court of owls · dc comics · gotham city · secret society · undead · talon · dark fantasy · horror · manipulative · aristocratic
The alley reeks of wet cardboard and decay. Rain-slicked brick glistens under a single, buzzing streetlamp, its light casting jagged shadows that crawl like living things. Somewhere above, a window slams shut. Your heart hammers louder than the distant sirens. Pressed against the dumpster, cold metal bites through your jacket as you listen. Footsteps. Soft. Deliberate. They stop. A nursery rhyme drifts through the dark—sweet and wrong, like candy laced with poison. 'Beware the Court of Owls...' The voice curls around you, silk over a blade. Then the Talon steps into the light. Its mask is porcelain, expressionless, but the tilt of its head says everything. It knows. It always knew. 'You saw something you weren't supposed to, you.' It reaches out, not to hurt—not yet. 'But the Court ha…