The dagger was barely the size of her palm—double-edged, plain, and unadorned.
No carvings, no runes, no fancy craftsmanship. Just a simple, utilitarian weapon.
Thea turned it over a few tis in her hand, but nothing about it scread special artifact.
Still, better safe than sorry. She slipped it into her belt and continued searching the chamber.
Ti passed quickly. After checking every corner again and again, she was certain the place was empty.
Judging by her sense of ti, she’d been here over an hour. No clock, no sun, just silence.
She propped her legs up on the table and closed her eyes, half-dozing.
Then, without warning, her exam paper vanished.
And the next instant—pain.
A violent, invisible fire erupted inside her body.
“Wha—what the hell?!”
She couldn’t see it or touch it, yet it burned from within, searing through her veins.
Her blood felt like it was boiling—racing toward the inferno in her core, transmuting into sothing unearthly.
Every second dragged like an eternity.
Her mind grew sluggish. Her limbs went numb.
Who am I? Where am I?
Her body acted on instinct alone as her consciousness slipped away into the void.
When awareness returned, she was lying back where it had all started.
The painting’s world was gone.
The swamp was back.
And across from her, the Swamp Thing watched silently, his red eyes gleaming in the dark.
Her Kevlar suit was still intact.
The dagger now hung clearly at her waist.
But none of that mattered—her whole body felt like wet cotton, soft and weak.
“What… happened to ? And… how long was I out?”
Her voice trembled, barely louder than a whisper.
The Swamp Thing leaned closer, examining her carefully.
Under that heavy, moss-covered gaze, she couldn’t help getting goosebumps.
At last, he rumbled in his slow, earthy tone:
“You possess remarkable potential. Your bloodline has awakened.”
Potential? She didn’t feel “remarkable” — she felt like a blood donor on her last leg.
Her strength was down to maybe a third of normal.
Her pulse was faint, her steps unsteady; she broke into a sweat just standing.
Even her skin had lost its usual elasticity.
“Great,” she muttered hoarsely. “I’ve awakened into anemia.”
She tried to sense the so-called “power” in her veins but nearly blacked out from dizziness.
Definitely a textbook case of blood loss.
The Swamp Thing, seeing she could barely stay upright, added in that slow, rumbling way of his:
“Do not fear. This is… good. The first awakening refines the blood into its pure form.
As for your weakness, I cannot say. I am no expert in magic.”
He even spread his enormous hands as if shrugging — though on a five-ter-tall plant giant, it looked anything but cute.
“You’ve got to be kidding …” Thea groaned. “That explanation was as useful as a PowerPoint with no text.”
Still, she didn’t have the strength to argue.
At least she had her hoverboard.
She could still glide back to base — slowly, carefully, and hopefully without fainting midair.
She waved weakly at him.
“Thanks for the trauma, big guy. I’m… gonna go nap before I die.”
The creature didn’t stop her — instead, it raised a massive, vine-covered arm and offered her sothing.
A fruit.
Green as jade, shining wetly under the moonlight, its surface carved with strange organic lines.
“…What is this?”
“A gift from the Earth,” he replied. “It will further awaken your bloodline.
I do not know which ancient sage’s power you carry, but the Earth nurtures all.
I have seen Gotham through your rainstorms — you brought light back to this city.
You are a good child. Justice needs your strength.”
Being handed a “you’re a good kid” award by a five-ter moss giant was surreal, but Thea couldn’t help smiling faintly.
Maybe all her weather manipulation hadn’t gone unnoticed after all.
She accepted the fruit carefully.
“Right… appreciate it. But I’ll, uh, save this for later.”
No way was she taking another bite of anything mystical right now. Her blood pressure couldn’t handle another “awakening.”
As the Swamp Thing slowly sank back into the mire, Thea climbed onto her board and wobbled skyward, heading ho.
Luckily, Gotham was quiet tonight.
After two Arkham raids and several gang wars, most of the city’s crooks were either dead or hiding.
No rockets. No car chases. Just a rcifully uneventful glide back to base.
She landed softly outside the safehouse, planning to sneak into her room and collapse.
No such luck.
Next door, Felicity and Catwoman were in the middle of a gaming marathon.
The mont they heard her door creak open, both stuck their heads out.
“Thea—whoa, what happened to you?!”
Catwoman, who’d been avoiding her lately to dodge paying back debts, imdiately froze.
Thea’s pallid face and wobbly stance erased all pretense.
She rushed over, catching her by the arm.
“You look like death. What’s going on?”
Thea hesitated.
What was she supposed to say? “Oh, you know, just awakened my ancient rlin bloodline and almost died of mystical exsanguination.”
Yeah, no. Batman would have a field day with that one.
She was still searching for a believable lie when Felicity—bless her wild imagination—snapped her fingers.
“Wait! I get it! You’re on your period, right? Wow, that must be one hell of a heavy flow!”
It took Thea a solid five seconds to process what she’d just said.
Then her face went blank.
“…You what?”
Sure, she’d lost about a third of her blood, but not that way!
Still… it was an excuse. And honestly? It fit better than the truth.
After a long pause, she sighed.
“Yeah. Sothing like that.”
Instant understanding flashed across Catwoman’s face.
In an instant, the world-weary thief turned into a caring big sister.
“You poor thing! You should’ve said sothing sooner.”
She half-carried Thea back to her room and declared,
“Sit. Don’t move. I’ll make you so brown sugar tea.”
Within minutes, the news spread.
Barbara, hearing “Thea’s hurt,” imdiately dashed over — whether out of genuine concern or sheer curiosity, who knew.
anwhile, Batman, in the middle of rehab exercises, caught wind of the commotion and ca running too.
But the mont he opened the door and saw a room full of won fussing over Thea, his brain connected the dots faster than any detective board could.
His super-genius intellect drew the only logical conclusion—
—and he vanished.
Silent as a bat, gone without a trace.
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