As he rounded a bend in the highway, the sky above him suddenly illuminated with a strange green light. At first, he thought it might be the aurora borealis, unusual this far south but not impossible. Then he realized it was moving—a streaking emerald comet cutting across the horizon.
"What the hell?" he muttered, slowing the motorcycle to get a better look.
The object's trajectory changed sharply, angling downward toward the desert scrubland that stretched between Coast City and the mountains beyond. It disappeared below the horizon, followed seconds later by a distant flash of light and a rumble that Hal felt through his motorcycle's frame.
He pulled to the side of the road, his heart racing with excitement he couldn't quite explain. Whatever had just crashed wasn't a meteor—its movement had been too controlled, its light too unnatural. And it had come down in the abandoned mining country where Ferris Aircraft sometimes tested their most experimental prototypes.
As he debated whether to investigate, Hal felt a strange sensation in his right hand—a tingling warmth that spread up his arm. Simultaneously, the motorcycle's engine, which he'd just turned off, roared back to life on its own. The headlight swiveled slightly, illuminating a barely visible dirt road that branched off from the highway into the desert.
"That's... not normal," Hal whispered, staring at the motorcycle with a mixture of fascination and alarm.
When he cautiously gripped the handlebars again, the bike lurched forward as if impatient, the engine throttling up even though he hadn't touched the controls. It seemed to want to take the dirt path, to lead him toward whatever had crashed in the desert.
The rational part of his brain told him this was reckless—unknown objects falling from the sky weren't something civilians should investigate, and motorcycles definitely didn't drive themselves. But something deeper, more instinctive, pulled him forward. The same intuition that had guided him through countless test flights seemed to be whispering that this moment mattered, that he needed to follow where the light had fallen.
"Always trust your gut, Hal." His father's voice echoed from memory. "Instruments can fail, theories can be wrong, but a pilot's instinct is what keeps him alive."
Hal released his grip on the brakes, allowing the motorcycle to guide itself onto the dirt access road. The strangest part wasn't that the bike seemed to know where to go—it was how right this felt, like following a path he'd always been meant to find.
"Okay," he said to the empty desert night, "let's see where this goes."
The mining road was barely more than a trail, winding through scrubland and rocky outcroppings. Despite the difficult terrain and the darkness, the motorcycle moved with uncanny precision, avoiding obstacles and choosing the most efficient route. The crescent moon provided just enough light to navigate by, supplemented by the motorcycle's headlight that seemed somehow brighter than usual.
In the distance, Hal could see a faint green glow emanating from beyond the next ridge, pulsing rhythmically like a beacon. As they drew closer, the motorcycle's engine began to sputter and strain, as if whatever force had been guiding it was weakening or being interfered with.
Finally, about half a mile from the glowing ridge, the motorcycle stopped completely, its engine dying with a final mechanical cough. Hal dismounted, finding himself once again in control of his own movements. The tingling sensation in his hand had faded, replaced by an inexplicable certainty about which direction to go.
He parked the motorcycle properly and continued on foot, climbing the ridge with practiced efficiency despite the loose scree that threatened his footing. The green light grew stronger with each step, casting eerie shadows across the desert landscape. It pulsed in a pattern that seemed almost familiar, like a heartbeat or a code he should recognize.
At the crest of the ridge, Hal paused, struck motionless by what lay in the small valley below.
A crater perhaps fifty feet across had been carved into the desert floor, still smoking from the impact. At its center lay what was unmistakably a spacecraft—not the conventional metal of human design, but something that seemed almost crystalline, its purplish-green hull reflecting the moonlight in impossible patterns. Parts of it glowed with a soft emerald light that pulsed like a heartbeat, the same rhythm that had guided his motorcycle.
"Holy shit," Hal whispered, his voice sounding unnaturally loud in the desert silence.
His first instinct was to call someone—the authorities, Ferris Aircraft, anyone with the resources to handle what was clearly an extraterrestrial craft. But before he could reach for his phone, he noticed movement near the ship's damaged hull. A figure was emerging, humanoid but clearly not human, its skin a deep purple hue that contrasted sharply with its white hair and the green-and-black uniform it wore.
