Meanwhile... Tamaran — Former Throne World of the Vega System
What was once the jewel of the Vega System lay in ruin.
The twin suns of Tamaran still burned high in the orange sky, but their light only highlighted the devastation below — vast cities reduced to smoldering husks, their crystal spires now jagged teeth jutting from rubble. The great floating gardens that had once drifted like clouds above the golden metropolises were nothing but ash on the wind. The oceans, once a brilliant azure that rivaled Earth's own seas, were now slick with blackened debris and the oil-slick remains of crashed warships.
The great mountain fortresses — carved from living stone and reinforced with Tamaranean stellar-forged metals — lay shattered like brittle clay, their defensive towers toppled, their weapon arrays dark and silent.
And above it all, a vast fleet of Citadel warships hung in orbit like a cloud of knives, their black hulls gleaming with the reflected light of Tamaran's dying glory. Their engines cast ominous red light over the broken world, a crimson shroud that seemed to pulse with malevolent life.
At the heart of the Citadel command center, in what had once been Tamaran's royal palace — its soaring arches now reinforced with brutal Imperial architecture, its golden walls replaced with stark black metal — two towering Citadel generals stood at rigid attention.
They were hulking brutes, each easily eight feet tall and clad in spiked black armor that seemed to drink in light. Their faces were hidden behind curved helmets that bore the burning eye symbol of the Citadel Empire. Steam hissed from the joints of their power armor as they waited, utterly still, like statues carved from obsidian and malice.
Before them, a darkened holoprojector hummed to life with a sound like distant thunder.
The projection shimmered, static dancing across its surface for a moment before resolving into the image of a tall, regal figure seated upon a throne of twisted metal and crystalline fragments — pieces of Tamaran's crown jewels, repurposed into something far more sinister.
Komand'r, Governor of Tamaran and first loyal vassal of the Citadel Empire.
She was beautiful in the way that poisonous flowers were beautiful — elegant, alluring, and utterly deadly. Her dark eyes held the same luminescent quality as her sister's, but where Koriand'r's glowed with warmth and compassion, Komand'r's burned with cold calculation and barely restrained hunger for power. Her skin held the same golden hue as Koriand'r's, but seemed somehow paler, as though the light within her had dimmed to something more akin to winter starlight.
She was armored in plates of black and crimson that had been forged to accentuate rather than hide her femininity — a reminder that power came in many forms. Her cape, a deep violet that seemed to shift between purple and black depending on the light, was pinned at her shoulders with brooches shaped like dying stars.
Her hair, darker than her sister's and longer, fell in waves around her shoulders, occasionally catching the light with threads of some dark metal woven throughout. Unlike Koriand'r's wild, free-flowing locks, Komand'r's hair was perfectly controlled, every strand in place — much like everything else in her carefully orchestrated existence.
The corners of her mouth curved upward in a smile that held no warmth — only the satisfied expression of someone who had learned that cruelty was often more effective than kindness, and far more satisfying.
"Well?" she said, her voice carrying the musical accent of Tamaran but sharpened into something that could cut glass. Each word was precisely enunciated, as though she were conducting an orchestra of destruction. "Don't keep me in suspense, gentlemen. I do so hate being kept waiting."
One of the generals — the larger of the two, with scars visible even through the gaps in his helmet — thumped his armored fist against his chest plate in salute. The sound echoed through the chamber like a gunshot.
"Governor," he began, his voice distorted by his helmet's vox-grille. "We have located the escaped princess."
Komand'r's eyes narrowed, and for just a moment, the faintest spark of violet light flared behind her irises — different from her sister's green fire, but no less dangerous.
"Princess?" she repeated, and her voice dropped several degrees. The smile on her lips became something sharp and predatory. "I think you mean the fugitive terrorist who murdered dozens of loyal Imperial soldiers during her escape. Don't you, General Kragg?"
The general shifted slightly, a barely perceptible movement that suggested even these massive warriors knew better than to test their governor's patience.
"Of course, Governor. The fugitive has been traced to the Sol System. The third planet from their star — designation Terra, known locally as 'Earth.' Intelligence indicates she made planetfall approximately seventy-two hours ago and has sought protection from the native population."
"Earth," Komand'r mused, leaning back in her throne. The crystalline fragments embedded in its arms began to pulse with faint violet light as her powers responded to her emotional state. "How delightfully... primitive that sounds. Tell me about these natives, General. Are they as entertaining as they sound?"
