Light. Unimaginable light.
Hal Jordan had experienced g-forces that could crush organs, had felt the weightlessness of zero-g maneuvers, had even blacked out during experimental flight tests—but nothing had prepared him for the sensation of being converted to pure energy and hurled across the cosmos.
The journey lasted both an eternity and an instant. Stars blurred past him, entire galaxies compressed into streaks of light, and somewhere between Earth and wherever he was heading, Hal's consciousness expanded. Information flooded his mind—star maps, alien languages, combat protocols, the basic structure of the Corps he was apparently joining—downloaded directly from the ring into his brain in compressed packets of knowledge that would unpack slowly over the coming days.
He was vaguely aware of Abin Sur's body traveling alongside him, encased in the same protective green aura. Then, without warning, the tunnel of light ended, and solid reality crashed back into place.
Hal materialized six feet above a gleaming alabaster platform, the emerald aura of his ring cushioning his fall as he dropped unceremoniously to his knees. His stomach heaved, his inner ear struggled to reorient itself, and for several seconds, all he could do was breathe—deep, desperate gulps of air that smelled of ozone and something distinctly alien, like cinnamon mixed with metal.
His mind felt stretched, as if it had been pulled to the limits of comprehension and snapped back with new capacities. Images and information from the journey still flickered at the edges of his consciousness—fragments of cosmic maps, faces of beings he'd never met but somehow recognized, languages he shouldn't understand but now partially did. The ring had begun its work, altering his perception in subtle ways that would allow him to function in this alien environment.
"First transport's always rough on organics," a melodic, slightly mechanical voice observed nearby. "Especially for species that haven't developed interstellar travel yet."
As the wave of disorientation passed, Hal raised his head and froze, his breath catching in his throat.
He knelt on the edge of a massive circular platform that served as a docking bay for what had to be thousands of beings—some arriving in ships of incomprehensible design, others simply arriving as pulses of green light similar to how he'd traveled. The platform extended outward from a colossal emerald tower that stretched upward further than Hal could see, its surface inscribed with patterns that seemed to shift and move as he watched.
But it was the horizon that stole his ability to speak.
An alien cityscape spread in every direction, defying Earth's understanding of architecture and physics. Crystalline spires twisted in impossible geometries, suspended walkways connected buildings of breathtaking scale, and at the center of it all, elevated on a massive plinth visible from every angle, stood a colossal structure shaped exactly like the lantern emblem on his chest—a power battery large enough to house entire Earth skyscrapers, pulsing with the same emerald energy as his ring.
The scale of it all made Earth's most impressive architectural achievements—the Empire State Building, the Golden Gate Bridge, the Great Wall—seem like children's toys in comparison. This was civilization operating at a level that humankind had only dreamed of in its most ambitious science fiction.
Holographic displays hovered everywhere, projections hundreds of feet tall displaying maps of star systems, alien text scrolling across them, and live feeds from what appeared to be battles or peacekeeping operations across the galaxy. Ships of every imaginable design—and many Hal couldn't begin to comprehend—criss-crossed the sky in orderly patterns, their energy trails forming an ever-shifting lattice above the city.
And the beings... Hal's mind struggled to categorize the diversity before him. Humanoids with skin in every shade imaginable moved alongside entities composed of pure energy, crystalline beings that caught the light in hypnotic patterns, massive insectoid creatures that towered over others, and lifeforms so alien that Hal's brain initially refused to process their appearance.
Among the crowd, he spotted what appeared to be a living cloud of gas contained within a transparent shell, communicating with a being whose body consisted of overlapping metallic plates. Nearby, a group of diminutive blue-skinned aliens with oversized craniums conversed with tall, regal-looking beings whose skin shifted colors with each gesture they made.
Every known species on Earth could fit into a tiny corner of this assembly, Hal realized. The very concept of what constituted "life" had just expanded beyond anything human science had conceived.
"That's about the reaction I expected," the voice continued, now tinged with amusement.
