"Every student has to do thirty hours of community service. But instead of being a lifeguard for the girls' swim class, I chose this. Sitting here with old folks who wear dentures," Pete said with mock pride, straightening his volunteer uniform. "Know why, Clark?"
Clark blinked, his thoughts far away. "I… don't know."
His mind wasn't in the nursing home at all. It was still trapped in the image that haunted him all night — an illusion, or maybe a prophecy.
A world in ruins. The sky torn open, smoke and fire swallowing the horizon.
And standing atop it all, his brother, Adrian — radiating power, dominance, and fury.
Clark's heart clenched.
Could Adrian really become a ruler, a tyrant over the ashes of mankind?
He tried to shake the thought, but the memory burned too vividly in his mind: Adrian, his aura of rage so heavy it bent the world around him. Clark could almost feel the heat of that crimson glare again.
No... that can't be real, he told himself. Adrian may be proud, maybe even dangerous sometimes, but he wouldn't destroy the world... would he?
And if that vision was the future, why was Clark standing beside him instead of stopping him?
"Clark?" Pete's voice cut through his thoughts. A tap on his shoulder snapped him back.
"Sorry," Clark said, forcing a small smile. "I just got lost in thought."
Pete gave him a knowing look. "You've been like that ever since the mess at Luthor Manor. You sure you're okay?"
"I'm fine. Just thinking about something," Clark replied quickly, changing the subject. "So, what's the real reason you ditched the lifeguard gig?"
Pete grinned. "A girl. She's volunteering here too. So, for today, buddy, you'll handle about seventy percent of our workload while I 'volunteer' my time elsewhere."
Clark sighed. "I should've seen that coming."
"Hey, Chloe says love and friendship are the same thing," Pete said with a wink. "And I value our friendship deeply."
Clark chuckled. "I'd rather not have this kind of love."
The two walked down the corridor, the hum of fluorescent lights overhead. They stopped at the door of a quiet room — their assigned reading spot.
Before Clark could knock, a voice from inside called, "Don't stand out there all day, boys. Come in."
The voice was calm, yet oddly knowing.
Clark exchanged a glance with Pete before pushing the door open.
Inside, an elderly woman sat on a worn sofa, sunlight from the window casting a soft glow over her silver hair. She wore sunglasses and held a closed book on her lap. Her smile was gentle but carried a strange weight.
"How did you know there were two of us?" Clark asked, curiosity overtaking caution.
"I may be blind, but I'm not deaf," the woman said lightly. "I heard your footsteps, and your hesitation."
Pete whispered, "Creepy, but impressive."
Clark managed a polite smile, though a strange unease crept into him. "Are you Ms. Cassandra?"
"That's right. But no need for titles. Just Cassandra." She set the book aside. "Come closer, young men."
Before either could sit, Pete's phone buzzed loudly. He checked it and groaned. "Emergency. Clark, hold down the fort for me, alright? I'll be right back."
Without waiting for an answer, he hurried out, leaving Clark alone with the mysterious woman.
"What an impatient young man," Cassandra mused, patting the seat beside her. "Sit, Clark Kent."
Clark hesitated, then sat. "You… know my name?"
Cassandra chuckled softly. "Names have a way of traveling, especially in a small town like this. Come, give me your hand."
Clark obeyed, though unease prickled at the back of his mind. Her hand was warm — too warm. And as soon as her fingers closed around his, something unseen began to pull at him.
A low hum filled his ears. Then came the flicker of lightning.
The world blurred.
Suddenly, Clark stood under a storm-black sky.
Rain hammered against him, soaking his clothes, cold and merciless. All around him stretched a desolate graveyard, tombstones half-buried in mud.
Lightning split the sky, illuminating the names carved into stone —
Jonathan Kent.
Martha Kent.
Clark's breath caught in his throat. His parents. Dead.
Then, through the sheets of rain, a silhouette emerged — tall, broad, unshakable.
Adrian.
He walked forward, the rain hissing against the faint red glow in his eyes. That light — cold, sharp, inhuman — burned through the downpour.
"Adrian?" Clark whispered.
The name had barely left his lips before a beam of heat vision tore through the air, striking Clark square in the chest.
The blast knocked him backward, shattering a tombstone as he crashed into the mud. His chest ached — not from pain, but disbelief.
"Why?" he gasped.
Adrian was on him in an instant, moving faster than thought, his hand gripping Clark's throat like iron. "You stood in my way," he said, voice calm but merciless.
Clark's eyes burned red in return. "I'll never let you—"
Their powers collided in a blinding flash. The twin rays of Heat Vision met in the rain, splitting the storm apart with raw energy. The earth shook. Mud steamed.
Clark pushed with everything he had, but Adrian's strength overwhelmed him, forcing him to his knees.
And then—
"NO!"
Clark's scream ripped him out of the vision. He stumbled backward, gasping, drenched in sweat.
The room around him returned. Cassandra sat frozen, her face pale beneath her glasses.
"You saw it too, didn't you?" she whispered. Her voice trembled. "Such a terrible sight…"
Clark staggered to his feet. His pulse pounded in his ears. "My parents… Adrian tried to kill me," he said, voice breaking. "That can't be the future. It can't!"
"Kent," Cassandra said softly, extending a trembling hand, "what you saw was only one of many roads. The future changes with every choice you make. Do not treat it as destiny."
But Clark was already shaking his head, panic spreading across his face. "No… no!"
With a rush of wind, he vanished, leaving the old woman alone in the silence.
A soft sigh escaped her lips. She folded her hands and whispered, "May you choose the light, child… before the shadow claims you both."
____
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