In a dark, damp underground cavern, filthy water trickled down the moss-covered walls, dripping into the cracks of the broken floor and vanishing into the mud. Moving down the shadowy corridor, flickering firelight stretched the statues' shadows longer and longer until they resembled indescribable monsters.
Before the fire, a cloaked figure stared absently at the swaying flames. The white mist from his nose and mouth showed just how cold it was here. His arms trembled almost imperceptibly, but not from the cold. It was because of the two deep lash marks that cut to the bone.
Two hours earlier, Superwoman had tracked him to his safehouse and bound him with the Lasso of Submission. He had to admit, it felt terrible. He could feel his mind tightly constrained, and worse still, the wounds left by the divine lasso were exceptionally difficult to heal. His magical energy was running low, and he could not waste it on this, so he could only endure.
Owlman silently sighed. He did not know how things had ended up like this. Everything had clearly been on the right track. He had borrowed a considerable amount of energy through a contract. But ever since that failed experiment, everything had changed.
Sitting before the fire, the constantly swaying shadows seemed to turn into monsters creeping ever closer. Constantine's words began echoing in his mind:
"You're wrong, Owlman. Magic isn't a gift. It's a curse. Every bit of power you gain comes at a price. Even if I can help you contact those Dark Existences, you don't have the Chip to negotiate with them. This deal is destined to be a trap. You'll be doomed beyond redemption."
At the time, Owlman had believed victory was already his. Standing outside the railing, he had not looked at Constantine, covered