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Location: The Tower of Fate
The flickering light of ancient candles cast long shadows across the golden halls of the Tower of Fate. Arcane symbols pulsed on the walls, whispering to those attuned to the mystical arts.
At the center of the chamber stood Doctor Fate, his imposing golden helmet glimmering under the ambient light. His cloak barely moved as he floated above the ground, his hands folded behind his back.
Across from him, seated around a circular table of obsidian and etched runes, were some of the greatest magical minds of the modern age.
Zatanna Zatara, fingers tapping impatiently against the table's edge.
John Constantine, leaning back in his chair, cigarette already half-burned between his lips.
Etrigan the Demon, arms crossed, fire glowing behind his yellow eyes.
Phantom Stranger, silent as ever, his presence more of a shadow than a man.
At Fate's signal, the Tower's walls shimmered, revealing an illusory projection—a massive, white-maned figure surrounded by a crimson aura, tearing through enemies like a force of nature.
Avon Von Deovola.
The room was silent for a moment, the weight of the projection settling in.
Then, Constantine let out a low whistle. "Bloody hell."
Zatanna frowned. "He's… new."
"No," Fate corrected, his voice echoing unnaturally. "He was hidden. But now he has been unleashed upon the world."
Etrigan rumbled, his deep voice vibrating through the chamber:
"A beast awakened from its cage, a hunter lost upon this stage."
Phantom Stranger finally spoke, his voice like a whisper through time. "His power disrupts the natural order. Already, the magical currents shift in response to his existence."
Zatanna narrowed her eyes. "That strong?"
Doctor Fate raised a hand, and suddenly, the projection changed—showing the very fabric of magical energy itself. Threads of mystical power wove through reality, but now… some of them had rearranged, stretched, even tangled, all centered around Avon's presence.
Constantine exhaled smoke. "Right. That's usually bad."
Zatanna's voice was quiet. "Is he a threat?"
Fate's answer was immediate. "His nature is warlike. His potential is… limitless." His glowing eyes darkened beneath the helmet. "If left unchecked, he may become something far beyond our control."
Phantom Stranger's tone was neutral. "Then the question becomes—do we observe… or intervene?"
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Location: The House of Mystery
Deep within a hidden realm, where time and space did not flow as they should, the House of Mystery sat in perpetual twilight.
Inside, a different gathering was taking place.
Seated on a throne made of bone and shadow, the witch Circe traced symbols in the air, watching as they glowed an eerie violet before fading. Her lips curled into a smirk.
"So," she purred. "The wolves are coming to play."
Beside her, Felix Faust flipped through an ancient tome, his fingers glowing with dark energy. "His power is unlike any lycanthropy I have encountered before. It is… raw. Untamed."
Circe chuckled. "You sound almost afraid, Faust."
Faust scowled. "I fear nothing. But he is an anomaly. And anomalies must be studied."
A new voice entered the room, smooth and rich with amusement.
"Or eliminated."
From the shadows stepped Klarion the Witch Boy, a wicked grin splitting his face as Teekl, his familiar, purred at his feet.
Circe raised an eyebrow. "Feeling threatened, Klarion?"
Klarion laughed. "Hardly! I find him fascinating. A werewolf who defies the laws of magic? Oh, what a delightful mess he could make."
Faust adjusted his robes. "Then what is our course of action?"
Klarion stretched, yawning dramatically. "Well, we could watch and see what happens…"
Then his grin sharpened.
"Or we could poke him with a very large, magical stick and see how he reacts."
Circe's smile matched his. "Now that sounds fun."
Faust sighed but nodded. "Very well. Let us see what this 'Avon' is truly made of."
The shadows around them stirred, their presence bleeding into reality.
The hunt had begun.
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Location: Gotham – Avon's Safehouse
Avon sat atop the rooftop of a rundown apartment, overlooking the city as it pulsed with life beneath him. His senses were calm, but there was something… off.
A prickle at the edge of his awareness.
A whisper in the air, too quiet for normal ears.
Magic.
He growled low, his crimson aura flaring slightly. Someone—or something—was watching him.
Slowly, he stood.
If they wanted a hunt…
They'd get one.
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To Be Continued.....