Subject: Hal Jordan
Hal Jordan was chosen not because he was fearless, but because fear never owned him. Where others hesitated, he advanced. Where doubt paralyzed, he acted. The Green Lantern Corps called this willpower—the raw force of intent refined into law. Hal embodied it to an impossible degree.
He was reckless, insubordinate, brilliant. He broke rules when they slowed him down and questioned authority when it failed the moment. Yet time and again, when entire sectors collapsed under terror, Hal Jordan stood alone and refused to stop. The Guardians praised his results while quietly fearing the cost.
Hal did not believe in limits. Not his own, not the ring’s, not the universe’s. When loss came—when order failed, when will alone could not undo catastrophe—he did what he had always done: pushed harder. That defiance, that refusal to accept enough, was not a flaw.
It was an invitation.
Event Classification: Cataclysmic / Necessary / Unforgivable
When willpower proved insufficient, Hal Jordan did not surrender it—he supplemented it. The power answered him differently then. Constructs grew sharper. Brighter. Crueler. Fear bent before him instead of resisting. Entire armies broke without being touched. Gods hesitated.
With this power, Hal rewrote outcomes that had once been immutable. He imposed order through dominance, peace through inevitability. Cities were restored. Threats erased. Cosmic hierarchies overturned. The universe worked again—because he forced it to.
The Corps called it corruption. The Guardians called it heresy. Hal called it responsibility.
He did not see himself as a tyrant. He saw himself as the only one willing to bear the weight. If fear was the price of stability, he would become its master. If he had to be feared to protect reality, so be it.
History cannot agree whether he saved the universe or scarred it beyond repair. Only that nothing was the same after Hal Jordan decided will alone was no longer enough.
Phenomenon: Parallax Influence
At first, the fear felt like fuel—volatile, potent, obedient. But over time, Hal began to notice delays. Corrections. Suggestions. The power reacted before he finished thinking. Constructs moved with intent he did not consciously shape.
Fear was not resisting him.
It was learning him.
The power did not demand surrender. It encouraged control. Whispered efficiency. Offered certainty in moments of doubt. It felt alive—not as a voice, but as pressure. Expectation. Hunger.
Hal realized then the truth the Guardians never admitted: fear is not the opposite of will. It is will sharpened by survival. And like any living thing, it seeks direction—or domination.
To wield it safely, Hal could not suppress his fear. He had to acknowledge it, discipline it, command it. Every lapse risked the power acting on its own interpretation of protection.
The greatest danger was not losing control.
It was believing he already had.