We are back with another chapter in our Raven fic people, how's the summer heat?
"Good, now let's—" he began.
A sudden burst of black energy lasers erupted from Blackfire's eyes, even with one of them gone she could still stream black laser energy from the socket somehow as twin beams lanced out to strike him directly in the face. The man's shield held, barely flickering. He flinched for the first time.
That was her chance!
Blackfire twisted, and slammed her knee up into his groin. Even as she did, her torn skirt fluttered up, exposing her ass and her sex to the sky. The man in white grimaced—a hint of pain, or pleasure, she couldn't tell. She used the moment to wriggle free, flipping backward, landing in a crouch mid air, bare chest heaving as she gasped for air.
He shook his head, almost rueful. "You are tenacious. And beautiful. But you cannot win this fight."
Blackfire spat blood, wiped her mouth with the back of her hand, and rose to her feet, chest out, eyes blazing. "I don't care about winning. I care about surviving. I care about killing every single one of you lanterns that stand in my way."
With that, she roared out as a stream of black bolt beams shot from her mouth and eyes, completely engulfing the man and destroying the terrain behind him.
The aftermath of destruction often leaves a silence more deafening than war itself. Blackfire stood in the fractured stillness, smoke rising from the scorched Martian earth, her chest heaving and sweat slicking her olive skin. She hovered, exhaustion fighting her relentless will, and fixed her gaze upon the stoic figure who'd withstood her every assault—a man unblemished by her fury, encased in white energy, hovering several feet above the ground like a messiah descended.
For a split second, Blackfire's bravado cracked. Her single, remaining eye—flaring with purple rage, the other patched with her own black bolt energy—glittered with something rawer than fury: resignation.
'Is this the end of the road for me? Just when I finally... fuck. They got me this time... hahaha. I at least took a few with me. Maybe I should take everyone here with me too.' She thought, and almost laughed at herself in resignation.
Her body relaxed in surrender, ready to unleash one final, cataclysmic blast—a queen in defeat, but a queen to the end. But as she steeled herself, the man in white drifted toward her with a surprising gentleness. His face radiated calm, yet beneath that calm was a power that made Blackfire's blood chill.
He reached out and—without a hint of malice—placed his hand on her bloodied cheek. She jerked in reflex, expecting a blow, but the touch was soft, almost... caring.
"I am not here to kill," he said, his voice impossibly gentle, echoing in her mind and in the air. "I am here to give."
His other hand swept out, and in a single, elegant motion, radiant white energy fanned outward. Like a curtain drawn back to reveal the dawn, the light washed over the battlefield, rolling over the carnage.
Blackfire's breath caught in her throat. Corpses—Martians she'd reduced to paste with a stray bolt, innocents and soldiers alike—rose in a pale mist, their bodies knitting back together, wounds sealing, eyes fluttering open in confused awe. The pockmarked ground, gouged and cratered by her rage, smoothed and healed as if no war had touched it. The very air hummed with renewal.
She staggered back, disbelief painting her fierce features. Was she hallucinating? Was this the afterlife? Had her own death finally claimed her, and now she bore witness to the impossible?
Her gaze flicked skyward. The planets she'd obliterated in her madness—mere debris moments ago—coalesced before her eyes, matter rewinding, stars reassembling, worlds reborn in silence. Awe and terror mingled in her chest.
Could this man save us from that person? Blackfire thought, staring at the man, finally, truly seeing him. There was something unbreakable in him—something hopeful.
The Martians, newly resurrected, fell to their knees in worship. The air vibrated with their reverence.
The man drifted away from her, a few feet in the air, his white cloak billowing. "Now that we are done," he said, turning to face her, "let me introduce myself."
"I am Kyle of the White Lantern Corps, well, I AM the only member. To put it simply, I have power over life. And recently, after crossing the Source Wall, I can also warp the reality around us." His words, calmly spoken, sent shivers through the gathering crowd—and through Blackfire herself.
