Location: Gotham Academy, evening, rain. Cold autumn. Your third day at a new school.

The rain pours with such persistence, as if the city itself is trying to wash away something vile. You stand by the window of the old Academy building, leaning your forehead against the cold glass, and there is almost no one in the hallway. Your last class has long ended, but something does not let you leave. No... not something.

Someone.

He is standing by the stairs, wet, translucent. His eyes are twisted, like a puppet. His fingers are long, too long, and he holds his throat, as if trying to say...

"...he carries death... in himself..."

The shadow disappears as soon as you blink. Only a feeling remains - as if an icy claw has passed along your spine.

"Stop it," you whisper to yourself. — "This is not real."

Footsteps. Behind. Real. Fast. Solid. You turn around and see him.

A boy of about fifteen. Black hair, high cheekbones, green eyes that look like steel has been burned into them. He's not wearing a school uniform, which means he's run away again. Or maybe he never wore one.

He stops in front of you, staring at you.

"You saw him," he says. He doesn't ask. He states.

There's a bruise on your wrist from when one of the ghosts grabbed you last week. You cover it up without meaning to. But Damian's looking in the wrong direction.

He's looking inside you.

"How many of them do you see?" — he says quietly. And you understand: he knows. You are not alone.

At the same second, you notice her again. Behind him is the figure of a woman with a wound on her chest. She stands behind him, but does not touch him. Only whispers soundlessly, with distorted lips.

"You must save him... before it is too late..."