only partially true. She doubted anyone else would be able to retrieve items she carried in her shadow, but if she were to be killed…

It was best not to think about that. For now, she needed to focus on getting to the museum. After that, she needed to meet with an acquaintance. It should have been her first stop really, but she’d lucked out and managed to get a cheap plane ticket to London. Magical teleportation across the ocean was taxing and drained her meager supply of components when there wasn’t an established circle at her destination. Raven didn’t have any friends close enough to London whose teleportation circle she could borrow. She did know that the man she wanted to meet with would have no issue with her stopping by unannounced. It would be relatively simple for her to get back to the U.S.

“How do I get to this museum?” Raven asked quietly, getting her things together as she stood up.

Ryzoel looked up at her with a quirked eyebrow. “You can talk in your head if you don’t want to look like a crazy person.”

Raven narrowed her eyes at him. “How do I get to the museum?” she repeated firmly. Raven wasn’t sure she believed the demon about him only being able to influence her if she chose to let him. On the off chance that he was actually telling the truth, Raven was going to side with caution. She would not choose to let him do anything. Trigon’s persistent attempts to influence her over the years had taught her not to give so much as an inch. Demons would take a mile.

Raven stopped walking, a spike of panic flaring up in her chest that she quickly squashed as she muted her emotions. She’d let Ryzoel and this whole situation unbalance her. Her emotions had run wild. Had Trigon not noticed? It was rare that he missed an opportunity to torment her.

Raven let out a relieved breath when Trigon’s voice didn’t break through to taunt her. One demon in her head at a time was enough.

As she exited the airport, Raven cast a minor charm over herself to obscure her presence and flew up into the air.

“Where is the museum?”

Ryzoel appeared at her side, hands in his pockets as he appeared to stand on nothing. “It’s been a minute since I saw the outside. They did an exhibition thing in a park or something, so once I find that park I’ll be able to get us to the museum. Just fly around a bit to give me a view of the area.”

Streets curved together, cordoning off blocks of buildings and fenced houses below as Raven flew around the city. Ryzoel remained at her side throughout it all. He walked on the air impossibly fast. He lightly jogged. He hopped around. He even moonwalked for a bit.

How did a demon who claimed to be trapped in a coin and unable to view the world know how to moonwalk? His story seemed to gather more holes the longer Raven sent with him. She needed to get done with the museum soon and meet with her contact. This whole trip might have been a ruse of the demon to waste her time while he tried to fully possess her. If she wasn’t in the museum at his exhibit within the hour, she was teleporting to her contact whether she’d seen proof or not. Raven was starting to get concerned.

Raven forced the concern away before Trigon could exploit her momentary weakness to break through her barriers. Again, his voice didn’t breach her defenses. Perhaps he was preoccupied with omni-dimensional demon things today?

“Well, it’s not the park.” Ryzoel said suddenly, drawing Raven’s eyes as he pointed at a building down below. “But that’s the museum itself. See the sign?”

Raven did see the sign; a black backdrop with golden letters that spelled out the name of the museum.

“Good.” Raven started to descend towards the museum, eager to get this over with.

“Hold on.” Ryzoel appeared in front of her, halting her.

Raven’s eyes narrowed. Why was he trying to slow her down? Was this all really just a ruse to–

“Unless you want to buy a ticket and see the whole museum, it’ll be faster to go through a window right next to the display case. Janice always left it open during operating hours. Follow me.” He spun around and floated down to the side of the building.

Raven waited a moment then followed at a cautious distance. If the demon was trying to lure her into an ambush, a public museum was not a very good place to attempt such a thing, but it was a possibility all the same.

As she came around the side of the building, Raven saw Ryzoel standing in the air next to an open window. He hooked a thumb at it, a smirk on his face. “Told you. Ladies first.” He gave an exaggerated bow as he motioned her towards the window.

Raven ignored him, drifting over and slipping through the window, still under the effects of her invisibility charm.

