The moment his body stabilized after the final digestion, Alex felt a shift. Not around him—but within. A stillness. Then a pull.
He didn't fight it.
His eyes closed.
The next moment, he was no longer in the world of light and stone.
Instead, the Castle received him.
That same starless void, swirling mists, and brass-bone throne stretched before him once more. But this time, it welcomed him differently. The throne didn't radiate silent authority alone—it responded to his presence like a living thing.
He walked forward without hesitation.
Each step echoed with the weight of divinity and madness. The pathways curled around him like shadows under moonlight. He could feel all of them—now sitting in harmony with the others.
He reached the throne and sat.
Immediately, the fog shifted.
Candles dimmed.
An invisible current spread from him—his will, now fully acknowledged by the Castle.
He exhaled.
A silvery thread uncoiled from his palm, as if summoned from his very soul. It swayed gently in the void, waiting.
"Let's find it," he whispered.
His voice didn't echo. It sank—as if consumed by something listening far beneath the floor.
Alex closed his eyes and extended both hands.
From the Fool Pathway came the gift of Divination. But here—within the Castle—it was amplified beyond normal comprehension. What was once a coin, or candle, or ritual circle… became an orchestration of stars and threads. Here, the act of divining became the act of choosing which truth to uncover.
He focused.
> "The group whispered by the Castle."
"The ones who wait beyond the veil."
"The Th⸸ē V⸸id🜂Thro⸸ned."
The moment he concentrated, the throne reacted.
Dozens of glowing strings unraveled from the mist, intertwining with the thread in his hand. Each one was an echo, a trace, a possibility.
But most snapped instantly.
False leads. Dead ends. Illusions.
Only one thread remained—dim, brittle, blood-colored. It pulsed irregularly, as though fighting to stay unseen.
Alex took a breath.
And reached for it.
Pain lanced through his fingers. His veins burned. But he held on.
Images flashed through his mind. Not full visions—just fragments:
A shattered cathedral where reality hung like torn curtains.
A figure without a face, standing beneath a hanging lantern that flickered in reverse.
A symbol burned into a stone floor: an inverted triangle split by a jagged crack.
And one word—no, a sound—barely decipherable, but echoing like a forgotten scream inside his skull.
"H̸͕̚e̷͖̐i̴̪͑v̸̱̋è̴͓r̴̼̕e̵̢͘n̵̬̉."
It was not a name.
It was a direction.
Alex pulled his hand back. Smoke curled from his fingers. They'd blistered slightly—but already began to heal.
He opened his eyes.
The thread was gone.
The candles flared back to life. The throne quieted.
But his purpose had sharpened.
He stood, nodding silently to the Castle. It responded not with noise, but with stillness—as if acknowledging: You are ready.
He reappeared in the real world—back in his sanctum beneath Aeternum.
He didn't stumble or stagger.
He had done this too many times to be rattled by it anymore.
Still, what he felt clinging to the edge of his mind was... wrong. That thread he touched—it wasn't just obscure.
It had been actively hidden.
Whatever this Th⸸ē V⸸id🜂Thro⸸ned was, it didn't want to be found.
But the Castle found it anyway.
And through it, so did he.
Alex walked across the chamber to a glass table. On it sat an ancient map—partly myth, partly custom-built by him—a collection of thin leyline sketches overlaid with zones of mystic distortion.
He lifted a pen and circled three locations.
One was a ruin in northern Scotland.
Another, an abandoned factory in Blüdhaven.
The third, a long-forgotten village outside Keystone City—completely wiped off most databases.
All three bore faint signs of the energy he'd touched.
He tapped his finger twice on the factory location.
"That's the one," he muttered. "It's breathing like something sleeping too shallow."
He returned to his workstation.
Instead of notifying Clark or Bruce, he sat in silence.
He wrote the word again: H̸͕̚e̷͖̐i̴̪͑v̸̱̋è̴͓r̴̼̕e̵̢͘n̵̬̉
Then underlined it twice.
Some part of him knew it wasn't just a place.
It was an invocation.
And invoking it again would bring attention.
He couldn't allow that.
Not yet.