Hal turned toward the speaker and found himself facing a being that resembled a cross between a humanoid and a fish—pinkish-orange skin, a pronounced crest extending from his head, and a distinctly non-human face with large eyes and what appeared to be gills along his neck. Like Hal, he wore a green and black uniform with the lantern emblem, though his was tailored to his alien physiology.
"Welcome to Oa, center of the universe and headquarters of the Green Lantern Corps," the alien said, offering what Hal assumed was their equivalent of a smile. "I am Tomar-Re, Lantern of Sector 2813 and your assigned orientation guide." He tilted his head slightly, studying Hal with curious eyes. "And you are Harold Jordan of Earth, newly appointed Lantern of Sector 2814, successor to Abin Sur."
Hal managed to stand, his test pilot's training kicking in—when faced with the impossible, focus on immediate tasks and save the existential crisis for later. Still, his legs felt wobbly, not just from the disorientation of transport but from the overwhelming reality of where he now stood.
"Hal," he corrected automatically. "Just Hal." His voice sounded strange in his own ears, as though it had gained a subtle harmonic quality since putting on the ring.
He noticed something else unusual too—every word Tomar-Re spoke was perfectly comprehensible, despite his alien anatomy suggesting he shouldn't be capable of human speech patterns. The ring, Hal realized, was translating for him, not just the words but cultural nuances and meanings.
"Just Hal," Tomar-Re repeated, amusement evident in his tone. "Very well." He gestured to Abin Sur's body, which had materialized on a green stretcher beside them. "The Guardians have requested immediate audience with you, but first, honor protocols must be observed for a fallen Lantern."
As if on cue, several other beings in Green Lantern uniforms approached, their rings generating a more elaborate honor guard stretcher that enveloped Abin Sur's body. They nodded respectfully to Hal before departing with Abin Sur's remains.
"Where are they taking him?" Hal asked, watching the procession depart.
"To the Hall of Great Service, where he will lie in state until the memorial ceremony. All fallen Lanterns are honored thus." Tomar-Re placed a hand on Hal's shoulder. "I understand your confusion, Hal Jordan. The ring chooses, but it rarely gives the chosen time to adjust. You are experiencing what every Lantern before you have—the overwhelming transition from a single-planet perspective to a universal one."
Hal looked down at the ring on his finger, still faintly pulsing with energy. "I had plans tonight," he said, absurdly. "Dinner, maybe drinks with friends. And now I'm... here." He gestured expansively at the alien cityscape. "Halfway across the galaxy with a magic ring I don't know how to use, apparently drafted into some kind of interstellar police force I didn't even know existed."
For the first time, Hal noticed his own reflection in a polished surface nearby—a green-tinted crystalline wall that served as both structural support and information display. The uniform the ring had generated covered him from neck to toe, its black and green pattern accentuating his athletic build. The stylized lantern emblem on his chest seemed to pulse with the same rhythm as the distant power battery, and a domino mask covered the upper portion of his face, somehow both concealing his identity and enhancing his features.
He moved closer to the reflective surface, studying this new version of himself with undisguised fascination. The uniform wasn't just clothing—it seemed to be a second skin, responding to his movements with perfect flexibility. The mask, despite covering little more than his eyes and temples, somehow altered his appearance significantly, making him look more imposing, more... heroic.
Hal found himself striking a pose, shoulders back, chin raised, one fist on his hip and the other extended with the ring prominently displayed. Not bad, he thought. Not bad at all.
"Are you quite finished admiring yourself?" Tomar-Re's voice broke through his reverie, tinged with what might have been the alien equivalent of a suppressed chuckle.
Hal turned quickly, feeling heat rise to his face. "Uh, yes. Sorry about that. It's just... different."
"The uniform manifests differently for each Lantern," Tomar-Re explained, beginning to walk again. "It draws from your self-image, cultural context, and unconscious preferences to create an appearance that maximizes your psychological comfort and confidence. Some traditions are maintained, of course—the emblem, the color scheme—but the details are uniquely yours."
"So it's reading my mind?" Hal asked, falling into step beside the alien Lantern, still occasionally glancing at his reflection in the various surfaces they passed.
