When Magic Screams Back
The shockwave didn't roar.
It whispered—and the whisper was worse.
Across the world, every being attuned to magic felt it like a blade sliding between their thoughts.
Heroes — The First to React
Zatanna Zatara
She was mid-spell when her magic stuttered.
Not failed.
Not resisted.
It paused, as if listening to something older than language.
Her breath caught.
"That's… not a spell," she whispered. "That's a promise."
The wards around her apartment flared—then dimmed in deference.
John Constantine
John spilled his drink.
That alone would've been normal.
What wasn't normal was the cigarette burning out in his fingers without heat.
"Bloody hell…" he muttered, eyes wide, voice tight.
"That's not hell, not heaven, not chaos, not order."
He swallowed.
"That's a final option."
Doctor Fate
Within the Tower of Fate, Nabu went silent.
For exactly three seconds.
That had never happened.
When his voice returned, it was colder, heavier.
"A contingency has been forged."
Fate turned his gaze toward the United States.
"One not meant to be used… unless all paths end."
Raven
Raven dropped to one knee.
Her demonic heritage recoiled—then bowed.
"This isn't destruction," she said, shaken.
"It's what comes after everyone fails."
For the first time in her life, even Trigon's distant presence felt… cautious.
Villains — Fear Behind Power
Lex Luthor
Lex stared at the data feed, fists clenched.
"No source. No signature decay. No energy logic."
His voice dropped.
"This isn't magic pretending to be science…
This is science that learned magic's rules and refused them."
For the first time in a long while, Lex Luthor didn't feel challenged.
He felt obsolete.
Vandal Savage
Savage felt it through lifetimes of memory.
Empires falling.
Worlds burning.
And yet—
"This wasn't meant for conquest," he said slowly.
"It's meant for survival when history itself collapses."
That unsettled him more than any weapon.
Amanda Waller
Waller slammed her fist onto the table.
"I don't care what it is—if it exists, I want a file, a location, a leash!"
Her aide swallowed nervously.
"Ma'am… it doesn't respond to surveillance."
Waller's jaw tightened.
"…Then it's not a weapon."
It was worse.
The Gods — When Certainty Cracks
Old Gods
Olympus stirred.
Hecate's torches flickered.
"This magic does not ask permission," she hissed.
"It does not belong to faith, worship, or ritual."
The gods felt something unfamiliar.
Irrelevance.
New Gods — Apokolips
On Apokolips, Darkseid rose from his throne.
Boom Tubes trembled.
Omega Effect flared—and then refused to advance.
Darkseid's eyes narrowed.
He reached outward—not with power, but with authority.
With dominion.
With inevitability.
And the universe answered him with three words.
Not spoken.
Not shouted.
Imprinted.
The Last Stand.
Darkseid froze.
For the first time since his ascension, his will met something that did not yield…
nor oppose.
It simply waited.
"…A weapon that does not serve gods," Darkseid rumbled.
"…but ends wars gods lose."
His generals felt it.
Not fear.
Concern.
Because Doomsday had been meant to kill a Kryptonian.
This was something meant to decide worlds.
The Endless
Dream paused mid-story.
Death tilted her head.
Destiny's book gained a new, unreadable page.
Destruction frowned.
Desire smiled.
And the Presence—distant, unknowable—watched without intervening.
Because this was not defiance.
It was choice.
Elsewhere…
In Gotham, Damian fought bank robbers like it was any other night.
Relaxed. Focused. Efficient.
Unaware that gods, monsters, and immortals were all asking the same question:
Who built the key meant for when everything else fails?
And why…
did it choose him to guard it?