"....."
Slowly—so slowly it was almost unconscious—Robin's eyelids lifted wider… and wider… until the whites of his eyes gleamed under the shadow of his brow. His breath caught in his chest, his muscles tightening as if the sheer sight before him had struck some primal chord of disbelief.
He had witnessed many strange things in his life but what now filled his vision was in a league entirely its own.
A teenage girl—doesn't seem older than fifteen—was leading an army of specters. Not through chains or curses, not with the bloody hand of domination, but with something far stranger… she was singing. And behind her, the tide of ghostly forms spun and swayed in circles, as though caught in an unseen current of rhythm, their movements almost playful in their menace.
