On his fifth day of training, Hal experienced his first real Corps mission—albeit as an observer rather than a primary operator. A distress call had come from a mining colony in Sector 563, reporting attacks by unknown forces. With Sinestro leading, Hal joined a response team including Kilowog, Tomar-Re, and two other Lanterns he hadn't previously met—Arisia Rrab, a young and surprisingly cheerful Graxosian, and Stel, a robotic entity whose metallic body housed a highly developed artificial intelligence.
"Stay back, observe, and only engage if directly ordered," Sinestro instructed as they approached the colony—a collection of habitat domes connected by transparent tunnels, clinging to the surface of a massive asteroid. "This is a learning opportunity, not a combat initiation."
The attack, it turned out, was not from some invading empire but from the asteroid itself—or more precisely, silicon-based life forms that had evolved deep within its mineral deposits. The mining operation had disturbed their habitat, triggering a defensive response.
Hal watched in fascination as Tomar-Re took lead on negotiations, creating complex symbolic constructs that somehow communicated with the crystalline entities despite their radically different biology. Meanwhile, Kilowog and Stel worked to reinforce damaged sections of the colony, preventing atmospheric breaches that would have killed the human miners.
"Impressive adaptation," Sinestro noted as Hal created a transport sphere to help evacuate injured colonists to their medical facility. "Most rookies struggle with maintaining atmospheric integrity while simultaneously managing internal pressure differentials."
"It's not that different from understanding aircraft cabin pressure systems," Hal replied, carefully adjusting his construct as they passed through an airlock. "The principles are the same, just applied on a different scale."
The situation was resolved without casualties on either side—a relocation plan developed that would allow both the miners and the silicon entities to coexist on opposite sides of the massive asteroid. As they departed, Hal felt a surprising sense of accomplishment despite his limited role. This was what being a Lantern was about—not just cosmic battles, but finding solutions that preserved life and maintained balance.
"You did well," Sinestro acknowledged as they returned to Oa. "Your constructs are still inefficient—burning far more energy than necessary—but their structural integrity has improved markedly."
From Sinestro, this qualified as effusive praise. Hal accepted it with a nod, recognizing the genuine, if grudging, approval behind the criticism.
That evening, in the brief rest period allocated between training sessions, Hal found himself drawn to one of Oa's observation platforms—a quiet space where off-duty Lanterns could view the stars without the constant bustle of the training grounds or administrative complexes.
He stood at the edge, looking out at the vast sweep of space beyond Oa's atmosphere. Somewhere out there was Earth—too distant to see, but never far from his thoughts. He wondered what Carol and Thomas were doing now. Had they noticed his absence yet? Filed a missing person's report? Or had they simply assumed he'd taken off on another of his impulsive adventures?
"Homesick already?" The voice belonged to Arisia Rrab, the young Graxosian Lantern from the mining colony mission. She approached with the casual confidence that seemed characteristic of her, taking a place beside him at the platform's edge.
"Just thinking," Hal replied. "It's a lot to process. A week ago, I was test-flying experimental aircraft. Now I'm learning about cosmic entities that eat planets and mad titans collecting universe-ending stones."
Arisia nodded sympathetically. "I remember that feeling. When my father's ring chose me after his death, I was barely into my adult phase—the equivalent of your Earth teenagers, I believe. One day I was studying cultural anthropology, the next I was expected to patrol an entire sector."
"How did you handle it?" Hal asked, genuinely curious.
"Poorly at first," she admitted with a self-deprecating smile. "I tried to be what I thought a Lantern should be—stoic, serious, emotionless. Nearly got myself killed overcompensating during my first real crisis." She glanced at him. "The trick isn't becoming someone else, Jordan. It's bringing what makes you unique to the Corps. Your human perspective isn't a handicap—it's an asset."
Before Hal could respond, their rings pulsed simultaneously—a general alert that demanded immediate attention.
"Emergency summons," Arisia said, her casual demeanor instantly replaced by professional focus. "All Lanterns to the assembly hall."
Together they took to the air, joining dozens of other Lanterns converging on the massive structure at Oa's center. Whatever the crisis, it clearly involved all available Corps members—not just a sector-specific response team.
"Any idea what's happening?" Hal asked as they navigated the aerial traffic.
