I've been with you all along,comes the gentle response, carried on currents of pure will.Every time you chose to fly despite your fear. Every time you put others before yourself. Every time you refused to give up. I was there, Harold. We all were.
The crystal tree around me reaches completion, its organic structure pulsing with life and purpose. But something is missing. The final element that would transform it from mere construct to living symbol.
"It's time," I say, my voice filled with both sorrow and profound joy. "Time for all of you to go where you belong. Not trapped in one person, but free to touch every heart that chooses hope."
I place my hands on the base of the crystal tree, and Ion's consciousness begins to flow out of me like liquid starlight. The cosmic entity's departure is visible to everyone present. A cascade of emerald light that pours from my human form into the waiting crystal matrix. As Ion leaves me, his true form becomes visible for a moment. A massive being of pure willpower and light, ancient beyond measure, his cetacean features noble and wise as he flows into the crystal tree.
But it isn't just Ion. Every soul that has been part of the great work of will, every consciousness that chose hope over despair, flows through me and into the new Battery. The air fills with whispers of gratitude, echoes of love, promises that death is not the end but merely a transformation. The assembled crowd watches in awe as countless spirits of fallen Green Lanterns become visible in the emerald cascade, their forms flickering like memories made manifest before joining the growing power within the crystal tree.
Among the flowing spirits, two figures become clearer than the rest. My father, Martin Jordan, appears for just a moment, his pilot's uniform shining with emerald light. Beside him stands Abin Sur, the Green Lantern who started this all by crashing on Earth. Neither speaks, but both look at me with pride and approval. A simple nod from each of them, a silent acknowledgment that I've done well, that I've honored what they sacrificed for. Then they fade into the crystal tree with the others.
"Goodbye, Dad," I whisper as I feel my father's essence merge with the crystal tree. "Thank you for everything. For teaching me that courage isn't about not being afraid. It's about flying anyway."
The Battery's transformation reaches crescendo, its light growing so bright it illuminates every corner of Oa. But this isn't harsh or blinding. It's the warm radiance of dawn, the gentle glow of hope made manifest. The organic crystal structure pulses with the rhythm of a cosmic heartbeat, and suddenly every being present can feel it. The connection to something larger than themselves, the certainty that they're part of a greater work.
The Lanterns on Oa, who have maintained their power through my presence as a living battery, suddenly feel their rings transform. What had been a steady, reliable connection becomes something infinitely more profound. The energy flowing through them is no longer borrowed from my cosmic merger. It's theirs by right, enhanced and purified by my sacrifice.
Across the galaxy, the effect is instantaneous and overwhelming. Green Lantern rings that have been dark since the original Battery's destruction suddenly blaze with power. Lanterns stranded on distant worlds, their abilities cut off when the central source failed, find themselves reconnected to the great work. But this isn't the controlled, measured energy they had known before. This is something more alive, more responsive to individual will and creativity.
On remote sectors, Lanterns who have been fighting impossible odds with failing rings suddenly discover their full power restored and enhanced. The connection is stronger now, more personal, as if the new Battery understands not just their duty but their hearts.
The transformation ripples outward from Oa in waves of emerald light that can be detected by anyone sensitive to the emotional spectrum. On distant worlds, beings who have never heard of the Green Lantern Corps feel an inexplicable surge of hope, a sudden certainty that somewhere in the universe, someone is fighting for them.
I stagger as Ion's vast consciousness completes its transition into the crystal tree, the cosmic entity's departure leaving me hollow but strangely complete. The overwhelming sense of infinite awareness fades, replaced by something more manageable. The quiet certainty that I'm connected to something greater than myself, but as Hal Jordan rather than as a vessel for cosmic forces.
"Easy there, poozer," Kilowog says, moving to steady me as my knees buckle. "You just gave birth to a new age. You're allowed to be tired."
"I can still feel them," I murmur, my voice now entirely human but carrying traces of wonder. "Not like before, but they're there. Everyone who ever chose to hope. They're part of the Battery now, part of what makes it work."
Around us, the assembled Green Lanterns are marveling at their restored rings, testing constructs that form with unprecedented clarity and power. The energy feels different now. More personal, more alive, more connected to the individual will of each bearer while maintaining the bond that unites them all.
"In brightest day," someone calls out, and I look up to see it's Tomar-Re, the scholar's face shining with tears of joy.
