Isobel rose calmly. There was no pain in the movements. No hesitation. Lana's body moved with a new fluidity, as if it had been sculpted for another kind of presence.
Her spine straightened, her feet touched the floor with precision. Her eyes blinked only once, adjusting to the light.
She drew a deep breath.
The air entered as if it had been hers for centuries.
Her hands brushed lightly over her own body, recognizing the skin, the boundaries. It wasn't vanity.
Her gaze fell on Clark.
"You are not what you appear to be."
"These powers of yours are interesting. Too intense for a simple man… and too contained for a monster."
"When I pull this girl's memories, I see a gentle boy. Clumsy at times. A little broken. But… trustworthy. Foolish, of course, but trustworthy."
"Now I look at you and I see… coldness. Distance. A clarity that doesn't belong to this time."
"You know too much. You move like a predator. You bear weight like someone who already knows the end of all things."
"I'm not new to this game, Clark. I knew priests who tamed crowds with a single word. Warriors who smiled while they killed. Men who thought they could control fate with blood and steel."
"But you… you're something else."
"A ghost without fear. With dirty hands and clear eyes."
"And yet… you protect this girl. You treat her body as if it were rare glass. And her mind… surgical delicacy. Not out of kindness. But because she serves you."
"That I understand. That I respect."
"But tell me… where does that gaze come from, that never trembles? That calm that never asks permission? That mastery that even the fire that burned me could not reproduce?"
"You're older than you look. Not in age… in choices. Have you killed? Lied? Chosen a world to live at the expense of another?"
"Don't answer. I don't want to know. I want to imagine."
"Because imagining you is far more fun than believing."
"Maybe you're just a man… with access to more forces than you should have."
"Or maybe you're like me… something the modern world isn't ready to understand."
Clark kept his eyes fixed. His expression neutral. His body unmoving.
'Woman talks too much.'
"Are you done?"
He waited a second. No response. The silence was enough.
"Good. Now listen."
"You see me as a wolf. I am. But you got one thing wrong. I don't protect Lana because she serves me. I protect her because she isn't guilty of what's trapped inside."
Clark didn't blink.
"And as much as you think you understand me, you have no idea who's on the other side of this equation."
"You saw a boy in her memories? Well, congratulations. That died a long time ago."
"All that's left is the man who holds the reins because no one else has the courage to pull them."
Clark stepped forward half a pace. His voice sharper.
"If you think you'll make me curious with provocation, you'll be disappointed. I'm not impressed. Not at all."
"I know exactly what you are."
"You think you're in control. That you're special. That you have the map of human emotions drawn on your mind's wall."
"But you know what you really have, Isobel?"
"A sharp tongue, a memory full of trauma, and a body that isn't even yours."
Clark leaned closer.
"Meanwhile, I have time, power, and a goal. Bruce."
Isobel kept her smile. Her gaze serene. Her body still.
"You speak as if you had no fear. But I see the cracks in your pride."
"Even so… it was good to hear."
"You want me to find this man. Bruce Wayne. Very well."
She stepped to the side. Her hand slid along the edge of the bed until she pulled something out of nothing — as if the air itself had answered.
A grimoire.
Not an illusion. A physical book. Worn leather, dark silver details, clasps that quivered at her touch.
"You give me curiosity, Clark Kent. Your energy… is unnatural."
"You offered me stability. Security. Balance."
She raised the book with one hand. With the other, she opened it with surgical precision. Pages turned on their own. Ancient symbols appeared, glowing in silver tones.
"But you know what else you gave me?"
She paused. Looked straight into his eyes.
"Entertainment."
Clark crossed his arms, unsmiling.
"Now do your magic. Find the man I'm after."
"Because I've already done my part."
He stepped forward. His shadow covered part of the light reaching the tattoo.
"And if you're really curious about my powers…"
His gaze hardened. His voice dropped slightly.
"...I can show you something that will make your head spin. Literally."
Isobel arched a brow. But she didn't step back.
"Very brave of you to threaten me like that…"
Her hand turned a page of the grimoire.
"...but fine. I'll help you find this Bruce Wayne."
"Not out of obligation. But because now I want to know what the hell you'll do when you find him."
The book opened on its own to a page marked with dried blood.
Circular lines, runes of search, silent conjuration.
Clark watched it all. His body still. But his mind alert.
The grimoire vibrated with ancestral force, made of shadows and remnants of forgotten names. The runes ran along the paper's edges as if they had their own will, reacting to Isobel's touch without her speaking a word.
A silver smoke rose from the center of the page, swirling in a slow, contained spiral. Isobel's eyes followed the dance with ritualistic precision. Her index finger slid to the symbol's center and pressed lightly. A dry crack split the air — imperceptible to normal ears, but Clark noticed instantly.
The entire room shifted.
Not physically. But the air distorted, as if reality were being stretched, snapping in unseen places.
The smoke began to take form.
A rudimentary map floated before them, drawn by strokes of ethereal light. Mountain ranges emerged with absurd precision. The topography responded to intent. Crossed lines revealed modern borders mingled with ancient mystical paths.
The map wasn't geographic. It was spiritual.
The search wasn't for a man. It was for a presence.
A fracture formed at the center of the image. A dark thread slithered across the Himalayas. The energy trembled.
Isobel tilted her head. Lana's tattoo reacted to each pulse of the conjuration.
The name wasn't spoken. But it was there.
Bruce Wayne's presence.
Surrounded by dense silence, hidden under layers not of this world, yet not beyond reach. The crystal was with him. It was the anchor. The energy didn't resist, but neither did it yield.
Clark observed with eyes nearly motionless. The vibrational patterns aligned with mathematical precision. The pulses of the strokes confirmed what he suspected.
Bruce wasn't just hiding.
He was being amplified. By something. Or someone.
A protective field, unnatural, surrounded the exact location. Ancient runes, like those Isobel used, warded the space. But there was more — an arcane signature even she wouldn't immediately recognize.
An ice dragon rose at the map's center, roaring in silence. The projection reacted to any attempt at direct fixation. A guardian, perhaps. Or a symbol of ancestral defense.
Isobel held the ritual firmly. The veins in her arms darkened slightly, energy flowing straight from soul to grimoire. Her face impassive. Her control absolute.
The map stabilized.
The location was carved between two peaks marked with Tibetan symbols unknown to human records. Lines of blood connected the two points to a third, deeper — underground. Ra's al Ghul's sanctuary.
Bruce was there. With him. With the crystal.
The smoke began to recede. The runes faded slowly, like embers burning out.
Isobel withdrew her hand. Her fingertips were cold. The grimoire closed with a muffled sound, like ancient wood sealed by unseen force.
She said nothing. But her eyes glimmered for a second. She had felt it. Traces of something not just Bruce… something moving with him.
Clark kept calm, but recorded everything.
If there was any chance of a trap, it began there.
And the most ironic part?
No doubt, threatening an ancient witch in the body of a friend while demanding she track a billionaire ninja possessed by a mystical crystal in the Himalayas…
Isn't the kind of plan that usually works out.
But hey — for Clark, that was Tuesday.
Isobel slid her fingers over the already closed grimoire. Her skin still vibrated with the remnants of the spell, but her mind was sharp as a blade cooled in ice.
"He is in the Himalayas."
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