Chapter 17: A Dance of Masks

The Titans Tower loomed over San Francisco Bay, a sleek T-shaped fortress cutting through the morning fog, its steel and glass glinting like a beacon of battered hope. Kai jolted awake in the med bay, a sterile white room humming with tech—monitors beeping, IV dripping into his arm, the sharp sting of antiseptic snapping him alert. His side was a patchwork of fresh bandages, stitches tight under gauze, and his shoulder throbbed where the knight's sword had bitten. The morpher lay on a tray beside him, cracked crystal dim, two shards missing—its faint pulse mocked him, a reminder of how close he'd come to breaking.

Raven sat by his cot, legs crossed, meditating—her cloak pooled around her, eyes closed, a faint glow hovering over her hands. She opened them as he stirred, her gaze soft but shadowed, cutting through the haze in his skull. "You're awake," she said, voice low, steadying him like an anchor. "We thought we'd lost you."

"Feels like you did," Kai rasped, throat raw, sitting up with a wince. The room spun—Kaelric's whisper, You failed me, echoed from the blackout, cold as the dagger in his memory. "Where are we?"

"Titans Tower," Raven said, standing, her hand brushing his arm—a flicker of warmth against the chill. "Safehouse was compromised. Nightwing called it—moved us here after you went down."

The door slid open, Nightwing striding in—his suit was patched, a bruise purpling his jaw, but his stride was all purpose. "Good, you're up," he said, tossing Kai a water bottle—cold, slick, a lifeline. "You took a beating out there. How's the head?"

"Full of ghosts," Kai said, cracking the cap, gulping half the bottle. Water hit his gut like ice, grounding him. "That knight—those knights—they're Kaelric's crew. Betrayed him, now they're back to finish me."

Nightwing nodded, leaning against the wall, arms crossed. "Eclipso's playing a long game—twisting the Grid's past against us. We've got Diana and John digging with Dr. Carter—STAR's files might crack this. But you—" he pointed at the morpher, "—you're the linchpin. It's falling apart, and so are you."

"Tell me something I don't know," Kai muttered, running a hand through his matted hair. The morpher's hum buzzed in his skull—weak, fractured, a plea he couldn't answer. "Tiger form went nuts—nearly lost it. What's next, I claw you guys?"

Raven's hand tightened on his arm, her voice firm. "You didn't. You fought it—held on. The Grid's pushing you, but you're still Kai."

"Barely," he said, meeting her eyes—violet, piercing, seeing too much. Kaelric's hall flashed—Eadric's dagger, the king's laugh—and he flinched, the morpher pulsing in sync. "It's not just me in here anymore."

The med bay door hissed again, Gar bounding in—green skin bruised but grinning, a Santa hat perched crooked on his head. "Dude, you're alive! Told 'em you're too stubborn to croak." He tossed Kai a candy cane, landing it on his lap. "Merry almost-Christmas, by the way. Tower's throwing a ball tonight—chill vibes, you're coming."

"Ball?" Kai blinked, catching the cane—peppermint snapped him alert. "We're dying out there, and you're dancing?"

"Tradition," Donna said, limping in behind Gar, her ankle braced but her staff still in hand. "Titans do it every year—keeps us sane. You need it—sitting here brooding won't fix that thing." She nodded at the morpher, her tone dry but warm.

Nightwing smirked, faint. "She's right. League's handling intel—Diana's charm's cracking STAR's red tape, John's ring's scanning the rift residue. We've got a beat to breathe. You're not dying on my watch, so clean up—you smell like dock water."

Kai snorted, wincing as it tugged his stitches. "Fine. But if I pass out mid-dance, it's on you."

Hours later, the Tower's common room glittered—strings of lights draped the walls, a massive tree blinking with ornaments, music thumping a mix of holiday beats and pop Gar swore was "festive." Kai stood at the edge, awkwardly tugging at a borrowed jacket—black, too tight across his shoulders—his bandages hidden under a red shirt Raven had shoved at him, muttering, "It's tradition." His side ached, but the pain dulled under the buzz of voices, the Titans mingling with a handful of allies—Starfire twirling with Nightwing, her orange glow lighting the room, Beast Boy breakdancing badly to cheers.

