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[indent][sub][COLOR=slategray][B]Location:[/B][/COLOR] [color=lightgray][I]Capitol City[/I] – [I]United States[/I][/color][/sub][sup][right][COLOR=slategray][b]Issue #0.02:[/b][/COLOR] [I][color=lightgray]The First Tremors[/color][/I][/right][/sup][/indent]
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The emerald fire sputtered.

It was subtle at first—just a flicker at the corner of Alan Scott’s eye as he walked the steel skeleton of another project site. But as he reached for the Starheart, letting its light pool into his palm, the flame stuttered and hissed, like a candle about to gutter in the wind. That had never happened before. The Starheart did not falter. It surged, it strained, it roared—but never sputtered.

Alan clenched his hand, forcing the emerald blaze into shape. The light reformed reluctantly, vibrating at a pitch he felt in his bones. His stomach tightened.

[i][color=00583C]“You’re not steady. What’s happening?”[/color][/i]

The answer pressed into his mind as an image, not words: a web of glowing threads, stretching across the globe like a lattice. Vast rivers of light—living energy that ran through the bones of the Earth itself.

The leylines.

Alan had heard of them before. Mystic channels, conduits of planetary essence, older than recorded history. Wizards and sages called them the arteries of creation. They nourished magic, connected shrines, empowered the gifted, and sometimes cursed them. He had thought them more metaphor than reality—until the Starheart showed him the truth.

Now one of those threads was blackening, bleeding a deep red sickness through its veins. It cut directly beneath Capitol City like a wound.

Alan’s breath frosted in the winter air as the first scream echoed from the street below. He didn’t hesitate. The green fire flared around him, and in a heartbeat, the Sentinel plunged into the night.

The first was a man in rags, his muscles swollen beyond natural limits, eyes fever-bright and rimmed in red. He tore at a city bus with his bare hands, metal shrieking as he ripped it apart like paper. Alan dropped from above, emerald light forming a shimmering wedge between man and machine. The blow landed like a hammer, nearly knocking Alan from the sky.

[i][color=00583C]“Stronger than you should be…”[/color][/i] Alan muttered, parrying the next strike with a conjured shield. Every hit cracked the construct, the man’s body moving with frenzied strength no mortal should possess. It took precision, patience—binding chains of green fire that slithered tight until the man collapsed, snarling, into unconsciousness.

The second came two nights later. A woman with skin that had hardened like stone, shrugging off bullets and batons as she rampaged through a shopping district. Her eyes burned the same fevered red, veins glowing faintly beneath her skin. Alan wove nets of light around her, but she broke them apart with raw force. Only after cloaking her in a dome of emerald fire and suffocating the rage with sheer will did she finally collapse. Alan left her in the hands of authorities, their questions sharp, their fear sharper.

The third… the third took more from him. A teenager this time, his body twisted by the sickness, claws forming from bone, teeth jagged and gnashing. Alan fought with care, each strike angled to restrain rather than wound. The boy screamed as though something else were inside him, clawing to be free. It shook Alan more than he admitted when the light finally subdued him.

Three in less than a week. All touched by something unnatural. All stronger, faster, more durable than their forms should allow. All marked with faint patterns—deep red, jagged and pulsing—that faded when they fell unconscious.

Alan hovered above Capitol City’s skyline, breath misting as he tried to steady himself. The Starheart pulsed restlessly in his chest, urging, warning, demanding.

[i][color=00583C]“The leyline…”[/color][/i] Alan whispered, staring at the streets below, the arteries of his city pulsing with invisible sickness. [i][color=00583C]“It’s not just people. The whole city’s drawing from poisoned veins.”[/color][/i]

The Starheart answered in sensation again—a rolling tide of dread, a pulse of emerald flame that made Alan shiver. Whatever was corrupting the leyline wasn’t done. These were only the first tremors.

With a last look at the city, Alan turned skyward, emerald light cloaking him in a blazing aura. He had to trace the sickness to its source before Capitol City drowned in it.
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