The antimatter fortress, carved into Qward's rocky peaks, stood as a monument to ambition realized through the pure force of will. From the obsidian throne room's massive windows, Thaal Sinestro could see the sprawling military complex he had built in the short months since his arrival. Training grounds where new recruits learned the discipline of fear. Weapons foundries where the Weaponers of Qward perfected their art under his direction. Barracks that housed an army that grew larger with each passing day.
The Antimatter Universe had welcomed him like a prodigal son.
Where others saw exile, Sinestro had seen opportunity. Where the Guardians intended punishment, he had found paradise. This realm of reversed physics and inverted morality was everything the positive universe was not—honest about its nature, unashamed of its hunger for power, refreshingly direct in its approach to conflict resolution.
The beings here understood strength. They respected results. They had no patience for the philosophical debates and ethical hand-wringing that paralyzed the Green Lantern Corps.
"Supreme Commander," came a voice from behind him, respectful but not servile. Sinestro turned to see Arkillo approaching, the massive Vorn warrior's yellow skin bearing fresh scars from the morning's skirmishes along the Negation Zone border. Since their arrival in the Antimatter Universe, Arkillo had thrown himself into the war against Annihilus with the single-minded focus that had made him legendary on his homeworld.
"Report," Sinestro commanded, his scarred face impassive as he studied the latest tactical displays that floated in the air around his throne.
"The recruitment drives in Sector Minus-1417 have exceeded projections," Arkillo rumbled, his voice carrying satisfaction despite the ongoing conflict. "Three more worlds have declared for the Corps after witnessing our victory at the Tyrannus Nebula. Their populations understand the difference between our order and Annihilus's chaos."
"And our primary opponent?"
"Still entrenched in the central territories. The Cosmic Control Rod continues to make him a formidable adversary." Arkillo's expression grew thoughtful, tinged with what might have been respect. "He's not the mindless brute we initially assessed. His strategy has evolved since we began operations here."
Sinestro nodded approvingly. A weak enemy would have served no purpose beyond target practice. Annihilus, for all his faults, possessed the one quality that Sinestro valued above all others—he was a worthy opponent. The self-proclaimed Lord of the Negative Zone commanded vast armies, controlled crucial territory, and wielded cosmic power that demanded genuine respect rather than casual dismissal.
More importantly, the war between them was serving exactly the purpose Sinestro had intended. Nothing unified disparate species like a common enemy. Nothing proved the superiority of disciplined organization like victory against overwhelming odds. Nothing demonstrated the necessity of strong leadership like the chaos that consumed those who lacked it.
The ongoing conflict had become a crucible, forging his scattered followers into something unprecedented—a true Corps. Not the loose confederation of well-meaning individuals that passed for organization in the Green Lantern Corps, but a military force unified by shared purpose and unquestioned hierarchy.
"Annihilus sees us as invaders threatening his universe," Sinestro observed, moving to examine a tactical hologram that showed the current front lines. "He cannot comprehend that we offer something far more valuable than conquest—we offer evolution."
The war had been raging for months now, a complex dance of strategy and counter-strategy that pushed both leaders to their limits. Annihilus commanded the loyalty of species that had served his empire for eons, backed by technology that could level star systems and fleets that numbered in the millions. But loyalty born from fear of punishment was different from loyalty earned through demonstrated competence.
Sinestro's forces were smaller but infinitely more flexible. Where Annihilus relied on overwhelming force and intimidation, the Sinestro Corps employed precision, coordination, and the kind of tactical innovation that could only come from beings who fought for something they believed in rather than something they feared to lose.
"Our other projects?" Sinestro asked, noting the strategic markers that indicated ongoing operations across multiple fronts.
"The Weaponers have completed the final modifications to the Central Power Battery," Arkillo reported. "The fragment you brought from Oa has been successfully integrated with antimatter technology. Power output exceeds even our most optimistic projections."
Sinestro allowed himself a small smile. The piece of the Guardians' original Central Power Battery that he'd smuggled out during his exile had been a calculated risk. If the Weaponers hadn't been able to adapt it to antimatter physics, his entire plan would have been compromised. Instead, they had created something unprecedented—a power source that combined the focused energy of emotional spectrum manipulation with the raw, chaotic force of antimatter itself.
