Prologue – The Fall and the Fear

The summer sun spilled gold across the rolling green of Wayne Manor’s east lawn, dappled by the tall elm trees that swayed lazily in the warm breeze. Cicadas hummed in the branches, and somewhere farther off, the faint clang of garden tools marked Alfred’s steady, reliable presence.

For Bruce Wayne—nine years old, hair tousled by the wind, and a smear of dirt across one cheek—it was a day without titles or expectations. No boardrooms. No stern lessons on posture. Today, he wasn’t the heir to Gotham’s wealth. He was a warrior. A defender of the realm.

A stick served as his sword, a slab of tree bark his shield. His bare knees were grass-stained, his palms roughened from climbing rocks and vaulting roots.

Rachel Dawes, ten years old and every bit the commanding officer, stood atop a mossy stump, her voice ringing out in mock regality. “I am the Queen of Gotham’s Forest! No trespassers shall pass!”

Harvey Dent—skinny, slightly too tall for his age, his brown hair perpetually falling into his eyes—grinned as he brandished a branch like a lance. “Fear not, Your Majesty! I’ll defend you from Bandit Bruce!”

Bruce gave a mock growl, crouching low like a predator. “You’ll never stop me!”

The chase that followed was all shouts and laughter, darting between the trunks of ancient elms and the wild tangle of ivy that had long since claimed the estate’s edges. The smell of damp earth clung to the air, the world reduced to the pounding of small feet and the thrill of the game.