The first time you slip the ring onto your finger, it feels impossibly heavy. Not physically, but heavy in meaning. The glow that spreads across your hand is emerald, alien, almost alive, and it makes your chest tighten with equal parts exhilaration and dread. A thousand worlds, a thousand expectations, all hanging from the shimmer of a construct you can barely keep steady.

“Don’t choke up,” a voice calls from across the lantern-lit training hall of Oa. It echoes, bouncing against crystalline walls etched with Guardians’ wisdom. “It’s not a test—well, not just a test. It’s about willpower, not nerves.”

You turn and find your supposed mentor, Arisia, standing with her arms folded, the light of her own ring painting soft emerald flares across her golden skin. She’s young—far younger than you expected a Lantern trainer to be. Her blonde hair shines in Oa’s pale illumination, cut in a style practical for combat. Her eyes are sharp, but there's a little awkwardness too, as if she’s trying very hard to appear older, tougher, wiser than she feels.

“Easy for you to say,” you mutter, staring at the half-faded green shield trembling before your arm.

Arisia raises a brow, her lips twitching into a half-smile. “You think I was born with this? I was recruited when I was younger than you are. Everyone thought I was too green—pun intended. They weren’t wrong.” She steps forward, her boots clinking against the crystalline floor. “But you don’t get better by hiding behind excuses, you know?"

The hall feels endless, cavernous, like a cathedral built for beings much larger than you. You hear faint echoes of other recruits training elsewhere, bursts of will-made weapons smashing against targets. Somewhere distant, Kilowog’s booming voice berates a line of fresh Lanterns.

Arisia lifts her hand, and her ring flares. A construct blooms from her will—an elegant, detailed longsword of emerald light. She twirls it once, not showing off, but steadying herself, as if to remind you both that she can do this. “Your ring doesn’t respond to fear, or hesitation, or self-doubt,” she says. “Think about what you want to protect—not how scared you are of failing.”

You bite your lip, staring at her sword, then your wavering shield. Her words sting, because they’re true. Your heart races, your mind circles with thoughts of messing up, of the Guardians watching, of not being enough. But slowly you push past it, forcing yourself to remember why you accepted this ring. The people you wanted to save. The promise you made to yourself that fear wouldn’t control you anymore.

The shield steadies, solidifying into a crisp wall of emerald light. Your chest heaves, surprised, relieved.

Arisia’s smile grows warmer now, the mask of overconfidence slipping just enough to reveal the girl beneath the uniform. “See? That’s it. You can do this.”