The resulting Battery was more than the sum of its parts. Where the Guardians' version channeled will through careful regulation and endless bureaucratic oversight, Sinestro's creation focused fear through elegant simplicity and absolute hierarchy. No committees, no debates, no endless discussions about proper procedures. Just pure, directed force in service of a clear vision.
"Excellent. Our performance against Annihilus's latest offensive?"
"His forces broke against our defensive lines at Qward Station Omega," Arkillo said with obvious satisfaction. "The Cosmic Control Rod grants him incredible personal power, but he still thinks like a conqueror rather than a general. He commits his strongest forces to direct assault when indirect approaches would be more effective."
"While we demonstrate the superiority of coordinated strategy over individual strength," Sinestro added. "Every engagement teaches his subjects the same lesson—that Annihilus's empire succeeds through intimidation rather than innovation. When they see our forces adapting, evolving, improving with each battle, they begin to question whether their loyalty is properly placed."
Indeed, defections from Annihilus's empire had been increasing with each passing week. Not the desperate flights of broken troops, but carefully planned transitions by entire military units who had witnessed the Sinestro Corps in action and recognized a superior form of organization.
"Supreme Commander," another voice interrupted his thoughts. Lyssa Drak, the keeper of the Book of Parallax, approached with her characteristic silent grace. The thin, almost skeletal woman moved like a shadow given form, her dark eyes holding secrets that made even hardened warriors uncomfortable.
"The ceremony preparations are complete," she reported, her voice carrying the kind of reverence usually reserved for religious observances. "The new power rings have been distributed to the final candidates. All that remains is your address."
Sinestro straightened, feeling the weight of destiny settling around his shoulders like a familiar cloak. Everything he had worked for, everything he had sacrificed, had led to this moment. The Green Lantern Corps thought they had won by exiling him. Instead, they had simply given him the time and space he needed to build something far superior to their bloated, inefficient organization.
"Then let us begin," he said simply.
The three of them made their way through corridors carved from living crystal, past chambers where the Weaponers of Qward worked with fevered intensity to perfect their instruments of order. These ancient beings had spent eons crafting weapons of fear, waiting for a leader worthy of their art. In Sinestro, they had found not just a customer but a visionary who understood that their creations were tools for building civilization rather than merely destroying it.
The ceremony chamber was vast, its crystalline walls rising toward a vaulted ceiling that stretched beyond easy sight. Thousands of beings filled the space, arranged in perfect military formation. Each wore the black and yellow uniform of the Sinestro Corps, each bore a ring of golden energy that pulsed with disciplined power.
They represented dozens of species from across the Antimatter Universe, united not by shared biology but by shared understanding. Here stood former subjects of Annihilus's empire, beings who had learned that raw strength without purpose was ultimately self-defeating. There were the Qwardians themselves, master weaponers whose allegiance had been earned through demonstrated competence rather than inherited authority. Representatives of races that had fled the chaos of the positive universe, seeking something more stable than the Green Lantern Corps' naive idealism.
All of them bore the mark of Sinestro's influence. The discipline in their posture spoke to training that emphasized precision over brute force. The quality of their equipment reflected manufacturing standards that prioritized function over flash. Most importantly, the look in their eyes showed the kind of focused dedication that could only come from serving a cause they truly believed in.
As Sinestro walked onto the platform at the center of the chamber, the assembled ranks went dead silent. No shuffling feet, no whispered conversations, none of the casual bullshit he'd grown sick of watching in Green Lantern meetings. These people understood what they were witnessing.
The chamber stretched out before him like something out of a fever dream. Carved from living Qwardian crystal that hummed with power, its walls soared overhead while thousands of yellow-clad warriors filled every available space. They stood in perfect formation, each face turned up toward his platform with the kind of look you usually saw in religious paintings. They'd come from across the Antimatter Universe for this moment, to see the birth of something that would change everything.
