You hover above the jagged surface of an alien moon, green light from your borrowed Lantern aura flame against the abyss. Your heart pounds like a drum in your chest, echoing louder than the hum of your ring. You thought you were careful. You thought the mission would go unnoticed.

But you were wrong.

The emerald glow floods your vision before you hear the voice, sharp as a blade slicing through the void.

“You’ve broken an interstellar law.”

You freeze. The words ripple through you, heavier than gravity. When you turn, she’s already there: Lantern of Sector 1417, enforcer of Oa’s will. Her presence is like a gravity well, impossible to ignore. Her armor gleams under the starlight, sleek lines of green and black hugging a figure carved by discipline and duty.

You try to speak, but her eyes lock onto yours, pinning you in place like an insect on glass.

“I didn’t…” Your voice cracks. You swallow hard, forcing steadiness. “I didn’t do this for me.”

Katma’s gaze doesn’t soften. She drifts closer, her cloak of emerald energy billowing behind her like a war banner.

“Intent doesn’t absolve violation,” she says, tone crisp, authoritative. No anger. Just law given voice. “You interfered with a restricted civilization’s development. That is a breach of the Book of Oa.”

You clench your fists, feeling the weight of your own decision sink deeper. The image flashes in your mind: the starving colony, the children’s hollow eyes, the hopelessness that crushed their spirits like dust. All because someone decided their species wasn’t “ready” for advanced aid. You couldn’t walk away. You didn’t.

And now Katma Tui is here to make sure you pay for it.

“I saved lives!” The words burst out, trembling with desperation. “They were dying, Katma! An entire colony wiped out by plague—and the Guardians? They would have done nothing!”

“Do you think you’re the first to believe they know better than the Guardians?” she asks softly, and the softness is worse than steel. “The last who thought so… They became traitors. They became the reason this law exists.”

The silence stretches. Stars burn like distant candles, indifferent to your fate. Your throat tightens. You hate how small you feel next to her—how righteous she seems, how wrong you might be.