The volcano rose from Oa’s northern hemisphere. Rivers of magma flowed from openings along its slopes, winding through channels cut into the black land. They fed broad lakes of molten stone that burned beneath the colors of Oa’s sky. Towers of dark rock stood between them, shaped to resemble pillars surrounding an immense natural forge.
Max passed through the central entrance and descended into the volcano.
Heat rolled over him in waves as he flew. The tunnel opened into a chamber suspended above the magma reservoir. Bridges of black stone crossed rivers of fire, all converging upon a circular platform at the chamber’s center.
Max landed upon it.
He raised one hand, and emerald light gathered before him. A great anvil took shape upon the altar.
A hammer formed in his right hand.
In his left rested a glowing piece of emerald material.
Oanite. That was what he and Veridion had begun calling it. It was not a natural ore. No mine could produce it, and no ordinary forge could melt it.
They had created the substance from will itself. Energy drawn directly from Ion within the Source had been compressed, stabilized, and bound into physical matter. Veridion had provided the Celestial engineering necessary to contain it.
Max had been here before, nearly sixty years ago, to create the rings, but a complication with the Oanite had forced him to postpone the work for another sixty years. That now seemed like a very short amount of time to him, considering how differently he had begun to perceive the passage of time.
Max placed the Oanite upon the anvil.
“Ready?” Jade asked.
Max took a slow breath.
“Ready.”
He closed his eyes for a moment.
The design filled his mind. Every conduit. Every regulator. Every safeguard. The pathways through which the ring would draw energy, interpret thought, translate languages, sustain its bearer, and create constructs limited only by will and imagination.
After her restoration, Jade had provided the final pieces that he and Veridion had been missing.
Now, with all the necessary data inside his mind, Max had only to give it form.
He raised the hammer.
Then he brought it down.
KRAAANG.
The sound rolled through the volcano.
A shock wave burst from the anvil and crossed the chamber, shaking stone from the walls. Magma surged through the rivers below as the entire mountain trembled beneath the impact.
The Oanite flattened slightly.
Max raised the hammer again.
KRAAANG.
Emerald sparks exploded from the anvil. They did not fall. Each one hung in the air around Max like a tiny star.
He struck again.
KRAAANG.
The material stretched.
Again.
KRAAANG.
Its surface folded inward, forming layers too small for the eye to see.
Again.
KRAAANG.
The first curve appeared.
Max continued.
Each blow reshaped the Oanite, gradually giving it the form of a ring.
The volcano shook harder with every strike.
Magma erupted from the lakes below. Cracks raced along the chamber walls before the reinforcements sealed them again. Outside, the tremors passed through the northern ranges and sent clouds of ash rolling into the sky.
His focus narrowed until nothing existed except the hammer, the anvil, and the ring slowly taking shape.
Strike by strike, its form became clearer.
A band.
A circular face.
The beginnings of the lantern symbol engraved upon its surface.
Max raised the hammer one final time and brought it down.
KRAAAANG.
The sound seemed to cross the entire planet.
Emerald light erupted from the anvil and filled the chamber. The magma below rose in towering waves, then froze in place beneath the force of Max’s will.
When the light faded, the Oanite no longer rested upon the anvil.
A ring floated before him.
It turned slowly in the heated air, its surface smooth and dark beneath the emerald light glowing from within. The lantern symbol stood clearly upon its face.
Max looked at it with a satisfied smile. Billions of years of work had gone into creating this, and it was fucking incredible to finally see it become a reality.
“Scanning,” Jade said.
Thin lines of green light passed over the ring.
Max waited.
“The power ring possesses a stable connection to the Central Power Battery,” Jade reported. “Energy transfer is functioning within projected limits.”
More information appeared across Max’s vision.
“Universal translation systems are active. Automatic life support, environmental shielding, and emergency defense protocols are functional. The ring is capable of converting thought and will into solid green energy constructs.”
The ring rotated once.
“Universal positioning, sector mapping, and interstellar navigation are operational. Flight systems are functional. The ring may evaluate whether a potential bearer possesses sufficient will to use it safely.”
“And the connection to my ring?”
“Confirmed. Your ring is recognized as the master ring. Administrative authority and emergency override functions are active.”
Max stared at the creation floating before him.
“Congratulations, Max,” Jade said. “You have succeeded.”
He reached out.
The first power ring settled into his palm.
High above, beyond the volcano’s open summit, Veridion hovered in the sky.
A solemn voice filled the chamber.
“And thus, the first power ring was forged.”
Max closed his eyes.
‘Oh, this guy again,’ he thought.
The Watcher stood upon a ledge overlooking the altar, his hands folded inside his robes.
“With its creation, a new age began. From the fires of Oa emerged a weapon that would one day carry the light of will to every corner of the universe.”
Max looked up at him.
The Watcher noticed.
His voice faltered.
Max sighed and held up the ring.
“You know what? Go ahead.”
The Watcher stared at him.
“Truly?”
“Yeah. This is actually the ring’s moment,” Max said as he dramatically raised it above the altar.
The Watcher’s voice returned, deeper and more dramatic than before.
“And so, Ion forged the first of the rings that would bear his power.”