Arisia shook her head, her expression grim. "Something big. The last full assembly was called when the Kree attempted to breach the treaty boundaries in Shi'ar space—nearly triggered an interstellar war."
They landed at one of the assembly hall's many entrances, moving quickly through the corridors toward the central chamber. The atmosphere was tense, with even veteran Lanterns exhibiting signs of anxiety—unusual for a corps trained to face cosmic threats with unwavering will.
"Look for Sinestro or Kilowog," Arisia advised as they entered the main chamber, already filling with thousands of Lanterns from across the universe. "They'll have better information than most."
Hal scanned the crowd, finally spotting Kilowog's massive form near the central platform. As he and Arisia made their way toward him, the main holographic displays activated, showing star maps with pulsing red indicators marking several sectors.
When Hal reached Kilowog's position, the drill sergeant's expression confirmed his concerns. Something was very wrong.
"What's happening?" Hal asked, watching as Lanterns around them took to the air, racing toward the central complex.
Sinestro's expression darkened as he joined them. "Emergency summons. All Lanterns to report to assembly immediately." His ring pulsed with incoming data. "Five sectors reporting catastrophic incidents simultaneously."
Kilowog's massive form tensed visibly. "Blood of the cosmos," he muttered, then turned to Hal. "Stay close, poozer. This ain't a drill."
The three joined the stream of Lanterns converging on the massive assembly hall. Inside, the space teemed with thousands of Corps members, their collective anxiety charging the air with emerald static. Holographic displays materialized throughout the chamber, showing star maps with pulsing red indicators marking affected sectors.
Salaak hovered at the center, his four arms manipulating complex data interfaces with incredible speed. His normally impassive features were tight with concern as he collated incoming reports.
"Sectors 2815, 1422, 3319, 0017, and 2732 have all reported Green Lantern casualties within the past twelve hours," Salaak announced, his voice amplified throughout the assembly hall. His four arms manipulated complex holographic interfaces with a precision that belied the gravity of his words. "In each case, the Lantern was attacked without warning by unknown assailants. All victims show identical wound patterns and markers."
The towering holographic displays shifted to show medical data—detailed images of the fallen Lanterns' bodies that made Hal's stomach tighten. Each victim lay in a ceremonial posture, arms crossed over their chest, eyes removed, and fingers systematically severed. Most disturbing was the intricate symbol burned into their flesh—a complex pattern of interlocking circles and angular script that seemed to pulse with malevolent purpose even in holographic form.
A hush fell over the assembled Corps, followed by a wave of murmured conversations that built into a dissonant chorus of alarm. Many of the veteran Lanterns appeared to recognize the symbol, their reactions ranging from disbelief to outright horror.
"These aren't random incidents," Sinestro observed quietly to Hal, his normally composed features tight with controlled tension. "This is a coordinated campaign."
Hal studied the star map hovering above the central platform, his test pilot's instinct for pattern recognition immediately identifying what others might have missed. The affected sectors formed a clear geometric progression.
"They're moving inward," he said, tracing a line with his finger through the pulsing red indicators. "Each attack is closer to Oa than the last. If the pattern holds, the next targets would be in this region." He indicated a cluster of sectors forming a rough semicircle around Oa's position.
Sinestro glanced at him with mild surprise, perhaps impressed by Hal's quick analysis. "Indeed. Whoever is responsible wants us to know they're coming. These aren't merely killings—they're messages."
The chamber darkened suddenly as the main illumination dimmed to a subdued emerald glow. The Guardians were arriving. Unlike Hal's previous encounter with them, they didn't enter through conventional doors. Instead, they materialized simultaneously on elevated platforms that descended from apertures in the chamber's vaulted ceiling. The synchronicity of their appearance, coupled with the somber lighting, created a theatrical effect that reinforced their authority.
But something was different. Hal had expected the same impassive, almost detached demeanor he'd witnessed during his evaluation. Instead, the Guardians' expressions showed various degrees of concern and—Hal noticed with growing unease—what appeared to be genuine fear. Their customary composure had fractured, revealing emotions that beings supposedly beyond such weaknesses shouldn't display.
Ganthet and Sayd occupied the central platforms, flanked by Appa Ali Apsa and Ranakar. The other Guardians arranged themselves in a semicircle behind them, their diminutive forms somehow more imposing in their evident agitation than they had been in their previous calm.
