Nights in the Gotham Inner World were colder. Without the stifling heat of the Outer World's midsummer, it was more like the Gotham of old: cold rain fell from beginning to end through the night, and the whole city resembled a pencil sketch soaked in water, its outlines eroded away by the damp.
The spires of Rodriguez Academy, floating high in the sky, were surrounded by masses of moist fog. If one opened a window at midnight, rolling clouds drifted in like schools of fish.
A narrow crack had been blown open in the dormitory window. Wisps of fog poured in one after another, like sinister Ghost Hands, while droplets condensed on the glass like eyes constantly opening and closing.
Warm golden light, like the first ray of dawn, shone through the endless white fog. Dense clouds continually parted, and the sky beyond them was blue with a faint violet tint. The white clouds gradually darkened, arranging themselves into strange, intricate patterns. When he opened his eyes and looked again, the clouds had formed a pair of enormous blue eyes.
"Ah!"
A figure sat bolt upright in bed with a scream, then began gasping violently.
Little Bruce clutched the rail beside his bed with One Hand while the other reached for his forehead, which was covered in cold sweat.
"What... was that?"
Little Bruce muttered to himself in confusion, but then someone knocked on his door. He had no choice but to kick away the blankets tangled around him, get out of bed, and open it.
"Are you all right? I heard a scream just now." Barry stood in the dark doorway holding a candlestick, looking at Little Bruce with concern. But the moment he saw Little Bruce's face, his mouth fell open in surprise. "Good Lord, your face is