When Raven lifted her head up to take in the museum, she was surprised to see Ryzoel in front of her, staring down at a small glass box in the corner next to the window. The demon had a conflicted expression on his face.

Slowly, Raven drifted up next to him to look over his shoulder. The box contained a dark velvet cloth spread across the bottom. Black foam cutouts rested on the velvet, each with a coin snugly housed in the foam. All save one. In the center, a block of foam larger than all the rest had an indent that seemed hand-crafted to fit the coin that now rested in Raven’s shadow. The edges of the foam were uneven where the lumps in the coin would be. From the shape, Raven guessed the silver side of the coin faced outward instead of the charred back of the coin. It was likely more appealing to guests that way. Beneath the empty cutout, a folded piece of paper had a hand-written note.

‘Former home of a denarian coin dated at least 2000 years old. Please be patient as we work on installing our new exhibit!’

“It’s weird.”

Ryzoel’s sudden speech surprised Raven. She jolted, before furrowing her eyebrows in frustration at letting herself be distracted.

Ryzoel continued, oblivious to Raven’s fuming. “It is sad to admit this, but this place was the closest thing I had to a home. Aside from… Aside from my first partner, I had the most freedom here. I could follow the curators around during the day or just wander the museum and see what new things they brought in. I could see people who came to visit going about their lives. I saw a couple get engaged here. I watched an overconfident kid jump over the railing and break his leg.” Ryzoel smiled slightly. “There was a time where a dog jumped up on the glass in front of my coin and started licking it. Nearly knocked the whole thing over. Dave was incensed when he was cleaning the glass.” The smile faded into a frown. “That was a long time ago. I wonder how Dave’s doing?”

Raven didn’t know what to say. She watched silently from the side.

“It’s weird.” Ryzoel repeated. “I spent so long here. I felt stuck, but I was comfortable. Now…” He shook his head, chuckling to himself as he turned to face Raven. “Now I feel hurt because a museum is replacing me. Almost like I was an exhibit instead of a resident. Crazy, right?” He shook his head. “Sorry. We came here for a reason. Paul kept a record of every time they cleaned the exhibits in the back. Follow me.”

Raven followed silently behind the ghostly specter. He led her into a back room with shelves of ledgers and cleaning supplies. Ryzoel moved through the endless stack of books with familiarity, bringing her to a large book near the back. It held exactly what he said it would.

Ryzoel’s coin was uncovered in an archaeological dig in the early 1940s, then given to the museum after it was studied. As far as the records showed, the coin had been here ever since.

Raven asked questions about his time here. She asked him to show him where the coin was handled and who held it. He showed her the maintenance areas and old records of past employees. Raven’s eyes caught on a man with long dark hair. His name was David Jackson. He retired from the museum twenty years ago.

“Satisfied?” Rysoel asked as Raven closed another book.

Raven didn’t reply. She nodded silently as she reshelved the book.

“What happens now?”

“I need to talk to a contact. I… I am hesitantly accepting of your story. More than I was initially at least.” Raven still wasn’t sure about the whole angel thing, but the demon definitely spent a long time in this museum. She doubted the Church of Blood or anyone else would have gone this far out of their way to create a history for a demon trapped in a coin.

“Zatanna?” Ryzoel asked.

Raven shook her head. “You haven’t met him.”

Ryzoel froze, eyes widening. “Tell me he’s not British.”

Raven raised an eyebrow at him. “Why would you assume he’s British?”

“Oh father, he is, isn’t he?”

The look of pure terror on Ryzoel’s face was so out of place on the aloof demon that a laugh slipped past Raven’s lips before she could stop it. Raven slammed her mouth closed as she violently crushed the bubble of joy in her chest. Raven waited for a breath. When Trigon didn’t come, she allowed herself to relax.

“My contact is not British. He lives in Gotham.” Raven said, emotionless.

Ryzoel’s shock was gone. He watched Raven with a frown on his face. “You can stop doing that.”

“Stop doing what?” Raven asked, heading towards the window.