The alien—because what else could it be?—stumbled forward, one hand clutching its side where something dark seeped between its fingers. It managed three steps before collapsing to its knees at the crater's edge. Even from a distance, Hal could see that the being was gravely injured, possibly dying.
Training and instinct took over. Hal scrambled down the ridge, sending cascades of pebbles ahead of him as he half-ran, half-slid toward the injured being. Whatever it was, whatever this meant for humanity's understanding of the universe, right now it was simply someone in need of help.
"Hey!" he called as he approached, hands held out in what he hoped was a universal gesture of non-aggression. "Are you—do you need help?"
The alien's head lifted, revealing features that were startlingly human despite the purple skin—two eyes, a nose, a mouth that now curved in what might have been surprise or relief. Then it spoke, its voice masculine and weary but perfectly understandable.
"You... came." The words emerged in clear English, though something about the cadence suggested it wasn't the being's native tongue. "The ring... it was already... calling to you."
Hal slowed his approach, confusion momentarily overriding concern. "You—wait, you speak English?"
A pained smile crossed the alien's face. "Not... precisely. The ring... translates. All languages... in the universe."
"Ring? I don't understand." Hal knelt beside the injured being, his pilot's emergency training kicking in as he assessed the wounds. "Look, you're injured badly. I should call for medical help."
The alien made a dismissive gesture, then winced in pain. "No time. Earth medicine... cannot help me. My name... is Abin Sur. Green Lantern... of Sector 2814." His breath came in labored gasps. "And you are?"
"Hal Jordan." The response was automatic, social norms asserting themselves despite the surreal circumstances. "Test pilot from Coast City. Look, Mr. Sur, there has to be something—"
"Help me... sit against the ship," Abin Sur interrupted, his voice growing weaker. "Please."
Hal hesitated only briefly before moving to assist, carefully sliding his arms under Abin Sur's shoulders to help him into a seated position with his back against the craft's hull. The alien was surprisingly light despite his humanoid size, as if his internal density differed from human physiology. Up close, the extent of his injuries became apparent—multiple broken ribs visible through tears in his uniform, severe internal bleeding evidenced by the dark purplish fluid seeping from wounds in his torso, and what appeared to be radiation burns along one side of his body.
"It was... Atrocitus," Abin Sur said, following Hal's gaze. "Too powerful... for me alone."
"Who's Atrocitus?" Hal asked, removing his jacket to press it against the worst of the bleeding wounds, a futile gesture that human first aid training demanded despite the obvious severity of the injuries.
Abin Sur coughed, more of the dark fluid spattering his lips. "A being of... pure rage. Survivor of... the massacre." His eyes seemed to look beyond Hal, seeing something distant in space or time. "He is... only the beginning."
"Save your strength," Hal urged, feeling strangely protective of this dying alien who had literally fallen into his life minutes ago. "We can talk about all this once you're stable."
A weak laugh escaped Abin Sur. "Admirable... but pointless. My time... is ending." His right hand rose shakily, and Hal noticed for the first time the green ring that adorned one finger—the source of the emerald glow that had guided him here. "But yours... is just beginning."
The ring pulsed brighter, and to Hal's astonishment, it detached itself from Abin Sur's finger, hovering in the air between them like a tiny, sentient star. Its light illuminated both their faces, casting dramatic shadows that emphasized the solemnity of the moment.
"What is that thing?" Hal asked, unable to look away from the floating ring.
"Power," Abin Sur replied, his voice suddenly stronger and clearer, as if he were summoning his last reserves of strength for this explanation. "The most powerful weapon in the universe. A Green Lantern's ring draws on the emerald energy of willpower itself, allowing its bearer to manifest any thought into physical form."
As if responding to his words, the ring pulsed, projecting a small holographic image of what looked like thousands of beings similar to Abin Sur, all wearing variations of the same uniform, all bearing similar rings. They stood in formation before a massive central power source shaped like a lantern. The hologram then expanded to show another force alongside them—beings clad in blue and gold uniforms with distinctive helmet designs and a star emblem.
"The Green Lantern Corps," Abin Sur continued, his breathing growing more labored. "We work alongside the Nova Corps of Xandar. Together... we protect the universe. The Lanterns harness willpower... while Nova draws from the Nova Force. Each sector... has both a Lantern and a Nova Centurion... working in tandem. I have served... as this sector's guardian for over... 140 years."
