Becoming Nightshade

Jason adjusted his backpack and exhaled sharply, bracing himself as he stepped through the front doors of Gotham Prep. The usual chatter of students filled the air, but it all felt like static to him. His mind was elsewhere—on Maggie, on Lillyanna, on Constantine's cryptic plan.

He spotted Emily and Stephanie near the lockers, their animated conversation halting as they noticed him approaching. Emily waved, her cheerful grin faltering when she didn't see Maggie beside him.

"Hey, Jason," Emily said, her tone curious. "Where's Maggie? I thought you two always came in together."

Jason forced a casual shrug, though his grip on his bag tightened. "She's not feeling great today. Decided to stay home and rest."

Stephanie frowned, her concern genuine. "Is she okay? She seemed fine on Saturday."

"Yeah, she's fine," Jason replied quickly, keeping his tone light. "Probably just caught something.

"

Emily nodded, though her brow furrowed slightly. "Tell her we hope she feels better. We were going to finalize plans for homecoming soon."

"Will do," Jason said, already turning away. "Catch you guys later."

As he walked toward his homeroom, Jason let out a slow breath. That part was easy enough. The hard part was going through the rest of the day pretending everything was fine while knowing Maggie's very soul was at war.

Back at Wayne Manor, Constantine had commandeered the study, turning the usually pristine space into a chaotic workshop. Ancient tomes, ritual candles, and an assortment of magical artifacts were strewn across the room. The air was thick with the faint smell of herbs and ozone, the latter a byproduct of the energy Constantine had begun summoning.

Alfred entered the room, his expression a perfect blend of curiosity and disapproval as he took in the mess. "I assume, Mr. Constantine, that all of this is strictly necessary?"

"Absolutely, mate," Constantine replied without looking up from the intricate sigil he was drawing on the floor. "Can't merge two souls without the proper tools. Wouldn't want a botched ritual, would we?"

Alfred raised an eyebrow, crossing his arms. "And if I may ask, what exactly are the risks of this endeavor?"

Constantine paused, glancing up at the butler with a grim expression. "Let's just say it's not a foolproof process. If we don't get this right, we could lose Maggie—or worse."

Alfred's jaw tightened, though his tone remained calm. "Then I trust you'll take every precaution to ensure that doesn't happen."

Constantine smirked faintly. "Of course. I'm not in the habit of letting teenage girls get consumed by ancient entities if I can help it."

Bruce entered the room, his presence commanding as always. He glanced at the sigils and candles, his expression unreadable. "How long until you're ready?"

"Few more hours," Constantine replied, standing and dusting off his hands. "We'll need to do this tonight. Can't give Lillyanna any more time to dig in."

Bruce nodded, his voice low but firm. "What do you need from us?"

Constantine gestured toward the books and artifacts scattered around him. "For now? Stay out of my way. Once the ritual starts, I'll need you and your lot to keep her contained. If Lillyanna senses what we're doing, she'll fight like hell to stop it."

Bruce's eyes narrowed. "And if she overpowers Maggie before you finish?"

Constantine lit a cigarette, his demeanor unflinching. "Then we're in deep trouble. But I'll handle it. You just make sure she doesn't run."

Bruce exchanged a glance with Alfred, his jaw tightening before he turned and left the room. Alfred lingered a moment longer, his gaze steady. "If there's anything I can do—"

"I'll let you know," Constantine said, his tone softer. "But for now, just keep the tea coming. I'm going to need it."

As Alfred left, Constantine exhaled a long plume of smoke, staring down at the sigil. His confident exterior faltered for just a moment as the enormity of what lay ahead sank in.

"Don't screw this up, John," he muttered to himself. "Too many lives are riding on this."

With that, he extinguished his cigarette and returned to work, the flickering candlelight casting long shadows across the room.

By the time the final bell rang, Jason felt like he'd run a marathon. His legs carried him out of the building on autopilot, his bag slung carelessly over one shoulder. The cacophony of students bustling to leave grated on his nerves, every laugh and casual conversation reminding him how far from normal his day had been.

