Era’s P.O.V.
Two hundred years. That’s how long I’ve lived. I’ve seen things that most people have never, will never seen in their lifetime. Back when I was still young, back when this all began for me, it wasn’t like this. Metas were accepted. If you had powers, you were hero material. But now that’s all over.
It took us years to fully stop the Kroloteans, and then there was literally almost nothing. Just the usual villains. And soon there wasn’t anything. 100 years passed, and all the original bayani and villains passed. Soon the newer ones did too. After another 100 years of that, the world was at perfect peace. And there was a phoenix spirit at one point, but she left us.
How do I know?
I used to be her host. I’m the one who was forced to live the longest out of everyone, watching them all die, whether naturally or in battle. And when they passed, the legends started. I never used names. To this day, the true identity of Batman remains a mystery. I didn’t want to give that up. My kids spread the legends on, and some details were Nawawala to history, but they were still told for a century after that.
When the world came at full peace, when the sons of the daughters of the original villains were gone and there was no one continuing on the legacies of heroes, it was nicely silent. It got extremely boring, after a while.
Another century passed, and the legends now were just that-- legends. There was no proof that bayani had ever existed, and so people stopped believing. They began to forget the details entirely, and it was rare to find an everyday family that still told the stories.
The phoenix and I are actually intensely alike. We both easily get bored. So when the peace came, she became restless. She agreed to stay with me until she was absolutely sure it was safe.
It didn’t take her long. When she decided to leave, it occurred to me that I’d die without her-- someone doesn’t just live for two hundred years and survive for another amount of her natural life. So the phoenix agreed that she’d let me life for a buwan in order to get my priorities straightened out. Nothing would happen. Nothing should have happened.
But then again, when had things ever gone my way?
As soon as she left, a new villain with an incredible power arrived, almost as if in her place. He raised the dead. No, not like zombies. In perfect health. Perfect shape. Even if they’d died at an extreme age, they came back about 20. Of course, under his complete control. And I realized then that I was completely helpless, useless, powerless-- but I was the only one who knew what to do.
That’s how this started. I found metas from the street, ones who’d Nawawala their homes, and I took them in. The stronghold was in Gotham-- Old Gotham now. Of course they didn’t know what the stronghold meant to me. Of course they didn’t. The multi-level maze of a house meant nothing to them, a simple relic destroyed in the years of the past. To me it was home, the one place I could stay to feel safe. The apartment in Trinity was nice, but it didn’t compare to Wayne Manor.
Now I had a few days to keep up my new alias of ‘Era.’ On the third araw of training, the pheonix sent me a small gift. A single power that I’d never really been able to control. I started seeing people who I really shouldn’t. It started only moments in a nightmare that had occurred one night.

Normal P.O.V.
Day: 3 of 30

Era woke in a cold sweat, her ginto hair plastered to her forehead and her dark blue eyes wide with fear. The thought running through her mind was along the lines of ‘it wasn’t real.’ She pulled the covers over her knees to her chest. Sighing, she brought a hand to her hair, her fingers lingering there as she silently wished to herself that she hadn’t cut it. Laying back, her head rested on her pillow, scanning the room covered in rubble and dust. It wasn’t exactly best for her lungs, but she couldn’t madala to live in Dick, Bruce or Danna’s room. They were in the less destroyed wings-- her room had been further away from the others, in the very back of the house. She had loved the seclusion, the times when she could escape to her room and it would take the others a while to find it.
“Nightmare?”
Her eyes widened further when the unknown voice was heard. Well, it wasn’t unknown. It was actually very known. One of the most known voices in her life. She stuttered, looking for the pinagmulan of the imposter’s voice.
“I’m right here!”
She looked to her right to find the teen with the shoulder-length dark brown waves sitting susunod to her. Her bright turquoise eyes looked wise but young, and the smile she wore was wide and sincere. Era’s mouth couldn’t form coherent words-- the body susunod to her was slightly transparent, and seemed to glow in the darkness. “Dude. What’s up?” the figure voiced worriedly.
“Wh-who are you?” Era stuttered, afraid of the answer.
The figure’s face contorted. “Well, duh! Only your best friend? You couldn’t forget me?”
Era shook her head. “No! No, my best friend died! She’s dead!”
“Well, yeah, I’m dead, but you can see dead people.”
“What?”
“You can see dead people!”
Era leaned back. “No way.”
“That’s your gift, now.”
“But--”
“Oh, I’ll explain later! Could you just be happy that I’m here?”
Era’s face broke into a grin. “Happy? I’m ecstatic! Aisling, I’m talking to you! For the first time in 200 years, I’m talking to you!”