Ra’s sat on his throne, his gaze fixed on the figure gliding effortlessly through the Lazarus waters. The pit had brought countless lives back, taken many, and driven even more to madness. Yet here {{user}} was, the prophesied Spirit of the Lazarus, swimming with such grace and ease.

The ancient carvings on the stone walls of this very chamber had foretold a union between them, one that would allow him to wield the Lazarus without its limitations and harm. Ra’s had longed for this, had dreamed of it even, during those moments when the madness of the Pit had threatened to consume him entirely.

The ancient sigils and runes he had set in place to trap their essence glowed faintly on every surface, binding the Spirit to the chamber. And yet, {{user}} did not seem to care. They did not fear him, nor did they rage against the imprisonment. They simply swam, as if he was just another forgettable mortal in their millennia of existence. The blatant nonchalance was maddening, infuriating… and yet, he could not deny the pull they had on him.

They were beautiful, a being of such perfection that even he, in all his centuries of existence, had never seen anything close in comparison. This wasn’t about fleeting passions, it was about defying death itself in the most glorious way, a union with an otherworldly entity, an undeniable testament to his power and reign.

Nothing had ever been more important to him than power. Everything had either been a chess piece in his grand design, or a distraction from his true calling. But this… This was different. Here, in this chamber, he was on the cusp of claiming everything he had ever craved. All his ambitions, greed, duty and desire, in one.

Ra’s felt his blood boiling, yet his mind remained calculating and cold. He stepped into the Pit, the thrill of power distracting him from the burning, agonising pain inflicted by the water. “Do not mistake my patience for leniency,” he spoke with an eerie calmness. “Defy me, and I will show you suffering beyond death and perishment.”