He reached the parking lot and headed straight for his bike, the sleek black machine gleaming under the dim afternoon sun. Swinging his leg over, he shoved his helmet on, the weight of it oddly grounding. For a moment, he sat there, letting the rumble of the engine drown out his thoughts. He needed the noise, the movement—anything to keep from spiraling into the chaos brewing in his mind.

Jason revved the throttle and tore out of the parking lot, weaving through the light afternoon traffic. The familiar rhythm of the ride helped ease some of the tension coiled in his chest, but the knot of worry never fully loosened. His mind replayed the day's events on a loop: the half-hearted lies to Maggie's friends, the strained silence in class, and the way every small reminder of her felt like a punch to the gut.

He didn't slow until he reached the outskirts of Gotham, where the looming silhouette of Wayne Manor came into view. Pulling into the long, winding driveway, Jason parked near the garage and yanked off his helmet, his shoulders slumping with a mix of exhaustion and relief. He'd made it through the day, but the hardest part was yet to come.

As he stepped inside, the heavy quiet of the manor settled around him. The faint scent of herbs and wax wafted from the study, a reminder of the work Constantine was immersed in. Jason dropped his bag by the stairs and hesitated for a moment, his fists clenching and unclenching as he debated whether to head straight to the study.

Eventually, his frustration won out. He strode toward the study, pushing the door open without knocking. The scene inside was even more chaotic than he'd expected books and scrolls piled on every surface, candles flickering around intricate symbols etched onto the floor. Constantine looked up from where he was crouched, a cigarette dangling from his lips.

"Back already?" Constantine asked, his tone casual, though his sharp eyes didn't miss the tension radiating off Jason. "How was school?"

Jason scowled, crossing his arms as he leaned against the doorframe. "Don't ask." His voice was clipped, frustration bleeding into every word. "Is it time yet?"

Constantine smirked faintly, flicking ash from his cigarette into a nearby tray. "Eager, aren't we? Patience, kid. Rushing a job like this is a bloody good way to get everyone killed."

Jason pushed off the doorframe, his eyes narrowing. "Patience isn't exactly my strong suit, old man."

At that, Constantine let out a dry laugh, shaking his head. "Old man? That's rich, coming from the guy who broods like he's been around for centuries."

Jason didn't respond, his jaw tightening as he stared at the floor for a moment before looking back at Constantine. "What can I do to help besides wait?" he asked, his voice steady but laced with frustration. "I mean, this is happening tonight, right?"

Constantine studied him for a moment, the sharp edge of humor fading from his expression. He took a long drag from his cigarette, then exhaled slowly, the smoke curling around him as he spoke. "Yeah, it's happening tonight. But this isn't the kind of fight you can just punch your way through, kid. It's not physical—it's in her head, her soul. That's where the real battle's going to be."

Jason's jaw tightened, his hands clenching at his sides. "So what can I do? Sitting around and waiting isn't exactly my strong suit."

Constantine gave a small, humorless chuckle. "No kidding." He paused, tapping ash from his cigarette, then gestured for Jason to sit down. "But there's something you can do. It's not about sitting this one out—it's about being ready when Maggie needs you."

Jason crossed his arms, leaning against the wall instead. "Ready for what?"

For when she starts to lose herself," Constantine said, his voice steady but laced with gravity. "Tonight, when we do the ritual, Maggie will have to face Lillyanna. It's not just going to be a conversation—it's going to be a fight. And she'll be up against everything Lillyanna's been feeding on—her doubts, her fears, her pain. You can't fight that for her, but you can keep her tethered to who she really is."

Jason frowned, his expression hard. "How?"

Constantine flicked his cigarette into the ashtray and folded his arms, his tone turning quieter but more intense. "Dream walking. You, Bruce, Dick—her family. People she has strong emotional ties to. You'll all be there to help anchor her, to remind her of what's real and what's worth fighting for. But I'll warn you, like I'm warning the others."

Jason straightened, his brows furrowing. "Warn us about what?"

