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DEEP SPACE – SECTOR UNKNOWN
Beyond the veil of the cosmos, past galaxies unnamed and long forgotten, a cold void stretched into eternity. Here, in the abyssal silence of dead suns and lifeless moons, an ancient planet drifted, a planet lost to time, abandoned by the living, untouched by the light.
Its surface was black as night, a broken world split with canyons that bled darkness. No life pulsed. No stars shone above. Only the eerie pulse of something beneath the planet's crust stirred, an echo.
At the heart of this forgotten grave-world stood a monolithic structure carved from black, before the Guardians. Before Oa. Before light.
And here stood Scar.
One of the Guardian of the Universe, wise and noble, once dedicated to preserving balance. Her form, still small and robed in the traditional Oan garb, was marked now by something wrong, blackened cracks etched her blue face like spiderwebs originating from the scar on her face. One eye was milky, as if burnt out by staring too long into oblivion. Her breathing was slow, measured, though she no longer needed air. She knelt before the towering structure that jutted from the ground.
Embedded deep within it pulsed a dying light, black. The Black Central Battery. A monument to death itself. Its glow barely flickered, dimmer than a dying ember, but ancient beyond measure. A beacon of what had once been… and what would be again.
Holding a black book in her hand, Scar raised her gaze to it, eyes trembling with emotion.
She whispered, as if in reverence.
"In darkness, they were born. In death… they shall return."
Her voice cracked with equal parts awe and fear.
"The spectrum is fractured. The light flickers. The will falters. Fear, Rage, Love...all of them splintered, bleeding."
A bitter breath escaped her cracked lips.
She stood, arms wide, her voice stronger now, echoing through the cavernous pit like a proclamation to the universe itself.
"And where light dies… the black shall rise."
The moment the words left her mouth, the dim pulse within the Battery began to shift.
One beat.
Then another.
Faster. Louder.
Like a heart long dormant beginning to wake.
The glow intensified, still faint, still restrained, but unmistakably growing. The planet seemed to vibrate with it. Rock cracked. The air trembled.
Scar closed her eyes.
And then
A voice.
But not spoken. Not heard. It moved like frost along the edges of her mind, ancient and cold, eternal. A voice that came from the grave of the cosmos itself.
"The balance is broken."
Scar staggered, a hand to her temple, not in pain, but in revelation. Her breath caught in her throat. Her eyes flared open, shining with an eerie black luminescence.
The voice continued.
"The time is near."
Silence fell. Deafening.
She stood still for a long moment, allowing the truth to settle on her soul.
Her mouth curled into a faint, unsettling smile, like someone seeing the end and embracing it.
She turned, robes trailing behind her, facing the cold stars above.
"The Shadow Lantern…" she murmured, a name soaked in disdain and admiration alike. "The spark that dimmed the light. His actions were a catalyst. And played in our favor."
She raised a hand, letting the black energy swirl within her palm, quiet and restrained for now.
"He has fractured the spectrum. Broken the will of the Corps. Buried the yellow flame. Left rage toothless."
Her voice trembled with rising fervor.
"And in his arrogance… he believes himself master of the dead."
Her eyes turned once more to the pulsing glow of the Battery.
"But death has no master.."
The Battery pulsed brighter.
She bowed her head, hearing the voice again, this time like a breath against her ear.
"Find a suitable host. Bind him. And he shall be… my herald."
Scar straightened. Her hands folded behind her back.
"Then to Earth I shall go. An enemy of the Green Lanterns walks there, unaware of the role he is destined to play. But I will show him…"
A smirk touched her lips, twisted and cruel.
"…what it means to serve the embodiment of death."
****
COAST CITY – NIGHTFALL
The sky above Coast City was a fading light of orange and violet, but down below, in the dead heart of the city's old cemetery, the light was long gone. The last rays of the sun cast no warmth here. Only the silence of the dead.
In an unmarked grave, one that should've been filled and forgotten decades ago, stood a man, disheveled, trembling, and broken. William Hand. an enemy of the Green Lantern. A man who had been defeated too many times to count by Hal Jordan. Mocked and forgotten. Stripped of purpose.
He stood knee-deep in the grave, surrounded by the curled remains of long-dead skeletons. Their empty sockets seemed to stare at him. The air was heavy, unmoving. The only sound was the crunch of dry bone beneath his boots as he shifted, eyes hollow, lips twitching in a murmured madness.
And then, it came.
A voice not in the wind, not in the ground, not in the sky.