The second general, slightly smaller but no less intimidating, stepped forward. "Pre-space flight civilization, Governor. Basic nuclear technology. Crude projectile weapons. They should pose no significant resistance to Imperial forces."
"Should pose no resistance," Komand'r repeated, then laughed — a sound like silver bells dipped in acid. "Oh, how wonderfully confident you sound. Tell me, General Vorth, was it not equally confident reports that assured us the Tamaranean Defense Corps would fall within days rather than weeks?"
General Vorth's helmet turned slightly toward his companion, a gesture that might have been nervousness if such emotions were permitted in Citadel ranks.
"The Tamaraneans had advanced technology and centuries of military tradition," Vorth said carefully. "These Earth-dwellers are barely out of their technological infancy."
"Hmm." Komand'r stood from her throne with fluid grace, her cape sweeping behind her as she walked toward the great window that overlooked the blackened remains of her homeworld. The view was spectacular in its devastation — a planet-sized monument to what happened when one chose to resist the inevitable. "You know, that's what I find most amusing about all of this."
She pressed one armored hand against the transparisteel, and frost began to spread from her touch in delicate, deadly patterns.
"My dear sister always did love lost causes. Broken things. Creatures that needed her protection." Her voice took on a mocking, sing-song quality. "Remember when we were children, Generals? How she would rescue injured star-moths from the palace gardens? How she would nurse dying flame-birds back to health?"
Neither general responded, understanding that the question was rhetorical.
"She always believed," Komand'r continued, turning back toward them with that same cold smile, "that there was inherent nobility in defending the weak. That strength was meant to be used in service of the helpless." She laughed again, and the sound made the air itself seem colder. "How perfectly predictable that she would flee to a world of primitives. How utterly... her."
She walked back toward her throne but didn't sit, instead placing both hands on its crystalline armrests. The fragments began to pulse brighter, casting dancing shadows on the walls.
"Do you know what she never understood?" she asked, looking between the two generals. "Power isn't meant to protect the weak. Power is meant to rule them."
General Kragg shifted slightly. "Governor, the Citadel High Command has transmitted new orders regarding expansion protocols. Should Earth's government resist, are we authorized to initiate full planetary subjugation procedures?"
Komand'r's smile widened, and it was the smile of a predator who had been patient far too long.
"Oh, my dear General," she said, her voice dropping to something barely above a whisper but carrying the weight of falling stars. "You're thinking much too small."
She gestured with one hand, and a holographic star chart materialized in the air between them, showing the Sol System in three-dimensional detail. Earth hung there, a small blue-green marble that seemed almost insignificant against the vastness of space.
"This isn't just about bringing my wayward sister home," she continued, walking around the projection like a predator circling prey. "This is about sending a message. To every world in the galaxy that might consider offering sanctuary to enemies of the Empire."
Her finger traced a path through the holographic solar system, and each planet she touched flared briefly with red light.
"The Empire expands, Generals. It does not negotiate. It does not compromise. It does not ask permission." Her voice grew stronger with each word, building to something that was part speech, part prophecy. "And it most certainly does not tolerate interference in Imperial justice."
"What are your orders, Governor?" General Vorth asked.
Komand'r's eyes flared with violet fire, and when she spoke, her voice carried the authority of someone who had the power to reshape worlds and wasn't afraid to use it.
"Ready my flagship. The Ravager. The entire Vega Fleet will accompany me to this... Earth." She paused, savoring the word like fine wine. "I want my sister alive and intact, Generals. As for those who dare to shelter her..." Her smile became something terrible and beautiful. "They may be broken in whatever manner amuses you most."
She swept back toward her throne, settling into it with the grace of someone born to rule.
"But remember," she added, her tone becoming conversational again, "I want this to be educational. For my sister, for the primitives of Earth, and for any other world foolish enough to believe there are corners of the galaxy beyond the Empire's reach."
General Kragg straightened. "Shall we dispatch advance scouts to assess their defensive capabilities?"
"Defensive capabilities?" Komand'r laughed, and this time there was genuine amusement in the sound. "General, these people are so primitive they still use chemical rockets to escape their own gravity well. What defensive capabilities could they possibly possess?"
She waved one hand dismissively, and the star chart flickered out of existence.
"No, we go in fast and hard. Overwhelming force applied with surgical precision. Show them exactly what happens when mortals try to play games with gods."