She was not used to awe, nor humility, but here she felt both. Even the Martians, with their legendary emotional control, could not contain their worship. Some broke away from the kneeling crowd, using their prodigious telekinetic strength to carve statues of Kyle in the planet's red stone. In minutes, whole gardens of white-lantern idols appeared around the plaza.
Kyle sighed—a sound full of burden and resignation. He looked to Blackfire, and for a moment, it was just the two of them.
"So what do you want with me?" Blackfire's voice, usually so regal, now quivered with caution. Respect. She crossed her arms under her chest, her torn crop top threatening to spill her full breasts at any moment, but she paid it no mind.
"You know why I'm here," Kyle said softly.
Blackfire narrowed her eyes. "Raven." They said it in unison, her name a curse and an invocation both.
"It won't be long before she arrives," Kyle said. Blackfire conjured a robe of black bolt energy around herself for cover, the fiery material swirling around her shoulders, drawing attention to her powerful thighs and the curve of her hips. She covered herself, but only just—a warrior's modesty, more symbolic than sincere.
Kyle regarded her with a faint smile. "Oh. You're very tired. I could heal you, fully restore you, but I think you just need rest. You are exhausted mentally." He beckoned to one of the Martians, who approached, bowing with trembling respect.
The Martian gestured, and Blackfire followed him in silence to a luxurious room within their capital's crystal towers. The walls shimmered with a gentle light, and the bed was impossibly soft—large enough for a dozen. For a full week, she slept the sleep of the dead, her dreams strange and fevered.
When she woke, she rose from her bed, stretching with a feline languor. Her breasts swelled as she arched, nipples stiff in the cool Martian air. Her body, fully healed, felt younger and stronger than she'd ever remembered. Every movement—rolling her shoulders, twisting her hips, running her fingers through her wild hair—was a celebration of life, of resurrection, of raw feminine power.
She hovered into the hallway, her feet sinking into the soft moss that carpeted the Martian palace. The few Martians she encountered darted away, skittering into the shadows at the sight of her. Some stared, unable to hide their curiosity—and their lust—as she passed. She was, after all, seen as a symbol of destruction and carnal lust. If anyone was Raven on that planet, it would have been her. She knew this, and a smile grew on her face. Since she had gotten stronger, and had no doubts that she could handle the heroes of Earth now. Earth was just a second away, maybe she could take over Earth, make it her new Tamara, and pay her sister a 'visit'. She needed to take her frustrations out on someone after all
"Are you leaving?" Kyle's voice came from behind her.
She stopped, glancing over her shoulder, her robe falling open to expose her toned abs and the tantalizing curve of her ass. "How do you...?" she began, then stopped, suddenly too tired to play games.
"Alright. What's your plan?" she asked, crossing her arms beneath her chest, her breasts pressed up, nipples visible through the thin fabric.
'Just when I was about to have some fun… he does look kinda cute though.' Blackfire thought to herself.
Kyle's smile widened. "After me, you will become the first of the new White Lantern Corps. Right now, at this very moment." He extended his hand, and from nothing, a ring of pure white energy formed. It hovered above his palm, spinning gently, casting rainbow flares across her bare skin.
Blackfire studied the ring warily. "I see you weren't joking about the reality manipulation," she said, hesitating. "But I don't think I can have that power. I take life, I don't give it. I tried with the other rings, but only the orange worked for me, and even then, I discarded it when I outgrew its greed and power. Thanks, but no thanks." She looked down, for once ashamed of her violence, a surprising emotion she might have to check later.
Kyle took her hand, his grip soft, his fingers brushing her knuckles. "All that fire in you just left?" he teased, tilting her chin up with two fingers. "Come now, Blackfire. Who says you're not capable of change?"
He slid the ring onto her finger, the white light flaring and then settling. It felt warm—alive. Blackfire shivered, a blush rising in her cheeks. The Martian onlookers watched, mesmerized.
Kyle leaned in, whispering in her ear, "We need you. The universe needs you. Not as a destroyer, but as a saviour."
This shouldn't be news, but you can read ahead and support on patreon.com/futamommy
But you already knew that😇