Reforged in the Sun: Clark Kent Reborn SI

The illusion of Smallville's calm was beginning to crack. Even though the fields still stretched wide and golden under the sun, and the streets remained lined with their quaint, familiar shops, there was an undercurrent of unease. The town I had come to know—the one filled with the sound of farmers' laughter and neighbors greeting each other on Main Street—was changing. The quiet wasn't peace. It was tension.

I rode my bike past the diner, its usual buzz of conversation reduced to murmurs. The coffee drinkers inside leaned close over their cups, their faces tight with unease. Across the street, the hardware store owner swept the sidewalk absently, his eyes darting toward the corners of the buildings as though he expected something to leap out at him.

Smallville was becoming a place of whispers and questions. The meteors hadn't just brought changes to the people—they had planted fear in the heart of the town. And as I passed the hardware store, I heard someone mutter behind me.

"You hear about the Vaughn kid? First him, now the guy at the mill. Smallville's cursed, I'm telling you."

I pedaled faster, the familiar weight of my secret pressing on my chest. I knew where this was heading. These weren't just random incidents. This was the beginning of something much larger—something I wasn't sure I was ready for.

The farm had always been my refuge, a place where the world's problems couldn't reach me. But even here, the tension felt heavier than usual. Jonathan and I were fixing the tractor, the metal bolts slick with grease as we worked in silence. The only sounds were the occasional clink of a wrench and the distant rustle of wind through the cornfields.

Jonathan finally broke the silence. "Clark," he said, setting his tools down. "You've been quieter than usual lately. What's on your mind?"

I hesitated, wiping my hands on a rag. "Things are getting worse," I admitted. "The meteors, the people—it feels like it's spiraling out of control. I don't know how long I can keep hiding... or if I can stop it."

Jonathan leaned against the tractor, his arms crossed as he studied me. "Clark, you don't have to carry this on your own. You've got your mom and me, and no matter how tough it gets, we'll figure it out. But you can't lose sight of who you are. Hiding's not lying. It's protecting yourself until the time's right."

Before I could respond, the wail of a siren split the air. Smoke rose on the horizon, a thick black column curling into the blue sky. My stomach sank.

"Fire at the warehouse," Jonathan said, his face tightening. "Stay here, Clark."

I didn't argue. I ran toward the barn and ducked behind the hayloft. Jonathan didn't know, but staying out of it wasn't an option. If lives were at stake, I had to do something.

The warehouse was already an inferno by the time I arrived, hiding in the crowd's shadows to avoid drawing attention. Flames licked through the shattered windows, and the roof sagged under the weight of the fire. Firefighters were spraying hoses into the blaze, but the water barely dented the flames.

I spotted her almost immediately. A young girl, no older than seven, stood frozen just inside the warehouse door, her small frame illuminated by the firelight. She clutched a stuffed bear tightly to her chest, her wide eyes fixed on the flames.

My heart pounded as I scanned the scene. The firefighters were too far away to reach her in time. No one else was moving. I had seconds to act.

Darting behind the crowd, I moved quickly toward the side of the building, using the shadows to stay hidden. The heat from the fire was intense, waves of it washing over me as I slipped inside through a side entrance.

The air inside was thick with smoke, the roar of the flames deafening. My eyes stung as I focused on the girl, who hadn't moved from her spot. "It's okay," I said, keeping my voice calm as I approached her. "I'm here to help."

She stared at me, her tear-streaked face pale against the fire's glow. "I can't move," she whispered.

I didn't waste time. Scooping her into my arms, I shielded her with my body as I turned toward the exit. The roof groaned ominously above us, and I knew we were out of time.

A support beam crashed down ahead of me, the impact sending a wave of sparks and debris into the air. I ducked, shielding the girl as embers rained down around us. The heat seared my skin, but I kept moving, weaving through the falling rubble.

The roar of the fire grew louder, almost drowning out the sound of my own heartbeat. I could feel the roof trembling above us, moments away from giving way. My lungs burned with every breath, but I pushed forward.

Another beam fell, and this time, it caught the edge of my jacket, pinning me against the floor. Gritting my teeth, I shifted my weight, straining against the burning wood. The girl whimpered in my arms, her tears soaking into my shirt.

"Hold on," I muttered, summoning every ounce of strength I had. My muscles screamed in protest as I lifted the beam just enough to slip free. The exit was only a few feet away, and I didn't hesitate.

Bursting through the doors, I stumbled onto the grass as the warehouse collapsed behind me in a deafening crash. The cool air hit me like a wave, and the girl's shallow breaths against my chest were the only confirmation I needed that she was alive.

The firefighters rushed forward, taking the girl from my arms as her parents appeared, tears streaming down their faces. I slipped back into the crowd, blending into the shadows before anyone could get a good look at me.

The whispers started almost immediately.

"Did you see that?"

"How did he get through that fire?"

"Who was he?"

I kept my head down, avoiding their gazes as I made my way to the edge of the crowd. Pete appeared beside me, his face pale. "Clark," he hissed. "That was you, wasn't it? I saw you go in there."

I didn't respond. Instead, I quickened my pace, my chest tight as I put as much distance as I could between myself and the scene.

That night, I sat in the barn, staring at the stars through the loft window. The burns on my arms had already faded, the blisters vanishing as my body healed faster than I could comprehend. But the memory of the crowd's whispers lingered.

Martha found me there, sitting beside me with her usual quiet presence. She didn't say anything at first, just placed a hand on mine.

"You did something incredible today," she said finally. "That little girl is alive because of you."

I shook my head. "They saw me, Mom. They're starting to ask questions. I don't know how much longer I can keep this a secret."

Her gaze was steady, filled with the unwavering love I had come to depend on. "Clark, you don't have to have all the answers right now. Just focus on doing what's right. The rest will come."

Her words eased the knot in my chest, but the fear remained. Smallville was changing, and the people were starting to see me for what I was—something different. Something not quite human.