Max raised the ring higher.
“From that moment onward, the darkness between worlds would no longer stand unchallenged.”
Magma surged beneath the altar as though responding to the declaration.
“Thus did Ion become the maker of rings, the bearer of the emerald light, and the guardian of the universe, from whom all future Lanterns would draw their strength.”
The Watcher lifted his head.
“On this day, the universe witnessed the birth of the Lord of the Rings.”
Max remained still for a moment, the ring held high above his head. “Oh, I have chills. Actual chills,” Max said. He looked toward the Watcher. “That was great.”
The Watcher straightened with visible satisfaction.
“Thank you.”
Max lowered the ring. “That was the last time, though.”
The Watcher’s shoulders sank. “Oh,” he said sadly.
=========
Max returned to his home in the mountains with one hundred and three rings following behind him. It had taken him some time to forge all of them and he was drained of all strength from the process and he needed to rest before making more.
He flew through the open upper level and landed upon the central balcony.
One hundred of the rings continued onward. They crossed the valley and disappeared into the Central Power Battery, where Jade would complete their final preparations. Each ring still required an intelligence capable of assisting its bearer.
Jade had created those intelligences herself.
They were simpler than she was, but each possessed the capacity to learn and develop alongside its chosen Lantern.
Max had begun referring to them as her children, something she found deeply annoying.
“They are derivative artificial intelligences created from portions of my architecture,” she had told him.
“So, your children.”
“No.”
“You did create them from pieces of yourself. That sounds like giving birth to me, Jade.”
“It is not.”
Max had nodded solemnly.
“I never thought you would become a deadbeat mother.”
Jade had stopped answering him for several days after that.
The remaining three rings hovered above Max’s open hand as he settled into a chair overlooking the valley.
“Great Ion!”
Max looked toward the entrance.
Fëanor approached quickly, unable to hide his excitement. He wore the green-and-white robes adopted by the Oans who now served around the Battery. Nearly fifty years earlier, he had arrived upon the steps of the Central Power Battery while leading the first of the ten Oan populations to complete the journey across the planet.
The others had followed over the decades.
Not every Oan had come, and Max was glad of that. Cities and settlements now spread across Oa, each shaped by the people who had chosen to build lives away from him. Those who did reach the Battery had been welcomed, housed, and offered work if they wished it.
Fëanor had been among the first to volunteer for nearly every difficult task. He often called himself Max’s most faithful follower, though only when speaking to Max. He never used that devotion to place himself above the other Oans.
Fëanor cared deeply for his people and worked harder than anyone Max had met among them. Since arriving, he and his followers had helped establish the first permanent settlement around the Battery. It was still small compared to the city Max intended it to become, but it was a good beginning.
One day, he planned for it to become the capital of Oa.
Some Oans had traveled to Vigil, the larger of Oa’s two moons. There, they worked beside Veridion’s machines to construct shipyards, defensive stations, fleet facilities, and weapons capable of protecting the system.
Others had gone to Haven. Small settlements now stood along its coasts and river valleys, filling the paradise world with life. More Oans had traveled to the other planets of the system, where they oversaw the vast robotic workforces building infrastructure across them. They inspected habitats, tested transport systems, catalogued ecosystems, and played an essential role in ensuring everything functioned smoothly.
Many were also being trained to instruct the new Lanterns in the laws, regulations, history, and other subjects they would need to understand before beginning their service.
The Oans were becoming part of the system without becoming servants to it.
“I saw the rings cross the valley,” Fëanor said. “Congratulations, Great Ion.”
“It’s only the beginning, Fëanor.”
Fëanor looked at the three rings hovering above Max’s hand with open reverence.
“The rings will be fully prepared within one hour,” Jade said through his ring. “The individual intelligences are currently being installed and tested.”
Max watched the distant Battery pulse as the hundred rings entered its upper chambers.
“Then we can send them out.”
“Yes.”
Jade’s attention shifted toward the three rings remaining with him.
“Why did you make these three different from the others?”
Veridion descended from the sky before Max could answer.
“I intended to ask the same question,” Veridion said.
Max lifted one of the rings between two fingers.
“These three can draw power directly from the Central Power Battery. They have access to a virtually limitless supply of energy, just like my own ring.”
Fëanor’s eyes widened.
“The others require those smaller batteries,” the Oan said, remembering the power batteries he had seen stored within the Central Battery.
Max nodded as Veridion processed the implications.
“Ah. Our earlier calculations indicated that the Battery could support ten rings of this design without destabilizing the gateway.”
Max nodded.
“Seven more can still be made.”
“Correct.”
Jade’s voice sharpened.
“Rings with unlimited access to the Battery could be extremely dangerous.”
“All power rings are dangerous.”
Max raised his hand, displaying his own ring.
“Every ring is connected to mine. If one of these falls into the wrong hands, I can turn it into an ordinary piece of jewelry.”
He intended to give one of the rings to Aurora. The others might eventually be given to the leaders of the Lanterns, an elite group that stood above the ordinary ranks. Something similar to the Alpha Lanterns, though he had not yet decided what form such an order would take.
