Tupperman and Joachim were south of Gotham with their party of shades and former circus employees when the sky lit with astonishing brilliance. The light was white, blinding in its intensity, illuminating the decrepit rail yard and abandoned tracks with painful clarity.
But the light didn’t come from the sun. Not even from the moon. It wasn’t from some manmade source either.
No, it was the light of the angels.
The light of merciless truth.
The light of redemption.
It touched the edges of the broken buildings, it ran along the rail tracks. It turned the deadened trees to silver, and heated the top of his head. He looked up and had to squint at the ferocious white of the angelic glory. The light fell, like so many fireworks, white lights descending in numbers beyond count.
The entire h