She leaned forward slightly, her eyes gleaming with anticipation.
"Besides," she added, her voice dropping to something almost intimate, "I'm curious to see what kind of friends my dear sister has made. What manner of primitive heroes she's convinced to stand against the inevitable."
Her fingers drummed against the armrest of her throne, each tap accompanied by a pulse of violet light.
"It's been so long since I've had proper entertainment."
The generals saluted with mechanical precision and began barking orders to their subordinates, their voices echoing through the command center as the entire Citadel fleet began to stir to life.
Engines roared like caged dragons, their red glow intensifying until it painted the ruined surface of Tamaran in shades of blood and fire. Weapon systems powered up with the deep thrum of barely contained destruction. Communication arrays crackled to life, coordinating the movement of hundreds of ships with the precision of a predator pack preparing to hunt.
Within hours, Komand'r stood in her private war chamber aboard the Ravager — a blade-shaped vessel that was twice the size of any other ship in the fleet and armed with enough firepower to level continents. The chamber itself was a monument to conquered worlds, decorated with artifacts torn from the ruins of a dozen different civilizations.
At its heart was a massive viewport that offered an unobstructed view of the fleet as it prepared for departure. The sight was magnificent and terrible — a black swarm of death and conquest preparing to descend upon an unsuspecting world.
Her reflection in the reinforced transparisteel stared back at her — dark, beautiful, and utterly ruthless. The face of a woman who had sold her soul for power and found the transaction more than satisfactory.
"Run all you like, little star," she murmured to herself, using the pet name she had called Koriand'r when they were children, before ambition had poisoned the well of sisterhood. Her breath fogged the glass slightly. "There is no corner of the galaxy I will not claim. No world I will not burn. No sanctuary I will not shatter."
She pressed both palms against the viewport, and elaborate frost patterns began to spread across its surface, beautiful and deadly.
"And when I tear you from whatever primitive heroes you're hiding behind," she continued, her voice growing stronger, more certain, "when I drag you in chains before the Citadel Lords themselves, you'll finally understand."
Her lips curved in that cold, satisfied smile.
"Power isn't about protecting the weak, sister dear. It's about making them kneel."
Behind her, the fleet's preparations continued — a mechanical symphony of war and conquest. Navigation computers calculated hyperspace jump coordinates to the Sol System. Weapon batteries ran diagnostic tests that lit up the darkness with brief, brilliant flares. Troop transports loaded with thousands of armored soldiers sealed their bay doors with the finality of tombstones.
The hunt was about to begin.
And somewhere, light-years away, on a small blue and green world called Earth, Koriand'r had no idea that her past — and her future — was already burning its way toward her through the cold darkness between the stars.
In her war chamber, Komand'r smiled as she watched the first ships begin their jump to hyperspace, their forms elongating and then vanishing in flashes of brilliant light.
"See you soon, sister," she whispered to the stars.
—
Meanwhile… Oa — Hall of the Guardians
The vast crystalline towers of Oa shimmered with green light, visible even from orbit. At its center, the great Central Power Battery pulsed like a living heart, its emerald glow filling the skies with energy that could be felt in the bones of every being on the planet.
The Hall of the Guardians was a cathedral of living crystal, its soaring arches disappearing into shadows high above. Ancient symbols in forgotten languages spiraled up the walls, glowing faintly with residual power. The air itself seemed to hum with potential, as though reality was just a little more flexible here, a little more willing to bend to the will of those who possessed the courage to shape it.
Hal Jordan and Jessica Cruz walked into the towering chamber, their boots echoing softly on the polished floor that reflected their green uniforms like a dark mirror. Even at fifteen, Jessica carried herself with a stubborn courage that had caught the attention of the ring in the first place — though her fingers twitched occasionally at her side, betraying nerves that she was working hard to suppress.
She looked up at the twelve ancient Guardians of the Universe, seated on their floating thrones arranged in a perfect circle. Each was small and blue-skinned, their large eyes holding the weight of billions of years of cosmic responsibility. Their solemn gazes fixed on the pair of Earth's Lanterns with the kind of attention usually reserved for galactic crises.
Which, Hal reflected grimly, this probably was.
One of the Guardians — Ganthet, distinguishable by the slight warmth in his ancient eyes — inclined his small, blue head with something approaching concern.