"In blackest night," Kilowog's voice joins in, the massive drill sergeant's usual gruffness transformed into something approaching reverence.
"No evil shall escape my sight," the chorus grows as more Lanterns add their voices, their rings blazing with light that seems to come from their very souls.
"Let those who worship evil's might," the words spread throughout the plaza, carried not just by the assembled Corps but by the crystal tree itself, its organic structure resonating with the ancient oath.
"Beware my power, GREEN LANTERN'S LIGHT!"
The final words erupt across Oa like thunder, the new Battery flaring with brilliance that can be seen from orbit. But more than light, it projects something else. Hope itself, given form and substance, reaching out to touch every conscious being in the system.
When the radiance fades, I find myself surrounded by my fellow Lanterns, their faces showing everything from amazement to profound gratitude. The crystal tree rises above us all, its organic beauty nothing like the rigid perfection of the original Battery. This is art, not engineering. Life, not just a machine.
"Jordan," Ganthet says as he approaches, and I can hear something I've never heard from him before. Genuine awe. "What you've done here... this new Battery isn't just restored. It's better than anything we ever built. The power readings, how it connects to each Lantern individually... it's beyond our wildest hopes."
"Maybe that's because it wasn't built," I say, letting Kilowog help me stay upright. "It grew. Like hope does, like trust does. You can't engineer those things. They have to be given freely."
The other Guardians come closer, and for the first time in billions of years, they look humble. Actually humble.
"The improvements are incredible," Sayd says, her voice filled with wonder. "But it's more than that. The Battery seems to understand each Lantern, giving them exactly what they need."
"We've been thinking too small," Appa Ali Apsa admits, and saying that clearly hurts. "For eons, we thought control meant effectiveness. Today, you showed us that trust can do what rigid systems never could."
Suddenly, the crystal tree pulses brighter, and something amazing happens. New rings start emerging from its branches. Not just a few, but dozens. Hundreds. Each one glowing with that same organic rhythm as the tree itself.
"Holy shit," I breathe, watching them float out like emerald fireflies.
"The universe is vast," Ganthet says, staring at the rings with wonder. "Recent events proved we don't have nearly enough Lanterns to protect everyone who needs it. These new rings will seek out beings with exceptional will across the galaxy. Humans, aliens, anyone who can overcome great fear."
"You're tripling the Corps," I realize, watching as more rings keep emerging from the tree.
"Each sector will have three Lanterns now," Sayd explains. "Over ten thousand eight hundred total, once the rings find their bearers."
"Your species shows remarkable potential," Ganthet adds, looking at me. "If Earth produced one Lantern like you, there may be others."
As the rings begin to scatter into the night sky, two of them pause near me. They hover for a moment, almost like they're saying goodbye, before zipping off toward Earth. I get the strangest feeling they know exactly who they're looking for.
Then something happens that nobody sees coming. Ganthet reaches out and one of the remaining rings slides onto his finger.
The silence is deafening. Every Lantern present stares in shock. The other Guardians look like they've just watched reality break.
"Ganthet!" Sayd's voice cracks with disbelief. "What are you doing?"
"Jordan showed me something today," he says, looking at the green light now glowing from his hand. "We've spent eons directing from the shadows, making decisions for others without understanding their struggles. Maybe it's time we stood with our Corps instead of above them."
"This is unprecedented," Appa Ali Apsa sputters. "Guardians don't—"
"Guardians don't take risks?" Ganthet interrupts, his voice gentle but firm. "Don't put themselves on the line? We ask others to face death for the greater good, but we stay safe on Oa. How is that leadership?"
I can't speak. A Guardian just put on a ring because of me. Because I somehow inspired him to stop giving orders from a distance and start helping directly.
The other Guardians exchange uncomfortable looks. Sayd's jaw is tight, Appa Ali Apsa looks like he swallowed something sour, and Ranakar keeps shaking his head. But after a long, tense moment, they seem to reach some kind of silent agreement.
"Very well," Sayd says stiffly, clearly not happy but accepting the new reality. "If we're... making unprecedented changes today, then let us address Jordan's future."
She turns to me, her voice taking on a formal tone that barely masks her frustration with the situation. "Since time immemorial, the Green Lantern Corps has stood as a beacon of order and justice throughout the universe. In recognition of your service, we offer you the highest honor we can bestow upon any Green Lantern."
