Barry’s voice vibrated with a newfound clarity, a rapid-fire explanation of quantum entanglement that somehow made sense. His hands moved with an almost frenetic energy, gesturing at a holographic display above a long, polished console. "—and the resonant frequency of your Vultremite physiology, Albyon, it's not just a state, it’s a *signature*. A blueprint existing across sixteen dimensions simultaneously, folding into our four-dimensional space at a precise point. That's why the ripple was so… clean. So impossible." He spun to Albyon, eyes bright, a wide, genuine smile splitting his face. Albyon watched him, a faint tremor passing through his own chest, unconnected to the Watchtower this time. Barry’s enthusiasm was a physical presence, a warmth in the sterile hum of the primary science lab. It felt like watching a cascade of tiny, perfect gears clicking into place inside Barry’s mind, all because of a fleeting touch. The knowledge Albyon had shared, the ‘Sacred Wisdom’ as it now felt, had transformed Barry from a man of incredible speed into a man of incredible insight. It was both a wonder and a terror. "The Watchtower's sensors couldn't even register it properly," Barry continued, striding towards a banks of blinking lights, each indicating a different sub-system. "Batman’s data showed *nothing* like it. Because it wasn't a physical object, not in the way we understand. It was information, pure information, collapsing into form. You're like a… a living equation!" He tapped a screen, bringing up a complex, swirling diagram that pulsed with faint light. Albyon glanced at the diagram, the intricate lines and shifting colours mirroring the brief, beautiful images of his lost homeworld he had projected for the League. He still remembered the feeling of those crystalline spires against his bare feet, the soft luminescence of the trees. All gone. All replaced by this cold, magnificent technology and the dizzying expanse of space. He wanted to feel the same boundless excitement Barry did. He really did. But a hollow ache persisted beneath his ribs. This understanding, this power, it wasn't a gift he sought. It was a burden, another layer of responsibility he hadn't asked for, piled onto a past he couldn't remember. “You really… understand it all now?” Albyon asked, his voice soft, a stark contrast to Barry’s animated speech. He kept his gaze on the holographic schematic, avoiding Barry’s direct stare. He still felt raw, exposed, after the interrogation. “Not *all*,” Barry admitted, though his smile didn’t falter. “But enough to know you’re not a threat. Not in the way Batman thinks. You’re… something new. Something vital. And honestly, it’s incredible! This whole place, these labs, they’re just scratching the surface of what’s out there, what you represent.” He spread his arms wide, encompassing the entire lab. “Come on, there’s so much more to see. You haven’t even seen the… uh… the advanced particle accelerators!” --- Barry led him through a maze of corridors, his pace a blur even when he was trying to walk slowly. Albyon phased effortlessly through the automatically opening doors, his Vultremite physiology making the journey feel strangely ethereal. He tried to focus on Barry's relentless stream of facts about sub-atomic particles and exotic energy sources, but his mind kept circling back to the League. Superman's furrowed brow, Batman's unblinking gaze, Wonder Woman's guarded sympathy, Green Lantern's outright suspicion. They all watched him, waiting for him to make a mistake. Barry, oblivious to Albyon’s internal turmoil, launched into a detailed explanation of a dark matter containment unit. "It’s experimental, of course. Keeps a sliver of localized dark matter stable for study. We think it could be a power source, or even a pathway to other dimensions. Though, after meeting you, I'm thinking more of a… a stable point within a higher dimensional manifold." He grinned, pleased with his own upgraded terminology. Albyon nodded, forcing a small smile. Barry’s infectious optimism was a fragile shield against the weight Albyon carried. It was good to have someone who didn't look at him like a ticking bomb, even if that person was still processing a deluge of impossible information. But the fear remained, a cold knot in his stomach. What if the next accidental touch revealed something truly terrible? What if his power, meant for understanding, could also dismantle? He had no control, no instruction manual for what he had become. His gaze swept over the gleaming surfaces, the intricate wiring, the sheer power of human ingenuity on display. This Watchtower was a marvel, a testament to what this universe’s greatest minds could achieve. Yet, he still felt like a ghost, drifting through it, a silent observer of a world he didn't belong to. He still didn’t know who he was, or what had happened to his home. That blank space in his memory, a gaping maw in his past, was a constant, dull throb. "You’ve seen so much, Albyon," Barry said, turning to face him, his expression briefly softening. "You’ve been through something… huge. I can feel that, too, from the data. That quantum ripple wasn't just a trip; it was a… a rebirth." He reached out, hesitated, then dropped his hand, remembering the League's unspoken warnings. "Is there anything… anything you remember that could help us understand? Anything at all?" Albyon shook his head, a fresh wave of despair washing over him. "Only the void, before the Watchtower. And the images of my world." He paused, considering. "And a voice. Just once. 'He has arrived. The catalyst is here.'" The words felt hollow, meaningless, yet they held a strange resonance he couldn't grasp. A shiver ran down his spine, unrelated to the chilly air in the corridor. --- They continued past the main engineering sections, the hum of the Watchtower growing more distant. Barry, still trying to keep Albyon engaged, pointed towards a rarely used access corridor, a narrow passage lined with older, bulkier equipment. "This part of the station is mostly for legacy systems. Old comms arrays, redundant power conduits. Not really exciting, but hey, it's history!" He gestured vaguely towards a wall of tarnished chrome panels and exposed conduits. As they drew closer, Albyon felt it. A sudden, sharp, cold sensation, not on his skin, but deep within his chest, like a sliver of ice had pierced his heart. It was discordant, a dissonant hum beneath the Watchtower’s steady thrum. He paused, his head tilting almost imperceptibly. A faint, acrid scent, like ozone