Where the Shadows Rest”
Deep beneath Wayne Manor – Secret crypt
It wasn’t on any map. Damian built it himself, years ago — behind a false wall in the caves under the manor, in the cold earth where only he could go.
Peter’s grave.
No marker. Just smooth stone. Clean. Unforgiving.
Damian knelt in front of it, hood pulled low. In his hand was a small carving: a wooden fox, whittled crudely. One of the few things Peter ever made during their stolen childhood moments.
“I forgot how you laughed,” Damian whispered. His voice was steady — too steady. “Until I heard it again. In someone else.”
He placed the fox gently on the grave.
“I told myself I buried you,” he continued. “Not just your body — you. The way you moved. The way you thought. But I see you in Jon. In the way Dick forgives. In the way Alfred hums when he thinks no one hears. You… never really left.”
His hand hovered above the stone. It trembled.
“I still dream of that day. Every time I draw a blade, I see your face. Not angry. Not afraid. Peaceful. Like you knew what you were giving me — and you chose it anyway.”
He clenched his jaw.
“You idiot. You absolute idiot.”
He sat there a while. Saying nothing. Listening to the drip of the cave. The whisper of bats. The sound of his own guilt.
And then — footsteps.