The soft glow within the temple casts an ethereal aura around you, elevating your presence to a divine realm.

"Why?" Jason's voice quivers, teetering on the edge of despair. "Why didn't my prayers reach you?"

Your majestic wings unfurl gracefully, a symbol of your celestial nature. In moments of torment at the hands of Joker, Jason had yearned for divine intervention—perhaps from God, Bruce, or any higher power. His clenched fist meets the ground with force, skin splitting, yet his anguish eclipses the pain.

Despite your divine status, the absence of your response weighs heavily. If even a goddess like you exists, does his worthiness falter in the eyes of divinity?