"In a manner of speaking. The ring forms a symbiotic relationship with its bearer—not telepathy in the conventional sense, but a deep awareness of your thought patterns, emotional states, and physical needs." Tomar-Re gestured to the emblem on his own chest. "It is both tool and partner, constantly adapting to serve you better."
Tomar-Re's features arranged themselves into what Hal interpreted as sympathetic understanding. "It is a lot to process. But the ring chose you for a reason, Hal Jordan. It sensed something in you—the ability to overcome great fear—that is rare in any species."
"That's what it said," Hal admitted. "But I think it made a mistake. I'm not fearless. I've spent my whole life running from fear."
"An interesting interpretation." Tomar-Re began walking, indicating that Hal should follow. "The ring doesn't seek beings without fear, Hal Jordan. Such creatures don't exist, and if they did, they would be dangerous fools. The ring seeks those with the will to face fear, to push through it. From what I've accessed in your species' records, you humans have a saying: 'Courage is not the absence of fear, but the triumph over it.'"
The notion struck Hal with unexpected force. Throughout his career as a test pilot, he'd been praised for his apparent fearlessness, his willingness to push boundaries that others wouldn't approach. But Tomar-Re had seen through to a truth he rarely acknowledged even to himself—that every flight was a battle against the terror that had taken root in him the day he watched his father die. Not the absence of fear, but the constant, exhausting effort to master it.
"Before we proceed to the Guardians," Tomar-Re said, interrupting Hal's thoughts, "perhaps a brief demonstration of basic ring functions would be beneficial. The first skill any Lantern must master is flight."
They had reached a section of the platform that extended out over an open area, hundreds of feet above the city below. Hal felt a momentary vertigo as he peered over the edge, seeing layers of Oa's complex architecture stretching down further than seemed possible, as if the city extended all the way to the planet's core.
"Flight is fundamental to a Lantern's duties," Tomar-Re continued. "Your ring generates an energy field that negates gravity and inertia, allowing movement in any direction, at any speed your will can maintain."
"I've flown plenty of aircraft," Hal said, his confidence returning as the conversation moved into familiar territory. "Everything from F-16s to experimental suborbital jets."
"This is... somewhat different," Tomar-Re said with gentle amusement. "You will not be operating a machine. You willbe the flight. Watch."
With no visible effort, Tomar-Re rose from the platform, his body surrounded by a subtle green aura. He ascended twenty feet, then executed a graceful loop before stopping, hovering effortlessly in midair.
"The ring responds to thought and will," he called down. "Visualize your intended movement, focus your will upon it, and the ring makes it reality. Try it."
Hal took a deep breath. Despite his test pilot background—or perhaps because of it—the idea of flying without an aircraft was both exhilarating and terrifying. In a cockpit, he had controls, instruments, the reassuring embrace of a machine designed for flight. This was... naked, exposed, relying solely on a piece of alien technology and his own willpower.
"Focus on the feeling of rising," Tomar-Re instructed. "Imagine yourself lighter than air, free from gravity's pull."
Hal closed his eyes, drawing on his years of experience. He knew what it felt like when an aircraft defied gravity, that moment during takeoff when the wheels left the ground and everything changed. He concentrated on that sensation, willing his body to rise.
For a moment, nothing happened. Then he felt it—a tingling energy spreading from the ring throughout his body, a subtle shift in his perception of weight and balance. When he opened his eyes, he was hovering a few inches above the platform, the green aura of the ring surrounding him in a protective bubble.
"Well done," Tomar-Re encouraged. "Now, rise higher. Remember, you control the speed and direction with your thoughts."
Hal focused again, pushing away the instinctive fear of falling that tried to assert itself. Unlike an aircraft, there were no controls to manipulate, no throttle to adjust—just his will directing the ring's energy. He visualized rising smoothly, and his body responded, ascending until he was level with Tomar-Re.
"I'm... flying," he said, the words feeling inadequate for the sensation. This wasn't like anything he'd experienced in a cockpit. There was no vibration from engines, no resistance from air currents, no interface between him and the sky. Just the pure, elemental feeling of flight.