"140—" Hal began, then stopped himself. Of course, beings capable of interstellar travel might have lifespans different from those of humans. "And now?"
"Now the ring... seeks a successor." Abin Sur's eyes fixed on Hal with surprising intensity. "Your sector's Nova Centurion... Rhomann Dey... will contact you... once your training begins. We coordinate our efforts... maintain the balance." He paused to catch his breath. "The ring guided you here. It... chose you, Hal Jordan."
The ring drifted closer to Hal, its glow intensifying until it was almost blinding. Then a voice emanated from it—neither male nor female, but clear and resonant with authority:
"HAL JORDAN OF EARTH. YOU HAVE THE ABILITY TO OVERCOME GREAT FEAR."
Hal almost laughed at that. If only the ring knew how fear had shaped his entire life, how it haunted him with every takeoff, how it chased him into dreams that left him sweating and gasping in the dark.
"This has to be a mistake," he said, looking from the ring to Abin Sur. "I'm not fearless. Far from it."
"The ring doesn't... seek those without fear," Abin Sur explained, his voice growing fainter. "It seeks those who... can overcome it. Face it. Master it." His hand reached out, gripping Hal's arm with surprising strength. "Fear is... essential. Without it... courage cannot exist."
The ring continued to hover before Hal's face, its light pulsing in time with his heartbeat, waiting.
"WILL YOU BE MY LANTERN?" the ring asked, its voice somehow both mechanical and alive.
Hal looked at Abin Sur, seeing the pain etched across his alien features, the desperation in his eyes. Whatever responsibility this ring represented, whatever duty Abin Sur had carried for over a century, he wanted—needed—Hal to accept it.
"I don't know the first thing about being a... a Green Lantern," Hal said, the words feeling surreal as they left his mouth. "I'm just a test pilot."
A smile touched Abin Sur's lips. "I was... just a historian... when the ring found me. The Corps... will train you. The ring... contains knowledge. The Nova Corps... will assist your transition."
The ring pulsed again, impatient. "WILL YOU BE MY LANTERN?" it repeated.
Hal took a deep breath, feeling as though he stood at the threshold of something that would irreversibly change his life. Part of him—the cautious, rational part that had developed after his father's death—screamed that this was insanity. But another part, perhaps the same intuition that made him an exceptional pilot, whispered that this was right. That this was meant to be.
"Yes," he said finally, extending his hand toward the ring. "I'll be your Lantern."
The ring's light flared triumphantly. "WELCOME TO THE GREEN LANTERN CORPS, HAL JORDAN OF EARTH."
It shot forward, sliding onto the middle finger of his right hand as if it had been custom-made for him. The moment it settled against his skin, warmth spread up his arm and throughout his body—not uncomfortable, but alien and somehow right, as though a missing piece of himself had finally been restored.
Abin Sur's expression relaxed slightly, relief evident despite his worsening condition. "Now... the oath," he whispered.
"Oath?"
"Every Lantern... must speak the oath. It activates... the ring's full power." Abin Sur's voice grew weaker with each word. "Repeat after me... In brightest day..."
Hal hesitated, then nodded. "In brightest day..."
"In blackest night..."
"In blackest night..." Hal repeated, feeling energy beginning to build within the ring, a resonance that spread through his entire body.
"No evil shall escape my sight." Abin Sur's voice was barely above a whisper now, but his eyes burned with intensity.
"No evil shall escape my sight," Hal continued, the words feeling strangely familiar, as if he'd known them all his life.
"Let those who worship evil's might..."
"Let those who worship evil's might..." As Hal spoke, the ring's glow intensified, spreading up his arm in intricate patterns that resembled circuitry or ancient script.
"Beware my power..." Abin Sur faltered, his strength clearly fading.
Hal gripped his hand, offering support in these final moments. "Beware my power..."
Together, their voices joined for the final line, Abin Sur's fading as Hal's grew stronger: "Green Lantern's light!"
The ring exploded with emerald radiance, the energy surging outward in a blinding flash that illuminated the entire crater. Hal felt himself lifted several inches off the ground, suspended in a cocoon of green light that seemed to analyze him down to the molecular level.
