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Recently in the world…
The Devil Nezha, creator and bound figure of the dread Lazarus Pits, had succeeded in drawing all of Earth’s Magic onto Lazarus Island, and still Batman had him on the ropes. Until Nezha’s son, King Fire Bull, thundered onto the scene and took up the battle. Batman was mortally wounded in the fray. Nehza escaped, Fire Bull erupted with fury, and so did the island. Its Lazarus Resin detonated by a combination of Doctor Fate’s helmet fragments and Fire Bull’s tantrum.
As a result, the entire Earth was covered by a megastorm of magical energy, creating a “Lazarus Planet,” an unnatural disaster that overran the laws of science and spread magic randomly. Until Black Alice could absorb that energy and reroute it back into the hands of the world’s sorcerers. The sorcerers teamed up to defeat and imprison King Fire Bull.
For the first time in centuries, no Lazarus Resin remained on Earth.
In the aftermath, Nehza possessed Batman, using him to stay free from the imprisoning magic, while being the only thing keeping the hero alive. With the help from his siblings, the Monkey Prince, Zatanna, and Enchantress, Robin was able to banish the demon from his father’s body, leaving a dying man in his wake. Though Damian Wayne sought to trade his own life for that of his father’s, it wasn’t enough. The souls of the family of Bats wouldn’t be enough.
But a city of souls might be.
Robin, through Oracle, spoke to all of Gotham, called for help. He told them their Dark Knight was fading, but with a part of each of their souls, there was a chance to save their city’s hero, the man who had rescued them time and time and time again asking nothing in return. For this one moment, he begged for each of them to pledge part of themselves to be Batman, and infuse their belief and power to him.
The city of Gotham responded, and the Batsignal burned bright as a star.
The father rose, healthy and whole, to embrace his son.
It was over.
…save for some unexpected consequences.
“We all agree it’s a trap, right?” Nightwing glanced around the Batcave to his siblings, then set his sights on Batman himself. “You can’t go.”
“If Nehza thinks we are ill-prepared,” Damian countered, glaring at the embossed letter on the table, “then he is a fool.”
“He knows you’re prepared,” Tim, crossed his arms. “If anything, what we’ve learned is that he’s patient, but lets his temper get the better of him. He’s distractible.” He finally stepped forward and let his gloved hand nudge the paper. “Besides, there’s no Lazarus Resin left on Earth. So how’d he get enough to make some into ink?”
“It’s not Lazarus Resin,” Jason said as he snatched the object up and shook the thick parchment angrily. “It’s similar, but it’s not right.” Before he could continue, a black-gloved hand plucked it from his grip.
“It’s an engraved invitation,” Batman intoned, his own narrow-eyed gaze at the text, “and one I…can’t refuse.”
“Father--”
“Won’t or can’t, old man.”
With his teeth grit, the hero looked Jason in the eyes. “Can’t.” Silence followed that pronouncement, before Damian huffed and marched towards the changing room. “Whatever this ink is, there’s a…compulsion effect. I could ignore it, but I can feel an urge to go.”
“To the most haunted national park in America,” Nightwing let out a sigh.
“Not exactly,” Oracle’s voice rang out. “Seems Amity Park isn’t quite as…natural as it was pre-storm.”
As one they group turned to the main computer, where Oracle had activated the screen. Where once was a dense marsh bordered by Lake Erie southeast of Toledo, Ohio, now stood a medium-sized city, with its own shipping port, a small stadium, and even a couple towered buildings. It didn’t look like it had sprung up overnight artificially. In fact, the bridge to Elmerton–-a certified industrial suburb–-looked well traveled with at least a decade of degradation in its structure.
“How long has it been like that?”
“That’s the weird thing. I don’t remember a city being there, but according to maps, census, even tax records…it’s been there for nearly two-hundred years.”
Nightwing let out a pained whine. "It was a marsh last week!”
“Maybe not,” Red Robin challenged, moving to type in the computer. “The Lazurus Planet event made magic unpredictable and destabilized technology. What if the city’s always been there, but that haunting effect was some sort of spell or disorientation field?” Additional records came up on screen. “There’s a steady use of water services, food shipments, even power consumption until a few years ago. Looks like they have their own reactor,” he muttered that last sentence.
