The evening air, while cleaner than the dust-filled walls of the destroyed warehouse, was little comfort. A thick silence lay over the destroyed industrial area, punctuated only by the faraway wail of sirens speeding towards them, a grim reminder of the destruction they had unleashed and narrowly escaped. The team was still standing in the rubble, their expressions stern, their adrenaline rush from their frantic escape slowly replaced by a deep sense of loss and the heavy burden of their defeat.
The vision of the emerald beast, the burning eyes filled with evil intelligence, was imprinted forever on their minds. The brief red flash, Conner's ghost struggling against the darkening corruption, now seemed a cruel jest, a reminder of what they had so nearly preserved but ended up losing. The burden of unmade decisions, the might-have-beens and could-haves, weighed upon them like the tons of debris that now covered their friend.
Zatanna, white-faced and furrowed with weariness, stumbled slightly, the strain of keeping her shield up and firing strong counter-magic having depleted her strength. Michael steadied her with a hand on her arm, his own face grim. The familiar burden of magical taint, the surreptitious nature of chaotic influence, was heavier than ever before, added to by the personal defeat of failing to salvage Conner.
Aqualad, his Atlantean features etched with profound sadness, gazed upon the mountain of rubble that now stood where the warehouse once did. The unspoken weight of leadership loomed heavy on his shoulders. He had assembled this team himself, and now one of them was gone, consumed by a monstrous form they had been compelled to leave behind.
Robin, his stoic mask broken by naked sorrow, carefully searched the wreckage with his infrared sight, a vain hope to find some indication of life, some glimmer of the Conner they were familiar with under the maelstrom of debris. The results were grim, the heat signatures indistinguishable from the background mayhem.
Wally, his normal kinetic energy stilled by a crushing despair, remained motionless, staring at the fallen building. The wisecracks and anxious energy that normally were his defense mechanism were missing, instead turning into subdued devastation. The image of the gargantuan Conner, the twisted caricature of their friend, tormented his normally sunny mind.
Umbra lay where she had dropped, surrounded by the ruin, her body still and quiet. The greenish light that had shone in her eyes was extinguished, leaving only the empty, vacant look of unconsciousness. The frenzied power that had given her strength now appeared to have deserted her, leaving her a shattered figure among the ruin of her creation.
The sirens increased in volume, their haunting cry ringing out into the night, announcing the arrival of the authorities. The Justice League would be coming too, and the young heroes would have to confront the inexorable judgment of their mission's cataclysmic failure. The justifications, the apologies, the crushing burden of responsibility – they hung in the immediate future, a further shade of blackness in their already somber prospects.
"We… we left him," Wally finally spoke, his voice thick with emotion, the implied accusation suspended between them.
Michael turned to the teenage speedster, his heart full of remorse as well. "We didn't have a choice, Wally. He was… beyond our control. At the mercy of a force we could not defeat at that instant." The words sounded thin, insufficient in the face of their loss.
"But we could have… we should have…" Wally's words faded away, the raw emotion too overwhelming to speak.
Zatanna nodded slowly, her voice a mere whisper. "The chaotic energy… it had rewritten him. The Conner we knew… was lost, replaced by something… else." The magical corruption she had seen was a grim reminder of the insidious power they were up against.
Aqualad moved forward, his eyes determined despite the sadness in them. "We're not leaving him behind. If there's any hint of Conner left in that animal, we'll find it. We won't stop until we've tried everything." His statement, while determined, held a dense subtext of doubt.
When the first police cars pulled up, their sirens flashing an otherworldly light on the desolated destruction, the weight of failure bore down on the young heroes. They had battled a formidable magical threat and not only had they failed to render it harmless but, in the process, they had created an even more sinister menace. The specter of emerald, the tainted likeness of their buddy, would remain to haunt their early days as Young Justice, a grim reminder of the steep price of their inexperience and the pitiless nature of the powers they had just started to battle. The music of loss had only just gotten under way, and the burden of unmade decisions would still continue to define their future.