Raven lingered beside him, her usual cloak swapped for a dark purple dress—simple, flowing, her hood replaced by a silver clasp at her throat. "You look lost," she said, a faint smile tugging her lips, holding two cups of punch—red, spiked, judging by Gar's earlier cackle.

"Feel it," Kai said, taking one, sipping—sweet, sharp, burning his throat. "Last dance I went to, I was dodging a truck. This is… weird."

"Normal's overrated," she said, stepping closer, her shoulder brushing his. "You're alive. That's enough for now." Her eyes flicked to the morpher—still dim, strapped to his wrist—and softened. "It's quiet. Good or bad?"

"Dunno," he admitted, flexing his hand—the cracks glowed faintly, a shard's jagged edge catching the light. "Feels like it's waiting—plotting, maybe. Like me."

She nodded, sipping her punch, and the music slowed—a soft ballad cutting through the noise. Gar whooped, dragging Donna into a clumsy spin—she laughed, rare and bright, despite her limp. Nightwing offered Starfire a hand, and they swayed, his grin softening the soldier in him. Raven glanced at Kai, hesitant, then held out her cup. "Trade?"

He swapped, confused, until she set both aside and took his hand—cool, firm, pulling him to the floor. "What—" he started, but she cut him off, stepping close, guiding his arm to her waist.

"Dance," she said, simple, her other hand on his shoulder. "You need this."

He stumbled, awkward—his sneakers scuffed the floor, her dress brushed his legs—but she moved with quiet grace, leading until he caught the rhythm. The room faded, the ache in his side dulled, and her nearness—violet eyes, faint lavender scent—grounded him. "You're good at this," he said, voice low, a grin tugging despite himself.

"Practice," she murmured, a flicker of amusement. "Azarath wasn't all doom." Her hand tightened, and he felt her pulse—steady, alive, tethering him to now.

The song peaked, and she spun him—slow, careful, mindful of his wounds—then pulled him back, closer, her forehead brushing his for a heartbeat. "You're still you," she whispered, echoing earlier, and he nodded, throat tight, wanting to believe it.

The lights flickered—once, twice—and the music cut, a low hum replacing it. Kai tensed, Raven stepping back, her glow flaring as the team froze. John burst in, ring blazing—"Grid spike, close!"—Diana behind him, sword drawn, Dr. Carter clutching a tablet, pale.

"Tower's sensors," Carter stammered. "It's here—inside!"

The morpher flared, green light blinding—Kai gasped, clutching it as the room dissolved. He stood in the Grid's void—green web pulsing, endless—Kaelric facing him, armor pristine, eyes alive but hard. "They come," Kaelric said, sword raised. "The shard's call—Eadric wakes."

"Eadric?" Kai rasped, stepping closer—the void trembled, shadows coiling. "The traitor?"

Kaelric nodded, face grim. "Corrupted—bound to the king's will, now Eclipso's. He hunts you—us. The Grid fractures, and he rises." A figure loomed—green-armored, helm cracked, Eadric's face—sharp, cold, eyes hollow like the knights'. He drew a dagger, black-green, and lunged—Kaelric parried, sparks flying, but the void split, green light bleeding.

Kai jolted back, crashing to the Tower floor—Raven caught him, her shout distant: "Kai!" The team circled, weapons ready—John's ring scanned, Diana's lasso glowed, Nightwing's sticks sparked. The morpher buzzed, "Entity breach—proximity zero!"—and the tree toppled, a rift tearing open mid-room, green and jagged.

Eadric stepped through—taller, broader, armor pulsing black-green, dagger gleaming. "Vessel," he rasped, voice a guttural echo of Kaelric's. "The Grid ends with you."

Kai staggered up—the dance forgotten, blood roaring—as the Titans braced, Eadric's dagger slashing the air.