His clothes began to dissolve, replaced by a uniform materializing directly onto his body—black and green, with the same symbol that adorned Abin Sur's chest emblazoned over his heart. The material felt unlike any fabric he'd ever encountered—somewhere between cloth and energy, responsive to his thoughts. A mask formed over the upper portion of his face, and he could feel the ring's consciousness merging with his own, imparting information at a rate that should have overwhelmed him but somehow didn't.
When the light faded, Hal stood transformed, the Green Lantern uniform fitting his body perfectly. He looked down at himself in astonishment, then at Abin Sur, who was watching with a mixture of satisfaction and fading awareness.
"The transformation... is complete," Abin Sur managed, his voice now barely audible. "You are now... Green Lantern of Sector 2814. Rhomann Dey will find you... once the Guardians have... completed your induction."
"I don't understand any of this," Hal admitted, kneeling beside the dying alien once more. "What am I supposed to do? How do I use this power? Who are these Nova Corps people you mentioned?"
"The ring... will guide you. It contains... all knowledge of the Corps." Abin Sur's eyes began to lose focus, his consciousness clearly slipping away. "The Nova Corps... our allies for millennia... draw power differently... but our purpose is the same. But there is... something you must know. Something the Guardians... and Nova Prime... may not tell you."
He gestured weakly for Hal to come closer. When Hal leaned in, Abin Sur grasped his wrist with surprising strength, pulling him until their faces were inches apart.
"Beware... the Five Inversions," he whispered, his voice suddenly urgent despite his weakening condition. "Beware the massacre of Sector 666. The Guardians... have secrets. Ancient sins. Even the Nova Empire... doesn't know all of it."
"I don't know what any of that means," Hal admitted, concern growing as Abin Sur's grip weakened.
"You will." Abin Sur's eyes began to drift, looking at something beyond Hal, perhaps beyond this world entirely. "And above all... beware the Blackest Night that comes for us all. A darkness... that will consume everything. Not even... the combined might of both Corps... may be enough."
His grip on Hal's wrist loosened, his strength finally failing. But instead of pulling away, Hal took the dying Lantern's hand in his own, offering the simple comfort of not dying alone.
"The ring... chose you for a reason, Hal Jordan," Abin Sur continued, his voice growing fainter with each word. "Trust in that... if nothing else."
Abin Sur's eyes took on a distant quality, as if seeing beyond their current reality. "Arin," he whispered, a name Hal didn't recognize. "My sister... I failed you. And Amon... my niece. The prophecy... the Nova Archive confirms it..."
His voice trailed off, but his lips continued to move silently, forming words Hal couldn't understand. Perhaps names, perhaps prayers in his native language.
"You're not alone," Hal said softly, a reassurance he'd heard his mother offer to terminal patients during her nursing career before his father's death. "I'm here with you."
A grateful smile touched Abin Sur's lips. "My ring... chose well." His gaze focused on Hal one last time, sudden clarity returning to his eyes. "Remember, Hal Jordan... the oath is not just words. It is... a promise. To the universe. The Nova Corps... will help guide you... but follow your own path."
With that final wisdom imparted, Abin Sur's head lolled forward, his hand going limp in Hal's grasp. The glow that had surrounded his body faded entirely, leaving only the soft illumination from Hal's ring to light the darkening crater.
"Abin Sur?" Hal checked for a pulse at what seemed to be the neck, though he wasn't entirely sure where a pulse should be on an alien physiology. But he didn't need medical training to recognize death. The Green Lantern of Sector 2814 was gone.
For a long moment, Hal remained kneeling beside the fallen Lantern, honoring the passing of a being who had apparently protected Earth and its surrounding space for centuries without humanity ever knowing. The weight of what had just occurred—of the mantle that had just been passed to him—began to settle on his shoulders.
Finally, he gently placed Abin Sur's hand across his chest, arranging his body in a more dignified position. It seemed wrong to leave him like this, exposed to the elements in an anonymous desert crater, but Hal had no means to provide proper burial, especially for a being whose cultural practices regarding death he knew nothing about.
"Ring," he said experimentally, feeling slightly foolish for talking to his finger. "What do I do with... with Abin Sur? Is there some kind of Green Lantern funeral protocol?"
