the black raven | 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐁𝐔𝐑𝐍

□ mara □

I know they're here. I see them, smell them, sense them. But I don't care. I feel my muscles burning as I move through the... house.

A structure is now what it is, but only just.

The lawn is burning charcoal in some places, the house is in sharp pieces scattered across the said lawn with just some planks still standing, and I can barely see anything in the dim light of the moon.

But I sense them.

The bodies, I know they're here.

Whether they're alive or not, I don't know. I don't want to know, and I just can't know if it's...

I can't lose another brother.

I can't.

"Mara! Wait!"

I keep moving, stumbling, twitching, and turning. I can't stop. The ground is charred beneath my feet, as it crunches and starts to send more heat through my shoes.

My breathing becomes labored the closer I get to the house, which is partly because of the smoke and my anxiety spiking through my body like a pufferfish, but also because I feel more and more trapped inside the stench of death.

Death of not a bachelor, but hey, the death of a family member.

I can't take that.

I can barely keep my act up by myself without getting killed - all of which is my fault by the way - but then again, it was partly Jason's fault that he didn't listen either.

I swallow now, trying to lessen the overwhelming presence of the Wayne family friend (death), and I keep spinning around, smelling the heat burn the inside of my nose, wavering into my throat.

"Mara! Come back here!"

I take one step backward, suddenly a pain shoots into my foot. From my heel to my leg, my knees give out, and I slam too quickly onto the hot ground below me, feeling its still-fresh ash burn against my clothes.

But I can barely notice it, not when I'm on my knees, staring directly at something familiar.

It's Alfred's hand, of which I place my own over, fiddling with the wrist. I try to find a pulse, but I can't find any; whether I'm feeling in the wrong spot or he doesn't have a pulse I don't know.

I drop it quickly.

My eyes burn, the heat from the explosions still encapsulating me in its deadly warmth, and I let the tears fall once again. It's not of loss or melancholy I know that; it's of anger.

At my father, who is the root of it all.

Then myself, the trunk of the tree.

Lastly, whoever did this are the branches.

And the branches have left and the leaves can fall, crumble, crack, and freeze.

Which means I can stomp them, rake them, burn them out.

NOT NOW NOT NOW-- SHUT IT AWAY

I shut my eyes tightly, trying to keep the heat away from my eye sockets, as well as the ash, dust, and falling debris.

I let out a small huff of tears, sniffling once, then opening my eyes again.

I blink a couple of times and squint, going to reach for Alfred's hand once more. I could at least give him the decency of-

A gasp from behind and something squeezing the life out of my left wrist sends my nerves to the max. I rip my hand away, quickly turning on my knees to face whatever grabbed me. For some reason, I don't gasp or make a sound, but that isn't where my focus is.

My eyesight blurry as my eyes dance frantically for a moment until I see it- or see him.

Damian.

He's propped up against his right elbow, his left hand gripped my wrist just moments before.

I can barely see it's him with all the dirt, debris, and what I assume to be blood-stained on his face.

"Mara?" His voice is hoarse, but I don't waste any time. I scramble over to him on my knees, taking his smaller than usual form in my arms. I grab him under his armpits, pulling him up against me.

To my surprise, he doesn't resist at all.

"Mara we said- !"

"Damian!"

It's all I can muster, and it's barely even a shout, but they seem to hear it, as I suddenly see my elder brother's forms pop up through the dark, stuffy smoke.

Quickly they become clear, or as clear as possible with all of the dark smoke, as I shake my brother. I can't

I need to find out who did this. I need to know the why, how--

What if it was him? Bruce said he didn't catch him... he wouldn't count for Damian and Alfred to be up here would he? I mean, for fuck's sake he just wants me.

"Mara-- Damian!" Dick yells, skidding on his knees after bolting to us. Tim isn't far behind, except he starts digging Alfred up almost immediately, which I have to look away from.

Dick starts removing the pieces of the house that cover Damian's lower half as I crouch, pulling him backward, away from the probable crushing weights of it.

It works on the first attempt, thank God. Then, after a couple of moans of pain from Damian, Dick quickly grabs his legs while I hold his arms, and we slide together, carrying him bridal style away from the broken house.

That's something we're never going to get back.

This house.

The Manor.

It's burnt, broken, bruised, and scarred.

I don't want to go back.

Dick starts to shift beside me, and we lower Damian down onto the prickly, stiff grass below us, but it's better than where he was before.

Dick stays crouching over him and tries to give him a small smile, even with the warning, "okay, Damian, we're gonna go get Alfred. Stay here and don't move!"

Damian barely nods, and it makes me scrunch my nose, eyes suddenly feeling puffy again, my throat wanting to close up.

Damian never does what you say, and yet here he is, doing exactly what Dick said.

It's terrifying and almost torturous for me to see him like this.

But Alfred needs help. I blink, taking in Damian's form for a moment, and then turn, bolting off to find Dick.

It's not that hard to, but it seems like my sprints are slower than before, even though I'm running as fast as I can.

My heartbeat pounds in my chest, my throat suddenly gets all the air sucked out of it, and my fingers start to tremble.

The second I get to Dick, Tim, and Alfred, I have a terrible feeling. Tim sits on his knees to Alfred's right, Dick doing the same on his left.

"Is- ?"

"We don't know, but we can't lift the beam. It's too heavy, even for the two of us!" Tim panics, and I just nod, not really understanding what he said. Either way, it's almost an automatic response from me.

"Then let's move the beam," my voice cracks as I say it but I don't care. Both brothers look at me.

Tim's got a desperate expression planted on his face, while Dick just looks at me with his eyes.

It's all dark and melancholy in his eyes, places, and memories of abuse and neglect shining through.

Bruce wouldn't neglect his first son, or abuse his second-- or any of us, right?

.... right?

Now is not the time for that.

Now I have to focus on Alfred, and getting this bloody beam off of him.

But I can't do it alone, neither can Dick or Tim, or even Damian at full health.

So we do this together, like siblings.

Not a family.

This family burned down with this fucking house, and whoever's left standing here is what's left.

We are the new family for one another who has to care, protect, and love one another hell or high water.

Funny, don't you think? I think it's hilarious. Honestly, my mother has more loyalty than this, which is just fucking sad.

Funny, how Bruce isn't here.

AUTHORS NOTE - oh my lord and heaven. hi, it's been a while, and i'm SO SORRY. school just sUcKs and it sorta hates me. i guess waking up early before my alarm at 5:45 gets me to the point of writing and giving you an unedited, short, and kinda crappy chapter (with no gif today yall, i just wanted to get this published) of this story and i'm truly sorry in advance; i just felt bad about not updating in like 3 weeks.

but anyways, here it is, at the lovely hour of 6 something in the morning, and thank you all for sticking with me for so long, loves ya <3