I'm Batman I Live In The Shadows นิยาย & เรื่องราว

I heave a deep breath and walk past the open door, past the short hallway and into the living room. The curtains haven't been open yet so the room is cast in shadows. My fingers tighten over the bat as I lift it slowly above my head. "Who's there?" I try to sound brave but even I can hear the tremor in my voice. "Show yourself whoever you are." I sense movements behind me and I turn around quickly, my eyes wide with terror. "Nice little weapon you've got there. How many people do you think you can kill with that thing?" I freeze. That voice. I can recognize that lazy American drawl anywhere.

It was quiet for a few minutes and he finally said, “Tilly and I have absolutely no secrets. People like you and me … we can’t be with just anyone. It’s either one night stands, fake short term relationships or nothing. You don’t just find a Tilly on every corner. A woman that will accept you, that if you are totally honest with her … won’t be afraid of you. I never had someone to … to help me. To direct me, and it damn near killed me. I wouldn’t wish it on anyone. I call it my dark shadow … it’s a part of me, but it’s a part of me I can mostly keep hidden, that I can control.

Shadows began appearing along the horizon, and the whispers increased. The smell of fresh flowers but none within sight, only grass. I followed the smell to an old oak tree. The bark was tough and rough as I held my hand against the trunk. It creaked and groaned as a door appeared in front of me in the trunk. Stepping through brought me home. But it didn't feel like home. It was cold, empty, with grayness overcast through it. Breath was visible in front of me as I took deep breaths. All light and love had sucked out of it. This time I heard his voice. Damian!

“They won’t wait passively.” As if on cue, her phone buzzed again. Unknown number. She answered. A male voice spoke quietly. “You’ve made yourself visible.” “Who is this?” “Someone who prefers discretion.” “Another of the Twelve?” A pause. “Careful,” the voice said. “Not all of us approved of that night.” Fracture confirmed. “Then help dismantle it,” she said. The line disconnected. She looked at Alexander. “They’re splitting.” He nodded slowly. “For fifteen years they operated in shadow,” he said. “Now they’re afraid of light.”

“Who are you? Why are you doing this?” The figure laughed, a hollow, metallic sound that echoed through the room. “Control. Observation. Experimentation. Humanity has potential, but chaos is necessary to understand it. The shadows… they are the perfect tool.” Nolan’s eyes narrowed. “You’re playing with lives—innocent people!” The figure’s hand waved over the console. The shadows outside surged, hundreds moving with terrifying precision. “And yet, here you are. Chosen ones. Survivors. You’ve learned to fight them, but can you destroy them?”

As the sun began to set, casting a warm golden hue over campus, Charlie, Maya, Ethan, and Liam gathered in their secret hiding place, the old abandoned hedge garden behind the science building. The air was thick with anticipation; they had been waiting for this moment for weeks. The four friends had been diligently gathering information about the plot against the werewolf king, and now they were ready to share their findings with Jessica.

“Your control over the external currents of the Shadow is almost beautiful to witness.” “You tricked me,” I snarl, the betrayal tasting like ash in my mouth. “You lied about everything! You used me! Used me to hurt hundreds of innocent people!” He gives a light, dismissive shrug, entirely unconcerned by my moral outrage. “I am, officially, the designated villain of this story, my dear. What, truly, did you expect? Tea and earnest honesty?” Shadows instantly leap from behind him, aggressive tendrils grabbing every single limb of my body, twisting tight. They burn cold and hot simultaneously, and for one agonizing second, I feel them attempting to anchor themselves back inside my very chest, s

He may have ordered the ropes removed from my wrists, but the heavily armed guards stationed right outside my door haven't moved an inch. Before I can fully process my surroundings, I find myself standing inside the attached bathroom. While the older woman, whose name I still don't even know, busies herself with adjusting the temperature of the bathwater, I step closer to the mirror and force myself to look at my reflection. The sight is horrifying. My hair is a chaotic, tangled nest, completely dry and devoid of life. My complexion is terrifyingly pale, cast in a ghostly, sickly tint, underscored by deep, dark purple hollows beneath my eyes. My lips are severely chapped, the dry skin peelin