Malcolm’s face turned several shades darker as he pointed at the spot where the little unicorn had vanished. His voice was low, cautious:
“My bloodline power… isn’t going to summon that thing, is it?”
Thea shook her head.
Getting a definite “no” made him visibly relax. The last thing he wanted was that fluffy, cutesy creature tagging along beside him. That sort of thing suited a teenage girl—not a nearly fifty-year-old man who valued his image. The thought of summoning a unicorn before a fight made his skin crawl. He’d rather keep shooting arrows for the rest of his life than suffer that kind of humiliation.
Thea spread her hands. “You saw it yourself—it’s still a baby. Conservatively, it’ll need two years to reach maturity. Whether it can repair damaged bloodlines… we’ll only know then.”
Baby was right. The thing wasn’t even half-grown. Two years was the best-case scenario—and only if Thea kept “charging” it under sunlight daily. Still, there were other paths to strengthen it: refining her own bloodline, improving her solar absorption, boosting conversion efficiency.
Fortunately, her physiology was now more like Kryptonian than human—no matter how long she baked under the sun, her skin never tanned. As long as she kept at it, progress was guaranteed.
Sunbathing, at least, was convenient. She had access to plenty of private beaches through the Queen Group and the Court of Owls.
Moonlight absorption, though… that one made her scalp ache. Who in their right mind went out to lie under the moon every night? Anyone doing that would look deranged within a week. Just imagining it gave her secondhand embarrassnt.
Leaving all those tedious, ti-consuming “ancestral tracing” chores to Malcolm, Thea humd a tune as she strolled out of rlyn Global. Those tasks would keep him busy for years—maybe decades. With any luck, he wouldn’t have the ti or energy left to blow up another city block out of boredom.
Malcolm, watching her disappear into the elevator, sat motionless for a long while. Destroying the Glades had never been so grand master plan—just the outlet of a man who’d lost purpose and needed sothing to burn.
Now, thanks to Thea, he had a new obsession. And the mont he realized that Ra’s al Ghul had played him for a fool, fury replaced despair.
“Ra’s al Ghul…” he muttered the na, his voice thick with venom. He knew full well that in skill, intellect, and sheer ruthlessness, he was completely outmatched.
But that never stopped him before. He was a lone wolf by nature—he’d bite even a lion if cornered.
rlyn Global had begun as nothing but his personal shipping venture. Now its network spanned two-thirds of the world’s major ports. Warehouses, transport routes, offshore accounts—his information web was every bit as vast as that of any intelligence agency.
Still, tracing a thousand-year-old bloodline across continents? That was a monuntal task. Generations of uncontrolled births, changed surnas, scattered descendants… where would he even start?
He rubbed his temples. Out in the outer office, Tommy still hadn’t returned. Malcolm decided against telling his son about tonight’s revelations. The boy was too soft, too limited—diligent, yes, but not ready. This wasn’t sothing he could handle.
It would have to be done quietly. Personally. With only a few trusted agents.
The sheer scale of it made even his iron will waver for a second. Ten years… could he even finish it in ten?
Maybe not. But Malcolm rlyn had never been one to back down from impossible odds.
⸻
anwhile, Thea was in a completely different mood—humming as she packed her bags. She’d already reported to Moira, though of course she hadn’t said she was going to rescue her brother. Her official excuse: a “trip to Hong Kong.”
In truth, retrieving Oliver—and saving Shado (Yao Fei’s daughter)—wouldn’t be simple. Convincing Oliver alone would be an ordeal; he was too stubborn for his own good, and she couldn’t exactly drop her secret identity just to talk sense into him.
And then there was Slade Wilson—Deathstroke. The man who, in another tiline, had killed her mother.
Even knowing Moira was safe now, Thea couldn’t help but feel a spike of cold anger. Oliver might forgive him. She wouldn’t. She’d inherited her father’s protectiveness; anyone who touched her family didn’t get to walk away. Slade hadn’t crossed that line yet—but if she had her way, he never would. She’d just leave him stranded on that island forever.
There was also another reason for the trip: a certain magical artifact.
In the original tiline, John Constantine would co across it years later, with Oliver’s help—the Orb of Horus, a relic of ancient Egypt. Thea had no idea how an Egyptian artifact ended up in the Pacific, but if Constantine had deed it valuable, then it definitely was.
As for Damien Darhk’s creepy idol that appeared later? Hard pass. A power source that only worked when you had the statue intact was too unreliable. Once Oliver left the island, the thing just sat there gathering dust—she had no interest in touching it.
Thea had also done her howork. The show and records about Lian Yu’s exact location were a ss—so claid it lay in the North China Sea, yet maps placed it east of Japan, almost near Kamchatka. Others swore it was in the South China Sea, along flight paths between Germany and Hong Kong. The data was contradictory beyond belief.
So she’d calculated it herself—cross-referencing the Queen’s Gambit wreck site, historical sea currents, and ocean drift patterns. The result: a rough target zone.
She’d already arranged with the Court of Owls to have a helicopter waiting for her in Hong Kong. Flying modern aircraft wasn’t exactly her specialty, but Batman had given her enough training to handle safe travel.
Moira, by now accustod to her daughter’s constant globe-trotting, barely raised an eyebrow. “If you want to go, go,” she said simply.
So Thea packed her weapons, checked them into cargo under discreet paperwork, and boarded her flight that night.
By dawn, she was in Hong Kong—surrounded by familiar language, familiar faces, and yet… feeling like a stranger among them.
She considered looking for Yao Fei’s other daughter, Yao i, but the Court’s presence here was thin, and her local contacts were unreliable. Best to leave that reunion for later—Shado could handle it when the ti ca.
And sowhere in the city, Thea could sense the faint hum of another power—A.R.G.U.S., perhaps, or the Watchtower network. Either way, she stayed low-profile, drawing no attention.
When night fell, she climbed into the waiting helicopter, started the engine, and took off into the dark.
The endless blue of the South China Sea stretched beneath her like ink.
Destination: Lian Yu — Purgatory Island.
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