"Lanterns of all sectors," Appa Ali Apsa began, his voice resonating with artificial amplification throughout the chamber. "We face a grave threat unlike any the Corps has encountered in millennia. The pattern of these attacks suggests a coordinated effort to destabilize the Corps and directly challenge the authority of the Guardians themselves."
Salaak manipulated his interface, bringing new data to the forefront of the holographic displays. The images shifted to show detailed scans of the victims' wounds, with particular focus on the strange symbol burned into their flesh.
"Ring analysis confirms that each victim was systematically tortured before death," Salaak reported, his clinical tone unable to disguise the horror of his words. "Each was completely drained of blood through multiple precise incisions. The rings recorded the attackers wielding energy signatures similar to our own, but manifesting as red in color instead of green."
This revelation sent a fresh wave of unease through the gathering. Hal heard fragments of confused theories and whispered fears rippling through the crowd around him. Even without understanding the full context, he could sense the profound implications of these attacks for the Corps.
The Guardians conferred briefly among themselves, their hushed conversation carrying a tension Hal could feel even from a distance. They seemed to be debating something crucial, with evident disagreement among their ranks about how to proceed.
Finally, Ganthet stepped forward to address the assembly, his expression grave but resolute. Unlike the other Guardians, who remained hovering on their platforms, he descended to the central stage, bringing himself closer to the assembled Lanterns in a display of solidarity Hal suspected was deliberate.
"We must address what these attacks represent," Ganthet began, his voice carrying throughout the chamber. "These are not random acts of violence, but a deliberate campaign orchestrated by a being known as Atrocitus."
The holographic display zoomed in on the intricate burn patterns, rotating the symbol to display it from multiple angles. Hal noticed that several of the senior Lanterns visibly recoiled from the image, as if the symbol itself carried some contaminating influence.
"For billions of years, Atrocitus and his followers have been securely contained on the prison planet Ysmault," Ganthet continued. "Our intelligence now confirms that this containment has been breached."
The display shifted to show a desolate red planet. The image zoomed to a specific facility—a prison complex built into a mountain of crimson stone. Or rather, what remained of it. The structure had been obliterated, leaving only a smoking crater and scattered debris.
"The containment protocols were breached approximately three standard months ago," Sayd explained, joining Ganthet on the central platform. "The energy signatures registered during the breach match those recorded at the sites of our murdered Lanterns."
Hal noted that the Guardians were being deliberately vague about who Atrocitus was and why he had been imprisoned. Their careful phrasing suggested a calculated decision to withhold certain historical details.
"Most concerning is the method of these attacks," Ranakar interjected, his tone harsh compared to his colleagues. "The assailants appear to be wielding energy constructs similar to our own, but derived from the unstable red portion of the emotional spectrum—the manifestation of rage."
The holographic display shifted to show footage captured by the rings of the fallen Lanterns in their final moments. Blurry images revealed humanoid figures surrounded by crimson energy auras, wielding constructs that mimicked the Corps' own abilities but with a disturbing, almost organic quality to their forms.
"The implications are grave," Ranakar continued, his voice hardening. "These 'Red Lanterns,' as they appear to be calling themselves, represent a direct challenge to the stability we have maintained throughout the universe for billions of years."
A shocked silence fell over the assembly. The concept of an opposition Corps wielding comparable power clearly struck at fundamental assumptions about the Green Lanterns' unique place in the cosmic order.
Hal turned to Sinestro, noting his mentor's unusually troubled expression. "You knew about this, didn't you?" he asked quietly. "This is what Abin Sur was investigating before he died."
Sinestro's eyes narrowed, his initial surprise at Hal's perception quickly replaced by guarded calculation. "Abin became... obsessed with certain historical records in his final years," he admitted reluctantly. "He conducted unauthorized investigations, questioning Atrocitus about something he called 'The Blackest Night.'" His voice dropped lower, ensuring only Hal could hear. "The Guardians discouraged his inquiries, but he persisted. If Atrocitus has escaped and created these 'Red Lanterns,' it suggests Abin's concerns may have been warranted."
The implications were staggering. Hal's predecessor had been investigating something the Guardians themselves seemed afraid to acknowledge—and now he was dead, his ring passing to Hal just as this ancient threat reemerged.