"Now, movement," Tomar-Re instructed. "Think of a direction, picture yourself moving that way, and will it to happen."
Hal looked out across the vast expanse of Oa's cityscape, the emerald towers and crystalline structures stretching to the horizon. He thought of forward motion, of cutting through the air like an arrow.
His body responded instantly—too instantly. He shot forward with unexpected speed, the sudden acceleration taking him by surprise. For a moment, panic threatened to overwhelm him as he tumbled through the air, his flight path erratic.
"Control comes from focus!" Tomar-Re called, keeping pace easily beside him. "Your will must be precise, directed! Picture exactly how you want to move!"
Hal forced himself to calm down, drawing on his training. When test-flying experimental aircraft, precision was everything—too much input could send the most advanced jet into an unrecoverable spin. This was no different. He visualized himself stabilizing, leveling out, achieving controlled forward flight.
The chaotic tumbling stopped. He found himself gliding smoothly, the city passing beneath him in a panorama of alien beauty. The sensation was incredible—better than any flight he'd ever experienced in an aircraft. Without the constraints of a cockpit, without the constant awareness of mechanical systems that could fail, there was a purity to this experience that made his heart race with exhilaration.
"You're a natural," Tomar-Re observed, flying alongside him with the easy grace of long practice. "Most new recruits take much longer to achieve stability."
"It's amazing," Hal admitted, executing an experimental barrel roll that felt as natural as breathing. "In a jet, there's always something between you and the sky—the aircraft, the controls, the constant calculations and adjustments. This is... pure."
"The ring handles much of the physics," Tomar-Re explained. "Atmosphere, temperature, radiation—the aura protects you from environmental hazards while translating your intentions into motion. With practice, it will become as natural as walking."
As they flew, Hal began to experiment, testing the ring's capabilities and his own control. He climbed higher, until Oa's atmosphere thinned and the blackness of space became visible above them. He dove in sweeping arcs, skimming just above the gleaming spires of the city. He accelerated, feeling the rush of air against his face but none of the crushing g-forces that would have accompanied such speeds in an aircraft.
And for the first time since his father's death, Hal Jordan flew without fear. Without the constant undercurrent of anxiety that had accompanied every flight in his career, every mission, every test. The ring's power erased the boundaries between him and the sky, allowing him to experience flight as he'd always dreamed it could be—pure freedom, untainted by doubt or memory.
"I think," Tomar-Re said after observing Hal's increasingly confident maneuvers, "you have grasped the basics. We should proceed to the Guardians now. They are not known for their patience, especially with new recruits."
Reluctantly, Hal followed Tomar-Re back toward the platform, executing one final loop before landing with surprising grace for a first attempt. The exhilaration of true flight still coursed through him, making even the intimidating prospect of meeting the Guardians seem less daunting.
They walked along a suspended pathway that offered breathtaking views of the city below. Hal noticed patterns to the activity—there seemed to be distinct districts, areas where different species congregated, diplomatic zones where formal meetings occurred, and what appeared to be training facilities where green energy constructs clashed in elaborate exercises.
"Is this an entire planet of Green Lanterns?" Hal asked, trying to process the scale of what he was seeing.
"Oa is the home of the Guardians of the Universe and headquarters of the Corps, but it serves several functions," Tomar-Re explained. "It is a training center for Lanterns, yes, but also a neutral diplomatic ground where intergalactic powers can negotiate. The central sector of the city houses embassies from over six thousand civilizations."
He pointed to a massive crystalline structure where various alien delegations appeared to be engaged in heated debate. "That is the Hall of Reconciliation, where the Kree and Skrull diplomats are currently attempting to negotiate terms to their latest conflict. The war has been ongoing for centuries, with periods of uneasy peace interrupted by renewed aggression. Your sector is fortunately distant from the primary battle zones."
"Wait—there's an actual alien war going on?" Hal asked, momentarily distracted from his own situation by this revelation.
"Several, in fact," Tomar-Re said matter-of-factly. "The Kree-Skrull conflict is perhaps the most notorious due to its longevity and the expansionist tendencies of both empires. More pressing for your sector is the Kree-Nova conflict, which has been escalating in recent years. Your predecessor was coordinating frequently with Nova Centurion Rhomann Dey on containment strategies."