"Thaal Sinestro held the position of senior instructor," Appa Ali Apsa says, his voice strained as he tries to maintain composure. "His betrayal left a void in our command structure. We offer you that position. Authority over training protocols, multi-sector coordination, direct advisory status to the Guardian Council."
The weight of what they're offering hits me. This isn't just a promotion. In their eyes, this is the ultimate recognition. The highest honor they can give. And they're offering it while clearly rattled by Ganthet's decision.
"I'm honored," I say, and I really mean it. "But I have to say no."
The reaction is immediate. Surprised murmurs from the Lanterns, shocked expressions from the Guardians.
"You're declining?" Ranakar asks, like the words don't make sense to him.
"I'm not ready," I say simply. "A week ago, I was a test pilot who didn't even know you existed. I've learned a lot, but I'm nowhere near qualified to run galactic peacekeeping operations."
I look at the crystal tree. "Besides, everything just changed. The Corps is going to evolve in ways we can't predict. You need leadership that understands both the old ways and what's coming. I'm still figuring out what being human means in a universe this size."
"What do you suggest?" Sayd asks, genuinely curious now.
"Give me time to earn it," I reply. "Let me stay as a sector Lantern, learn from people like Kilowog and Tomar-Re. When I'm actually ready—not just capable, but ready—we can revisit this."
"Smart poozer," Kilowog says with approval. "First time I've seen anyone turn down advancement, but wisdom's worth more than ambition."
"Plus," I add with a grin, "I've got things to sort out back home. Civilian identity, family relationships, explaining to my boss why I disappeared for a week."
The Guardians confer quietly. Ganthet's new ring keeps glowing, a visible reminder that everything's different now.
"Very well," Sayd finally says. "You'll remain Green Lantern of Sector 2814, with expanded authority to coordinate with other peacekeeping organizations. When you judge yourself ready, the offer remains open."
"Thank you," I say. "All of you. For believing in me when I couldn't believe in myself."
As things start to wind down and people begin to disperse, I find myself standing with Carol Danvers beside the crystal tree I helped create. Her Captain Marvel uniform looks right somehow, next to the organic beauty of the new Battery. Both of us representing something that evolved beyond what we started as.
"That was something else, Jordan," Carol says, floating beside me as we both stare at the crystal tree. "I've seen a lot of impossible things in my time out here, but watching you become a living conduit for universal will..." She shakes her head. "That's going to stay with me."
"Thanks for being here," I reply, and I mean it. "Having someone who gets the cosmic responsibility thing nearby made all the difference. I was starting to think I was completely out of my depth."
"You were," Carol says with a slight smile. "We all are, most of the time. The trick is not letting that stop you."
We stand in comfortable silence for a moment, two pilots who understand what it means to fly into the unknown.
"So," Carol says eventually, "you mentioned that whole debriefing with Fury went well? Did he bring up that team project of his?"
"The Avengers Initiative, yeah," I nod. "Guy's got big plans. Bringing together people with extraordinary abilities to handle the stuff that's too big for governments or individual heroes." I glance at her. "Seemed pretty passionate about it."
Carol's expression shifts, something almost vulnerable flickering across her features. "Avenger was my call sign. Back when I was still Air Force, before..." She gestures at herself, the cosmic energy still shimmering faintly around her. "Before all this happened."
"He named the whole thing after you?" I ask, surprised by the emotion creeping into her voice.
"Partially, maybe. Could be coincidence." But her tone suggests she doesn't really believe that. "Nick's got a long memory for the people who've made a difference. We have complicated history."
"Good complicated or bad complicated?"
"Mostly good complicated," Carol replies with a rueful laugh. "He was there when I got my memories back, helped me piece together who I used to be. Who I really am." Her expression grows distant for a moment. "Took me a while to figure out that Carol Danvers and Captain Marvel could be the same person." She pauses, looking thoughtful. "You know what? I think I might pay old Nick a visit when I get back to Earth. See what this Initiative of his is really about. Maybe it's time I stopped running from my past and started building something with it."
"You thinking about joining up?"
"I'm thinking about a lot of things," Carol admits. "This whole situation, watching the Corps nearly fall apart, seeing what happens when the good guys don't work together. It's got me wondering if I've been approaching things the wrong way."
I nod, understanding the feeling. "Team effort instead of lone wolf heroics?"
