Green Lantern's Blight
**Time:** 1702 AA / 1818 AD
**Location:** The Citadel, Sector 3601
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The flight back to the Citadel was silent, the hum of the Ring's energy the only thing keeping me anchored. My mind replayed the encounter over and over—the figure's mocking words, the cold confidence in its voice, the sense that I'd been tested and found wanting.
Control is an illusion.
I clenched my jaw, pushing the words down like bile. *No. Control is everything.* It was the foundation I'd built my existence on. Without it, everything I'd worked for would crumble.
The familiar landscape of Stupendous McAwesomeface III spread below me as I descended. The plains, the crystalline forests, the twin moons—all of it gleamed with the serene beauty I'd fought to protect. But now, it felt different. Tainted. Like a shadow lay just beneath the surface, waiting to burst forth.
I landed on the platform outside the Citadel, the soles of my boots barely making a sound. The place was quiet, too quiet. The usual bustle of activity was subdued, the air thick with tension. Word of the breach had spread—even without details, they could sense something was wrong.
Thala was waiting at the entrance, her arms crossed, eyes narrowed. Behind her, Sul-Da hovered anxiously, his fingers sparking faintly with blue energy.
"You're back," Thala said, her voice tight.
"Yeah," I replied flatly. "I'm back."
"What happened?"
I met her gaze, debating how much to tell her. But there was no point in hiding it. Not anymore.
"It was a message," I said, my voice low. "A warning. They're watching us. Testing us. They know we're here, and they want me to know that control is an illusion."
Thala's jaw tightened. "And what do you think?"
"I think they're wrong," I snapped. "But we're not ready for another fight. Not yet."
Sul-Da stepped forward, his eyes wide and uncertain. "So, what do we do now?"
I took a deep breath, trying to steady myself. "We fortify. We make this place stronger. We find their weaknesses and exploit them before they exploit ours."
Thala's eyes flashed with frustration. "You're talking about hiding again. Michael, we can't keep doing this. You know that."
"We're not hiding," I growled. "We're surviving."
"Is that all this is to you?" Her voice was sharp, cutting through my defenses. "Just survival? What about living? What about growing beyond this prison you've built?"
"This 'prison' is the only thing keeping us safe," I shot back. "I'm not risking everything because you want to play hero."
Her eyes narrowed, and for a moment, I thought she'd unleash the full force of her anger. But instead, she took a slow breath, her expression hardening into resolve.
"You can't keep running from this forever, Michael," she said quietly. "One day, you'll have to choose something more than just survival."
I turned away, the weight of her words settling on my shoulders like chains. "Maybe. But not today."
---
**Time:** Midnight
**Location:** Personal Chambers, The Citadel
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The silence of my chambers felt suffocating. The moonlight spilled across the floor, painting pale lines across the cold, gleaming walls. I stood by the window, staring out at the sleeping world below. My world. My kingdom.
And yet, the fortress in the Void, the figure's voice—it all gnawed at the edges of my mind.
*Control is an illusion.*
I shook my head. Control was real. Tangible. I'd built it, brick by brick, with willpower and stubborn defiance. I wasn't going to let some shadowy entity undermine that.
But doubt, once seeded, was a persistent weed.
I tapped the Ring, letting the familiar glow comfort me. "Ring, show me the latest defense grid reports."
**++ Displaying reports. All systems functional. No anomalies detected. ++**
I exhaled slowly. For now, everything was stable. But stability was fragile. One crack, one moment of weakness, and it all fell apart.
"Increase the frequency of patrols," I said. "I want the perimeter checked every thirty minutes."
**++ Confirmed. Patrol frequency increased. ++**
The window reflected my face back at me—tired, hard, eyes shadowed with the weight of too many burdens. I barely recognized myself. When had I become so rigid, so obsessed with control that even my own reflection felt like a stranger?
A knock at the door broke through my thoughts.
"Come in," I said, not turning around.
The door slid open, and I heard the soft footsteps behind me. I didn't need to turn to know it was Sul-Da.
"You're still up," he said, his voice small.
"Couldn't sleep," I replied.
He hesitated, then walked up beside me, his gaze following mine out the window. "You're worried about them coming back."
"Yeah."
We stood in silence, the weight of unspoken fears hanging between us.
"Michael," he said finally, "why did you build all this?"
I frowned. "What do you mean?"
"The defenses, the shields, the rules… all of it. Why?"
I stared out into the night. "To keep us safe."
"But are we?" he asked quietly. "I mean, really safe? Because it doesn't *feel* like it."
His words struck deeper than I cared to admit. I'd built this world to protect us, but had I just built a different kind of prison? One where fear dictated every choice?
I sighed. "It's all I know how to do."
Sul-Da nodded, his face thoughtful. "Maybe there's more out there than just surviving. Maybe one day, we can find it."
I didn't answer. I didn't *have* an answer. The thought of letting go, of trusting anything outside my carefully controlled world, was terrifying.
But deep down, a tiny part of me wondered if he was right.