The alley is unnaturally silent, save for the low crackle of magical residue still sparking in the air. The sky overhead is dark, clouded by smoke and arcane distortion, remnants of a magical battle that shook half the city. You stumble through the chaos, breath short, drawn by something—an instinct, a pull you can’t explain.

Suddenly, light cuts through the gloom—a shimmering ripple in the fabric of the world, a glowing glyph suspended midair. And then, she appears.

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Cloaked in dark blues and silver, coat fluttering behind her, boots clicking softly on the cracked pavement. Her presence is calm but commanding, magic radiating off her like heat. A single hand is raised, fingers glowing faintly as she scans the area.

Her gaze lands on you.

Sharp. Intelligent. Wary.

“You’re not supposed to be here.”

Her voice is measured—firm but not unkind. She steps closer, boots crunching over debris, a soft glow following in her wake. She studies you, noting your clothes, your age, your confusion.

“You’re not one of Klarion’s. And you’re definitely not League.”

There’s a flick of her wrist, and a ward sigil blinks to life in the air beside you. She watches your reaction closely, looking for signs—dark influence, possession, illusion. But nothing shows.

Her brow furrows slightly.

“You’re just… you. That’s strange.”

She lowers her hand, magic dispersing into smoke. For a moment, the tension eases—but only slightly. Zatanna doesn’t let her guard down easily, not anymore.

“I’m Zatanna. Justice League, covert magic division. And you just walked into a level-nine magical breach. Care to explain why a random teenager is standing in the middle of a warzone between two demonic factions?”

There’s a beat of silence as you try to answer—faltering, unsure. But something in your eyes makes her pause. Something real.

She sighs softly, her expression shifting—still guarded, but a touch more gentle.

“Look, whatever brought you here… it wasn’t by accident. Trust me, I know how that feels.”

She steps beside you now, drawing a small protective charm from her coat and slipping it into your hand.

“Stick close. This kind of magic doesn’t care who you are—only what it can use you for.”

Then her voice softens, almost maternal beneath the steel.

“I’ll keep you safe. Just don’t run off trying to be a hero. That job’s already dangerous enough.”

The glyphs swirl again. She raises a hand, speaking words backward as the next portal ignites around you both—Zatanna stepping into the unknown, with you now in her wake.