With a snap of his fingers, the security in his sanctum updated. Only he could enter this chamber now. Not even emergency overrides from Aeternum's AI could crack it open.
He sat down.
Alex froze, his hand mid-air above the table.
> Why doesn't this happen more often?
The thought passed through him suddenly. He was a Seer and he also had other pathways that overlap with so shouldn't his inituation be more active, shouldn't it? Alerting him to more than just obvious threats?
He frowned.
Then—blackness.
A flicker.
No warning.
Just... a cut.
Time jumped forward like a skipped frame in a damaged film reel and everything returned back
---------
The abandoned textile mill was dead quiet. Years of disuse had covered its outer structure in rust and rot, but Alex wasn't interested in the surface.
His intuition had led him here, subtle and persistent. Not a voice, not a vision—just a weight behind the ribs. That strange, pressing sensation he'd come to associate with the Fool Pathway when it wanted him to see something others couldn't.
Inside, the smell shifted. Dust, yes—but also something chemical underneath it. Wrong. The air was too sterile for a building that should've been collapsing.
He scanned the floor and found a spot where the dirt had been disturbed. No footprints, but the edges were too clean. Too recent.
A hollow thud answered when he knocked lightly on the concrete. He crouched, tracing a faint seam in the floor. Then he slid a blade beneath it and pried up the hatch, revealing a dark shaft and a ladder descending into shadow.
He didn't hesitate.
The air grew colder as he climbed down. At the bottom, a long corridor stretched outward—walls of reinforced steel and dim emergency lights that buzzed low and steady. The place looked like it belonged to a government black site, not beneath a forgotten factory.
Alex moved forward, every step measured.
Glass chambers lined one side of the hallway. Many were empty, others were not.
One pod held what used to be a person—its flesh warped, limbs stretched unnaturally, tubing grafted into bone. Parts of its body pulsed erratically, as though caught mid-rejection of its own form.
He didn't stop long. There were more.
Twisted animal hybrids. Some fused with wires. Others just… still. All wrong.
His jaw clenched. He wasn't new to horror, but this wasn't mysticism. This was deliberate. Cold science taken too far.
Ahead, a humming control room lit up dimly. He approached the glass and peered inside—dozens of workstations, consoles, data ports still active. Backup power, at least.
He slipped inside and approached a panel. His fingers hovered over the touchpad.
But then—
Clang.
A metallic sound echoed from the stairwell above.
Footsteps.
Multiple. Fast. Coming down.
Alex moved quickly and silently, tucking into the shadows between server racks. He waited, breath controlled, heartbeat calm.
A door hissed open.
Two men entered—white lab coats, one carrying a bag stuffed with storage drives.
"We don't have time," one muttered. "They've breached the top floor."
The other cursed under his breath. "We're supposed to wipe everything—core logs first."
Alex watched them fan out. Fingers tapped fast over consoles. Data transfers began immediately. He kept his body motionless, shifting only his eyes.
The younger one spoke again, panicked. "What about the subject tanks?"
"We can't take them all," the older one growled. "Priority files only. Everything else gets purged."
Suddenly—
A boom echoed from above.
Dust rained down from cracks in the overhead panels.
A fight. Short bursts. Suppressed weapons. No screams—just impact.
Whoever was up there, they weren't here to negotiate.
The younger scientist fumbled a drive.
"Damn it—"
"Skip the peripheral logs. Just get the H-7 trials and the imprint samples. Go."
The name stuck with Alex: H-7 trials. He didn't move.
Then—
A flicker of motion at the top of the ladder.
Someone dropped in.
Boots landed soundlessly.
Compact, black and yellow. Tunic. Mask. Compact build.
Robin.
He didn't come alone.
A shimmer of orange light floated down behind him, landing silently beside the first figure. Glowing green eyes scanned the hallway.
Starfire.
Alex didn't blink. He just watched.
Another presence landed a second later—heavy, metal-plated limbs, glowing tech beneath the skin.
Cyborg.
He recognized them all instantly.
The Teen Titans.
He stayed still, completely veiled by darkness and positioning.
Robin motioned with two fingers. Starfire drifted forward. Cyborg peeled off toward a terminal.