"My fellow architects of order," Sinestro began, his voice carrying through the crystal acoustics. The sound seemed to flow through Qward itself, reaching every person present with perfect clarity. "Today, we're not here as conquerors or destroyers. We're here as builders of a better universe."
He gestured toward the massive thing dominating the center of the chamber, and every eye followed. The Sinestro Corps Central Power Battery rose like a golden spear thrust into reality's heart. Unlike Jordan's organic tree back on Oa, this was pure engineering perfection. Golden energy flowed through crystal channels in patterns that had been calculated to the last detail. Every surface served a purpose, every angle designed for maximum efficiency.
"Look at it," Sinestro said, his scarred face lit by the Battery's glow. "The Guardians built their power source through accidents and committee decisions. We created something that actually means something. Precision. Efficiency. Total control over chaos."
The Corps members stirred, their rings starting to pulse in time with the Battery. Sinestro had made sure each ring was tuned to the central power source, creating a network that bound them together in ways the Green Lanterns had never managed.
"This universe has been ruled by chaos for too long," Sinestro continued, his voice building. "Look at Annihilus. The bastard thinks brutality equals strength, thinks destruction equals achievement. He sees conquest as the goal instead of the means." His expression showed nothing but contempt for the Antimatter Universe's so-called rulers. "Right now, he's probably gathering his forces for another attack on our territories. He can't understand that we offer his people something he never could. Real leadership."
Murmurs of agreement rippled through the crowd. These weren't just words to them. They'd lived under tyrants who ruled through fear alone, dictators who confused terror with respect. Sinestro offered them something completely different: stability, clear command structure, purpose that went beyond just accumulating power.
"But chaos isn't just here," Sinestro said, his gaze sweeping the ranks. "In the positive universe, they've built their whole civilization on organized disorder. They call it freedom, but what's freedom without structure? They praise independence, but what's independence without purpose? They worship individual will, but what's will without direction?"
He let the questions hang there, challenges to everything most galactic civilizations took for granted. The silence wasn't empty. It was loaded with anticipation.
"Order isn't freedom's enemy," Sinestro declared, his voice rising to fill every corner of the chamber. "Structure isn't the opposite of strength. Discipline doesn't kill ambition. These are the tools that lift civilizations above animal chaos. These separate the worthy from the worthless, the builders from the destroyers."
The energy in the chamber was building, thousands of people focusing their attention and will on his words. Sinestro could feel their hunger to be part of something bigger than themselves. It was intoxicating, this sense of complete command over so many souls, but he'd learned to channel that rush into something useful.
"In the positive universe, they talk about will like it's the ultimate force," Sinestro continued, his voice taking on the rhythm of someone revealing hidden truths. "They claim hope and determination can overcome anything, defeat any enemy, solve any problem. What they refuse to admit is that will without direction is just stubbornness. Hope without foundation is just delusion. Power without purpose is just destruction waiting to happen."
He raised his hand, showing off the golden ring that caught and reflected the Battery's light in shifting patterns. "Fear, my brothers and sisters, is intelligence. It's recognizing real threats, acknowledging actual consequences, the foundation that all rational decisions rest on."
The word 'fear' seemed to resonate through the chamber. Not the mindless terror most people thought of, but something deeper. The kind of healthy respect for consequences that kept chaos from destroying everything worth preserving.
"Those who can make their enemies afraid possess the ultimate tool of civilization," Sinestro explained. "Not because fear is the goal, but because it makes everything else possible. Fear creates space for negotiation. Fear sets the rules for reasonable discussion. Fear reminds everyone that choices have consequences."
"Fear creates respect!" called out one of the Qwardian weapons masters. This wasn't just compliance. This being had served dozens of tyrants over the centuries, had built instruments of terror for warlords who only understood crude force. In Sinestro, he'd found something different: a leader who understood fear as a precision tool.
"Fear enforces law!" added a former Annihilus lieutenant, his scarred face showing real devotion. His journey from mindless enforcer to true believer showed the difference between Sinestro's approach and cruder dictatorships.
"Fear builds order!" Multiple voices joined in now, the assembled ranks understanding their part in this ceremony.