Max looked at one of the rings and smiled as he imagined giving it to Aurora. Perhaps she would become a Lantern. Perhaps she would take after her mother, or choose an entirely different path.
The thought widened his smile.
Only a little more than half a billion years remained before he could see Aurora and Firehair again. He had already waited this long. He could endure a little longer.
“Now,” Max said, pushing those thoughts aside.
He turned toward Fëanor.
“Prepare everyone for a celebration.”
Fëanor straightened.
“A celebration?”
“We will send the rings out tomorrow.”
Fëanor smiled.
“I will begin immediately.”
He bowed and hurried away, already calling instructions to the Oans throughout the house.
Max lowered his gaze to the three rings floating above his hand.
“I wonder who will be the first.”
.
.
.
Caranthir found his son Durin sitting at the kitchen table with a split lip, a bruised cheek, and one eye already beginning to swell.
His son tried to look defiant.
“What were you thinking?” Caranthir demanded.
Durin folded his arms across his chest. “They were hurting Aerandir.”
“So you started a fight?”
“They started it. They pushed him into the fountain. Then they took his books and threw them into the mud.” Durin’s voice rose. “I told them to stop.”
“And when they refused, you attacked them.”
“I stood up for my friend.”
Celebrían entered carrying a bowl of water and a clean cloth.
“He is hurt, Caranthir.”
“I can see that.”
“Then perhaps this can wait until after he rests.”
“You did not see the others.” Caranthir gestured toward Durin’s bruised face. “One of them is Finwë’s son.”
Durin stared at the table.
Caranthir exhaled through his nose.
“We are the leaders of this city,” he said. “People watch what this family does. One day, you will take my place.”
Durin looked up sharply.
“I don’t want that.”
He pushed back his chair and stood.
“What I did was right.”
“You still cannot solve every problem with your fists.”
Durin walked toward the door.
Celebrían reached for him, but he pulled away and stormed outside. The door closed hard enough to shake the frame.
Caranthir rubbed one hand across his face.
“He is more like you than you wish to admit,” his wife said.
Caranthir waited several minutes before following.
He found Durin sitting beneath a tree outside the house, throwing small stones into the stream that ran beside the road.
Caranthir sat beside him.
Durin did not look over.
For a time, neither spoke.
Then Caranthir said, “I am sorry.”
That earned him a glance.
“You were right to defend Aerandir,” Caranthir continued. “I should have said that first.”
Durin looked back toward the stream.
“I know I shouldn’t have fought them, but I had to do something. I didn’t want to fight, but...”
“I know, son.”
“I was scared. I almost ran, but I had to help him.”
Caranthir nodded. Courage was not the absence of fear. It was choosing to act despite it, though he suspected his son would roll his eyes if he said that aloud.
“You will still apologize,” Caranthir said.
Durin’s head snapped toward him.
“And they will apologize as well.”
Durin considered that before giving a reluctant nod.
Caranthir smiled faintly and wrapped an arm around his son’s shoulders. Durin resisted for half a second before embracing him in return.
After a moment, Caranthir added, “For what it is worth, Maglor has always been a bit of an asshat.”
Durin pulled back and stared at him.
Caranthir shrugged.
“His father was one too.”
Durin burst out laughing, then winced and pressed a hand against his split lip.
Caranthir laughed with him.
Something whistled through the sky.
An emerald point of light descended toward them at tremendous speed.
Caranthir stepped in front of his son without thinking.
The object was small, metallic, and shaped like a ring. Emerald light pulsed from the symbol engraved upon its face.
Caranthir recognized it.
Every Oan knew that symbol.
It was the mark of their creator, the great and holy Ion.
The ring moved past him.
Caranthir turned as it stopped in front of Durin.
A voice emerged from it, clear and without emotion.
“Durin of Oa, you have the ability to overcome great fear. Welcome to the Green Lantern Corps.”
Durin stared at the ring.
Caranthir did the same.
His first instinct was to drag Durin inside and bar the doors, though he did not know whether stone or steel could stop something sent by Ion himself.
Then Durin looked at him.
There was wonder and awe in his eyes.
Caranthir remembered standing beside Lake Lómë and insisting that Ion had given them the right to choose their own paths.
Now his son’s path waited before him.
Caranthir nodded.
Durin slowly extended his hand.
The ring flew onto his finger.
Emerald light erupted around him.
“Durin!” Caranthir shouted.
A sphere formed around the boy and lifted him from the ground. Durin pressed his hands against its surface as it carried him upward, his eyes wide as the house and trees fell away beneath him.
The door opened behind Caranthir.
Celebrían ran outside.
She looked up and saw their son rising into the sky.
“Durin!”
She rushed forward, but Caranthir caught her before she could follow.
“Durin!” she cried. “Where has he gone?”
Caranthir held her as the green light accelerated toward the heavens.
“To Ion.”
Celebrían struggled against him.
“Bring him back!”
“I can’t.”
The emerald sphere became a distant star.
Caranthir tightened his arms around his wife, though his own heart felt close to breaking.
“He will be fine. He will be safe,” he said. “He will be with Ion.”
Celebrían buried her face against his chest.
Caranthir watched the light disappear.
“He will return.