There was an annoyed huff behind the group. “It’s the Amity curse.” That caught everyone’s attention, even Robin’s as he emerged fully outfitted.
“You knew about this city,” Nightwing asked.
“And didn’t report it.” Batman’s tone held a touch of reproach.
“Wasn’t your business, and I agreed with the local hero: better it was left alone. If anyone was gonna deal with that shitshow it’d be Constantine.”
Robin let out a scoff. “So what are we dealing with?”
“Ghosts.” Jason leaned against the wall and crossed his arms. “Different from Deadman and all the others. These guys are more like interdimensional beings. A side effect of punching a hole into their reality–-”
“Wait, what?!” Red Robin tried to interrupt.
Jason easily ignored him, “--was a weird curse-like effect. Beings untouched by death and certain mystical substances tend to…forget and ignore Amity Park.” He let out a smirk. “Only the dead man walking would remember. Starfire certainly doesn’t remember the haunted swamp as anything other than unsettling and to be avoided.”
“But you remembered, and didn’t tell us.”
“You wouldn’t remember. I’m…ghost adjacent, so to speak.” His eyes flashed green briefly. “Most people who try to spread the news about Amity Park end up with destroyed careers, trips to mental institutions, and bullets in their head.” At Nightwing's alarmed look, Jason sneered. “Suicide, asshole, not me.”
“So this invitation from the High King of the Infinite Realms,” Batman prompted.
Jason shrugged. “Probably legit. That’s what the ghosts there call their home.” His eyes narrowed. “Why they want to see you now, that’s shifty as hell.”
“Maybe it’s because Amity Park is back on the map, courtesy of causing the Lazarus Storm.”
“Are these ghosts…friendly,” Tim inquired cautiously.
That earned another huff. “Fuck no. They’re all jerks. Except the local hero, Phantom. Look for him. He’s probably the one who sent the letter in the first place.”
Batman glanced back at the invitation, gilded with gold filigree and written in glowing Lazarus green script that seemed to pulse in time with his heartbeat. “Nightwing, I’ll need you to watch the city. Damian--”
“Don’t even try, father.” He straightened his gloves. “If anything was proven by Nehza’s manipulations, it’s that I am a worthy enough successor to take you in a fight.”
After a brief moment, he nodded to Jason. “I’ll need you along--”
“Nope.”
“Hood–-”
“Phantom and I had an agreement. That invitation tells you to come alone. Bad enough you’re bringing the Demon Spawn.” Robin bristled slightly at the title, and after a moment Jason offered him a half-shrug in apology. “Either way, you wanna risk it with Robin, fine. The rest of us? Should stay the hell away until invited.”
Red Robin reached out to touch Batman’s arm briefly. “We’ll keep Gotham safe until you’re back. Even the villains are staying quiet after everything.”
“They won’t for long,” Batman replied, then let out a quiet sigh. “Thank you, Tim, Dick.” There was a beat. “Jason.” With a flap of his cape he walked towards the recently repaired Batplane.
They landed the plane just beyond the outskirts of town, where on previous maps showed marshland and now revealed forests and farms. Batman kept the invitation tucked into his belt, that incessant tug within his chest from when he first laid eyes on the invitation pulling him closer, closer, closer to town.
Robin, beside him, didn’t have his sword out, but the way he stalked through the wood, eyes and body alert, spoke to the trap he obviously expected.
It wasn’t helped by the air of other-worldliness, that sense of eyes, or even a predator among the shadows. Of strange movement in the corner of their eyes, and an, to put it blatantly, haunted atmosphere of the place.
The silence between them was broken by Robin’s hushed, “There’s Lazarus Water here.”
“Technically, it’s ectoplasm,” came the rather loud reply.
As one the heroes turned, Batman in a battle stance with his fists raised, Robin with his sword out, already snarling at the surprise intruder.
