Shangri‑La, the hidden sanctuary high within the Himalayas, was no longer a place of peace. What was once a sacred refuge had become a battlefield.
The thin mountain air was thick with the smell of gunpowder, smoke, and magic. Flames surged like a living beast, devouring the ancient palace that clung to the rocks like a guardian of forgotten secrets. Snow‑capped peaks behind the inferno bled red in the firelight, turning ice into steam and fear.
This was no ordinary assault. This was devastation.
The palace, a fortress of stone and sanctity where time slowed and healers and monks studied the mysteries of spirit and mind, was burning. The monks, devoted followers of Rama Kushna, fought in spirit, their ghostly forms attempting to defend their home. None of their ancient techniques could stop the tide of destruction.
When Wonder Woman, Supergirl, Green Lantern, Zatanna, and Constantine arrived, they were met with a vision of ruin. The heart of the mountain world was aflame and crumbling.
"I now see why the Justice League Dark must exist in the future," Green Lantern said to Wonder Woman, his mask reflecting the chaos below.
"We are warriors, not mystics," he continued, lifting his ring in thought. "Flash, Batman, Superman, myself… we know nothing of magic's depths."
Kara frowned, unsure. "But Diana, you are strong with magic," she said, gesturing toward the battle below.
Wonder Woman did not answer immediately. Her gaze was fixed on the destruction. "Then let us end this," she said, voice steady.
Zatanna closed her eyes, sensing the patterns of the arcane battlefield. Above them, a figure moved faster than sight, purple energy trailing like lightning in air. Monks on the ground sat in silent meditation but their spirits fought in many directions, impossible to hit or see clearly. Each spirit was an echo of a life devoted to balance and peace.
In the air above the throne grounds, a woman with pale white eyes and flowing purple energy danced like war itself. This was Lois Lane, not the reporter from Metropolis everyone knew, but someone touched with terrible power — the Witch Mark of Hecate. Her purple aura pulsed with force beyond normal understanding.
Zatanna's voice was tense. "Is that the Witch Mark's power?" she whispered.
"We cannot use magic now," Constantine said, eyes narrowed under smoke, "so we can't stop her directly. We need someone else."
His gaze fell on a group standing apart from the pitched battle. Among them, unmistakable even in their notorious variety, were figures of the magical world: Detective Chimp, dressed in Sherlock Holmes attire and eyes darting with intelligence, and Circe, the witch whose beauty was as legendary as her danger.
"Do you know them?" Zatanna asked, gesturing toward the odd gathering.
"Not closely," Constantine said, flicking ash from his cigarette, "but you'll know all of them soon enough."
Suddenly, Supergirl leapt toward the circling menace above. Her eyes flared with Heat Vision as she prepared to strike Lois. But in an instant, Lois's magic erupted in a burst of purple force that struck Kara like a blow to her very soul. Kara screamed as her strength drained from her, dropping toward the ground. Green Lantern reached out instantly, conjuring a massive protective glove to catch her mid‑fall.
"My baseball skills aren't useless yet," Hal joked weakly through the chaos.
But when Hal launched an enormous Green Lantern power battery toward Lois, the attack was shrugged off. Lois's giant energy sword cleaved the construct in half, sending Hal flying back in a shockwave.
Wonder Woman launched herself into the fray, lasso in hand. Lois faced her fearlessly, white eyes blazing, and then pointed at Diana.
"You are one of us," Lois declared, voice carrying over the din of destruction. "Embrace your destiny. Do not resist your purpose."
Suddenly, Wonder Woman felt pressure in her skull. Memories — terrible, haunting, and familiar — pulsed behind her eyes as she staggered. She clutched her brow and roared with frustration. "I will not be broken," she growled, dragging Lois toward her with a fierce tug of the Lasso of Truth, and punched with all her strength.
Lois was sent flying but recovered quickly. "You forget that even the gods' magic came from the Witch Mother," she taunted before blasting Diana with a surge of purple power.
Amid the collapse of ancient hallways and burning stone, a new sound filled the sky — a crackling roar like thunder breaking the stillness.
Then Clark arrived.
He descended with deadly precision, propelled by wrath born of vengeance and a future he refused to accept. Without hesitation, he struck Lois with a punch that sounded like an explosion.
She flew backward as if she were nothing more than a target in a game. Clark did not hesitate. His eyes glowed, and Heat Vision lanced from his gaze, cutting into her magical form with ferocity.
Again and again, his attacks battered her until she smashed through the palace walls and into the burning debris below.
For a moment, silence followed.
Then Lois reappeared behind him, her body shifting between spirit and substance, untouched by his Heat Vision.
"You know nothing about magic," she hissed, energy vines sprouting and snaring him like living ropes forged of violet flame.
Clark roared and thrashed against them. The magic held fast and dragged him back into the air before slamming him into the scorched earth, creating craters with his impact.
Around them, the monks' ghostly forms looked on in disbelief. No spell or spirit could explain this being from another world, whose strength outmatched forces they had devoted centuries to understand.
Green Lantern leaned on one knee, injured but still upright. "Does this count as domestic violence?" he asked weakly.
Diana, injured and reeling from the magical backlash, looked skyward as a figure emerged against the pale moonlight — tall, imposing, and cloaked in a presence that neither magic nor might could fear. Clark, battered but alert, stared.
At first he thought it was another hallucination born of pain, yet there was no mistaking the aura. The silhouette descending beneath the moon was unmistakable — Adrian.
The moon's silver glow traced his towering form as he landed between Clark and the spiraling magic battle. The chaos stilled for a heartbeat.
Adrian's presence was a shift in the storm, his eyes sharp with clarity and recklessness in equal measure. The cloak around him gleamed as though it were woven from moonlight itself. In that space, under the vast Himalayan night, the world seemed to hold its breath.
Lois hovered mid‑air, torn between fury and something unnameable when faced with him.