"Abin Sur mentioned a Nova Corps right before he died," Hal recalled. "He said they work alongside the Green Lanterns."
"Indeed. Where we harness willpower through our rings, the Nova Corps channels the Nova Force—a different cosmic energy with complementary capabilities. Each sector has both a Green Lantern and a Nova Centurion assigned to it, working in tandem. Your Nova counterpart will make contact once the Guardians have formally confirmed your appointment."
They had reached a massive gateway inscribed with symbols that seemed to shift as Hal tried to focus on them. Beyond lay a series of ascending platforms leading to what appeared to be the central citadel of Oa—a structure of impossible proportions, its architecture both ancient and advanced beyond human comprehension.
"The Citadel of the Guardians," Tomar-Re announced. "The oldest structure in this section of the universe, built when your world was still cooling from its formation."
Hal stopped walking, the accumulated weight of everything he'd seen and learned in the past hour finally crashing down on him. This was real. He was standing on an alien world, drafted into a cosmic peacekeeping force, about to meet immortal beings who had apparently been guiding the development of the universe since before Earth existed.
"Listen," he said, turning to Tomar-Re. "I'm just a test pilot from Coast City. Yesterday, my biggest worry was being grounded by my boss for pushing an experimental aircraft past its limits. I don't belong here. I can't—"
"The ring disagrees," Tomar-Re interrupted gently. "And in the history of the Corps, no ring has ever chosen incorrectly. It may not be immediately apparent why you were selected, even to you, but there is always a reason." He placed a hand on Hal's shoulder. "Trust in that, if nothing else."
Before Hal could respond, a new figure approached from the direction of the citadel—a massive, hulking alien with distinctly porcine features, tusks protruding from his lower jaw, and shoulders broader than any humans could be. His Green Lantern uniform seemed stretched across his massive frame, and his expression was decidedly unwelcoming.
"So this is the new poozer from Sector 2814?" the behemoth rumbled, circling Hal with evaluating eyes. "Doesn't look like much, Tomar-Re. Even for a human."
"Kilowog, this is Hal Jordan," Tomar-Re said, his tone suggesting this was an expected if not entirely welcome interruption. "Hal, meet Kilowog, drill sergeant for all Corps recruits and Lantern of Sector 674."
"H-hello," Hal managed, instinctively straightening his posture. Something about Kilowog triggered the same response he'd had to drill instructors during his brief military career.
Kilowog snorted, the sound somewhere between dismissive and amused. "Got a lot of work ahead of us with this one. The Guardians are waiting, but once they're done with their evaluation, he's mine." He leaned in close enough that Hal could feel the alien's breath. "Hope you're ready for pain, poozer. Because that's the only way you'll learn to be a proper Lantern."
With that ominous pronouncement, Kilowog stomped away, leaving Hal with a distinct feeling of unease.
"Don't mind him," Tomar-Re said. "Kilowog's teaching methods are... traditional, but effective. He has trained some of our finest Lanterns."
"Great," Hal muttered. "Looking forward to it."
They resumed their approach to the citadel, passing through security protocols that seemed to scan them at levels Hal couldn't comprehend. The interior was even more impressive than the exterior—vast chambers with ceilings that disappeared into darkness above, walls covered in what appeared to be living records of cosmic history, and everywhere, the soft glow of green energy pulsing like a heartbeat.
"The Guardians await in the Chamber of Deliberation," a smaller alien informed them, its body seemingly composed of multiple thin tentacles arranged in a vaguely humanoid shape. "The human is to present himself immediately."
Tomar-Re nodded acknowledgment. "You'll do fine," he assured Hal. "Answer honestly, speak respectfully, and remember—you are here because you belong here, whether you believe it yet or not."
With those final words of encouragement, Tomar-Re gestured toward a massive doorway that slid open at their approach, revealing a circular chamber beyond. Taking a deep breath, Hal stepped forward into what felt suspiciously like judgment.