To his surprise, the ring responded, its voice androgynous and slightly mechanical: "Standard protocol for a fallen Lantern is return to Oa for ceremonial interment within the Crypts of the Green Lantern Corps. Immediate notification of the Guardians is required. Nova Corps representatives will also be present for the memorial service, as is customary for joint operations personnel."
"Oa?" Hal repeated, the unfamiliar term ringing faintly from Abin Sur's earlier explanation. "Where is that?"
"Oa. Central planet of the universe. Headquarters of the Green Lantern Corps and home of the Guardians." The ring pulsed gently. "New Green Lantern detected. Initiating basic training protocol. Connection to Central Power Battery on Oa established. Nova Corps headquarters on Xandar has been notified of succession."
Before Hal could ask another question, the ring projected a holographic display in the air before him—a three-dimensional star map that zoomed through what appeared to be the Milky Way galaxy, past countless star systems, until it centered on a distant planet unlike any Hal had ever seen. Its surface was covered with what looked like massive geometric structures of impossible scale, and at its center stood an enormous lantern-shaped object pulsing with the same green energy as his ring. The map then shifted to show another planet—one with blue-white architecture in concentric circles, which the ring indicated was Xandar, home of the Nova Corps.
"Immediate transportation to Oa recommended for proper induction and training," the ring continued. "Fallen Lantern Abin Sur will be transported for ceremonial honors with full Nova Corps honor guard present."
"Transportation?" Hal repeated, alarm building as the implications became clear. "You mean, go there? To another planet? Right now?"
"Affirmative. Prepare for transport sequence."
"Wait, I can't just—" Hal scrambled for his phone, suddenly aware of the magnitude of what was happening. If he was about to be whisked off to another planet, he needed to at least tell someone. Carol would be his first choice under normal circumstances, but after their argument earlier, he wasn't sure how to explain this situation.
He dialed her number anyway, his finger hesitating only briefly before pressing "call." The phone rang once, twice, and on the third ring, she answered.
"Hal?" Her voice carried a mixture of lingering irritation and concern. "If you're calling to continue our argument—"
"Carol, listen," he interrupted, words tumbling out as the ring began to pulse more insistently. "Something's happened. Something... big. I found—there was a crash in the desert, and I—"
"A crash? Are you okay? Do you need me to send emergency services?" The irritation in her voice instantly transformed to concern.
"No, I'm fine, it's not that kind of crash. It was a—" How could he possibly explain? "It was something not from Earth, Carol. And he gave me this ring, and now it's saying I need to go to someplace called Oa, and I don't know when I'll be back."
There was a pause that lasted several heartbeats. "Hal, have you been drinking?"
"I swear I'm completely sober." The ring's glow intensified, beginning to envelop both him and Abin Sur's body in its light. "Carol, I know this sounds insane, but you have to—"
The rest of his sentence was lost as the ring activated fully. The desert around him dissolved in a rush of emerald energy, his body and Abin Sur's transforming into pure light as the ring initiated its transportation protocol. The last thing he heard was Carol's voice, distant and confused, calling his name.
Then he was gone, streaking into the night sky faster than human eyes could track—a green comet in reverse, leaving Earth behind as he was catapulted across the galaxy toward a destiny he couldn't begin to comprehend.
On the other end of the connection, Carol Ferris stared at her phone in bewilderment, the call having ended abruptly with a sound like rushing wind and a flash of green light that somehow transmitted even through the audio. For several minutes, she remained motionless, trying to make sense of what she'd just heard.
Finally, she did what any responsible CEO would do when their star test pilot claims to have encountered an alien, received a magical ring, and been transported to another planet—she grabbed her keys and headed for the desert, determined to find out what had really happened to Hal Jordan.
She wouldn't find him, of course. By the time she reached the crater, the only evidence of Abin Sur's visit would be the rapidly cooling hull of an alien spacecraft and a set of footprints that ended abruptly in the center of the impact zone, as though their owner had simply vanished into thin air.
And light-years away, Hal Jordan, test pilot, son of a fallen hero, and now the newest Green Lantern was about to discover exactly what it meant to overcome great fear, as he found himself standing before the immortal Guardians of the Universe on a world beyond even his wildest imagination.