Appa Ali Apsa raised his hands, calling for order. The cacophony gradually subsided, though the tension in the chamber remained palpable. "We have initiated emergency protocols," he announced. "All solo patrols are suspended effective immediately. Lanterns will operate in pairs or larger groups until this threat is contained. Sector security will be reinforced, with priority given to sectors adjacent to those already attacked."
The display showed a new deployment map, with Lanterns being redistributed to create a defensive perimeter around Oa and strengthen patrols in potentially vulnerable sectors. Hal noticed that Earth's sector—2814—was highlighted within a cluster designated as high risk.
"Veteran Lanterns will brief their sectors on defensive strategies against this new threat," Salaak added, distributing tactical data to all ring-bearers simultaneously. "The red energy appears particularly corrosive to our own constructs. Standard protective protocols must be modified accordingly."
Ganthet stepped forward again, his expression grave. "We have just received a distress call from Sector 1417, specifically the planet Korugar." He looked directly at Sinestro as he spoke. "The signal reports unusual energy signatures consistent with those recorded at the previous attack sites."
Sinestro stiffened visibly, his normally controlled demeanor cracking to reveal raw alarm. "Korugar is my homeworld," he said, his voice tight with suppressed emotion.
"Indeed," Ganthet acknowledged with evident sympathy. "Which is why we are assigning you and Lantern Jordan to investigate this distress call immediately. Your knowledge of the terrain will be invaluable, and Jordan's... unconventional perspectives may provide insights others would miss."
Salaak's interface flared as he transmitted detailed coordinates directly to their rings. "The distress signal originated from the southern continent's capital city," he informed them. "Be advised that civilian casualties have already been reported. Preliminary data suggests the attack may still be in progress."
Hal felt the weight of his first real mission settling on his shoulders—not a training exercise or patrol, but a direct response to what might be the greatest threat the Corps had faced in centuries. The stakes couldn't be higher: Sinestro's homeworld, countless innocent lives, and a power that had already killed five experienced Lanterns.
Ranakar raised his voice to address the entire assembly once more. "The emergence of a force wielding the red light represents a fundamental threat to the Corps and the order we maintain throughout the universe. This threat must be eliminated at any cost."
Hal noticed something in the Guardian's tone—not just determination or authority, but a deeper emotion that surprised him: fear. These immortal beings, who had guided the universe since its earliest days, were genuinely afraid of what Atrocitus and his Red Lanterns represented.
As the assembly began to disperse, with Lanterns racing to their assigned sectors and emergency response groups forming, Tomar-Re approached Hal and Sinestro in one of the exit corridors. The Xudarian's normally calm demeanor was strained, his movements betraying unusual urgency.
"A moment, please," he requested, glancing around to ensure they weren't overheard. "There is something you should know before you depart for Korugar."
Sinestro's expression hardened with impatience. "We have our orders, Tomar-Re. Whatever additional insights you wish to share can wait until—"
"It concerns Abin Sur," Tomar-Re interrupted, causing Sinestro to fall silent immediately. "And his final mission logs, which were never fully submitted to the archival system."
Hal's interest sharpened at the mention of his predecessor. Every piece of information about Abin Sur felt personally significant—not just because he had inherited the man's ring, but because of the circumstances of their brief meeting. "What about them?" he asked.
Tomar-Re hesitated, clearly weighing his words carefully. "Abin's last visit to Ysmault, approximately three of your Earth months ago, left him deeply disturbed." The Xudarian lowered his voice further. "He spoke to me of a prophecy called 'The Blackest Night,' and a threat centered specifically around your sector, Hal—Sector 2814."
"Earth," Hal said, the pieces connecting in his mind. "That's why he was in my sector when he died."
"Perhaps," Tomar-Re conceded. "What matters now is that Abin believed Atrocitus was not merely seeking vengeance. He believed the prisoner possessed knowledge of coming threats that even the Guardians might not fully comprehend—or might be deliberately ignoring."
Sinestro's patience visibly thinned. "What exactly are you suggesting, Tomar-Re? That we should trust the word of a monster who has now murdered five Lanterns? A being who has sworn to destroy everything the Corps represents?"