It was a teenager, around eighteen years of age. He wore a black outfit that looked almost like a hazmat suit, but also a little like Nightwing’s armor. There was a stylized ‘P’, or maybe a badly written ‘D’ in white on his chest, matching the white gloves, boots, and utility belt he was wearing. He wore an eye mask, much like the Batclan’s own, but the eyes beneath burned Lazarus green so brightly it was almost sickening. Atop his head was white hair, floating about in a non-existent wind.
He was sitting on a tree branch they had just walked under, and, Batman noted, was unconcerned about their reaction. “Explain,” he finally growled.
“Please.” At Batman’s head tilt, the teen shrugged. “It costs nothing to be courteous, especially when you’re in my haunt, Gotham.”
That caused a twinge of pain in Batman, in that same inexplicable way the invitation wasn’t just an invitation.
“Phantom,” Robin growled, but held back anything further as Batman put his hand out to stop any further words.
“Explain what you mean by ectoplasm, please.”
The teen kicked his legs back and forth, reminiscent of Dick in some ways. “Ectoplasm is the pure energy of the Infinite Realms. All of Amity Park is, well, saturated with it. So the plants have absorbed it, and the two transmuted. It’s less of the hell-tainted Lazarus Water you know and more like Lazarus Water of The Green; that is, the essence of all plant life on Earth."
He shrugged. “Except, you know, ectoplasm is still energy of the dead, so similar resonance to Lazarus Water.” He glared up at the sky. “Not that the stupid storm helped or anything.”
“It seems to have cured your curse.”
“Not a curse,” he muttered, then shoved himself forward, only to float in the air. “Though I guess that’s the closest equivalent you’d understand.” He clapped his hands. “Anyways! Batman! Welcome!” He squinted at Robin. “Uh…I guess you can wait in the car? We’ll only be an hour or two.”
“I’m not leaving Batman alone.”
“The invitation was pretty clear.”
“Are you the High King?”
“What? No!” He actually looked horrified at the suggestion.
“Then how do you know what’s in the invitation?”
Phantom squinted at Robin. “You know, he said you had an attitude problem.” Robin tensed up at that. “And I’m not the King because being High King means, means ending the previous High King.” He grimaced, looking to the ground as one hand moved up to rub the back of his neck. “I…I’ve never killed a being. I don’t want to.”
Which meant the new High King had killed the last one for power. Batman knew a number of deceased enemies that could fit that scenario. “And what does this High King want with me?”
The teen glanced up, then floated lower to the ground so he was more eye-level with the masked hero. “To, uh, welcome you to his domain.”
“My father,” the sword was up again, aiming for Phantom’s jugular, “isn’t dead.”
Without breaking eye contact with Batman, Phantom waved on hand and a pillar of ice encased the tip of the sword, anchoring it to the ground. “The High King covers things other than just the deceased.”
“And what do I fall under,” Batman asked, taking a step back, but staying on alert. To the side, Robin had tried pulling the sword out, only to release it and leave it hanging from the ice. A knife was pulled, but with another hand motion his son tucked it away, instead pulling out a small blow torch.
Phantom’s eyebrows raised. “Your new position…?” At the unswerving stare, Phantom let out a long groan and fell back, his feet transforming somehow into a single tail that twitched like an annoyed cat. “Didn’t anyone explain this to you?”
“I was…indisposed at the time.”
Flopping backwards, the teen let out a sigh. “Damnit. I knew there was a catch to this.”
“To what?”
“So I’m the High Kings…envoy? Guard? He basically learned how I’d been singlehandedly saving my town and the world on my own for a few years and adopted me on the spot. Except I refuse to be a Prince so Clockwork–-my former mentor-–said I’d be a great envoy for the challenges ahead.” At that, Phantom stared directly into the sky and pointed. “I know you’re watching, clock-jerk! This is mean even for you!”
There was a frustrated ‘tch,’ from where Robin had so far failed to melt any ice under the flame of his torch, and was now trying to chip the ice away enough to loosen his sword.
“Phantom,” Batman intoned.
