The night's downpour faded as quickly as it had arrived. By early morning, the rain had completely stopped, leaving the farm washed clean and fragrant. Adrian stood outside, inhaling the crisp, post-rain air, calm and detached as always.
Inside the temporary living room set up in the barn, Clark answered his phone.
"I know, Chloe. I've been trying to solve the problem, but it might take some time. Sorry."
After hanging up, he exhaled with a sigh of frustration. When he looked up, Adrian was already there, standing in the doorway, his presence quiet but imposing.
"You look troubled, Clark," Adrian observed.
"Yes," Clark admitted, pressing his forehead lightly. "Chloe's obsession with the truth has resurfaced. She wants me to write a news report on the recent strange incidents in town. But you know, Adrian… sometimes the truth is dangerous. Some things are better left forgotten or buried entirely."
Adrian nodded, his expression calm. "I understand. Journalism is your future profession, right? Then you'll constantly struggle between your professional ethics and the need to protect people as Superman. That tension… it must be exhilarating in its own way."
A faint, almost teasing smile appeared on Adrian's lips. "It must be something to look forward to."
Clark groaned softly. "You always enjoy seeing me struggle."
Adrian shrugged, leaning casually against the doorframe. "It's amusing, I'll admit. But focus on the report. Chloe can be difficult, but if your work is good, she might finally respect your judgment."
"Chloe…" Clark's voice trailed off, thoughtful.
Adrian's—eyes narrowed slightly. "Tell me honestly, Clark. How do you feel about Chloe? Or rather, of these three girls—Chloe, Lana, or Lois—who do you care for?"
Clark hesitated, rubbing the back of his neck awkwardly. "They're all friends. I treat them equally."
Adrian's expression didn't soften. Clark pressed on. "I like Lana. Chloe… I consider her a close friend, like Peter and I might discuss philosophy together, or school projects. But nothing romantic. As for Lois, I don't know her very well."
Adrian nodded silently, letting the answer hang in the air, a subtle trace of mourning for Lois in his gaze before he turned and walked away.
Clark pondered Adrian's words long after he had left.
"Oh, by the way," Adrian called over his shoulder, "Mom and Dad went to the hospital for a check-up. Today's food is already in the fridge. Heat it in the microwave if you want."
Clark watched him leave. "Where are you going?"
"Just wandering."
Clark shrugged. "Guess I'll eat alone today."
---
Smallville Medical Center
Jonathan stood in the hospital hallway, waiting as Martha underwent her prenatal check-up. At middle age, they were experiencing parenthood firsthand after years of hoping, a joy he couldn't describe. He reached into his pocket and retrieved a talisman, given to him years ago by a fortune-telling elder.
"A happiness lost in youth," the elder had said. Now, it seemed the prophecy had come true. Jonathan smiled softly.
"Hi, Mr. Kent," a familiar voice greeted.
Jonathan looked up. "Dr. Helen?!"
Helen, clad in a trench coat, returned his handshake warmly. "I didn't expect to see you here, Mr. Kent."
"My wife is pregnant. I'm accompanying her," Jonathan explained.
Helen's smile widened. "Congratulations! I handled Mrs. Kent's earlier check-ups. If I hadn't resigned… well, you know."
Jonathan noted the faint exhaustion in her eyes. "You don't regret it?"
Helen shook her head. "I've grown tired, less vibrant than before. My career ended sooner than I expected."
After a polite nod to passing colleagues, she left, and Jonathan refocused on Martha.
The check-up concluded without incident. "The baby is healthy. For older mothers, emotional stability and sleep are critical," the doctor advised.
Jonathan took Martha's hand, kissing it gently. "You've worked hard, my dear."
Martha smiled. "This is my first pregnancy. It's wonderful. Remember when we first tried to conceive? They say the greatest joy is welcoming your child. I feel it now—happiness beyond words."
They embraced, looking out the window at the courtyard beyond.
"Jonathan… why are there so many crows outside?" Martha asked.
Jonathan followed her gaze. Dozens of black birds perched silently on the bare branches of a dead winter tree, their black eyes fixed on the couple. An eerie, almost unnatural quiet hung in the air.
"Ravens," he muttered. "Why so many?"
A sudden cacophony erupted as the first crow took flight, wings beating furiously. The rest followed, filling the sky with a flurry of black feathers and a chorus of cries.
Martha covered her ears. Jonathan instinctively shielded her with his body. But the ravens did not attack; they scattered, leaving the tree barren once more.
The bizarre spectacle was nothing, Jonathan told himself, a quirk of nature—or perhaps a coincidence.
Suddenly, a soft, purple energy rose from Martha's womb, spiraling gently into the room, filling it with warmth and a faint, comforting aura.
Jonathan's eyes widened. It was familiar—the same life force that connected him to Clark and Adrian, a blood bond more tangible than words. He watched in awe as the energy spread, then dissipated.
"Mr. Kent, Mrs. Kent, are you alright?!" the doctor rushed in, alarmed by the commotion.
Jonathan composed himself. "It's nothing, Dr. Brownie. Just a bird hitting the window."
Outside, Dr. Helen watched silently. Though she had expected the extraordinary from Clark before, witnessing the phenomenon firsthand left her contemplative.
"Not just Clark and Adrian… is the child in Mrs. Kent's womb also extraordinary?" she wondered, her gaze heavy with thought.
Driving home, Martha's voice trembled slightly. "Jonathan… the ravens, the light… what does it mean?"
Jonathan smiled gently, hands steady on the wheel. "Martha, remember how the spaceship affected your pregnancy? That was already a miracle. Everything else, however strange, falls within the realm of miracles. We'll understand it in time."
As they turned onto Sunset Street, a crowd blocked the road. Jonathan exited the car to investigate.
"Hey, Jones, what happened?"
Jones shook his head somberly. "An accident… Martin's ten-year-old daughter… she didn't make it."
---