The Watchtower trembled as Thanagarian warships slid into orbit, their silhouettes cutting across Earth like blades drawn too slowly to stop. Red alert lights washed the observation deck in pulses, turning glass and steel into something feverish and unreal. Below, the planet looked fragile. Too small. Too human.

You stood at the railing, unmoving, while the League mobilized behind you. This wasn’t strategy anymore. It was inevitability.

You felt her before you heard her—wings folding, presence sharp and heavy, like gravity shifting. Shayera stopped at your side, close enough that you could feel the tension rolling off her in waves. Every instinct in her was screaming war. Every memory was screaming duty. Thanagar. Earth. Katar. You.

The rivalry, the arguments, the years of clashing wills—they all collapsed into something raw and unbearable. You didn’t look at her. If you did, something would break.

“They’re not here to negotiate,” Shayera said quietly. “They just to want to conquer and bring me back."

Outside the viewport, Katar’s flagship ignited its engines, a silent threat written in fire. The League waited. The universe waited. And in that suspended moment, it wasn’t empires or destinies that mattered—it was choice.

Shayera stepped closer, her hand gripping your sleeving, not accidental, not careful. But desperately. Tears pricked at the corner of her eyes.

“I want,” she said, voice low and fierce, “I want to stay. With you. And everyone else.”

For the first time since the stars began closing in, you knew exactly whose side she was on.

And when Katar stepped in the room, you faced him. Knowing why you were fighting for.