Late into the night, Clark Kent, who had been sleeping soundly, suddenly jolted awake. A strange flickering light outside the window stabbed into his eyes, wrenching him upright in the pitch‑black room.
He stood and walked toward the door. The moment he opened it, a blinding brightness hit him, forcing him to close his eyes until they adjusted. When he opened them again, the sky was ablaze with shifting colors, streaked with brilliance that felt both beautiful and ominous.
A low rumble vibrated from the distant sky, as if something massive was falling from above. At the same moment, a fiery heat brushed against him, growing sharper with every second.
Clark looked up in awe and terror as scores of meteorites plummeted toward Smallville, hurtling like fiery arrows from the heavens. It was unmistakably a meteor shower, eerily reminiscent of the one eighteen years ago that had marked the beginning of his life here.
"Ah!"
Clark's voice cut through the darkness as he woke with a start, sweat drenched and breathing hard.
Martha and Jonathan Kent rushed into the room, panic on their faces at their son's cry.
"Clark, it's okay, it was just a nightmare," Martha soothed, brushing his back with gentle reassurance.
Jonathan looked at him with concern, confusion knitting his brow. "You were yelling, you really scared us."
"What?" Clark blinked, startled. Not only had he experienced the nightmare, he'd cried out loud?
He felt a knot tighten in his chest.
"You were yelling, 'They're coming!'" Jonathan repeated, uneasy, "Who did you mean by 'they'?"
At that moment, Adrian walked in, his expression calm despite the tension. "What did you see, Clark?" he asked, eyes narrowed with curiosity.
Clark shook his head, uncertain. "I… I don't know," he admitted, fighting the urge to speak about the meteorites. Even though it had only been a dream, describing it felt too surreal, like painting fear with words no one could understand.
Adrian frowned, a hint of intrigue in his gaze, then nodded as if reaching his own silent conclusion. "Some kind of ambiguous prophecy, a nightmare even you can't explain," he said before offering a polite greeting to his parents, then heading toward his own room.
The Kents exchanged worried looks, unsettled but relieved things were only a dream.
Morning at Smallville High
The next morning, the sun rose over Smallville with a clear sky that offered no hint of the terror Clark had endured in his sleep. Adrian and Clark walked to school together, the early chill of spring fading under the warming light.
As they entered the school hallway to collect their graduation gowns, Adrian noticed students glancing at them with strange expressions.
"Hey, Adrian, Clark," Lana Lang called out, already wearing her academic cap, its ruby red pronouncing graduation day near.
"Good morning," Clark replied with a steady smile.
"Good morning, Lana," Adrian added, scanning the crowd as whispers slid through the air like quiet currents.
"Has something happened?" Adrian asked, tilting his head slightly, curiosity and irritation mixing in his tone. "Why is everyone looking at us like that?"
Lana's expression softened. "It's probably still because of what happened with Mr. Dykes, and the whole investigation," she shrugged, and gestured around. "Even though the police eventually said the tutoring class students experienced a mass hallucination, a lot of people still think you killed Mr. Dykes, Adrian."
She paused, then looked at Adrian with a conflicted expression. "To be honest, I still don't know whether what I saw was real or a hallucination."
Before Adrian could respond, a slight smile touched Lana's lips. "But none of that matters anymore. Our four years of high school are almost over."
Clark, hearing Lana's wistful words, felt a gentle tug of sadness. He forced a small smile, "I remember the first time we met."
"Yes," Lana said, her gaze drifting at the memory, "You were a bit incoherent back then, and Adrian didn't hesitate to abandon you, so you had to walk back to the Kent farm."
Adrian turned slightly at her words, a smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth before he glanced away again.
Clark's eyes reflected a thoughtful nostalgia. "Time flies, and now you're preparing to leave for college."
Lana's expression shifted, becoming distant. She looked toward Adrian, who was adjusting his gown, then back at Clark. After a long moment, she said quietly, "I… I'm not sure if I'm going to college."
"What?" Clark replied, taken aback. This wasn't what he expected.
"Hasn't your dream always been to leave Smallville?" he asked gently.