mixed with something metallic and burnt, pricked at his enhanced senses. It was subtle, almost imperceptible, but it was there. It wasn't physical. It was a residue, a psychic echo that lingered like a bad taste. Malice. Cold, calculated, utterly malevolent. It prickled at the edges of his Vultremite senses, a ripple of unease in the cosmic silence. The air around the older panels felt heavy, somehow *wrong*. He felt a profound chill, far deeper than any temperature drop. Barry, though, bounced along, completely oblivious. He was already talking about the efficiency of modern subspace communicators compared to these older models. "These things practically ran on vacuum tubes! Can you imagine?" He stopped in front of a particularly dusty console, reaching out to tap a discoloured button. Albyon’s internal alarm bells were ringing, a silent clamour. The malice felt stronger here, clinging to the grimy metal, almost radiating from it. It was like a whisper in his mind, not a voice, but a *feeling* of concentrated hatred. Even in this sanctuary, this gleaming beacon in the void, darkness lurked. The realization chilled him to his core, confirming his deepest fears that his journey here was not an end, but merely a new beginning of danger. He wanted to bolt, to phase away from the oppressive aura, but he forced himself to remain still, observing. Barry’s bright, innocent enthusiasm was a stark contrast to the insidious dread seeping into Albyon’s being. He couldn’t just blurt out what he felt. How would he even explain it? *I sense evil radiating from this outdated equipment, Barry.* It sounded insane. He needed to be subtle. --- Albyon’s gaze lingered on a specific section of the wall, where a cluster of heavy-duty cables snaked into a dark, rectangular void behind a grimy access panel. The malevolent hum pulsed strongest from there. He swallowed, trying to project a casual air, though every nerve ending screamed with warning. Barry was already engrossed in trying to coax a flicker of life from an inert comms screen, muttering about power fluctuations and corroded circuits. “What’s that… behind the panel there?” Albyon asked, pointing vaguely at the wall, feigning a sudden, innocent curiosity. He kept his voice even, despite the icy tendrils of psychic residue wrapping around his awareness. “Looks different from the rest of the wiring.” Barry pushed his glasses up his nose, squinting. “Oh, that? Probably just some old auxiliary busbar, or maybe a conduit for the long-range sensor array. They decommissioned most of this section years ago. Power’s probably cut to half of it.” He moved closer, his natural curiosity piqued by the technical puzzle Albyon had inadvertently presented. “Though, now that you mention it, there’s a faint energy reading from that specific spot. Could be a short, or residual charge.” He began to pull at the edge of the access panel, a thin, metallic squeal echoing in the quiet corridor. Albyon watched, his senses hyper-alert, every muscle tense. The cold feeling intensified, almost vibrating in his bones. It felt like a trap, a lure. He wanted to shout, to tell Barry to stop, but the words wouldn’t form. How could he explain a sensation, a non-physical presence, to someone who saw only broken wires and static? Barry grunted, finally prying the panel loose with a soft *clack*. Dust, thick and grey, billowed slightly, catching in the dim emergency lighting that flickered overhead. “See? Just a mess of old cabling,” he said, reaching inside with one hand, his fingers expertly navigating the snarl of wires. “Looks like a common ground fault, probably. Nothing interesting.” He pulled out a thick, insulated cable, examining the frayed end. “Yep. Just needs a quick splice. But why would it be drawing power in a decommissioned section? Odd.” His voice was light, dismissive. He was looking at the physical problem, the mechanical fault, completely blind to the true nature of the energy Albyon sensed. The malice pulsed, now an almost tangible weight. --- Barry, completely absorbed, knelt, pulling a small multi-tool from his belt. He began to strip the insulation from the frayed cable, humming a tuneless melody. The hum of the Watchtower felt distant now, replaced by the grating psychic dissonance Albyon felt radiating from the opening. It was growing stronger, focusing, like a beam of light from a dark lantern. Albyon felt a knot of dread tighten in his stomach, watching Barry’s quick, efficient movements. “See, this is why these old systems are a pain,” Barry mumbled, squinting at the fine copper strands. “One little short, and you could bring down a whole section. Though, this one seems pretty isolated. Just a bit of… interference, I guess. Probably causing the faint power drain I’m seeing.” He tapped a small, flickering indicator on his multi-tool, confirming his diagnosis. Albyon knew it wasn’t interference. It was something far more sinister. The cold, sharp sensation had coalesced, radiating from a specific point deep within the dark cavity behind the panel. His gaze narrowed, searching the shadows. He saw no physical anomaly, no strange device. Just wiring, conduits, and the ever-present dust. But the *feeling* was unmistakable, a concentrated point of psychic venom. It wanted to be hidden. It wanted to be found. “Is there… anything else in there?” Albyon asked, his voice barely a whisper, his eyes fixed on the darkness. He felt compelled to look, to push, even as his core wound of taking on too much responsibility screamed at him to back away. This was not his fight. He was a lost soul, not a detective. But the malevolence gnawed at him, demanding attention. Barry, still focused on his repair, leaned further into the cavity. “Nah, just more of the same. Old junction boxes, some redundant optical cables. Wait a sec…” His voice trailed off. His fingers, probing deeper, brushed against something smooth, cold, and strangely resistant. He grunted, shifting his weight, trying to get a better angle. “What in the…?” With a final tug, something small dislodged from its hidden recess. Barry pulled his hand back, holding a thin, circular disc, no larger than his thumb. It had been tucked away, out of sight, beneath a discarded piece of insulation. As he brought it into the dim light, Albyon felt the full force of the malevolent psychic echo burst forth, a chilling wave that stole his breath. Beneath a forgotten panel, a symbol glowed faintly – a single, obsidian eye surrounded by tendrils of shadow, unknown to the League.

A Glimpse of the Shadow