"Hal Jordan. Jessica Cruz," his voice resonated through the chamber without echo, as though the words were speaking directly into their minds. "You bring troubling news from Sector 2814."
Hal folded his arms and looked up at them, his jaw set in the expression that had gotten him into trouble with authority figures since he was old enough to walk. The same stubborn defiance that had made him a test pilot, a Green Lantern, and occasionally a pain in the ass to cosmic beings who thought they knew better.
"That's putting it mildly," he said, his voice carrying the easy confidence that came from years of staring down impossible odds and somehow surviving. "We've confirmed the presence of a Citadel fleet in Vega. They've already wiped Tamaran off the map like it was nothing. Billions of people, gone. And now we know they're coming for Earth next."
He straightened, green light flickering around his fist.
"We need Corps support. And we need it now."
A low murmur of energy passed through the assembled Guardians, their expressions remaining impassive even as the air around them crackled with barely contained power.
"The Vega System," another Guardian intoned, his voice carrying the weight of cosmic law, "has long existed outside Green Lantern jurisdiction. The treaty with the Psions, the Citadel's historical claims, the complex political situation in that sector—"
"Yeah, well," Hal interrupted, his tone staying conversational despite the steel underneath, "they've decided to bring their war into our jurisdiction. Earth is our sector. Sector 2814. And I'm not letting some imperialist warlords roll through and burn my planet to the ground just because your little cosmic map says they used to be 'outside our law.'"
Jessica swallowed hard but stepped up beside him, her young voice steady despite the fact that she was addressing beings who had been old when her planet was still forming.
"He's right," she said, her hands clenched at her sides. "We've seen the reports from Tamaran. We know what they did. If we wait for them to strike Earth first, we'll already be too late to save anyone."
Her ring flared slightly brighter as her determination grew.
"My job is to protect people. All people. And right now, that means protecting Earth."
For a moment, there was silence in the great hall, broken only by the distant hum of the Central Power Battery. The Guardians exchanged looks that conveyed volumes of communication in microseconds.
Then a new voice broke in from the doorway, confident and amused.
"Damn straight."
John Stewart walked in, his green uniform gleaming under the light of the Battery, arms folded and his expression a mask of grim determination tempered by years of military discipline. Where Hal was all cocky test pilot swagger, John carried himself like the Marine he'd been, every movement precise and purposeful.
"Earth's my home too," he said, his deep voice carrying the authority of someone who'd fought in wars both terrestrial and cosmic. "And I'll be damned if I'm gonna sit around polishing my ring while these guys take it apart city by city."
He moved to stand beside Hal and Jessica, presenting a united front.
"Besides," he added with a slight smile, "someone's gotta keep Hal from getting himself killed doing something stupidly heroic."
"Hey," Hal protested, "my stupidly heroic moments have saved the universe at least three times."
"Four," Jessica corrected quietly. "Don't forget the thing with the yellow entity."
"See? The kid knows."
Their banter was interrupted by a louder, brasher voice from the doorway.
"And don't forget me, fearless leader!"
Guy Gardner strolled in with his trademark cocky grin, thumbs hooked in his belt and his red hair catching the green light. Where the others carried themselves with dignity or military bearing, Guy swaggered like he owned the place and was considering buying more real estate.
"If you think I'm lettin' some alien wannabe empire wreck my planet before I've had the chance to wreck it myself," he said, pointing at the Guardians with the kind of casual disrespect that should have gotten him thrown out of the Corps years ago, "you're outta your little blue minds."
He cracked his knuckles loudly.
"Besides, it's been way too quiet around here lately. I could use a good scrap."
Hal gave a crooked smirk despite the gravity of the situation.
"Glad to see the cavalry showed up," he said. "Though I'm not sure if Guy counts as cavalry or just controlled chaos."
"Hey," Guy shot back, "I'll have you know my chaos is barely controlled at best."
The Guardians exchanged looks that somehow managed to convey both cosmic patience and barely restrained exasperation.
"It is..." Ganthet paused, searching for the right word, "irregular. The Corps has maintained its neutrality in Vega for millennia. But the Citadel's recent aggression suggests their ambitions may have grown beyond their traditional sphere of influence."
Another Guardian, his features sharper and more austere, leaned forward slightly.
"If they are indeed targeting worlds within established Corps jurisdiction, then perhaps our non-interference policy requires... reevaluation."