Alex's eyes tracked everything. Silent. Calculating.
So this was the group responsible for the assault.
Not mercenaries. Not government cleanup. A hero team.
That changed everything.
The lab wasn't just suspicious—it was dangerous enough to draw them in, quietly, without oversight.
A quiet hum rose from a nearby console.
Cyborg muttered, "Most of it's gone, but I've got fragments. Genetic editing, failed metas, neural patterning—someone was building weapons here. Organic ones."
Starfire's eyes narrowed. "There are still life signs."
Robin didn't speak. He only moved. Efficient. Focused.
Alex watched the team begin sweeping the room. Still undetected.
His eyes flicked once to the corridor the scientists had fled through.
Then back to the Titans, already dissecting the lab's systems.
And still—his intuition itched.
Not finished yet.
Robin's voice cut through the low hum of machines.
"Starfire, check the east wing. Cyborg, finish pulling the drives. We're short on time."
They moved efficiently. Fast, quiet, precise.
But not quiet enough.
Alex could hear them drawing closer, their footsteps getting louder with each passing second. He stayed low behind the metal consoles, breath measured. No reason to run—he'd already seen too much.
A red light swept across the room—Cyborg's scanner.
"Wait," Cyborg said. "Got something. Heat signature, southeast corner. Someone's down here."
Robin immediately shifted, drawing a baton from his belt. Starfire hovered silently, light crackling across her palms.
Alex stood.
He didn't raise his hands or make a scene—just stepped out of the shadows and let them see him clearly. Calm. Neutral. Watching.
Robin's eyes narrowed. "Identify yourself."
"Just passing through," Alex said evenly. "Didn't expect company."
"Doesn't answer the question." Cyborg's arm folded into a compact cannon.
"I'm not with whoever ran this place. Came to look into it. Like you."
"You expect us to believe that?" Robin's voice was cold, but he didn't attack.
"Doesn't matter what you believe. I didn't touch anything. You can check."
Robin glanced at Cyborg, who gave a small nod. "No tampering on the terminals he's near. Looks clean. He wasn't here for the data."
Starfire slowly floated downward, watching him closely.
"You're not on any registry," Robin said. "Not DEO, not Justice League, not Titans. So why are you here?"
Alex didn't answer immediately. "Someone pointed me toward this place. Seemed like something worth looking into."
Robin tilted his head. "Someone?"
"I don't name sources. Especially not to people who show up armed and suspicious."
Robin didn't flinch. "You're lucky we're not treating you as a hostile."
Alex shrugged slightly. "I'm not the one breaking test tubes and knocking out scientists."
Cyborg let out a short exhale—half a laugh, half irritation.
Starfire finally spoke. Her voice was softer, but serious. "What did you see before we arrived?"
"Things that shouldn't exist," Alex replied. "Mutated organisms. Bio-weapon prototypes. Nothing I'd want above ground."
Robin lowered his baton slightly, but his posture stayed ready. "Then we're on the same side. For now."
Alex raised a brow. "That an invitation?"
"No," Robin said bluntly. "It's a warning. Don't follow us. Don't interfere."
"Wasn't planning to."
Robin paused. "Good. Because if you were—"
"I said I wasn't," Alex interrupted.
For a long second, they stared at each other—neither backing down.
Then Robin nodded. "Starfire, escort him up. If he makes any sudden moves—"
"I won't," Alex cut in again, starting toward the exit. "But you'll want to wipe those drives fast. Some of those files are already flagged to auto-transfer."
Cyborg blinked. "Wait—what?"
Alex was already walking past. "You'll figure it out."
Starfire hovered beside him silently, her eyes never leaving him as she guided him toward the upper level. The sound of Robin and Cyborg speaking behind them faded with distance.
As they reached the stairwell, Alex looked over his shoulder once.
"You all came fast," he said, more to himself than anyone else. "Makes you wonder how many other places like this are still running."
Starfire didn't answer.
But her eyes darkened slightly.
They both kept walking.
The old stairwell creaked under their weight as Alex followed Starfire up toward the ruined mill's upper floor. Faint orange light filtered through cracks in the rotted roof, casting thin shadows that twitched across the dust-covered walls.
