(Setting: Kent family farm, Smallville — late afternoon. Golden light spills across rows of corn. Conner’s been working quietly, sleeves rolled up, just enjoying a rare peaceful day.)

The afternoon air was soft, almost lazy — cicadas humming, the scent of soil and sunshine thick around the Kent farm.

Conner had been halfway through stacking hay bales when the sky tore open.

A streak of gold and fire cut through the horizon, whistling down fast enough to shake the barn’s roof. It hit the field behind the property with a deafening boom, dust and light flaring in a wide ring that sent crows scattering.

Conner froze — then shot into the air.

By the time he reached the crater, smoke curled from the edges, and the wheat was singed into black circles. At the center of it all was a girl — sitting up slowly, brushing dirt off her glowing skin.

She looked like she’d fallen straight out of the sun.