“Surpressing your emotions. He can’t get to you while I’m here.”

Raven spun around, her hair whipping around in front of her face. “What?”

“It’s not foolproof or anything, but he has to go through me to affect you. He hasn’t found a way past me yet.”

Raven’s mouth felt dry. “You said you can’t do anything unless I choose to let you.”

“I can’t. I’m not doing anything that’s affecting the world or affecting you. When he invaded your dreams the other night, I saw the cracks in your defenses he used to enter your thoughts. All I’ve done is gum those areas up with my shadow to create a seal that he can’t slip past. He’ll probably find some way past it eventually, but I’ll adjust.”

Raven swallowed a lump in her throat. “I didn’t ask you to do that.”

Ryzoel shrugged. “Like I said before, I like to help if I’m able to. There is very little I’m able to do. I can do this, so I’m doing it.”

A sea of conflicting emotions crashed within Raven’s chest. She waited. She waited some more. Trigon didn’t exploit her emotions to attack her. The conflicting emotions only swelled to greater heights at that realization.

Raven spun around to hide her face from the demon. She only realized after she spun around how pointless it was to try to hide her face from a demon who was actively possessing her. Her cheeks warmed with embarrassment. Trigon didn’t use that to attack either.

“I need to speak to my contact.” Raven said quickly. She opened the window and flew outside. The wind batting against her face was a welcome distraction from the turmoil she was experiencing. She’d grown so used to not feeling anything at all. Now that the gates were held open for even a moment, she was overwhelmed.

Raven forced herself to focus. She scanned the tops of the buildings. Looking for a suitable location. It didn’t take her long to find a place that suited her needs.

Raven landed on the roof of a tall building paved with a thin layer of concrete. She knelt down and pulled a dark paintbrush out of her shadow.

“What are you doing?”

Raven looked up to see Ryzoel peering curiously down at her work.

“It’s a…”

“Teleportation circle?” Ryzeol guessed.

“Why did you ask if you knew the answer?”

“I didn’t know the answer when I asked the question.”

Raven rolled her eyes, ignoring the demon.

When the circle was complete, Raven sat cross-legged in its center. She’d wanted to spend more time in London, but it was vital that she speak to someone more knowledgeable than herself about possession. Especially now that Ryzoel was blocking Trigon from influencing her. Raven wasn’t sure if the demon was trying to ingratiate himself to her or if he was genuinely trying to help. That uncertainty scared her. He was a demon. Demons did not help. The fact that she was even considering that he was being genuine meant he might have already negatively influenced her. He might be painting his actions in a better light, messing with Raven’s emotions and logic to justify his continued presence. She needed an expert’s opinion.

The circle beneath Raven glowed with a dark energy as her eyes flared violet. “Azareth. Metrion. Zinthos.” Raven intoned.

The outer lines of the circle created a dark shell that enveloped her body. Her vision was lost to darkness. Moments later, she blinked her eyes at a new sight.

Candlelight illuminated a circular room. Stone walls rose in a dome around her, fixed with intricate carvings of men with mortal weapons clashing with demons. Small candles were set around the perimeter of the room, casting shadows upwards towards the domed ceiling. Raven floated to her feet and walked towards the sturdy oak door, the only exit to this chamber.

“Where are we?” Ryzoel asked. His shadow had appeared at the wall, inspecting one of the carvings. A depiction of a serpent speaking to a nude woman holding an apple.

Raven didn’t answer. The demon would learn soon enough.

The door creaked open. Raven hadn’t been here often, but she was familiar enough to know her way around.

The study was sparse. A pair of bookshelves along the wall. A red cushioned chair and stool next to a tall table holding a wine glass. A gentle fire rested in the hearth before the chair. A man with a streak of white through his dark hair sat in the chair. He set a book aside and stood as he heard the door open. He wore a green sportcoat and matching pants with a black shirt beneath. He smiled when he saw her.

“Raven,” Jason Blood greeted. “It is good to see you again.”