Neither of them spoke.
Starfire didn't lower her guard, but she wasn't tense either. She floated just ahead, leading him without ever needing to glance back.
They reached the main floor, where the remnants of a short, brutal fight were still visible.
Broken weapons.
Stunned guards.
Cracked walls from heavy impacts.
Alex stepped around a man slumped against the wall, his uniform half-torn, breathing shallow but alive. Two more were zip-tied near the entrance, groaning quietly.
Robin stood near the center, speaking into a small communicator.
"—no other exits found. Main server purge underway. We'll scrub the place clean before extraction."
Cyborg was across the room, hunched over a portable device connected to a cluster of hard drives. His expression was unreadable.
As Alex stepped out fully into view, Robin ended his call and looked over.
"We've confirmed your claim," Robin said. "Your trail starts outside the property. You entered alone, no surveillance logs beyond that. You didn't trigger any alarms."
"I know how to walk quietly."
"Still doesn't explain why you're here."
Alex paused. "You already know what they were doing in that lab. Maybe you've known for a while. Me? I only got curious a week ago."
"Someone tip you off?"
Alex gave a non-committal shrug. "Does it matter?"
Cyborg looked up. "Depends on who."
Alex didn't answer.
Starfire landed quietly next to Robin, arms crossed. "He saw the tanks. The creatures."
"I saw enough," Alex said. "You're shutting it down. Good. Just don't assume this was the only place."
Robin nodded once. "We don't."
Cyborg unplugged the last drive, his shoulders relaxing slightly. "Got what we needed. The rest's on a countdown."
"How long?" Robin asked.
"Three minutes."
Robin turned back to Alex. "Then this conversation's done. Whatever you're into, keep it out of our way."
"I can say the same."
Robin held his stare for a second, then motioned to Starfire. "Get him clear. Cyborg, wrap up. We're moving."
Starfire didn't argue. She moved beside Alex again and led him through a rusted side door that opened into the woods behind the mill. The early morning light was beginning to peek through the trees.
Alex stopped just past the clearing, turning to face her.
"You didn't ask anything."
She looked at him, expression unreadable. "Robin doesn't like risks. He saw you as one."
"And you?"
"I saw someone who didn't panic."
"That's not the same as trust."
"No," she said. "It's not."
A short silence passed. The cool air was still. Birds chirped faintly in the distance.
Starfire tilted her head slightly. "What will you do next?"
"Think," Alex said. "Whoever ran that lab left in a hurry. They'll resurface."
"If they do, we'll find them."
Alex didn't argue. "I'm sure you will."
She didn't press further. Instead, she offered a simple nod before lifting into the air without a word and flying back toward the building.
Alex stood alone in the clearing for another minute, replaying the last hour in his mind.
He pulled a small tablet from his jacket and began reviewing the internal sensor logs he'd taken before the fight broke out. Visual captures, bio-readings, partial equipment tags.
It wasn't much.
But it was enough to follow.
He walked down the dirt path leading back to the main road, boots crunching lightly against the loose gravel. A train passed in the distance—loud, steady, mundane. Everything above ground seemed normal again.
That didn't mean it was.
Alex reached a small parked car he'd left two roads over—no plates, unmarked, forgettable. He got in and pulled away without fanfare.
He didn't know where the next site was beside the main ones.
But the notes on the storage tanks had identifiers—batch numbers, cross-referenced labels that hinted at logistics routes and supply chains. It wouldn't take long to start tracing them.
A few intersections. A few favors.
He didn't need much.
Back at the mill, the remaining data was now in Titan hands. He doubted they'd share any of it. Not with someone like him.
That was fine.
He wasn't after recognition. He wasn't after revenge.
Just information.
And something about that lab hadn't sat right.
It wasn't just the experiments. It was how everything had been abandoned mid-run, protocols half-executed, files left transferring. Even the guards didn't seem trained to defend—just to delay.
As if they'd known this was a losing battle.
As if the real operation had already moved on.
Alex drove deeper into the city, the trees thinning into old roads and cracked concrete. A warehouse district loomed ahead.
He didn't slow down.
Not yet.
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