"Very well," Ganthet said finally. "A contingent of the Corps may accompany you to Earth. But understand — this is not an official Corps action. You will be acting as individual Lanterns choosing to defend your sector."
Before Hal could thank them, another voice chimed in from behind him, deep and rumbling like distant thunder.
"You'll need more than four Lanterns if you want to hold off a whole Citadel fleet."
Kilowog lumbered forward, the massive Bolovaxian's tusks gleaming as he cracked his knuckles. At nearly eight feet tall and built like a living mountain, he made even Guy look small. His scarred hide told the story of countless battles across the cosmos.
"And you know old Kilowog ain't passing up a chance to teach some Citadel scum how to scream for their mamas," he growled, his voice carrying the kind of cheerful menace that came from someone who genuinely enjoyed a good fight. "Been too long since I got to use the full-contact training methods."
"Kilowog," Jessica said, relief evident in her voice, "I was hoping you'd come."
The big alien's expression softened slightly as he looked down at her.
"Course I'm comin', little poozer. Can't let my favorite rookie get herself killed without me there to watch her back."
Tomar-Re glided forward next, his avian features serene despite the circumstances. The Xudarian moved with an almost ethereal grace, his feathered crest catching the green light.
"If the Citadel threatens not just one world but potentially destabilizes an entire sector," he said, his voice carrying the wisdom of someone who had seen civilizations rise and fall, "then we must act. The Corps exists to preserve order and protect the innocent. You may count me in, Jordan."
He folded his wings slightly, a gesture of respect.
"Besides, Earth has produced some of our finest Lanterns. It would be... unseemly... to allow it to fall without offering aid."
Laira stepped forward from the shadows, her crimson hair falling loose around her shoulders and her eyes carrying the kind of intensity that came from a warrior's upbringing. The former princess of Jayd had traded a crown for a power ring, but she'd never lost the bearing of royalty.
"The Citadel took my homeworld years ago," she said quietly, her hand resting on the hilt of the energy sword she preferred to construct. "Made it a breeding ground for their war machine. If there's a chance to strike back at them..."
She looked directly at Hal, and her eyes burned with cold fire.
"You'll have my blade."
Boodikka chose that moment to push herself off the pillar she'd been leaning against, her movements liquid and predatory. The Bellatrixian warrior had been listening the entire time, of course — she just preferred to let others commit themselves first.
"What the hell," she said, spinning her ring around her finger with casual precision, "haven't had a decent fight in weeks. And the Citadel does have a certain reputation for being... entertaining opponents."
Her smile was sharp enough to cut steel.
"Plus, if we're going up against impossible odds with a ragtag group of misfits, I want in on the action. Sounds like my kind of party."
And finally, Arisia Rrab darted forward, her youthful energy matching Jessica's despite being several years older. The Graxosian's purple skin had a slight luminescence that grew brighter when she was excited — which, judging by current events, was right now.
"Can't let Jessica be the only rookie earning her stripes out there, right?" she said, shooting the younger girl a reassuring smile. "Besides, someone needs to keep an eye on Guy. Make sure he doesn't accidentally conquer something while we're not looking."
"Hey!" Guy protested. "That was one time! And technically, I liberated that planet!"
"You started a revolution because you didn't like their tax policy," John pointed out dryly.
"Their tax policy was oppressive!"
"You were there for fifteen minutes."
"Fifteen minutes too long!"
Jessica looked around at the assembled Lanterns with something approaching wonder. These were some of the most famous names in the Corps — legends, really. And they were volunteering to help defend her world.
"I... thank you," she said simply. "All of you."
Hal looked around at the impromptu squad forming behind him, his smirk growing wider. This was why he loved the Corps — for all their rules and regulations and cosmic bureaucracy, when it came down to it, Lanterns looked out for each other. And they sure as hell didn't back down from a fight.
"Well," he said, spreading his arms wide, "looks like we've got ourselves a party."
John just nodded approvingly, his expression calm but determined.
Guy cracked his knuckles again, already itching for a fight.
"I call dibs on punching whatever Citadel goon's in charge," he announced. "Been practicing my right hook on asteroids."
"That explains what happened to the Kuiper Belt," Hal muttered.
Kilowog laughed, a sound like boulders rolling downhill.
"Save some for the rest of us, you glory hound," he rumbled. "I got some new constructs I've been wanting to field-test."