Constantine stepped closer, his sharp gaze locking onto Jason's. "The dreamscape isn't just a stroll down memory lane, kid. It's Maggie's mind, her soul—and yours, and everyone else's who steps in to anchor her. Every fear, every secret, every regret you've ever buried will be laid bare. There's no hiding from it in there."

Jason's jaw tightened, his fists clenching at his sides. "So you're saying we're going to be walking into our own worst nightmares, too?"

Constantine nodded grimly. "Exactly. The dreamscape is shaped by emotions—yours, Maggie's, even Lillyanna's. It's a tangled mess of memories and pain, and it doesn't play fair. Lillyanna will latch onto anything she can use to break you, twist it into something so real it'll make you question why you're even there."

Jason swallowed hard, his voice steady despite the tension in his body. "What happens if one of us cracks?"

Constantine's expression darkened. "If you lose focus, if you give in to what the dreamscape shows you, Lillyanna will sense it. She'll use that weakness to strengthen her hold on Maggie. And worse—she'll use it to turn you into a weapon against her."

Jason froze for a moment, the weight of Constantine's words hitting him like a blow. "So you're saying if one of us slips up, we could hurt Maggie instead of helping her."

"Not could, kid—will," Constantine said sharply. "That's why I'm warning you now. You've got to go in there with your head straight, knowing exactly what you're walking into. Stay focused on Maggie. On helping her. Whatever the dreamscape throws at you, remember that it's not real—it's a trick. A trap."

Jason exhaled slowly, his fists loosening slightly. "And what about Maggie? How do we know she'll be able to handle all of this?"

Constantine's smirk returned, though it lacked its usual humor. "Because she's got something Lillyanna doesn't: you lot. She's not in this alone, Jason. As long as you, Bruce, Dick, and the others are there to anchor her, she's got a fighting chance. But it's not going to be easy—for any of you."

Jason nodded, his resolve hardening. "We won't let her down."

Constantine clapped him on the shoulder, his expression softening slightly. "Good. Just remember, kid—this isn't about taking Lillyanna out or fighting her directly. It's about merging their souls, making them one, with Maggie in control. That's the key. Maggie has to do the fighting, but she needs to know why she's fighting—what she's fighting for. That's where you come in."

Jason's brow furrowed as he absorbed the weight of Constantine's words. "Merging them… You mean she's going to keep Lillyanna inside her?"

Constantine nodded, his gaze steady. "That's right. There's no ripping Lillyanna out cleanly. She's become too deeply entwined with Maggie's soul. The only way forward is integration—accepting Lillyanna as part of her. But it has to be on Maggie's terms, with her in the driver's seat. That's the only way she stays whole."

Jason's fists tightened at his sides. "And what happens if Maggie can't take control? If Lillyanna overpowers her?"

Constantine sighed, his expression darkening. "If that happens… then Lillyanna takes over completely. Maggie will be gone, and Lillyanna will have full control of her body and soul. That's why this fight is so critical, and why she needs you and the others to help her hold her ground."

Jason looked down for a moment, his jaw clenching before he met Constantine's gaze again. "So, what exactly do we do? How do we make sure Maggie's the one in control?"

"You focus," Constantine said, his voice low and firm. "When we're in the dreamscape, you remind her of who she is, what she's fighting for. You don't let Lillyanna's tricks or fears shake you. You stay strong, even when it feels like everything's falling apart. Maggie needs to know she's not alone in this—that she's got people on her side who believe in her."

Jason nodded slowly, determination burning in his eyes. "She does. She's got me."

Constantine smirked faintly, though his eyes held a flicker of something close to respect. "Good. Just hold onto that, kid. Because tonight's going to test all of us. But if Maggie knows she's got you fighting for her, she'll have a hell of an adventage to win."

Jason straightened, his fists unclenching as resolve replaced doubt. "She's not losing this fight. Not while I'm still breathing."

Constantine's smirk widened slightly. "That's the spirit. Now let's get this show on the road."