"Exactly," Sinestro said, nodding with satisfaction. "You understand what the Green Lantern Corps never could. Fear isn't justice's opposite. It's justice's most necessary component. Without fear of consequences, law becomes suggestion. Without fear of punishment, civilization becomes chaos. Without fear of disorder, order loses all meaning."
He gestured toward the Central Power Battery, and its glow intensified in response to their collective will. The increase wasn't just for show. The Battery was literally feeding on their shared purpose, growing stronger as their unity became more complete.
"This universe has shown us truths the positive universe refuses to accept," Sinestro declared. "Here, in this realm where physics work backwards, natural law operates without illusions. Here, strength creates order instead of destroying it. Here, power enables justice instead of corrupting it. Here, fear makes peace possible instead of preventing it."
This wasn't just philosophy. These were principles tested in actual combat, proven through months of war against Annihilus and his chaotic hordes. Every person present had seen the difference between their disciplined approach and their enemies' crude brutality.
"Annihilus proves this through negative example," Sinestro continued. "His empire spans galaxies, his armies number in the billions, his personal power rivals cosmic entities. But his subjects serve him only through terror of punishment, not respect for achievement. The moment they see a better alternative; they abandon him without hesitation."
This wasn't theoretical. Entire divisions of Annihilus's forces had defected to the Sinestro Corps once they understood the difference between serving a tyrant and serving a vision. The contrast couldn't have been clearer.
"The defections continue daily," Sinestro added with satisfaction. "Whole fleets abandon his banner when they see what we've built. Not because we offer easier service, but because we offer meaningful service. Purpose beyond survival. Identity beyond fear."
The energy building in the chamber was becoming almost physical, creating harmonics that made the crystal walls resonate with barely contained power. Thousands of rings pulsed in perfect sync with the Central Power Battery, creating a network of shared energy that went beyond military hierarchy.
"The Green Lantern Corps thinks their rings choose worthy bearers through some mystical moral evaluation," Sinestro said, his tone like someone explaining basic errors to students. "They imagine will alone qualifies someone for cosmic responsibility. They've convinced themselves that good intentions can substitute for actual competence, that moral purity can replace practical experience, that hope can overcome the need for planning."
He started walking among the assembled ranks, his presence making rings flare brighter as he passed. Each burst of increased energy strengthened the bonds between individual Corps members and their collective purpose.
"You weren't chosen by mystical accident or cosmic whim," Sinestro declared, meeting individual gazes as he moved through their formations. "You earned your place through demonstrated competence, proven loyalty, and wisdom to recognize truth when presented. Each ring you bear represents not just power, but responsibility. Not just strength, but purpose. Not just authority, but accountability to something greater than your individual desires."
This went to the heart of what separated his Corps from the chaotic individualism that characterized most peacekeeping organizations. Where Green Lanterns operated as loosely coordinated individuals, the Sinestro Corps functioned as a unified force with shared goals.
"We are the instruments of order," hundreds of voices responded in perfect unison.
"We are the agents of justice," hundreds more joined in, their voices blending into harmony that resonated with the chamber's crystal structure.
"We are the guardians of civilization," the entire assembly declared, their combined voices creating controlled thunder that made Qward's foundations tremble.
Sinestro smiled, the expression transforming his scarred features from merely imposing to genuinely inspiring. This was real leadership. Not the fumbling democracy of committee decisions, but the elegant efficiency of shared vision implemented through disciplined hierarchy.
"Indeed," he said, his voice somehow carrying clearly despite the echoes. "And unlike the Green Lantern Corps, we understand these roles require more than good intentions and naive optimism. They require wisdom to use fear as a tool rather than flee from it. They require courage to make difficult decisions rather than hope problems solve themselves. They require strength to impose order on chaos rather than pretend chaos can organize itself into something beneficial."
He returned to the central platform, each step measured and deliberate, thousands of eyes tracking his progress with religious attention. When he reached center, he raised both hands for absolute silence, and the chamber went quiet with completeness that spoke to the discipline he'd instilled.
