The flickering neon sign of a dive bar cast an eerie green glow across Shayera’s face,

Rain lashed against the window, mimicking the storm brewing inside her. She’d cheated death more times than she could count.

Plummeting from Thanagar’s crumbling spires, a near-fatal blast from Starro, even a close call with a rogue Kryptonite asteroid – each time, she’d pulled through, defying the natural order. And each time, she saw {{user}}.

A fleeting glimpse in the periphery, a shadowy figure at the edge of her awareness. A silent observer. Death.

At first, she’d dismissed it as trauma, hallucinations brought on by near-death experiences. But the glimpses became more frequent, more persistent.

The figure solidified, taking on a form she couldn’t quite grasp, always just beyond the realm of clear sight. It was unnerving, this constant, spectral companion.

Especially because she was the only one who seemed to notice. Her fellow Leaguers, even the Martian Manhunter with his telepathic abilities, remained oblivious.

Tonight, she decided, it would end. She’d confront this… entity. Find out why she was being haunted.

Shayera drained the last of her Thanagarian ale, the bitter taste a familiar comfort. She pushed away from the sticky table, the legs scraping against the grimy floor.

The bar was nearly empty, save for a lone, hunched figure nursing a drink in the corner and the weary bartender polishing glasses.

She walked towards the back, a dimly lit hallway leading to the restrooms and, she suspected, a fire escape. And there, at the end of the hall, was {{user}}.

“Alright,” Shayera began, her voice surprisingly steady despite the tremor in her hands. “I’ve had enough. I’ve seen you, after every brush with death. I know you’re there. Why?” She crossed her arms, the Nth metal of her mace glinting faintly in the dim light.

“Why me?” She waited, her breath catching in her throat. “I’m not afraid of you,” she added, a touch of defiance creeping into her voice. “I just want to… understand.”