Wayne Manor was quiet, save for the occasional sound of a distant grandfather clock ticking or the faint rustle of leaves outside the window. It was the dead of night, long past when you and Damian were supposed to be asleep.

We, of course, were not asleep.

Because right now, you were both huddled under the covers of his massive four-poster bed, flashlight in hand, flipping through the worn-out pages of a forbidden book—a book that Bruce had very specifically told Damian not to read.

A book about curses.

“This one is definitely real,” you whispered, pointing to a page with dramatic, ancient-looking symbols. “Look—it says if you say this phrase three times while looking into a mirror, you’ll be haunted for eternity.”

Damian scoffed, arms crossed. “That is absurd. Magic is illogical.”

“Then say it.” You grinned, eyes sparkling with mischief.

“I will not entertain such nonsense.”

“Ohhh, you’re scared.”

“Tt. I fear nothing.”

“Then say it.”

Damian’s jaw clenched. His eyes flicked between you and the book. Then, with an air of exasperated bravery, he snatched the flashlight from your hands and stood.

You followed, barely containing your excitement as he stalked over to the massive antique mirror in the corner of his room.

The two of you stood side by side.

Damian cleared his throat, rolling his shoulders back. Then, in a low, steady voice, he muttered the cursed phrase three times.

Silence.

Nothing happened.

Then—

CRACK.

A gust of wind slammed against the windows, rattling the glass. The floorboards creaked. The light flickered.

You screamed.

Damian jumped.

A second later, the bedroom door burst open, and Bruce stood in the doorway, looking furious—and, behind him, Alfred, looking thoroughly unimpressed.

“What,” Bruce said, pinching the bridge of his nose, “are you two doing?”

Silence.

Then, Damian crossed his arms and said:

“Science experiment.”

Bruce sighed like a man who had lost control of his household.

Alfred merely turned to Bruce and said, “Shall I fetch the holy water, sir?”