Inside his own head.
A whisper threaded through his skull, soft and cold. It kept mentioning names, of people he knew about, dead and alive.
The names kept coming.
The voice crawled across his mind like a plague, eating away at every last bit of sanity he had left. His hands clutched his head, fingernails digging into his scalp until blood pooled beneath his fingers.
"No! No...get out...get out of my head! What is this?!" he screamed, staggering backward, tripping over ancient bone.
But the voice did not stop.
"You have seen them. You have felt the emptiness. You know what must be done."
His eyes widened. The world pulsed around him. Distant and faint..
And then… stillness.
He stood motionless, drenched in sweat and dirt and blood. His eyes vacant. But something inside him shifted.
****
HOURS LATER – THE HAND FAMILY ESTATE
The Hand Estate sat like a black crown atop the cliffs overlooking the bay, old stone carved into modern angles, glass and steel, regal gates with golden emblems of the family crest.
The Hand family was gathered.
"Will," his father said between sips of red wine. "You've barely touched your veal."
No answer.
"Still chasing shadows?" asked his older brother, in a sharp gray blazer. "Ghost particles and stellar entropy and… what was it last month? Vibrational decay? That's some weird obsession you have."
"Leave him be," their mother chided softly, her diamond necklace catching the light.
But William wasn't hearing them.
Not anymore.
In his mind.
Something ancient was speaking.
"You are nothing to them."
"They smile at your silence. They mock your eyes. But I see you. You walk among them, child of death."
His hand drifted beneath the table. His fingers brushed against the cosmic divining rod, warm with pulsing energy.
"They do not love you. They tolerate you. You were born in a mausoleum. Let it become one."
"Will?" his brother asked, his tone hesitant.
He stood slowly. The leather chair creaked.
Everyone turned.
"What are you doing?" his father asked, cold authority behind the words.
But Will said nothing.
He brought the rod up from beneath the table. The lights flickered the moment it touched air chandeliers dimming.
"William..."
He didn't listen.
The scream barely had time to echo before chaos exploded.
Silverware scattered. Wine spilled like blood. The family rose in horror, but they were too slow.
His three brothers tried to run, but the force of the weapon lifted them off the ground in a blast that killed them on contact.
His mother gasped, and he turned, eyes black with something not of this world, before snapping her neck.
His father, trembling, pulled a sidearm from his blazer.
He fired once. Twice.
William walked through the bullets.
No pain. No hesitation, even though he bled.
"William.." his father whispered, falling to his knees. "Why…?"
William finally spoke.
"They've whispered to me, in the dark... and now, I finally understand. This is my true path..I am chosen. The darkness speaks through me now. and I will carry its will."
And with one final thrust, the father of the Hand family joined his ancestors.
The grand dining hall once filled with opulence was now soaked in crimson.
The chandelier light flickered above the carnage, casting long shadows across the floor. William stood alone, surrounded by the broken bodies of his kin.
"One death remains."
He lifted the rod. And turned it on himself. Towards his face.
Whispers filled his head "Be not afraid… for your death is holy."
There was no scream. No final word.
Just the thud of a lifeless body hitting the floor.
*****
OUTSIDE THE HOUSE – MOMENTS LATER
The wind shifted unnaturally, Floating in the darkness above the house was Scar.
The Guardian's once-blue skin was pale as ash, her robes darkened by something far more ancient than time. Her white hair floated as though underwater, unmoved by gravity or grace.
She smiled.
A cold smile.
In her open palm, something began to float.
A black ring.
It pulsed once, as though sensing something. And then it flew cutting through the air in perfect silence toward the broken window of the house.
Inside, amidst the ruined bodies and broken furniture, it found him.
The ring hovered above William Hand's chest.
A whisper came again, but this time it came from nowhere and everywhere.
"The time is now."
The ring dropped.
Onto his finger.
William Hand's body jerked violently, blood gurgling in his throat. The pool of red beneath him grew cold, and then stopped flowing altogether.
He opened his eyes.
Black and Empty.
A symbol of the black lanterns appeared in his chest
He inhaled, the sound like wind being pulled through a crypt.
And then the voice whispered one final time:
"Rise my Herald.. And let the Blackest Night begin.."
/-\
If you Like this story! Check out my other stories! Solo leveling in Westeros.
&
If you wish to read more or simply support me than check out my patreon at
"https://www.patreon.com/FrenzyAren"
You can Get Access to 3 More Chapters OR 7 More Chapters if you want