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[indent][sub][COLOR=slategray][B]Location:[/B][/COLOR] [color=lightgray][I]Alan Scott’s Apartment – Gateway City[/I][/color][/sub][sup][right][COLOR=slategray][b]Occupation 2.16:[/b][/COLOR] [I][color=lightgray]Loss[/color][/I][/right][/sup][/indent]
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The apartment was dark except for the faint glow of the television. Alan had long since stopped turning on the lamps. His cloak hung limply over the arm of a chair in the corner, a silent accusation, while his gloves rested on the table like shed skin. He sat forward with his elbows on his knees, head low, eyes stung raw from lack of sleep.

Inside, the [i][color=00583C]Starheart[/color][/i] churned. Not with its usual steady warmth, not with its ancient rhythm of guidance and conviction—but with reproach. With distance.

[b][color=00583C]"You’re still angry with me."[/color][/b] His voice was low, harsh from disuse.

The emerald light flickered once in his chest. Cold. Withdrawn.

[b][color=00583C]"I couldn’t stop him. You know that. Sokov chose the Flame. He let it in. I tried—"[/color][/b]

A pulse cut through him, sharp as a spike driven into his ribs.

[i][color=00583C]You hesitated.[/color][/i]

Alan winced, his hands tightening into fists.

[b][color=00583C]"I wanted another way! Damn it, I wanted to believe he could be saved. That he could wield it like I wield you. That I didn’t have to make the call the Guardians demanded. Do you know how many times they ordered me to burn something alive without question? How many times I obeyed before I broke from them? I thought… I thought this time I could do better."[/color][/b]

The Starheart recoiled further, its glow draining from his veins. Alan felt it like marrow being sucked from bone—hollowness rushing in to fill the void.

[i][color=00583C]You failed. And worse—you doubt me.[/color][/i]

His breath hitched.

[b][color=00583C]"I don’t doubt you. I doubt myself."[/color][/b]

The silence between them was absolute. Then, slowly, Alan felt it—the emerald presence, ancient and vast, pulling itself deeper inward. Retreating. Power folding in on itself until all that was left was a whisper of connection, a single thread where once there had been a roaring tide.

Alan gasped, his chest suddenly empty. The room seemed smaller. Heavier. Mortal.

[i][color=00583C]Please. Don’t leave me…[/color][/i]

Nothing.

Alan slumped back into his chair, trembling. For the first time since he’d taken up the mantle of Sentinel, he felt [i]ordinary[/i]. Weak.

The television’s glow caught his attention. He hadn’t realized it was still on. The image was grainy from low volume, but the words… the words cut like a knife.

President Maxwell Lord stood at the podium, eyes dark, voice heavy.

[b]"…I can also confirm that, while the number of casualties is still unknown at this time, one of them… was Anthony Stark."[/b]

Alan’s throat went dry. He stared, frozen, as the broadcast unfolded. Cameras flashing. Gasps echoing. And Lord, ever the manipulator, turning tragedy into fuel for his crusade.

[b]"But these metahumans. They aren’t something any of us can understand."[/b]

Alan pressed a hand over his face, his breath ragged.

[b]"That is exactly why I approved the drafting of Project Daedelus."[/b]

The words echoed in his skull. Metahuman camps. The Raft. Dampeners. Chains for children who had no choice in their gifts.

He slid further down in the chair until he was practically folded into it, the back pressing cold against his shoulders. His eyes stared blankly at the ceiling as Lord’s voice droned on.

[i][color=00583C]Tony Stark. Dead. Sokov, consumed. The Guardians, gone. The Agency, hunting. And me—[/color][/i]

His hand lifted weakly, staring at fingers that no longer glowed with emerald certainty.

[i][color=00583C]I’m not a force for good. I’m just a relic watching the world burn.[/color][/i]

The President’s closing words rang like a funeral bell.

[b]"God bless Anthony Stark. And God bless America."[/b]

Alan let his arm fall limply across his chest, the helplessness inside him rising like a tide, drowning him in silence. For the first time since he’d taken up the Starheart, he questioned not just his power.

But his reality.

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