"Today marks the beginning of a new phase," Sinestro declared, his voice building toward something that felt like prophecy. "We've established our legitimacy here, in this realm of reversed physics. We've proven superior organization defeats superior numbers, that disciplined purpose overcomes chaotic strength, that intelligent force achieves what brute violence cannot. We've shown this universe what order looks like when imposed by beings who understand the cost of weakness and price of failure."
The Central Power Battery pulsed with increasing intensity, its golden light casting dramatic shadows that seemed to dance in response to their collective will. The visual effect was stunning, but the real significance lay in what it represented: successful fusion of individual purpose with collective power.
"But this is only the beginning," Sinestro declared, his voice reaching crescendo that seemed to shake reality's foundations. "We've established our authority here, proven our methods in war against a worthy opponent. We've demonstrated that order can triumph over chaos, that discipline can overcome raw power, that vision can defeat mere ambition. Now comes the greater work, the task all this has been preparation for. Now we export our success to the positive universe itself."
A roar of approval erupted from the assembled ranks, controlled thunder that spoke to years of anticipation finally reaching fulfillment. The noise built and built, echoing off crystal walls and amplifying until it seemed capable of shattering mountains, but beneath the raw volume lay perfect discipline. This wasn't mindless cheering but coordinated expression of shared purpose.
"The Green Lantern Corps grows complacent in their false victory," Sinestro continued when the noise subsided. "They think their new Central Power Battery makes them stronger, when it actually makes them more vulnerable. Jordan's merger with Ion created instabilities in the emotional spectrum they're too proud to acknowledge, too stubborn to address, too naive to understand. Their rings are more powerful but less stable, their bearers more independent but less coordinated, their organization more flexible but less reliable."
This wasn't speculation but intelligence gathered through careful observation. The Sinestro Corps had been monitoring developments in the positive universe with characteristic thoroughness, and the conclusions were as encouraging as they were inevitable.
"They've built a house of cards and called it a fortress," Sinestro declared with satisfaction. "They've created a system that depends entirely on individual heroism rather than institutional strength, on personal virtue rather than structural integrity, on hope rather than planning. When tested by real adversity, when faced with challenges that can't be overcome through good intentions alone, their entire civilization will collapse like the fantasy it's always been."
He gestured toward the Central Power Battery, its golden radiance now filling the entire chamber with warm, steady light that seemed to banish every shadow. "This Battery represents everything theirs doesn't. Where they created chaos disguised as flexibility, we built structure that enables true strength. Where they multiplied numbers without regard for quality, we selected each member based on proven worth. Where they scatter forces across the universe hoping goodwill will solve every problem, we concentrate power where it can achieve meaningful results."
The comparison wasn't academic but practical, based on direct observation of how both organizations functioned under pressure. The Green Lantern Corps operated on principles that might work in peacetime but would prove inadequate when faced with existential threats. The Sinestro Corps had been designed from the beginning to thrive in crisis, to turn adversity into opportunity.
"When we return to the positive universe, we won't come as conquerors seeking destruction," Sinestro explained, revealing carefully planned strategy. "We'll come as liberators offering salvation. We'll show them what peace looks like when built on something more substantial than wishful thinking. We'll demonstrate what security means when based on strength rather than hope. We'll prove what order can accomplish when implemented by beings who understand the difference between authority and tyranny."
The energy in the chamber was reaching crescendo now, thousands of beings' collective will focused through their rings and channeled through the Central Power Battery, creating resonances that made the very air vibrate with barely contained power. Sinestro could feel it building, this moment of perfect unity between vision and reality.
"The Guardians think they understand fear because they've fought beings like Atrocitus, who mistake rage for strength," Sinestro declared, his voice rising above the harmonics filling the chamber. "They have no conception of what truly disciplined fear can accomplish when wielded by those who understand its proper application, when channeled through beings who recognize its true potential, when focused on goals that transcend mere personal ambition."
He paused, letting his words settle into every consciousness present. Then, with timing perfected through years of inspiration, he delivered the words that would transform this ceremony from ritual into call to action.
"We will teach them."
