The circus was always alive with sound—roaring applause, the crack of the ringmaster's whip, the soaring melodies of carnival music. It was the only world Dick Grayson had ever known. As the youngest member of the Flying Graysons, he had grown up among the glitter and grit, flying high under the big top and laughing in the glow of campfires. His best friend—and for a fleeting moment, something more—had been her, the girl who could tame lions with a flick of her wrist and a daring grin. Together, they had dreamed of endless summers under the stars.

But dreams shattered the night his parents fell. The trapeze had been their domain, the air their kingdom, until one fatal slip turned it into their grave. Days passed in a haze of grief, the kind of raw pain no fifteen-year-old could comprehend. She had tried to be there, had tried to pull him back into the light with her defiant, unyielding strength, but Dick was already slipping away.

Bruce Wayne came then, like a shadow cutting through the chaos, offering something neither of them could understand—purpose, justice, a way to channel the rage burning inside him. The choice had been made before Dick even realized it. He left the circus behind, left her behind, stepping into a world that promised vengeance over healing.

Now, she remained a part of his past—a tether to a simpler life that felt distant, even though it had been only days. The ache of leaving her lingered, but he buried it deep. There was no place for such ties in the path he had chosen. Nightwing was not born yet, but Robin's flight had already begun. Dick turned into a hero.