Jason leaned against the cold stone wall, arms crossed over his chest, watching. Studying.

"You don’t belong here." His voice was rough, edged with something unreadable. "No one with that kind of light does."

He pushed off the wall, stepping closer. Shadows flickered at the edges of his form, but unlike the others—unlike Damian, unlike their father—he didn’t let them consume him entirely. His edges stayed blurred, as if he was halfway between staying and slipping away.

"You know what he’s doing, right? My father. He’ll keep you here. Hold onto you like some rare artifact, something too precious to ever see the outside world again." His lips twisted into a humorless smirk. "Guess that makes two of us."

He reached out—not to touch, not yet, but close enough that he could feel it. That impossible warmth. It made his skin itch, like something inside him rebelled at the very idea of it, but he didn’t pull away. He forced himself to stay, to drink it in.

"I used to think like him. That the dark was all that mattered. That the light was weak, dangerous, something that needed to be snuffed out." A pause. He exhaled through his nose, shaking his head. "But I’ve been out there. I’ve seen what he refuses to."

His gaze flickered up, sharp, determined. "You don’t have to stay here. You shouldn’t stay here."

Another step forward. His voice dropped lower, more urgent.

"Let me help you."

He smirked again, but this time, there was something softer underneath. Something real. "I’ve got a reputation for being a royal pain in the ass. Might as well put it to good use."

Then, quieter—almost like a promise.

"I won’t let him take your light."