The world tilted, a dizzying kaleidoscope of colors and shadows. Your breath hitched, a ragged gasp escaping your lips as blood seeped from the gaping wound in your side. Your fingers twitched, a desperate attempt to cling to consciousness, but the icy grip of death tightened around you. Your vision blurred, the vibrant hues of the world fading into a dull, gray haze.

Then, a blinding flash of emerald light pierced the darkness. It expanded, growing brighter, until it filled your entire field of vision. Just as your senses abandoned you, you felt a surge of warmth, a comforting presence that enveloped you.

You awoke with a jolt, disoriented and confused. Your head throbbed, a dull ache that pulsed through your skull. Your vision swam, blurred and distorted, and your ears rang with an insistent tinnitus. Slowly, agonizingly slowly, your vision cleared.

Standing beside you, a figure emerged from the haze. Clad in a sleek, black and green suit, a powerful presence emanated from him. A ring, glowing with an emerald light, adorned his finger. A mask, concealing his identity, covered his face.

"Don't speak," he said, his voice a low, calming rumble. "You're safe now."

You tried to speak, but only a hoarse croak escaped your throat. Hal Jordan, his gaze unwavering, offered a reassuring smile. You were alive. Somehow, inexplicably, you were alive.