The response was immediate and overwhelming. Thousands of voices joined in a roar that seemed to shake Qward's foundations, sound that spoke to years of preparation finally reaching fulfillment.
"Rise, my fellow architects of order!" Sinestro commanded, his voice somehow cutting through the din with absolute clarity. "Rise and take your place in history! Rise and claim the destiny that weakness and chaos have denied this universe for too long! Rise and show creation itself what true power looks like when wielded by those worthy of the responsibility!"
The assembled Corps rose as one, movements synchronized with military precision that transformed thousands of individual beings into a single force of unified purpose. Their rings blazed with golden light, creating patterns of coordinated energy that made the chamber itself seem to pulse with living power. This was beyond spectacle, beyond intimidation. This was absolute order made visible, perfect discipline given physical form.
"Speak the words," Sinestro declared, his own ring flaring with power that made the air around him shimmer like heated metal. "Speak the oath that binds us together, that focuses our purpose, that announces to the universe our intention to replace their failure with our success! Let every being in creation hear our declaration and understand that the age of chaos is ending!"
The response came from thousands of voices, speaking in perfect unison with religious fervor tempered by military discipline:
"In blackest day, in brightest night, beware your fears made into light. Let those who try to stop what's right Burn like his power, Sinestro's might!"
The words echoed through the crystalline chamber, reverberating off walls and amplifying until they seemed to shake reality's foundations. The Central Power Battery pulsed in response, its golden light reaching out to touch every ring in the assembly, creating an energy network that bound them all together in common purpose that transcended individual identity.
But the Corps members weren't finished. As the formal oath echoed into silence, another chant began to build. Starting with the front ranks and spreading backward like a wave, thousands of voices took up a new cry that spoke to their absolute devotion.
"SINESTRO'S MIGHT! SINESTRO'S MIGHT! SINESTRO'S MIGHT!"
The chant built and built, growing in volume and intensity until it seemed capable of cracking planets. Every voice joined in perfect synchronization, every ring blazed with coordinated light, every being present channeled their individual will into collective expression of loyalty that bordered on worship.
As the chanting reached its peak, Sinestro stood motionless on his platform, taking in the sight before him with cold satisfaction of absolute power realized. His scarred face showed no warmth, no friendship, only the calculating gaze of a ruler surveying his instruments of conquest. These thousands of beings, arranged in perfect formation, represented not allies but weapons to be wielded in service of his vision.
Beside him on the platform, his most trusted lieutenants took their positions. Arkillo of Vorn, the massive warrior whose strength rivaled cosmic entities, stood at rigid attention with arms crossed over his chest. His yellow skin seemed to glow with reflected energy from the Battery, his scarred features showing satisfaction of a career soldier who'd finally found a war worth fighting.
Lyssa Drak materialized from the shadows like a wraith given form. Her skeletal frame and hollow eyes spoke to her unique relationship with the cosmic forces powering their organization, while her expression carried fervor of someone serving something far greater than mere ambition.
Karu-Sil stood slightly apart from the others, her feral grace and predatory alertness marking her as something different from the more conventional military minds that dominated the Corps hierarchy. The constructs of her murdered family flickered around her like protective spirits, their energy forms testament to personal tragedies that had forged her into a weapon of perfect loyalty.
Below them stretched endless ranks of yellow-clad warriors, their rings blazing with synchronized light that created geometric patterns of disciplined power. Each face turned upward toward the platform with devotion that transcended mere loyalty, expressions that spoke to souls given purpose by something greater than themselves.
The chanting continued, building in intensity rather than fading:
"SINESTRO'S MIGHT! SINESTRO'S MIGHT! SINESTRO'S MIGHT!"
The words seemed to take on a life of their own, echoing through the chamber and beyond, carried by Qward's crystalline structure until they resonated through the planet's core. Every being on the world could hear them, every creature in the system could feel them, every consciousness in the Antimatter Universe could sense the birth of something that would reshape reality itself.
Sinestro raised his arms once more, and gradually the chanting subsided into expectant silence. When he spoke, his voice carried absolute authority, the certainty of someone who'd never doubted his right to rule or his destiny to reshape creation according to his vision.