The Guardians finally rose as one from their floating thrones, green light shimmering across their ancient robes like aurora on a polar night.
"Very well," Ganthet said, his voice carrying the weight of cosmic authority. "The Green Lantern Corps will not stand idly by while tyrants threaten the peace of the universe. But be warned — the Citadel Empire is ruthless, their technology advanced, and their numbers vast. Do not underestimate them."
His ancient eyes fixed on each Lantern in turn.
"They have conquered worlds that thought themselves unconquerable. Broken civilizations that believed themselves unbreakable. Do not let pride blind you to the reality of what you face."
"Wouldn't dream of it," Hal said, though his tone suggested he was already planning something that would probably involve a lot of improvisation and a healthy disregard for the odds.
Tomar-Re tilted his head slightly. "What is Earth's current defensive status? Do they have any idea what's coming?"
"They're starting to figure it out," Jessica said. "We've got Superman, Batman, Wonder Woman — the Justice League is mobilizing. And there's a team of younger heroes, too. They're good people. Brave."
"Brave's good," Kilowog said approvingly. "Brave can make up for a lot of inexperience."
"Speaking of experience," Boodikka said, checking her ring's charge level, "what do we know about Citadel tactics? Fleet composition? Command structure?"
"They're brutal but effective," Laira said, her voice carrying the bitter edge of personal experience. "They prefer overwhelming force applied quickly. Shock and awe followed by systematic subjugation. They don't negotiate, they don't show mercy, and they don't leave survivors who might cause trouble later."
"Sounds like my kind of enemy," Guy said cheerfully. "Simple motivations, clear objectives. No complicated moral ambiguity to muddy the waters."
"There's something to be said for enemies you don't have to feel bad about hitting really, really hard," Arisia agreed.
John was studying a holographic display that had materialized from his ring, showing strategic data about the Citadel forces.
"According to recent intelligence reports, they're led by someone called Governor Komand'r," he said. "Former Tamaranean royalty who betrayed her own world to the Citadel in exchange for power."
"Lovely," Hal said dryly. "We've heard of her from her younger sister, who she sold to the Citadel. Nothing I enjoy more than family drama on a galactic scale."
He turned to Jessica, who stood a little straighter now with Arisia at her side and the full might of the Corps backing her up.
"Ready, kid?"
She looked around at the assembled heroes — warriors from a dozen different worlds, united by their rings and their commitment to protecting the innocent. Her ring pulsed with steady green light, responding to her growing confidence.
"Ready," she said, and her voice carried the kind of determination that had made her worthy of the ring in the first place.
Kilowog clapped a massive hand on Hal's shoulder, nearly knocking him over despite the protective aura that surrounded all Lanterns.
"Then let's go show those Citadel pukes what happens when you mess with our sector," he rumbled, his tusks gleaming in a fierce grin.
The group began to move as one toward the hangar bay where their personal spacecraft waited, their combined green light growing brighter as their united will began to resonate. The air itself seemed to shimmer with potential energy.
"You know," Guy said as they walked, "I've always wanted to see Earth again. Heard you got some interesting recreational activities these days."
"We're not going there for vacation, Guy," John pointed out.
"I know, I know. Save the world first, then sample the local cuisine. I got priorities."
"Just remember," Hal said, "Earth still has really strict laws about property damage. Try not to accidentally level any major cities while you're being heroic."
"That was one time!" Guy protested again. "And it was barely a city! More like a large town!"
"With a population of fifty thousand," Arisia added helpfully.
"Who all got evacuated safely!"
"After you destroyed their infrastructure."
"I rebuilt it better!"
"You built it out of green energy constructs. They dissolved after a week."
"Hey, I never claimed to be perfect!"
As their banter continued, the Guardians watched from their hall, their ancient faces unreadable. But there was something in their eyes that might have been approval — or perhaps just resignation to the inevitable chaos that followed whenever Lanterns decided to take matters into their own hands.
High above Oa, in the blackness of space, the first ships began to launch from the Corps' hangar bays. Green streaks of light that burned across the void like falling stars in reverse, racing toward a small blue world that had no idea it was about to become the focal point of an interstellar war.
And somewhere in the space between stars, the Citadel fleet continued its inexorable advance toward Earth, completely unaware that Sector 2814 had just called up some of its finest defenders.
The stars themselves seemed to burn a little brighter as the Green Lantern Corps prepared for war.
---
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