“Ughhh, fine!” He flopped forward, lying horizontally with his chin resting on his arms. “So, the magic that brought you back was basically soul magic. But souls are…funny things. They go to certain afterlives, but sometimes they end up in the Infinite Realms, and some have distinct personalities, but oftentimes they’re…collective. Like attracts like and such.”
“Gotham City has, like, a lot of death. You have a whole city in the Realms. Which is, well, challenging. Like, way back when there was Ghost Sparta, and Ghost Athens, but over hundreds of years it all just became the Acropolis as the ghosts lost their city-state individuality and became united against the rest of the Realms.”
Phantom pointed at Batman then. “It took hundreds of years before that unification for the ghost cities to form. And Gotham? Formed almost instantly after its founding in the 17th century. That only happens with seriously dark magic. Which means there’s been a tie between your city and the Infinite Realms since it started. Every man, woman, child, animal, plant, everything that’s created in Gotham is tied to a…spiritual manifestation that is under the High King’s rule.”
Robin stopped trying to break out his sword, hands clenched. “That means when I asked for help, when every person pledged a part of their soul to save my father--”
Batman finished the thought easily. “I became inextricably linked to Gotham’s spirit world.”
“Yeah.” The teen was rubbing the back of his neck again. “You’re the human incarnation of the Spirit of Gotham. Officially.” He glanced between the two. “Did no one explain this? Like, it’s a pretty obvious issue to any powerful magic users.”
Robin let out a snarl. “Enchantress.” Phantom seemed to back up on instinct from the hostility in that one word.
“Zatanna didn’t say anything either,” Batman cautioned. Robin snarled again, then stomped over and punched the ice pillar. It melted instantly, the sword falling softly to the ground. At a glance, Phantom did some quick awkward jazz hands. With a swift ‘snick’ the sword was sheathed, but Robin was still seething.
Batman reached out to comfort his son. His shoulder was tense, but in the end Robin leaned into the touch. Turning his attention back to Phantom, the ghost offered him a half-sad smile. “It’s not so bad,” his echoing voice said softly, “being partially dead while alive. You’ll live a normal human lifespan. Just…be a little more durable, maybe jump a little higher or father, maybe find the shadows helping you. And when you finally die, you’ll, well, we’ll see you in the Realms.”
It almost sounded like Phantom was talking from experience. He hadn’t found much-–well, anything–-on the hero of Amity Park, but he wasn’t the World’s Greatest Detective for nothing. “You’re not fully dead either.”
The teen didn’t give any physical reaction to the deduction. “You were saved with an infusion of souls, making you…part spirit.” Phantom grimaced. “I died and was brought back in one swift go. Half-alive, half-dead.” He offered another watery smile. “It means I’ll…last longer. Get to see everyone I love…” He glanced away, took a deep breath, then seemed to gather himself. “If you need some help, I can probably give some pointers to being a guardian spirit, even if you don’t get all the awesome powers I have.”
Batman nodded once. He reached into his belt and pulled out the invitation. “So why does the High King want to meet me?”
“Well, for one, there hasn’t been a…sentient Spirit of Gotham in, well, ever. It’s all been running on ghostly instinct, which means it’s all been, well, directionless. Good things, bad things, a bit of balance but otherwise just chugging along with the status quo. I think the High King wants that to change. And wants your help with that.”
Batman mulled that over. Helping Gotham, if that’s what the King wanted, certainly pointed to an overall ally than a former enemy. “And the other reason?”
Phantom shrugged, but there was a glint of lovable mischief in his glowing eyes. “Something about some unfinished business.”
“As usual, I see near death does nothing to deter you from being fashionably late, Master Bruce.”
“Alfred.”
The regal spirit, a crown of prim fire atop his green-tinted bald head, was pouring tea at a table fit for, well, royalty. “It’s good to see you heeded my words towards young Master Damian.” The High King, dressed in an immaculate butler’s suit as if it were armor, smiled at his grandson.
“But,” Robin’s voice cracked, his eyes wet.
“No tears you two, come. It’s time to plan for the future. We have a city to protect.” He snagged Phantom as the ghost tried to depart. “And a new family member to introduce to everyone.”