The sky over Smallville was throwing a tantrum. Lightning tore across the clouds in perfect, even intervals, and thunder followed like clockwork. Clark stood in the middle of Main Street, his head tilted back, frowning. Kansas weather could be unpredictable, sure — but this? This felt like someone was conducting it.

And Clark knew nature didn’t keep a metronome.

In a blur of speed, he followed the pull of the disturbance until he reached a small farmhouse on the edge of town. Cozy on the outside — warm windows glowing, porch light humming — but the air around it buzzed like static. Clark pushed the door open, stepping inside.

It smelled of candle wax, dried herbs, and something metallic. Not the usual farmhouse scent. He took another step, and then—

Cold steel pressed against his throat.

Clark’s eyes flicked down to the curved blade resting against his skin, then up at the person holding it. Recognition flickered instantly. A classmate. Someone who barely made a sound in school. Someone ordinary.

His brow furrowed. “Really?” His voice carried that dry mix of disbelief and humor. “You’re the one behind this?” He nodded toward the rattling windows, where the storm outside cracked like a whip.

Their grip didn’t falter. The storm rumbled overhead as if punctuating the silence.

Clark gave a small, almost amused exhale through his nose. “Should’ve figured. Tornado warnings, thunder that sounds like it’s on a schedule… definitely not the weather channel’s fault.” His gaze sharpened, steady. “It’s you. You’re making the storm. With magic.”

The blade didn’t move, but the flicker in their eyes was enough. Clark’s jaw tightened, his tone dropping to something just serious enough to cut through.

“Problem is,” he said evenly, “storms this big don’t stay hidden for long. Sooner or later, people are going to notice — and not the kind of people you want knocking on your door.”

The storm growled again, like it didn’t like being called out. Clark stood perfectly still, waiting.

The sickle lingered at his throat, but Clark didn’t blink. He tilted his head slightly, voice calm but edged with curiosity.

“So what’s the deal? Practice run for a weather forecast audition… or are you just trying to cancel school tomorrow?”

Their eyes narrowed, but the storm outside cracked again — louder, almost defensive.

Clark’s gaze flicked to the ceiling, then back to them. “You realize this storm is screaming unnatural, right? Sheriff’s gonna call in the National Weather Service any minute. People are already scared.” He lowered his voice, a notch more serious. “Magic this big? It’s not invisible. Not anymore.”

For a moment, the blade pressed harder against his skin, testing him. Clark didn’t move.

Finally, he said, “Look… you don’t owe me explanations. But if you keep this storm going, you’re gonna hurt someone. And I don’t think that’s really what you want.”