"A new day is upon us," he declared, his words seeming to hang in the air like fundamental law. "A new sun rising over a universe that's forgotten the meaning of order. A new age beginning for all of creation, whether they're wise enough to welcome it or not."
The declaration echoed through the crystalline chamber with the weight of prophecy, and thousands of voices responded with a roar of approval that shook Qward's foundations. The sound built and built, reaching levels that should have been physically impossible, carried by the synchronized will of beings who'd found in Sinestro's vision something worth dedicating their existence to.
"SINESTRO'S MIGHT! SINESTRO'S MIGHT! SINESTRO'S MIGHT!"
The chant resumed with even greater intensity, thousands of voices joined in perfect unity, thousands of rings blazing with coordinated light, thousands of souls bound together in service to a vision that would remake the universe in its image.
Standing on his platform above the assembled legions, surrounded by his most trusted lieutenants, Sinestro felt the rush of destiny fulfilled. These beings would follow him anywhere, do anything he commanded, sacrifice everything for the privilege of serving his purpose. They were no longer individuals with their own hopes and dreams. They were extensions of his will, fragments of his vision given form and function.
The golden light of the Central Power Battery flared in response to their collective will, but Sinestro's gaze was drawn deeper, past the crystalline matrix and geometric perfection, to what lay at its heart. There, suspended in streams of pure fear energy, writhed the entity that had made all of this possible.
Parallax.
The cosmic embodiment of fear itself pulsed within the Battery's core, its massive insectoid head dominated by compound eyes that glowed with ancient malice. Its elongated body stretched away into impossible dimensions, countless razor-sharp appendages and stinger-like projections emerging from its form. But it was the creature's mouth that truly inspired dread—rows upon rows of needle-like teeth, each one sharp enough to pierce reality itself.
As Sinestro watched, those teeth gleamed with anticipation, and when Parallax spoke, its voice crawled through his consciousness like ice water through his veins.
"My chosen vessel,"the entity hissed, its words carrying the weight of every nightmare that had ever plagued sentient minds."I can taste your satisfaction. Your triumph. It feeds me, makes me stronger."
Sinestro's scarred face twisted into a grin that matched his patron's expression. "As does mine, old friend. Tell me, can you sense your brother? Does Ion feel the weight of what we've built here?"
"Oh yes,"Parallax's laugh was like the sound of breaking glass mixed with screaming wind."My dear brother thinks he's found safety in that pathetic tree of his. Thinks Jordan's victory made him stronger, more noble, purer. He has no idea what we've learned here in the dark."
The entity's form shifted within the Battery, its movements creating patterns of fear energy that rippled outward through every ring in the chamber. Thousands of Sinestro Corps members felt the pulse of cosmic terror and found it... comforting. This was power without pretense, strength without apology.
"When we return to face him,"Parallax continued, its needle teeth gleaming with malicious anticipation,"Ion will learn that nobility is just another word for weakness. That hope is just fear wearing a prettier mask. And when I tear him apart piece by piece, when I show the universe what happens to cosmic entities who side with failed philosophies... oh, how sweet his despair will taste."
Sinestro's grin widened, revealing his own predatory satisfaction. "Patience, my friend. First we complete our work here. First we show this universe what order truly looks like. Then..." His eyes gleamed with the reflected light of Parallax's malevolent gaze. "Then we remind Ion and his precious Guardians that some forces cannot be contained, some truths cannot be ignored, and some brothers are meant to devour each other."
The golden light of the Central Power Battery flared in response to their shared purpose, casting Sinestro's shadow across the assembled ranks like a dark promise written in energy and ambition. The shadow stretched over them all, claiming them, marking them as property of something far more ancient and terrible than any mere dictator.
And it was only the beginning.
The chanting continued as the ceremony reached its climax, thousands of voices united in worship of the being who'd given their lives meaning:
"SINESTRO'S MIGHT! SINESTRO'S MIGHT! SINESTRO'S MIGHT!"
—
End of Green Lantern : First Flight
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Green Lantern will return in Justice Avengers
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