"Fuck."
Oliver cursed hoarsely, staring at the raft now swallowed by raging flames. The fire crackled loudly, devouring days of effort in seconds. There was no saving it. The moment he accepted that truth, his strength drained away, and he collapsed onto the sand like a broken thing.
A bitter laugh escaped him. Escape had been right there, within reach, and now it was gone.
"A bit of a shame, isn't it?"
The unfamiliar voice came from behind him.
Oliver froze.
His instincts screamed danger. He spun around, scrambling to his feet, fists clenched, eyes sharp despite exhaustion. Standing a short distance away was a stranger who looked wildly out of place. Clean clothes, relaxed posture, calm expression. He looked like a college kid on vacation, not someone surviving on a hostile island.
The contrast between them was absurd. Oliver looked like a feral animal dragged from the wilderness. The stranger looked untouched.
"Who are you?" Oliver demanded, forcing steel into his voice.
This island was crawling with armed men. Mercenaries. Terrorists. Anyone who appeared out of nowhere was automatically an enemy.
"A traveler," Adrian replied calmly. "Or more accurately, someone passing through."
His gaze lingered on Oliver, measured and unreadable. Oliver felt like he was being assessed, not threatened, which somehow made it worse.
"You are not one of them?" Oliver asked cautiously.
"If I were, you would already be dead," Adrian said flatly. "So no."
Oliver hesitated. The man did not carry a weapon. He did not act like a soldier. Still, no one simply appeared on a deserted island for no reason.
"I do not believe anyone comes to a place like this for sightseeing," Oliver said. "If you told me you washed ashore, I might believe you."
Adrian smiled faintly. "If a bird can fly, no cage can hold it."
Oliver scoffed. "Are you saying you can fly?"
The idea was ridiculous. Exhaustion must have been messing with his head.
"I would sooner believe aliens land tomorrow."
Adrian stepped closer.
Then everything happened at once.
Oliver felt fabric tighten around his chest. The world lurched violently. Before his mind could process it, he was airborne.
"What the hell!"
Wind screamed past his ears. The beach shrank beneath him. The trees became specks. His heart slammed against his ribs as the island fell away.
He had trained himself to endure pain, hunger, fear, but this was different. This was helplessness.
The ascent stopped.
Then he dropped.
Panic clawed up his throat as gravity reclaimed him. The air tore past his face, his stomach hollowing as the ground rushed up to meet him.
Then, abruptly, he stopped.
A hard impact, but not the kind he expected.
Adrian caught him just before he hit the ground.
For one humiliating second, Oliver realized he was being held like something fragile. Adrian corrected it instantly, gripping the back of Oliver's torn shirt instead and keeping them both suspended just above the sand.
"Flying seems less unbelievable now," Adrian said calmly, hovering in place, "doesn't it?"
Oliver gasped, lungs burning, heart racing.
"You," he managed. "How did you do that?"
Fear warred with something else, something dangerous.
Hope.
If this man could fly, then escape was possible.
Oliver grabbed at the chance with both hands.
"My name is Oliver Queen," he said rapidly. "Heir to Queen Consolidated. My father is Robert Queen. If you get me off this island, I can give you anything you want. Money, power, influence. Whatever you ask. What is your name? Are you from Star City?"
Adrian listened without interruption.
Then he answered, indifferent.
"My name is Adrian. And I am not interested."
The words hit harder than the fall would have.
"But you can fly," Oliver insisted. "You can take me with you."
Adrian released his grip.
Oliver dropped, hitting the sand hard with a thud. The impact knocked the air from his lungs, but the soft ground spared him injury.
Adrian floated down, expression unchanged.
"I can fly," he said. "That does not mean I am obligated to save you."
There was no cruelty in his voice. Just truth.
Oliver stared up at him, stunned.
Adrian had no interest in changing the course of Oliver Queen's life. Heroes were forged by suffering, not shortcuts. And Adrian did not believe in charity without return.
Still, Oliver pushed himself up and removed a ring from his finger, holding it out.
"Take this," he said quietly. "If you ever go to Star City, show it to the right people. They will know who I am."
Adrian took the ring, examining the dark green stone embedded within it.
"So this controls Queen Consolidated," he murmured. "Interesting."
He pocketed it without ceremony.
Then he rose into the air.
A thunderous boom ripped through the sky as Adrian broke the sound barrier, leaving behind a shockwave and a fading cone of vapor clouds.
Oliver watched until the sky swallowed him.
Silence returned.
Far away, in Metropolis, Zatanna sat in her small apartment, tension etched across her face.
"I got word from the magical community," she said quietly.
Across from her, Diana Prince lifted a glass of orange juice and took a long drink. "I have already heard everything that can go wrong. Try me."
"Wintersgate Manor held a gathering," Zatanna continued. "They believe something is coming."
Diana's eyes narrowed. "Winters. An old manipulator."
"You know him?"
"I have crossed paths with him before."
Zatanna exhaled slowly. "They believe Slumber Day opened a door. Something ancient has stepped through. It hunts mages. It is immune to magic."
She opened her notebook, revealing photos of mutilated bodies, warped by backlash.
"The rules are changing," Zatanna said. "Magic is no longer safe."
Diana set the glass down.
"Then your world will need strength," she said calmly. "Whether it is ready or not."
____
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