Reforged in the Sun: Clark Kent Reborn SI

December 15, 2002

The snow blanketed Smallville in pristine white, covering the rooftops of the town square, the sprawling Kent farm, and the quiet fields that stretched toward the horizon. Christmas lights flickered along Main Street, wrapping everything in a warm, cheerful glow. The scent of pine trees from the lot next to Fordman's Department Store mingled with the crisp winter air, while the muffled crunch of boots on snow filled the otherwise quiet town.

For most people, Smallville in December meant the same things it always had—holiday cheer, winter formal excitement, and shopping for last-minute gifts. For me, though, the past few weeks had been anything but normal.

My powers had been growing. Faster. Sharper. Stronger. And now, they were beginning to push past anything I could have imagined.

But my evolving abilities weren't the only thing changing. My hunt for Kryptonian artifacts had intensified after Thanksgiving, and each fragment I uncovered felt like another piece of a puzzle I wasn't sure I wanted to solve. The artifacts seemed to connect to something bigger—something ancient and buried deep.

And through it all, I still had to be Clark Kent, the small-town kid who went to school, hung out with his friends, and tried to act like his world wasn't unraveling beneath him.

The weeks leading up to Christmas had been anything but uneventful. Since finding the first Kryptonian shard in the basement of Smallville High, I'd uncovered four more artifacts scattered across town.

The first was buried beneath Miller's field, hidden among the roots of a centuries-old tree. Pete had come with me that day, thinking we were just out for a hike. I'd managed to steer him away long enough to retrieve the artifact, a small crystalline disc etched with Kryptonian symbols.

The second was hidden in the caves just outside Smallville, where I'd felt an odd pull, almost like the artifact was calling to me. This one was different—a metallic device that glowed faintly when I touched it. Jor-El told me it was a storage module, though it seemed damaged.

The third was the most difficult to find. Its signal led me to a frozen pond on the outskirts of town, where I had to dig through layers of ice to uncover a small, hexagonal fragment that pulsed with faint light. The cold didn't bother me—my Kryptonian physiology seemed to make me immune—but the memory of my father's warning echoed in my mind: Don't dig too deep, Clark. Some things are better left buried.

Each artifact carried a faint energy signature, like an echo of Krypton. When I brought them back to the bunker, they pulsed faintly in response to one another, almost like pieces of a larger mechanism waiting to be assembled.

But they weren't just pieces of technology. Every time I interacted with one, my abilities grew. My hearing sharpened to the point where I had to actively tune out the sounds of cars miles away or the faint buzz of insects beneath the snow. My strength had reached a level where I had to constantly remind myself to hold back, even with the smallest tasks.

And then, of course, there was the flying—or at least, the almost flying.

Smallville High was alive with holiday cheer. The main hallway was adorned with garlands of tinsel and strings of twinkling lights. A towering Christmas tree stood in the center of the lobby, its ornaments reflecting the warm glow of the overhead lights. Students milled about, excitedly talking about the upcoming winter formal and exchanging holiday wishes.

I walked with Pete and Chloe, listening to them argue over the playlist for the dance. Pete carried a basketball under one arm, while Chloe balanced a stack of books and her ever-present laptop bag.

"I'm just saying," Pete said, "if we play one more Mariah Carey song, I'm going to lose it. We need something with energy. How about some classic hip-hop? You know, something with a beat."

Chloe rolled her eyes. "Pete, it's a holiday dance. If we don't play holiday music, the student council will riot. And by student council, I mean Lana."

Pete laughed, tossing the basketball into the air and catching it. "Okay, fair point. But don't come crying to me when the DJ plays All I Want for Christmas Is You for the fifth time."

As they bantered, I stayed quiet, my senses dialed into the sounds around me. I could hear the faint rustle of tinsel swaying near the air vents, the soft whisper of chalk against a blackboard two classrooms away, even the distant hum of the cafeteria's vending machine. It was overwhelming, and I had to focus hard just to tune it out.

Chloe noticed my silence and stopped in her tracks. "Okay, Clark, what's going on with you? You've been weird all week. And don't tell me it's 'farm stuff' again."

Pete nodded, spinning the basketball on his finger. "Yeah, man. You've got that 'I'm carrying the weight of the world' look again. Spill."

Before I could answer, Lana appeared, walking toward us with her usual warm smile. She wore a cream-colored sweater and a red scarf, her auburn hair glowing softly in the afternoon light.

"Hey, Clark," she said, stopping in front of me.

"Hey, Lana," I said, trying to push aside the noise in my head.

"I was just wondering…" She hesitated, glancing at Chloe and Pete before continuing. "Are you going to the winter formal?"

"I… I hadn't really thought about it," I admitted, scratching the back of my neck.

Chloe smirked. "You should. It's going to be the social event of the year. And besides, I hear Lana still needs a dance partner."

Lana's cheeks flushed pink, and she shot Chloe a look. "Chloe…"

I smiled awkwardly. "I'll think about it."

Later that afternoon, I stopped by the Smallville Gazette to drop off some files Chloe had asked for. The newsroom was quiet, the faint hum of old computers and the rhythmic clatter of a printer filling the space.

As I placed the files on Chloe's desk, I heard a voice behind me.

"Well, well. If it isn't Smallville's resident mystery man."

I turned to see Lois Lane leaning against one of the desks, her sharp blue eyes studying me. She wore a black leather jacket over a plaid shirt, her dark hair pulled back into a loose ponytail.

"Lois," I said, surprised. "What are you doing here?"

"Helping Chloe with a story," she said casually, picking up a coffee mug. "And trying not to die of boredom. Seriously, how do you people live here? It's like watching paint dry."

I chuckled nervously. "Smallville's not so bad. It grows on you."

She raised an eyebrow, smirking. "I don't know. Chloe says you're 'mysterious.'"

"Chloe exaggerates," I said quickly.

Lois laughed, setting the coffee mug down. "Relax, Clark. I'm just messing with you. But seriously, I have a feeling you're more interesting than you let on."

Before I could respond, Chloe appeared, waving me over. "Clark! You got the files! Perfect timing. Lois, quit interrogating him. You'll scare him off."

Lois smirked. "What can I say? I'm a natural."

The fields behind the Kent farm were silent, blanketed in snow that shimmered under the light of the full moon. My breath fogged in the cold air as I stood in the open space, staring up at the stars.

For weeks, I'd been testing my powers in secret, pushing myself further with each attempt. Tonight, I was ready to try again.

I closed my eyes, focusing on the hum of energy in my chest. I bent my knees, feeling the tension building in my legs, and then pushed off the ground.

For a moment, nothing happened.

But then the hum grew louder, and I felt the weight of the Earth fall away.

I opened my eyes, and my breath caught as I realized I was hovering—five, ten feet off the ground. The farm below looked smaller, the barn and house illuminated by the faint glow of the moonlight.

A laugh escaped my lips, shaky but full of wonder. I tilted forward slightly, and the motion carried me higher. The wind rushed past my face, cold but exhilarating, as I soared above the fields.

The stars felt closer now, like I could reach out and touch them.

But the moment of triumph was short-lived.

The energy faltered, and I felt myself plummeting. The ground rushed up to meet me, and I landed hard in the snow, the impact jarring but not painful.

I sat up, catching my breath. My heart was pounding, but I couldn't stop smiling.

I had flown.

And I knew it was only the beginning.