"Something like that. Plus," she adds with a grin, "I'm curious to see if Fury's actually managed to find other people crazy enough to sign up for this gig. Should be entertaining watching him try to manage a team of enhanced individuals with authority issues."
"Speaking from experience?"
"Oh, you have no idea. The man can coordinate global security operations and probably has contingency plans for alien invasions, but he makes terrible coffee and has opinions about everything." Carol's photonic aura begins to shimmer brighter as she prepares for departure. "Fair warning. If his Initiative takes off and you get recruited, invest in your own coffee maker."
"I'll keep that in mind," I say. "And Carol? Thanks. For everything. I know you didn't have to get involved in all this."
"Are you kidding?" She rises into the air, her energy trail already pointing toward home. "I got to watch the birth of a new age of heroes, help save galactic civilization, and find out that an old friend is building something that might actually work. Best week I've had in years."
I laugh despite everything we've been through. "When you put it that way..."
"See you around, Green Lantern," Carol calls out as she accelerates toward the stars. "Try not to rebuild any more cosmic infrastructure while I'm gone. Some of us need time to process the universe changing stuff!"
"Safe travels, Captain Marvel," I reply, watching her golden form streak across the cosmos. "And good luck with that reunion."
I watch until she's just another point of light among the stars, indistinguishable from the distant suns that witnessed this moment. When she's gone, I turn my attention to the crystal tree that now stands where the old Battery had been. Somewhere within that organic structure, my father's spirit lives on as part of something greater. Not trapped or bound, but free to touch every heart that chooses hope over despair.
"Thank you, Dad," I whisper to the starlit sky. "For everything. For showing me that the most important flights are the ones that bring you home."
The tree's light pulses once more, as if in acknowledgment, and I feel something settle in my chest. A peace I haven't experienced since childhood. For the first time in twenty two years, the weight of my father's death doesn't feel like a burden to carry but a strength to draw upon. The fear that drove me to seek danger, to push every limit, to prove myself worthy of Martin Jordan's legacy, has transformed into something else entirely. Purpose.
I think about everyone waiting for me back home. Mom will probably cry when she sees me. The good kind of tears this time, not the worried ones I'm used to. She's been carrying her own grief for so long, watching her middle son chase danger like he could outrun death itself. But maybe now she'll see that I've finally found my way back to who I was supposed to be.
Jim will have questions, of course. That's what lawyers do. But underneath all the cosmic jurisdiction stuff, my big brother will just be relieved that I've finally found something worth sticking around for.
And the boys. Christ, they're probably still talking about those construct dinosaurs. Now their uncle is an actual space cop. They'll never let me live it down.
Then there's Carol. God, Carol. The woman who's been putting up with my reckless bullshit for years, waiting for me to stop running long enough to see what has been right there all along. I've always known, haven't I? Somewhere beneath all the fear and the need to prove myself, I've always known I loved her. But saying it out loud, actually letting those feelings grow into something real, that had scared me more than any test flight ever could. What if it changed everything? What if it ruined the one good thing in my life? But sitting here in the aftermath of saving the universe, those fears seem pretty damn small. When I get home, I'm going to tell her. Three simple words I should have said years ago. "I love you." Maybe she'll laugh at my timing. Maybe she'll roll her eyes and say it took me long enough. But I'm done being afraid of the best parts of my life.
Thomas will mock me mercilessly for the whole cosmic entity merger thing, probably make jokes about my ego finally matching my responsibilities. But Tom will also understand, in that way only test pilots can, what it meant to push beyond every known limit and somehow find your way back in one piece.
The ring on my finger pulses with gentle warmth, no longer the alien artifact that chose me in desperation, but a part of who I'm becoming. Through its connection, I can sense Green Lanterns across the galaxy returning to their duties with renewed purpose. The Corps lives, evolved, reborn from the ashes of betrayal into something stronger and more human than it has ever been.
I take one last look around Oa. At the crystalline spires being rebuilt with emerald energy, at the Lanterns working together to heal their wounded world, at the tree of living light that grew from my willingness to let go of cosmic power in favor of human connection. This place will always be part of me now, but it isn't home. Home is a small blue planet where people worry about mortgage payments and traffic jams and whether their favorite team will make the playoffs.
Home is a place where being Hal Jordan matters just as much as being Green Lantern.