THE DEATH KNELL

The scent of matcha lingered in the cold air, mingling with the crisp bite of the mountain wind. Beyond the open balcony, the peaks of Nanda Parbat stood in frozen silence, their snow-capped ridges bathed in the dim glow of a sky locked in eternal twilight. The fortress, ancient and unyielding, rested upon the mountainside like a ghostly specter, untouched by time.

Inside the hall, a fire crackled in the hearth, its flames casting long, restless shadows along the stone walls—shadows that stretched and twisted like forgotten spirits of assassins long dead.

Ra's al Ghul sat upon a futon, his form motionless, regal in its stillness. Across from him, his daughter stirred her tea, the delicate motion of her hand betraying the absence in her gaze. She was here in body, but her mind had drifted far beyond these walls, lost in thoughts she dared not speak aloud.

His voice, calm and deliberate, cut through the silence like a blade.

"Talia, my daughter."

The soft chime of porcelain against wood filled the space as she set her bowl down. She blinked, returning to the present, and met her father's gaze with carefully concealed wariness.

"Huh? What's the matter, Father?"

Outside, the wind howled through the fortress corridors, stealing what little warmth remained in her tea. If left untouched, it would soon cool past the point of enjoyment.

Ra's observed her with the patience of a man who had mastered the art of waiting. His eyes, sharp as a falcon's, flickered toward the distant mountains. "What are you thinking?"

A simple question, but one layered with unspoken expectations.

Talia hesitated, her fingers tightening around the bowl as if the warmth of the tea could shield her from his scrutiny. "Nothing… I was just distracted. The weather has been colder than usual."

A lie. A weak one.

Ra's inhaled slowly, the sound barely audible, but the flicker of amusement in his eyes told her he was not deceived.

"I told you before, Gotham must be destroyed," he said, his voice as steady as the stone walls around them. "Its very existence is a stain upon this world."

Talia lowered her head, adding a small stream of hot water to her bowl before placing the kettle back over the fire. "Yes, Father."

She knew better than to argue. Her father valued obedience above all else, and her survival—her place within the League—had always depended on it.

She had lost her mother long ago, and with that loss, she had been left with only one absolute truth: she had her father, and she could only have her father. Even with the Lazarus Pit at his disposal, Ra's had never once attempted to resurrect his wife. Even if she had been his wife.

His plans, his ambitions, consumed him.

"When Bane finds what I seek, we will act." He sipped his tea, his movements graceful, calculated. "Gotham has swallowed too many of the League's warriors. It will pay the price."

His tone was not one of vengeance, but of quiet, inevitable justice. To Ra's, Gotham's destruction was not a battle—it was a correction. A simple wiping away of rot from an otherwise pristine world.

Even if Gotham were empty, he would still see it reduced to dust.

Talia pressed her lips together. "Yes, Father."

She had tried to prevent this. She had hoped—desperately—that the rumors were wrong. That Batwoman had not truly disappeared.

But the evidence was damning.

Two nights ago, one of the League's assassins stationed in Gotham had vanished. This morning, another had been found dead, her body discarded in an alleyway, her blood washed away by the rain.

The League had its rules. Lesser assassins were not granted access to the Lazarus Pit. If they died, they stayed dead.

And when one of their own fell, the League always answered.

Talia had known, then, that she could not hide the truth any longer. She had delivered the news to her father, and though his expression had remained impassive, she had seen the fire rekindle in his gaze.

Now, he had set his sights on Gotham once more. And to that end, he had called for the one man who knew its streets better than any other.

Bane.

---

Elsewhere – Gotham City

Once, Bane had walked among the League of Assassins. A warrior—disciplined, merciless—until he defied Ra's al Ghul and was cast out.

For years, he had disappeared, lost to the world.

And then, he had returned.

Stronger. Changed.

Now, he wore a mask that hissed with every breath. A venom injector fused to his spine. The Titan formula ran through his veins, turning him into something more than human. His strength had doubled. His endurance surpassed even the best of Ra's warriors.

But there was a cost.

Titan venom eroded the mind, ravaged the body. It turned men into monsters, consumed them from within.

Yet, against all odds, Bane alone had survived it.

Ra's had seen men reduced to husks, thrown away like broken weapons. But Bane had not been discarded. He had been reforged.

And now, Ra's would not let that strength go to waste.

Years ago, he had sent Talia to recruit Bane for a mission in Gotham.

At the time, Bane had no love for the League, but he had always respected Talia. And when she had asked, he had agreed without hesitation.

That was the mission where he had broken Batwoman.

With a single, merciless move, he had shattered her spine and cast her into a pit—not unlike the one he had once suffered in. He had left her there, broken and helpless, to watch Gotham's downfall.

But Batwoman had not died.

Lady Shiva—once her enemy, now her unlikely savior—had found her. Had rebuilt her. Had forged her into something new.

When Batwoman returned, she had faced Talia in battle. And won.

She had learned Bane's weakness—the tubes that delivered his venom. One strike had severed the flow. Without it, his strength had crumbled, and he had fallen.

She had dragged him to Blackgate Prison, sealing him away behind walls meant to hold monsters.

For years, he had remained there.

Until a few nights ago.

Somehow, Titan materials had found their way into his hands. He had rebuilt his venom supply.

And then he had vanished.

Now, Ra's had summoned him once again.

The League had a mission. A purpose. Something only Ra's and Bane understood.

Even Talia was left in the dark.

But she knew one thing—whatever they sought, it would not bring peace.

Her heart wavered. Batwoman had once been an enemy. But she had also been a friend.

The League was her family.

She could not have both.

And she feared Gotham's doom was already sealed.

With Batwoman missing, there was no way to warn her.

Ra's knew this.

That was why he remained so calm. That was why he drank tea with his daughter as though nothing had changed.

He even led her outside to enjoy the snowfall, as if this were just another quiet evening.

"Talia, is my tea ready?" His fingers brushed his beard, his tone amused. "I'd hate to wait until Gotham is gone before I can taste it."

Talia forced a smile. "Of course not, Father."

She set the tray before him.

Ra's lifted the tea to his lips, savoring the taste.

"Excellent. Your skills have improved."

She bowed low. "Thank you, Father."

For years, she had fought against this fate.

Now, it felt inevitable.

Ra's al Ghul laughed, the sound reverberating through the halls, as though the mountains themselves echoed his victory.

But then—

A voice.

Soft. Cold. Sharp as a blade.

"I wouldn't be so sure about that."

Ra's tensed. "Who?!"

A figure emerged from the shadows.

Black cape. Black uniform. Black mask.

A golden emblem gleaming at her throat.

She met his gaze, her blue eyes glacial.

Ra's drew his sword. "How did you find this place?"

Batwoman twirled two batarangs between her fingers.

Smoke erupted.

And in the darkness, her voice rang clear.

"Because… I'm Batwoman."