"I suggest nothing," the Xudarian replied carefully. "I merely provide context that the Guardians have clearly omitted. Abin would want you to have all available information." He turned to Hal. "Be careful, Lantern Jordan. And remember that even the closest friends can be changed by grief and loss."
With that cryptic warning, Tomar-Re departed, leaving Hal with more questions than answers. He turned to Sinestro, whose expression had become unreadable—a mask of professional detachment that felt deliberate and forced.
"Was that a warning about Atrocitus, or about you?" Hal asked bluntly.
Sinestro's eyes narrowed dangerously, a flicker of something crossing his features before his control reasserted itself. "Tomar-Re was Abin's friend, as was I. But he did not approve of Abin's methods in his final years—or mine." He turned abruptly toward the launch bay. "We can discuss ancient history once we've investigated Korugar. My people are in danger."
As they headed toward the launch bay, Hal found himself studying Sinestro with new awareness. The senior Lantern clearly knew more about both Abin Sur's final mission and Atrocitus than he was sharing. Whatever had happened billions of years ago, it connected the Guardians, Atrocitus, and possibly even Sinestro in ways no one was willing to explain fully.
The launch bay was a hive of activity, with dozens of Lanterns preparing for emergency deployments across the universe. Kilowog coordinated the chaos with surprising efficiency, assigning teams and priorities with the expertise of a veteran commander.
"Jordan! Sinestro!" he called as they approached. "Your transport's ready. Pre-programmed coordinates. High-priority authorization—you'll be taking a direct portal to Korugar's orbit. No time for conventional travel."
Hal had never used the portal system before—it apparently required significant power from the Central Battery and was typically reserved for the most urgent missions. The fact that the Guardians had authorized its use underscored the severity of the situation on Korugar.
"Kilowog," Sinestro said, his voice uncharacteristically hesitant. "If Korugar is under attack from these Red Lanterns..."
The massive drill sergeant placed a hand on Sinestro's shoulder—a gesture of solidarity that surprised Hal with its compassion. "We've dispatched a secondary team as backup. They'll be thirty minutes behind you. Hold the line until then." His expression softened slightly. "And Sinestro... your family—"
"They're in the northern province," Sinestro replied tersely. "Far from the reported disturbance. But every citizen of Korugar is my responsibility. I will not fail them."
Kilowog nodded grimly. "Good hunting then. And watch the poozer's back. He's still green—no pun intended."
As they approached the portal chamber, a circular platform surrounded by massive energy conduits that connected directly to the Central Battery, Hal felt a surge of determination mixed with apprehension. His training had been compressed into weeks rather than the standard months or years, and now he was heading into a life-or-death conflict against an enemy powerful enough to systematically murder experienced Lanterns.
"Sinestro," he said as they stepped onto the platform, "I need to know what we're really facing. Not the official version—the truth. What did Abin Sur learn from Atrocitus? What's this threat that everyone keeps dancing around?"
Sinestro was silent for a long moment, his expression unreadable as the portal technicians made final adjustments to the transportation matrix. The hum of the portal generators built around them, emerald energy cascading through the conduits as the system prepared to transport them across thousands of light-years in an instant.
"Abin found evidence suggesting there are truths about our past that have been deliberately obscured," Sinestro finally said, his voice barely audible over the building energy. "Atrocitus claims to have foreseen a time he called 'The Blackest Night'—a crisis where death itself would rise against the living. The emotional spectrum would fracture into multiple corps, each harnessing a different aspect. And at the center of this cosmic struggle would be Earth—your homeworld."
The portal flared to life around them, a swirling vortex of emerald energy that bathed everything in vibrant green light. Through the building roar, Hal had to strain to hear Sinestro's final words before they were transported across the galaxy.
"Abin believed the prophecy. It's why he was in your sector when he died. He was searching for something on Earth—something connected to the coming darkness. And now Atrocitus is free, the red light of rage has been weaponized, and the first steps of the prophecy are unfolding exactly as Abin feared."
The portal reached its peak intensity, and reality dissolved around them. The last thing Hal saw before the universe disappeared into emerald light was Sinestro's expression—not the confident mentor or disciplined veteran, but a man confronting his deepest fears. Then the portal engulfed them completely, hurtling them across the vast gulfs of space toward Korugar, where something terrible awaited.