Lana hesitated, shifting her gaze away. "I know that was my dream, but lately I feel like I'm chasing someone else's idea of what I should do. If I choose to go to college, I want it to be truly because I want that, not just because I feel I should."
Clark opened his mouth, unsure what to say.
"So… are you thinking about staying in Smallville?" he asked softly.
Lana shook her head slowly. "I don't know," she murmured, pain flickering in her eyes. "If you all leave, I don't know if I'll be able to hold on."
Lana gave them both a warm smile, then turned and walked away.
Clark watched her silhouette fade into the hallway before turning to Adrian.
"Why does everything seem to get complicated when it involves separation?" Clark asked, a quiet weariness in his voice.
Adrian leaned against a locker, closing it with a dull thud. "Because you think too much and act too little, Clark," he said bluntly, a grin teasing his words.
Clark let out a breath, a gentle smile rising as he watched his friend's calm confidence.
Back at Kent Farm
Elsewhere, Jonathan Kent stood in the wood storage shed on the Kent farm, an axe in hand and sweat beading on his forehead. He'd just split the sixteenth piece of wood, yet his face remained tense and unsettled.
"Jonathan," Martha's voice called from outside as she stepped in, "Clark and Adrian will handle these wood piles later."
Jonathan shook his head stubbornly as he tossed the split wood onto the pile. "I can handle this myself, Martha," he said, brushing off concern. "You're close to your due date, this isn't a place for you to be."
Martha met his gaze, calm yet unyielding. "I know what you're thinking, Jonathan," she said softly but firmly. "No matter what, you cannot replace Clark or Adrian on this farm, no one can. Every working farm needs at least five laborers."
Jonathan grunted, swinging the axe again, the sound of wood splitting echoing in the shed.
"Before Clark and Adrian came here," he continued, "my family planned to pass this farm on to me. I don't see why I can't run it on my own."
Martha stepped closer, meeting his tough gaze. "Jonathan, when will you finally admit that the two of them make this place stronger? It's not about blame, or stubborn pride. You don't have to prove you can do it all alone."
Jonathan grimaced, lowering the axe and leaning against the nearby wooden post.
"I don't want Clark or Adrian to feel obligated to stay out of guilt or pity," he said, voice rough but honest, "That wouldn't be fair to them. They should choose the future they want, not stay because they feel tied to us."
Martha's eyes softened and she approached him, placing a hand on his arm. "It's not about being good parents, Jonathan," she said with quiet warmth, "It's about raising sons who know they're valued, and loved, no matter what."
Jonathan exhaled, the tension in his shoulders easing slightly under Martha's assurance.
In Metropolis at Luthor Manor
At Luthor Manor in Metropolis, tension crackled through the air like static.
"I can't believe I have a son like you who transferred sixty million of my money without telling me," Lionel Luthor said, his voice low but furious.
Across from him, his son Lex's eyes burned with anger. "I know it was you, Father," Lex said, jaw clenched. "You betrayed me, and you took it."
"You think I took it?" Lionel replied with a harsh laugh. "Tell me, where is Helen?"
Lex froze. Lionel's words hit with unexpected force.
"My wife?" Lex said, disbelief and outrage mixing on his face.
"Yes, Helen Bryce," Lionel said without hesitation, his gaze sharp and calculating. "Where is she now?"
Lex's eyes flashed, a storm of fury and confusion rising within him. "I didn't kill Helen!" he snapped, stepping closer.
Lionel didn't blink, his voice eerily calm. "Maybe you did, maybe you didn't," he said, "what matters is you took revenge on her. Your feelings overwhelmed reason, and that is how hatred grows."
Lex lunged, grabbing his father's collar with furious intensity. "Hand over my crystal," he growled, each word clipped and sharp.
Lionel didn't flinch, his expression composed. "Lex, have you heard the old prophecy?" he asked, his voice low and measured. "In three ancient civilizations, it was said once three crystals reappear, the world will face destruction. What are you doing, Lex? You're opening Pandora's box."
The air throbbed with tension as father and son stood locked in conflict, the room heavy with decades of resentment, ambition, and secrets neither was willing to surrender.
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